WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS ON ALL THREE EPISODES
All this shit going on and I completely submerge into a fictional world. If they only knew, bastard trolls (Moffat and Gatiss), how much they mean to me and how they help me…escape?
January 1st, BBC one launches 3d season of Sherlock. I am shutting down FB for several days, saving myself from spoilers. A year ago I have planned a Sherlock party for the long-awaited return and finally, the party is scheduled on January 3d. I've waited for 2 years, I could wait 2 days.
New Year goes by in general apathy, I just hang there, carefully chewing my depression.
January 3d a group of my friends, most of which started watching Sherlock based on my recommendations, gather in my apartment, everyone dressed as a character from the series. I am wrapped in a white sheet, hair curled, just like Sherlock in Buckingham Palace. Several Irenes grace our party, pretty and dangerous, two Moriarties, 1 Molly, my hubby as Mycroft.
It never feels right after 2 years of waiting. James Bond Sherlock flies into the window, fluffs up his god-given curls and kisses Molly. My living room explodes, only to be topped by Moriarty-Sherlock induced orgasm. Hubby leaves the room for some drink. His ears hurt. We never get the real story. I don’t believe that Anderson saw him at all.
We are disappointed. We did not get what we expected. We were made fun of. Though after viewing that episode again and again, watching different lights and color during different scenes, looking for clues, registering soundtrack and editing, I conclude that is was a wonderful, wonderful episode. All that was done was done on purpose, including our dissatisfaction. After all, Sherlock Holmes could not be predictable, could he?
January 8th, we come back from Lagodekhi, we go to sleep, I watch the episode. Slow in the beginning, funny in the middle, really cool at the end. My least favorite of the season. But I gotta say, 2nd episodes are never the best ones. Arguably, “The Blind Banker” of the 1st season is the worst episode of all 9, and “Hounds of Baskerville” is probably the weakest of Season 2, IMHO (since the 1st episode had The woman and the 3d episode fucked us up for two years).
January 12th, I already have a watching date on January 14th. I want to wait, so that the season is not over yet. I make a human mistake. I check my FB. People writing all sorts of exclamation points. My fellow Cumberbitch threatening to break her comp…need to watch it...how can I watch it...live streaming in the middle of the film... torrents blind and deaf to my suffering. Desperately, I read the Conan Doyle story, thus learning beforehand about the blackmail, the fake engagement, and some fishy murder. My friend keeps yelling over the messages. Piratebay finally caves in. I download it. I devour it. My breath is racing, my sweat glands – overworking, dragons, east wind, bullets, drugs, kisses, curls, coats and cruelty merging into a tornado of excellent camera work and a musical score that rips my heart out, walks all over it, presses it into the ground and burns the hell out of it. For 90 minutes I dare not to fix my pillow.
Red Beard moment kills me like no other moment, the dog, it was the dog, oh my poor, tortured heart, it was such a “Citizen Kane” Rosebud scenario. And oh, Mr. Holmes, oh, you in the plane, in the lights of a setting sun…it is the best episode so far. In all aspects.
And we are left with the dilemma of the same fucking roof to ponder over for two more years. And the bloody Musketeers. WTF????!!!!
Sherlock 3 - here be trolls. Two trolls. Trolls like gods.
Farewell Sherlock and John, Steven and Mark. See you in season 4.
The pic: Mr. Holms is mistaken: those are just glasses. Pic stolen from Tumlr