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This recaplet is more of a review/angry letter. Oh, fear not. The angry letter isn't to Moffat, et al. It's to the Beeb and PBS, but more on that later. We've waited long enough (some of us longer than others), Sherlock fans. Let's go on with our show.
As we all knew he would, Sherlock Holmes survives his jump off St. Bart's. He then spends two years infiltrating Moriarty's criminal network. We catch up with him (bearing some extra, welcomed muscle mass), shirtless (him, not us, or at least not me) in Serbia, where he's being tortured for information, while a disguised Mycroft watches. Raise your hand if you're not at all surprised that Mycroft likes to watch.
Once Sherlock is safely home in Old Blighty, he is desperate to catch up with his old mate, John Watson, who has had the temerity not only to move on with a woman, but to grow a mustache. If reuniting with Watson is Holmes' number one job, getting him to shave that mustache is job number two. When he succeeds, the angels sing. (Side note: someone should cast Benedict Cumberbatch as an angel, but in something meaty, not treacly.)
During the nearly two years since "The Reichenbach Fall," aired, a great deal of Sherlock internet chatter has been focused on how, exactly, Sherlock survived. Mark Gatiss, who penned "The Empty Hearse," deftly answers that question by tweaking the audience with fake reveals fueled by the imaginations of conspiracy theorist characters. How Sherlock survived was never the right question. John's reaction is all that matters, because John is us and we are John.
Given Sherlock's utter lack of social skills, he decides to reveal himself in about the worst manner, ever -- disguised as a waiter. John only recognizes him, just as he's about to propose to Mary Morstan (Amanda Abbington, Martin Freeman's life partner). John is relieved, devastated, and mostly furious that his best friend let him mourn for two years. John's emotions provide accessible catharsis for an audience which has also been pining for Sherlock, for far too long.
Every best scene in "The Empty Hearse" hones in on the deep bond between Watson and Holmes, and how keenly they missed one another. John's pain, anger, and joy -- first at his apparent loss, then in response to Sherlock's betrayal, and finally at their reconciliation -- is exquisite and not to be missed.
John's life is at stake twice in "The Empty Hearse." The first incident affords Sherlock the opportunity to prove his worthiness to a Watson-empathetic audience. The second instance plays more controversially. Never fear, Holmes saves Watson (and, depending on your politics -- more or less importantly -- Parliament). The problem is, while Holmes is deeply regretful that he's again put his friend's life in jeopardy, once he figures out how to save them both, he doesn't let John in on it, and instead manipulates the situation (and said friend), until John makes a clean confession of his feelings. And then? Sherlock laughs. While some fans accept this, some find it off-putting, while others find it infuriating. I'll say no more until the proper recap, so if you're reading this recaplet for spoilers (that you could have gotten anywhere in the past weeks), get out of here and go watch the episode. I have scathing letter to write.
Dear BBC and PBS,
I want to acquaint you with the 21st Century. In the 21st Century, a person who lives near Boston, Massachusetts, is as likely to regularly talk to people in Bristol, England, as she is to talk to people in Bristol County, Massachusetts. In fact, this person who lives near Boston, MA remembers the last time she entertained company from Bristol, England in her Massachusetts home. She cannot say the same of anyone who lives in Bristol County.
Why do you two broadcasters co-produce a mystery show, and then insist upon broadcasting it two and a half weeks apart? By doing so, you are inviting your audience to seek other means of viewing your product. Do you know why? I'll tell you why. Your product is a bloody mystery show, and in this, the internet age, it is nearly impossible to go about one's business (much of which is conducted via the internet) for two and a half weeks without being spoiled for said mystery show. Mystery solved!
If I understand your respective business models correctly, here's how things work in UK. A household pays a specific TV tax, which entitles said household to watch the BBC and other UK public television outlets. In the U.S., it is a little more fuzzy. Public broadcast funding is a line item on the ofttimes theoretical federal budget, so yes, it is our tax dollars at work, but it feels less direct to the average tax payer. Since public broadcasting is a line item on the budget, it is often also a favorite chopping block for more conservative political candidates. Remember Mitt Romney and Big Bird? Now, federal funding isn't enough to run U.S. public broadcasting, so programming is also funded by donations from viewers (like you me) and corporations which, regardless of what the U.S. Supreme Court says, aren't people in any sensible definition of the word, but I digress.
My point, and I do have one, is that by staggering the broadcast of a mystery show such as Sherlock, you are aiding and abetting shady providers of your fine programs -- the very providers you (and your for-profit counterparts) spend time, energy and money trying to shut down. Your nonsensical scheduling does more to increase the demand for shady services than all the viral marketing in the world could ever accomplish. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes' cognitive powers to realize that your scheduling costs you viewers.
In the year or decade, or however long it takes Moffat and company to produce the season (series to you Brits) of Sherlock, will you please get your collective acts together and agree to broadcast the show on the same schedule? Given the five hour time difference between UK and the U.S. East Coast, unlike Benedict Cumberbatch, I'm not asking for a simulcast (although I'd greedily accept one). I can avoid spoilers for an afternoon. I cannot avoid them for two and a half weeks.
