Those three little words that could destroy a person. The cruellest test was surely the call to Molly Hooper. But it soon becomes apparent her other favourite hobby is messing with people’s minds until they are slaves to her whims.Īnd her whim is to have her brothers and Watson scurry around the prison like lab rats, passing one test after the other. Sian Brooke dazzles as the unhinged Holmes sister Eurus, living in a cell with a glass wall and only a violin to play with. If Mycroft ran the place, why would he need to sneak in? Looking for a cheap thrill? While it looked spectacular on screen, this entire sequence took far too long, the build up drowning under its own hype. Sneaking into the prison seemed ridiculous after surviving the bomb blast in the apartment. The Holmes brothers do love their dramatics. Heck, a whole season devoted to Moriarty and Eurus sounds like a good time.īut let’s look at the start of the episode Mycroft’s love of femme fatale noir seems too good to be true and in all honesty, who wouldn’t almost succumb to a heart attack at a clown chasing them through their house? Nicely played, Sherlock. In terms of Moriarty and Eurus – the modern day Bonnie and Clyde, or would Sid and Nancy be more appropriate? Madness attracts madness and I would have paid good money for even a glimpse at their five minute conversation. This ate up valuable time, causing the second half of the episode to feel rushed. The first half of the show seemed to lag, with conclusions being reached by the audience long before Sherlock’s eyes widen with comprehension.
And all because she wanted her big brother to play with her. Eurus is a truly terrifying character, showing us how genius morphs into madness. It’s time for him to become Jonathan Creek again.Talk about being inundated with exposition. Wear the hat, play the violin, solve something impossible. It felt like it came from a place so utterly divorced from what it ever was, that it’d be a blessed relief if the next episode was just a meat and potatoes mystery caper. The Final Problem felt like the outer orbit of Sherlock. Sherlock sorely needs to snap back into a recognisable shape. He’s a wise old mastermind with a functioning set of emotions, and now he can stand shoulder to shoulder with Jeremy Brett or Basil Rathbone. He’s been tested and broken and humanised so thoroughly that he now bears little resemblance to the sexy young swishy-coated alien from the pilot. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss have claimed that their Sherlock Holmes has now reached the point where he can suitably be compared to Sherlocks of television past. If we can have similarly definitive promises that there’ll be no more annoying Saw rip-offs, or scenes where Sherlock slow-motion karate-chops a coffin to pieces in anguish, I might find myself coming around to Sherlock again. Hopefully Eurus has supplanted him as Sherlock’s worthy nemesis and we won’t have to watch him infuriatingly goon about like the third understudy in a touring regional theatrical adaptation of Jim Carrey’s The Mask. Hopefully, should there be more of this, he’ll never be mentioned again.
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On the plus side, at least this series clarified that Moriarty is definitely dead.
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And perhaps, just perhaps, someone will point out how Eurus escaped from her maximum security island prison for long enough to pose as both a therapist and the daughter of a noted serial killer – and to have a full-blown text affair with John – and get back again without anyone noticing. John will uncover the mystery of how Mary managed to make such a very long DVD without him ever finding out. Sherlock and Molly’s relationship will be back to normal, the trauma of their phone call absent-mindedly waved away. If there is to be another episode, and that’s far from certain at this stage, you can guarantee that its first scene will be a quick bulletpointed go-over of all the plotholes and missteps of last night’s episode. Photograph: Laurence Cendrowicz/BBC/Hartswood Films
If they can promise there’ll be no more annoying Saw rip-offs, or scenes where Sherlock karate-chops a coffin in anguish, I might come around to Sherlock again.