Oops, I read all the Enola Holmes... again. This one had *celebrities*, y'all! Rudyard Kipling, his future wife, and Joseph Lister (father of antiseptic surgeries, not Listerine). It didn't do much for the plot, but it was fun to conduct parallel Google investigations as I read along. Anyway. A nefarious *working class* [horrors] organization kidnaps the genteel, if American [shudder], victim of a rabid dog's bite. Enola saves the day-yawn-, but in the course of this book, it feels as though Sherlock is turning into her low-key sidekick, which I am all for. There are some shenanigans and physical violence in this latest opus that I did not find truly in character. For instance, the real Enola is well above kicking groins, be it unintentionally. Of the three new ones, I would rank this one second to the Black Barouche, ahead of the Elegant Escapade. Alas, no actual mongoose, which is a real letdown, if we're being honest.