In probably a lame and an unsuccessful attempt to try and look cool I once told someone and I am quoting, “I’m more of a movie person than that of a TV series one.
I need a lot of stimulation to keep me hooked to something. Movies are cool, they don’t take up much time, and no regrets if it turns out to be bad, you can terminate it right then, and for TV series it is quite tricky. Once you’re hooked, you are hooked. If it turns out anything vile it is very much like one of those messy relationships you can’t walk out of, you just wait for it to get better but it never does.” I was wrong.
I was scoffed at when I announced I acknowledge Sherlock only through Conan’s work on sheets and not through Cumberbatch’s firm baritone and sheer brilliance in the series because I can’t sit through TV series and I don’t know what I have missed out on. So just to be part of the crowd I am with, I decided to give it a shot and rest is history. I am in awe with Sherlock as much as Watson has been with him, despite that perennial scorn etched on his face at the former’s eccentricities.
When I talk about eccentricities I mean it in their truest sense, I mean a man who manages to trace events in a sequence to make sense of it by imagining a self constructed mental space that he likes to call as his “mind palace”, is also the same man who shrugs off a primary school knowledge about the earth going the sun because he tends to not take in unnecessary information. He chides off any breathing presence because the voices in their heads disturb him while he’s working on a case.
This guy can travel to an age old episode in his mind to recollect how a bomb can be detonated but he still jumbles up recalling his old pal, Greg’s name. But Sherlock is that friend we all have in our lives we always end up forgiving no matter what.
Martin Freeman lived the role of Dr Watson. You could not agree any more with Sherlock when he says, “I will solve a murder, but it will take Dr. Watson in saving a life.” It is him who humanises Sherlock’s genius and who pacifies his tormented clients from Sherlock’s sharp tongue.
When I talk about mental stimulation, this series does it to you. It just tickles right through the crevices of your brain and keeps you on the edge trying to grasp on what he picked up as deductions while you are still looking for evidences.
You won’t be able to deny Mrs. Hudson the love you have had for her chirpiness that of a 9 year old everytime she “Wuhu”s her way into Sherlock’s room and announcing she’s not his housekeeper, you just know even a toddler sneezing and toppling over a pug could not be cuter than her. You can’t not pity Molly Hooper for her unacknowledged inclination towards untowardly, psychopathic men and when you just see it on her face, the vulnerability she has for Sherlock. You would drool shamelessly over Irene in her battle suit and how she is insanely appealing that even Sherlock finds himself picturing her out of nowhere. You would envy Watson for Mary and laugh at him when he tries to validate his sexuality. You would empathize with Mycroft for his constant, inhibited concern for his Brother Dear. You would shrivel up every time Moriarty creeps up in a scene with his even creepier laughter.
I’ll probably go back to living my life without anything to look forward to now that I am done with the last episode but the only thing that is bothering me right now is how real Sherlock must have been when he said,
“Dear God, what’s it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring.“