[SPOILER ALERT: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU’VE NOT YET WATCHED SEASON 3’S FINALE LAST NIGHT. OTHERWISE, YOU’RE FINE OR YOU DO SO AT YOUR OWN RISK]
So, another season of Sherlock is in the books and—wait, I’m getting ahead of myself here.
Lets start from the beginning. With all the anticipation around Season 3 beforehand, I decided to catch up on Season 1 and 2 on Netflix (despite having both of the Blu-rays, bought in a January 2012 sale when HMV were still retailing in Derry).
Within the first twenty-to-twenty five minutes of starting Season 1, I already regretted not watching it sooner. And for someone who has a bit of a man-crush on Joseph Gordon-Levitt, I couldn’t help but be swooned by Benedict Cumberbatch as he entices Martin Freeman into a flatshare at Baker Street following their introduction at St Barts.
My time with Seasons 1 and 2 sold me. I was a fan from the second episode one of Season 1 ended, in fact. It was funny, charming, hilarious and smart. I’ve not read the original books from Doyle, so as the tagline put it, it was indeed a new Sherlock for a new modern era. Cumberbatch and Freeman’s casting in the title roles were perfectly done.
Thankfully, compared to most of the general audience who had to wait two years to a resolution of how Sherlock faked his death off the top of St Barts, I only had to wait 24 hours between finishing Season 2 on Netflix and starting Season 3 on BBC One to see what happened.
With the end of Season 3 last night, however, I now also know the inevitable feeling of waiting two years for a whole new set of episodes. As for Season 3 itself, I liked it a quite fair bit.
There’ve been a quite lot of complaints this season was focussing less on the actual cases and investigating that was the main pillar of the series and more on the character development of the two main characters and those who surround them. Mary, Watson’s new wife, was a nice way to further out Freeman’s character and give him a bit of depth.
And lets be honest here, Cumberbatch and Freeman are two of the most sought after actors in the world right now. It probably should have been expected that this season would focus more on the characters they portray and less on the cases. In fact, the traditional duff second episode in the series – such as Season 1’s The Blind Banker or Season 2’s The Hounds of Baskerville – was actually alright this year thanks to it more or less focussing on said character development.
I enjoyed The Sign of Three a bit more than I thought I would and there was a part of me that actually felt for Sherlock a bit at the end: his best friend getting married and the girl that looked like he may have had a chance with seemed to be making a move with someone else (though irrelevant by last night, it seemed), though last night’s ‘His Final Vow’ seemed to quieten at least the complaints of not enough solving mysteries.
That’s not to admit the show may have jumped the shark a bit once or twice thanks to the series’ fanbase and its fan-fic – Sherlock and Moriarty on the rooftop on the first episode of Season 3 or any of the numerous theories as to how Sherlock faked his suicide, in fact (Derren Brown? Seriously? Fuck me…) – but I still enjoyed Season 3. Perhaps for all the criticism of Season 3 elsewhere, perhaps people were too expectant following the massive build-up and the long wait for it over Season 2, as pointed out by Georgie Deacon in her own thoughts of Season 3 here.
And I knew Season 3 couldn’t end without a sting in the tail. Beforehand, it seemed for once that Sherlock was finally going to feel the wrath of consequences of what he’d done to Charles Magnusson towards the end (what a fucking cunt (in a good way, I mean, because Lars Mikkelsen performed that role brilliantly)).
And then, guess who waltzed back into our lives?
The question now is how did he survive his own suicide when it looked genuine compared to Sherlock? Or is it him playing mind games from beyond the grave? Is there a Moriarty Mk 2 somewhere out there ready to wreak havoc on Sherlock with, somehow, what we seen last night being an instruction of some sort from Moriarty himself that he left to his anointed protege before blowing his brains out in front of Sherlock on St Barts’ rooftop?
All I know is I was very, very giddy afterwards. I’m still giddy after it happened (I even ended up sending a picture of that final scene on this morning as part of a freelance commission pitch this morning).
Yup. That two year wait is going to be near torture.
PS: If I ever had a TV show to my life, the Sherlock theme would be its theme tune.