Sherlock returns: The Hounds of Baskerville.
Last week I was underwhelmed. Holmes's key breakthrough was the moment when he entered the right password to access the information needed to break the case. As I said:
It's a reasonable rule of thumb that when you have a detective successfully guessing the vital password, then you have a writer who's failing his audience.
So what was the key moment in tonight's episode? Oh yes. Sherlock has to access the computer of a military man. This military man has a bust of Churchill in his office. He's a Falklands war veteran: a bit of a right-winger. So what's his password? It's….<sigh>….maggie. Jesus Christ.
So two successive episodes depend for their resolution on Sherlock guessing – sorry, deducing – the vital password. And then, tonight, the solution to the mystery of the horrid hound from hell involved – sorry, spoiler alert – a mind-altering gas developed by the CIA, which makes the victim especially suggestible. Which is, I believe, no. 1 (or possibly no. 2 after the double agent) in the Boys Own Book of Spy Story Plots.
I wouldn't mind, except this series has been so extravagantly praised. For Caitlin Moran in the Times (£), for instance, last week's episode was "as good as it’s possible for television to be".
I appreciate that this is Sunday night viewing. It's not King Lear or Crime and Punishment. It is, perhaps, aiming for that particularly British form of slightly camp tongue-in-cheek detective yarn for which the template was set years ago by The Avengers. Or something. I don't know. I appear somewhere along the way to have turned into a grumpy old man.
Anyway, I've learnt my lesson: I'll not be tuning in to part three next week when Sherlock battles his nemesis Moriarty at The Reichenbach Fall. I expect it'll hinge on him guessing the password again.
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