People with internet access no longer have to illegally download a show to watch it. People with internet access do not even have to download computer programs which allow their computers to appear to be in the UK (to watch via BBC's iPlayer). There are websites which live-stream Sherlock to the world, while it is airing in UK. There are other websites (not YouTube) featuring YouTube-like players which allow fans to watch when they want, without downloading byte nor bit. By refusing to broadcast your shows on the same day, on both sides of the pond, you are driving your viewers to said sites -- in droves.
I'm all for public broadcasting. That said, this is exactly where capitalists are right to rely on the profit motive to get things done. I suspect if you both relied on advertising to produce your programs, your advertisers (or at least your share holders) would have already driven home the point that this ridiculous UK/US scheduling gap alienates US viewers. I, for one will watch (and re-watch) the U.S. PBS broadcast of Sherlock, and buy the Sherlock DVDs, because I'm obsessive like that, but most viewers do not watch TV the way TWoP recappers do. Please, please, get it together before season (series) four, and schedule the BBC1 and PBS broadcasts to premiere on the same day day.
Sincerely, Every U.S. Sherlock Fan
P.P.S. While it is not a mystery show, U.S. fans of Downton Abbey co-sign.
I'll be back ASAP with the recap. In the meantime, please grade the episode at the top of the page, and then come on over to our brand spanking new Sherlock forum where we don't shave for Sherlock Holmes; we wax.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Welcome to a very different episode of Sherlock. I suppose it's silly of me to welcome you to it since you, gentle reader, are already a character in "The Empty Hearse." Allow me to front-load some commentary, which I'll begin by delving into my one-trick bag of tricks.
In the "Ted" episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, while Buffy and Giles are out on patrol, Buffy vents about vampires but it soon becomes apparent something else has her in a snit. "I mean, people are perfectly happy getting along, and then vampires come, and they run around and they kill people, and they take over your whole house and start making these stupid little mini-pizzas. Now I like a mini-pizza, but I'm telling you..."
For those of you who never watched, the mini-pizza-making monster in question is Buffy's mom's new boyfriend (and in Buffy's defense, he does turn out to be an evil robot). None of that is my point, though. Once Buffy loses the thread of her metaphor, Giles tells her, "Buffy, I believe the subtext here is rapidly becoming text." While watching "The Empty Hearse," I hear Anthony Stewart Head saying, "Gatiss, I believe the text here is rapidly becoming metatext." Hey, if you have to have voices in your head, Tony Head's is not the worst option. P.S. to Moffat et al, please cast Mr. Head as a Sherlock villain.
In Sherlock's season three premiere, "The Empty Hearse," the text immediately becomes metatextual criticism on Sherlock fan theories, fan fiction and fandom itself. Less obviously, it becomes metatextual criticism on the very making of Sherlock. That's right. Gatiss isn't just taking the piss out of fandom. He's taking it out of the writing and production of the show. My assertion and belief is that he is doing it more out of love than disdain (although I'll allow there's a healthy dose of fear in there, too).
Meta-laden works are polarizing and "The Empty Hearse" is no exception. Provided the meta works with the plot and doesn't overwhelm it, I enjoy it. Writer Mark Gatiss skates the line between text and commentary so well, I'm disappointed he won't be competing in Sochi. His triple Axel that is "The Empty Hearse" is nearly flawless. Even the Chinese judges agree.
If you prefer that fourth wall firmly intact, I'm unlikely to change your mind on metafiction writ large. If you dislike it but can put aside those feelings, I'm offering another way to digest this episode, particularly to those fans who feel like the writers slapped them in the face, because I don't think that's what's going on here -- at least not where most of us are concerned.
I wonder if some fans are upset because they feel like Gatiss is saying all fans are Anderson, Sharon Rooney's Laura or another member of Anderson's Empty Hearse group. As the premiere unfolds, particularly when Sherlock first reveals he is alive, keep an eye on Anderson and Laura, of course, but even more so on the significant characters: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade and even Mary. Every single one of these characters has nonfictional counterparts involved in the creation and/or reception of Sherlock. As you watch the episode (or read this recap) through that lens, ask yourself, "Which character am I?" Maybe, more importantly, ask yourself, "Which one do I want to be?"
We open on the cemetery lawn with an audio flashback to John Watson screaming Sherlock's name as the consulting detective leaps to what surely must be his doom. We focus on Sherlock's stark, black headstone. The flowers lain at its base have long since withered. Reflected in the stone's surface is the figure of an approaching man. I don't know how many times I watched before I realize that in this scene, I'm looking at Sherlock's reflection, not John Watson's.
Flashback to the end of "The Reichenbach Fall." Sherlock recoils as Moriarty offs himself. John arrives in front of St. Bart's. Sherlock steps out onto the roof ledge. He's on the phone with John now and tells him, "It's a trick, just a magic trick." Sherlock here is the writers' avatar, spoiling us for the revelations of "The Empty Hearse" nearly two years before the episode will air -- even before it was written.
