Sherlock’s not dead. A good thing, since on New Year’s Day BBC1 launched its third series of Sherlock, and it’d be inconvenient if the three episodes didn’t have Sherlock. Last season, Benedict Cumberbatch’s Holmes stood on a building rooftop, dramatic coat flapping, a tweedy caped crusader. Then he jumped to his death. Only he didn’t. He’s still alive. The Cumberbatch comeback! Hooray.
Of course, the detective had some explaining to do. Not only to sidekick John Watson (Martin Freeman) — who grew a moustache as part of the grieving process — but also to the many Sherlock fans who’d taken to the internet in the past two years to post their survival theories. Indeed, the first episode didn’t come up with one scenario, but at least three, in a cheeky nod to these web speculators, and there’s even a geeky character who forms a club where members moot their hypotheses.
For this is the new Sherlock, assured and smart-alecky, supremely aware of its audience, functioning always with a nod-nod-wink to its fans and now really starting to reference and cross-reference itself. I wonder if this self-reflexivity has gone into overdrive. Enacting the various survival scenarios meant viewers basically watched the same footage again and again, with variations, instead of being fully immersed in its new plot (one involving a hazily defined terrorism).
The episode lingered over Sherlock’s ‘death’ at the expense of his new life. This new life was shown in stops and starts. We all know this jittery, 21st-century Holmes is full of the neuroses of our age, but the series itself may be getting ADD. It didn’t seem to want to stick to one train of thought, appearing concerned with solving specific situations rather than one big crime.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in