There is an art to the detective story. Many more knowledgeable scholars than me have written about it, but the short answer is that crafting a solid mystery and then preparing a sleuth character to solve it is not always easy. That goes double if your goal is to create a fair play mystery (or honkaku in Japanese literature), one which is as much a puzzle as a literary genre. In fair play mysteries, the writer needs to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for the reader to pick up on, allowing them to solve the crime alongside the detective. It doesn't always have to go like early Ellery Queen stories, where the narrative actually stopped with a "message to the reader" (or listener, in the case of the radio shows) to give them a chance to firm up their guesses as to the answer before Ellery revealed it, but incorporating fair play elements is a good way to invest someone in the case.

I bring this up because it's one of the places where Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions works. Although zany at times, it provides enough clues for viewers to at least come close to figuring out the answer alongside Ron (and, more rarely, Toto). This also extends to the opening theme: if you pay attention to the background characters, you'll find that by the end of the thirteen-episode run, you can recognize most, if not all, of them as the suspects and culprits from each case. While some solutions rely on specialized knowledge (such as how barbers' sinks work as opposed to salons'), most provide enough evidence for us to at least notice, if not understand. It's well done, fun, and probably the best part of the series.

It's also interesting in light of the links to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work that become increasingly prevalent as the show continues. Conan Doyle did not write fair play mysteries, so it's always a little entertaining when his ostensible imitators rely on a trope that's more Christie than Conan Doyle. But genre snobbery aside, the use of Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty doesn't become engaging until the end of the series – as in, after the final credits, in the bonus scene. Although it is a decent twist, it also risks feeling very overdone, especially coming on the heels of Moriarty the Patriot. That said, it is nice to know that Ron and Toto's Holmes/Watson relationship is deliberate, even if Toto makes Watson look like a veritable genius.

And that's where the issues with this series begin to come into play. Despite having some solid mystery elements, Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions doesn't necessarily make for a good time. In no small part, that's down to the characters. While Ron can get by as the quirky detective, Toto's role as his bumbling sidekick is wildly overdone. How this man ever became a police investigator is beyond comprehension, as he can usually barely reason his way out of a wet paper bag. His dependency on Ron only exacerbates this issue; with Ron to rely on, Toto doesn't even have to try. Instead, his role becomes Ron's front and protection – not from the outside world, but from himself. After a terrible incident five years before the series' start, Ron developed the ability to compel criminals to kill themselves, something which the law tends to frown upon. Ron doesn't know how or why this happens – neurological tinkering is the theory the series' resident neurosurgeon comes up with – but it is inevitable that it will happen at the end of every case. Toto knows this; thus, it is up to him to stop the criminal from essentially not paying for their crimes in court. The problem is that it appears to take Toto by surprise every single time it happens. Rather than being ready to slam a hand over Ron's mouth or grab onto the criminal, Toto stands limply by, waiting until the last second to stop what's happening. Even in the worst Holmes adaptations, Watson isn't this inept, and Toto's incompetence is even harder to buy than Ron's mysterious power.

It also makes the character dynamics feel overdone. Ron is such a textbook quirky detective that he could have come from a Hallmark mystery movie, while Toto's incompetence is equally ridiculous. When combined, they don't so much form a power team as a silly use of a trope that's been done better in other stories. Adding in a surgeon who perpetually is covered in bandages and various oddballs from BLUE, the elite private detective training facility Ron was kicked out of, this doesn't feel like a story with characters so much as one with cardboard figures. It's a shame, because the underlying mysteries and overarching plot are pretty good, and they drag things down in ways they really don't have to.

The result is that this show is a very mixed bag. It's a mystery show, so the actual mysteries must be decent, which they are. The idea of a school where Poirot and his ilk could have been trained is a fun one, and the three-parter that forms episodes seven through nine indicates what this series could have been – and still could be in its second season. But the characters are overdone, and the deliberate goofiness of the surrounding elements drags things down. If you're a mystery buff, there are better things to watch.