Review: Sherlock series finale

WARNING – CONTAINS ALARMING SPOILERS / PITIFUL JOKES.

Kleenex sales rose 453% last week as nervous members of the public braced themselves for what was suspected to be the tearful final episode of ‘Sherlock’ – the captivating modern day adaptations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s cherished Victorian crime novels. However, during Sunday’s thrilling audiovisual extravaganza, which contained more remarkable twists and turns than an expert yoga class in a labyrinth, the cunning super-sleuth walked away from his dangerous surroundings unscathed, to the indescribable relief of the nation’s greatly troubled deerstalker hat manufacturers.

Prodigiously talented and wonderfully eccentric amateur detective Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) makes Rain Man look unimpressive and well adjusted. With the assistance of his faithful, kindhearted assistant Dr. Watson (Martin Freeman), Holmes gains celebrity status nationwide for his dazzling mental calculations that allow him to solve cases in seconds that have baffled the professionals for months. Holmes’ arch-nemesis, James Moriarty, an ice-cold Irishman (Andrew Scott), appears to possess not only the most dangerous criminal mind of the twenty-first century, but also the ultimate weapon: a mathematical algorithm that can open any door he desires, anywhere.

Standing accused at the Old Bailey of breaking into the Bank of England’s bullion vaults, seizing the Tower of London’s priceless crown jewels, and unlocking the heavily guarded cells at Pentonville Prison, Moriarty manipulates the jury into acquitting him, despite the fact that he has no evidence to prove his innocence.  Sherlock does not watch the verdict firsthand. Following a tremendous piece of grandstanding in the witness box, when he admonishes the prosecution for incorrect legal procedure and reveals the scandalous secrets of the courtroom, the rapier-witted genius is thrown out for contempt. He’s like Horace Rumpole after a Ritalin overdose. 

Life goes from bad to worse for our old friend at 221b Baker Street. Moriarty hardly drinks the cup of tea that Holmes kindly boils for him, wastes a perfectly good apple, and then orchestrates a horrible smear campaign to destroy the brilliant investigator’s reputation. He kidnaps the young children of a respected British diplomat, abandons them in a disused sweet factory, and force feeds them chocolate laced with Mercury – otherwise known as a Milky Way bar. Then, once the private eye has located the victims’ whereabouts, with a gripping forensic test on the rubber traces left on the intruder’s shoes, Moriarty persuades the sergeants at Scotland Yard that Holmes, desperate for fame and recognition, commits these dreadful atrocities so that he can then expose them with panache. It’s just one soul-destroying revelation after another.

Holmes learns that his career is in tatters when Moriarty hacks into the shopping channel playing in the back of his taxi home. Given the dominance of Amazon, eBay and other online retailers, struggling TV stations like QVC urgently need some sort of advertising gimmick to boost their audience figures. After watching ‘Sherlock’, I think that they should employ a malevolent psychopath – Charles Bronson, for example – to pop up unannounced every now and then to read a scary Arthurian legend or biblical parable. Egyptian cotton towels and Ingersoll watches would fly off the warehouse shelves in the thousands afterwards. No need to thank me, Bid.TV.

Watson visits an affluent gentlemen’s club, where intelligent conversation is outlawed – which, of course, does not have any kind of historical precedent here in St Andrews. There, Sherlock’s enigmatic brother, Mycroft (Mark Gatiss), admits that he has betrayed his sibling by divulging intimate information to Moriarty in return for hints concerning the phenomenal computer code. Moriarty drags Sherlock’s name through the mud by exposing these secrets in an interview with calculating tabloid journalist Kitty Riley (Katherine Parkinson). Parkinson is predominantly known as a comic actress, playing ditzy Jen Barber in the eye-wateringly hilarious series ‘The IT Crowd’. I was so surprised to see her in a straight-faced role, away from the ridiculous corridors of Reynholm Industries, that I secretly wished that the series would conclude with the revelation that Holmes’ true adversary is not Moriarty but Maurice Moss, who defeats Sherlock in a life or death game of Street Countdown. Hopefully, this alternative sequence will appear in the upcoming DVD’s extras.

Riley’s article denounces Holmes as a reprehensible villain – a poacher pretending to be a gamekeeper. She claims that his astounding achievements are all fraudulent, and that James Moriarty is in fact Richard Brook, a children’s television presenter hired by Sherlock to act as his despicable enemy. Moriarty, the callous engineer of Holmes’ tragic fall from grace, meets the humiliated detective on St Bartholomew’s Hospital rooftop. He reveals that there was no algorithm after all and that plants helped with each break-in. (Human, not botanical.) Eager to encourage Holmes’ suicide, Moriarty commissions three assassins to aim their rifle sights on Dr. Watson, Mrs. Hudson, and D.I. Lestrade, allegedly Sherlock’s only friends. If he does not jump, they will fire.

I’m not very good at analysis, but this bit was really bloody exciting. I hadn’t been glued to my seat this firmly since IKEA’s defective furniture recall fiasco.

Sherlock suggests that these murders can be avoided as long as Moriarty is alive. In order to thwart this plan, Moriarty shoots himself in the mouth. Fortunately, he had replaced his lovely cream tie from the courtroom scene with a drab black one by this point. So at least someone else can wear the really nice one again in the future. Every cloud has a silver lining, doesn’t it? You’ve got to look for the positives these days.

Watson, staring up from the pavement, has a heartfelt phone conversation with Holmes, who teeters on the edge of the hospital roof. Sherlock confesses that his life has been an elaborate deception, apologises for his deceitful misdemeanours, and then leaps from the edge of the precipice. A bike collides with Watson before he can see the landing. The sniper packs his bag and heads home. Holmes is presumed dead. A sensible conclusion, all things considered – it would be a very tall storey, otherwise.

The final scene: Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson mope around at the graveside for a bit.

Sherlock’s headstone is made of black marble. A poor choice because finger marks will be far more noticeable. Why don’t people think these things through properly? 

Watson calls Sherlock “the most human..erm…human being that I have ever known.” Touching. However, if this were a Radio 4 game show, he would have been penalised for both repetition and hesitation. Watson remains confident that Holmes was a scrupulously honest detective. I was definitely crying bucket loads right about now.

Watson trudges away. The camera pans left. Sherlock appears from behind a nearby gravestone. Twitter goes completely mental with conspiracy theories. The credits roll.

Watson finds out that Sherlock faked his own death in a canoe accident after seeing a photo of him smiling at an estate agency in Panama. Whoops. Wrong disappearance. 

How did the great man do it? The cliffhanger, a word that rolls off the tongue much more readily than “explanation-of-Cumberbatch’s-ostensibly-mutilated-corpse-on-the-pavement-delay”, will be concluded next year, in series three. I reckon that it has something to do with his earlier conversation with the delightful and jaw-droppingly attractive morgue worker Molly, my newest pathological obsession. She can conduct a phwoar-topsy on me any time she likes. If she were actually a real person, that is. 

This episode of ‘Sherlock’ was terrific escapism from start to finish, packed with razor-sharp one-liners, beautiful moments of pathos, and a smashing cream tie. Cumberbatch and Freeman deserve their plaudits. I’m tempted to send the BBC the £145.50 licence fee in the post in gratitude, even though I don’t own a television set. There’s no place in the Sunday evening light entertainment schedule like Holmes…

Written by Joe Fleming, standing-room-only writer

Photo © bbc.co.uk