There’s been a lot of talking about Sherlock Holmes, lately.
Well, in the last three years actually, when Stephen Moffat decided to turn the most famous detective in history in a modern and formidable television event (Sherlock, BBC).
It quite worked. Quite a lot.
Though what made Moffat’s TV-show so exceptional was not only the twisting plot or the breathtaking cliffhangers (and with Moffat, this tends to be literal).
What made it so good was the incredible fidelity he used to portray that reckless, high functioning sociopath, not only in his great cleverness, but also in his disconcerting ignorance (he’s really not familiar with the Copernican Theory and affirms that if the Earth revolved around the Moon, instead of the Sun, that wouldn’t make any difference to him whatsoever).
He is indeed a quirky man.
More than that, he is the quirky man Doctor John Watson ends up sharing a flat with in the first book Sir Arthur Conan Doyle dedicates to this great mind: ‘A Study in Scarlet’.
It’s not long, before Doctor Watson realizes the incredible deductive abilities of his friend and when Gregson and Lestrade, both detective of Scotland Yard, pop into their house asking Sherlock Holmes for help, Watson can’t really help going along.
Here’s where it comes the ‘Brixton Mystery’: an American man was found lying dead in a deserted house in Brixton Road, surrounded by a lot of blood, though no wound was detected on him.
I won’t tell more, or I’ll spoil the fun.
Anyway, if you think you already know all about it, only because you watched Moffat’s ‘Sherlock’, think again: another wonderful thing about that TV-show is that it’s (almost) spoiler-free.
You think you know who did it? Maybe…or maybe not.
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