It’s fair to say reactions to what could be the final series of the BBC phenomenon Sherlock have been mixed. After watching ‘The Final Problem’, I was spellbound by the episode and fourth series as a whole but was surprised by the majority of my peers who felt ‘let down’ by the highly anticipated finale. I thought perhaps my blind fanaticism was to blame for this divergence in opinion and made an effort to read a variety of reviews objectively. I still, however, found myself mentally defending what I consider the creatively unparalleled conception of Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat to the bitter end.
The majority of criticism regarding the series is preoccupied with the show’s believability and what can be considered as unnecessary complexity. Stuart Heritage, writing for The Guardian, felt plot holes and inaccuracies of narrative invariably transformed the sensation into an ‘annoying self-parody’. Of course, Sherlock and Dr Watson’s adventures are set within our real, modern world, but to state that the writing of the show should be concerned with realism is ridiculous. The show is pure fantasy and that’s why people love it. Yes, the action is often over the top and episodes can’t always be explained away neatly, but does this matter when it makes such a scintillating watch?
The show is convincing in more important ways than plot; the fourth series has demonstrated this with its unprecedented focus on the interpersonal relationships of characters. The guilt John feels at his betrayal of Mary, the rebuilding of Sherlock and John’s relationship after Mary’s death, and the excruciating phone call between Sherlock and Molly name but a few instances in which greater depth of character is revealed. Heritage, however, who is ironically concerned with the notion of ‘parody’ argues ‘Sherlock sorely needs to snap back into a recognisable shape [ . . . ] Wear the hat, play the violin, solve something impossible.’
In my opinion, TV series have to progress and not persistently relay a static formula that will inevitably wear thin. By moving further and further away from the stereotypical Holmes, akin to that played by Basil Rathbone, Jeremy Brett, and to some extent Robert Downey Jr, Sherlock presents a man even more haunting and complex than the Holmes of Conan Doyle’s books. Eurus’ mental notion of being alone on a plane doomed to crash perfectly captures the isolation that people with a mental capacity akin to the Holmes children invariably feel. This dark metaphor is neatly offset by comical scenes such as Moriarty’s Queen-powered descent from his helicopter, taking what is essentially a detective drama to whole new heights.
Why then the backlash to this series in particular? Is it possible that the cult surrounding Sherlock has acquired elitist connotations over the years? Where the Telegraph deemed ‘The Final Problem’ an ‘exhilarating thrill ride’, the Daily Mail condemned it ‘self-indulgent twaddle’, and the Daily Mirror ‘very confusing’. Has Sherlock then become too clever for its own good, potentially excluding viewers?
It is true that viewing figures were lower than anticipated at 5.9 million when the third episode of series four first aired. For me, however, the way in which we are continuously surprised and at times confused by the episodes mirrors the way John Watson must feel living alongside the sociopathic sleuth. We are not just watching a programme, we are tuning in to an experience of which, I believe, Conan Doyle would highly approve. It should also be considered that when catch-up viewings are taken into account, it is estimated that close to 10 million people watched the show. This is hardly surprising given the number of students who hold Sherlock in such high esteem.
If Sherlock does not return (and I seriously hope it does), I think the fourth series has been successful enough to leave a long-standing legacy. I know it will be a challenge to find another TV programme I delight in so much. ‘A junkie who gets high solving crimes’ – what a brilliantly exploited concept.