Monday, January 02, 2012
The season starts where series one had left off, and thus in, quite literally, an explosive manner as Holmes and Watson are in a swimming pool room, face-to-face with Sherlock’s nemesis, the brilliantly dastardly Jim Moriarty. He is seconds, nay, nano-seconds from doing away with the pair of them when Moriarty receives a phonecall which pulls his attention away from the two and gives them a lifeline. We see that this phonecall came from none other than a vampily-clad woman, and not only that, but she seems fond of playing sex games with other women. The woman – as she will be called by Sherlock – will play a huge part in the episode, as it is really centred around her. It is of course, the only person who has ever proved a match for Sherlock Holmes, Irene Adler.
Along the way, there are twists and turns aplenty. I was blown away by the ingenuity of the first series with how it subverted the Sherlock blueprint and managed to use modern day technology as part of the story-telling and detective process, and wasn’t sure if it would feel quite as fresh this time. Reality? It felt better. Doctor Watson’s keeping a blog is an amusing sub-plot and there is one terrifically crafted scene in which Sherlock Holmes, due to becoming somewhat of a C-list celeb due to said blog, is photographed by the paparazzi, a stream of photos which find their way to broadsheet papers, including The Guardian. Wonderfully filmed and a witty nod at the media obsession that we as a nation are getting.
The first episode of Sherlock had everything I could possibly have wanted from a TV show and more. A showdown in Buckingham palace? Check. Some kick-ass fighting? Check. Retribution for some of the goons who hustled poor Mrs Hudson? Check. Some knowledge into the games Britain and Germany played with each other in the war? Check? A password that had me baffled for the whole episode and then finally, when it was revealed “Ahhhhh!”? Checkmate. The acting was faultless, with the camaraderie and banter between Holmes and Dr Watson timed to perfection. Something that has always bothered me about Holmes – although I wouldn’t expect him to be any different – is that he never gives Dr Watson the credit he deserves for everything he does for him, and this is exhibited here, when poor Dr Watson loses yet another girlfriend due to his need to protect Sherlock. The script was a work of genius, and I cannot but tip my hat to Gatiss and Moffat. All in all, the show was an overarching triumph. Next Sunday now seems an age away.