Wednesday, 1 February 2017


We finally got around to watching the second (of three) part of the latest series and once again it left us underwhelmed.  This is rapidly becoming an artsy, up its own arse, bore fest where flash backs, tripping, talking to dead people is the norm.

First and foremost, Holmes' character was of a broken genius with an unparalleled intellect in deductive reasoning, observation and conclusion, with a flair for the flamboyant and skilled in the art of disguise.


This tosh asks us to suspend belief and accept Sherlock cannot play the part of a drug addict unless he is higher than Big Ben.  Bollocks to that, he could do it with his eyes closed.

Watson, his trusted side kick somehow blames his pal for the death of his wife (more shite, she, for some stupid reason jumped into the bullet meant for Holmes- as if a new mother would abandon her new born like that) and is constantly moody and seeing her everywhere he turns (a man of science believes in ghosts?)

However, the acting is superb (Toby Jones is one of the best baddies to date), the twists (the ones that hold water) are good and naturally the film work is what you'd expect of the BBC.

The best way I can describe how this episode was for me is that we have the last show to watch and all we had to do was press play.  We couldn't be arsed and decided to keep it for another day.  I'd never do this if it was such compelling viewing.  Obviously it wasn't.

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