As the rooftop confession continues (you don't need me to quote it; you've memorized it by now), people carry away Moriarty's corpse and bring it to a secluded spot in the building, where they apply blue contact lenses to the eyes and a silicone mask of Sherlock's face.
Back outside, Sherlock takes his flying leap. John screams his name and runs toward the hospital, but he's knocked down by a passing biker. Cut to the flailing Sherlock. He seems to be flailing with purpose, but wait! He's attached to a bungee cord. This can't be real. I bet Sherlock fans have re-watched the end of "The Reichenbach Fall" more times than anyone has ever re-watched anything -- at least anything that doesn't involve a nip slip.
Ah well, Gatiss wants us to play with him, so I'm happy to oblige. Before Sherlock hits the pavement, the bungee cord snaps him back up. He crashes through the window of of Molly's lab, unhooks the cord, straightens his coat, ruffles his hair 'til it's free of glass shards (and far sexier than it usually looks), then takes Molly's face in his hands and kisses her lips off. Molly's hand travels to his neck before he breaks their clinch. She is weak in the knees as she watches Sherlock leave.
Down on the street level, men dump the Sherlock-masked Moriarty corpse onto the sidewalk and spread fake blood on and around the body. John struggles to rise. As soon as he's on his feet, British mentalist Derren Brown hypnotizes him back to sleep, then counts down until John can wake again. Oh dear, I don't think the show will fulfill Sherlock's "magic trick" prophecy quite so literally. I'm sorry, I interrupted Gatiss while he's taking a well-earned poke at us. Across the way from John, people surround the masked corpse as the still-living Sherlock walks the St. Bart's hallway. John rushes to the corpse, which is soon wheeled off. Sherlock Holmes sweeps through the doors and into his new secret life.
Before we lose sight of the closing doors, we hear Lestrade's rejection of everything we've just seen. "Bollocks." We cut to the street -- to reality. Anderson is with Greg and is quite sure that the above is how it all played out. "It's obvious." Lestrade reminds Anderson of all the reasons Sherlock is really and sincerely dead, including the fact that Molly tended to Sherlock's corpse. Anderson, however, is sure Molly was in on the whole thing. Lestrade can't handle much more of this. "Two years and the theories keep getting more stupid. How many more have you got for me today?" Now, you might think that's another poke at fans and I suppose it could be, but if it is, Lestrade isn't standing in for the writers. Put a pin in this claim of mine. I'll explain it before too long.
Anderson starts to babble out an answer about the paving stones, but Lestrade knows what's going on here. Anderson feels guilty for his part in making the police doubt Sherlock in the first place. "You and Donovan. You did this. And it killed him. And he's staying dead. Do you honestly believe that if you have enough stupid theories, it's gonna change what really happened?" As Lestrade starts off, Anderson calls after him, "I believe in Sherlock Holmes." I'm surprised he didn't start that sentence with "Hashtag." Lestrade says that won't bring back Sherlock. Lestrade is painfully wrong. Sherlock, overgrown Tinker Bell that he is, lives on belief.
We cut to a television reporter (played by Lovelace Akpojaro) doing a live segment in which he announces police have proven Moriarty created Richard Brook. We cut from the live shot to overlapping televised images of various reporters vindicating (the man they believe to be the late) Sherlock Holmes.
As Lestrade and Anderson watch the reporters in person, Lestrade raises his coffee cup. "Well, then...absent friends...Sherlock." Anderson raises his cup. "Sherlock." When they clink cups (which are disposables, so it's not truly a clink, but you see what I mean), Lestrade adds, "And may God rest his soul." Arguably, it's Sherlock's mind we ought to be asking the good Lord to rest, from time to time. We cut to the...
Cemetery. A mustachioed John stares at the headstone bearing the name of his beloved friend. A woman walks up and takes John's hand in hers. We only see her from behind. Her hair and figure are obscured by a hat, scarf and wool coat. Is that a stream of bird droppings staining Sherlock's stone? Heh. The writers truly are dumping on themselves (and perhaps Arthur Conan Doyle), much more than on the fans. From there we jump to...
Serbia. Through a variety of shots (some including red-toned night vision) that would make any recapper scream, provided that recapper could be arsed to cover them in detail, we watch as helicopter and ground troops, including dogs, hunt a tall, lean, shadowy, long-haired figure through the night. Once the soldiers have their target surrounded, he collapses like you do when you're on the run from dogs, soldiers and helicopters.
Cut to a dank, dark basement of what looks to be a large building. It doesn't matter what else it is, our concern is that it is serving as Sherlock's torture chamber. Yes, while we never see his face, and his frame is more well-muscled than the last time we saw our savant (thank you, Star Trek: Into Darkness), we know it's Sherlock because he turns the screw on his torturer, via inaudible (to us) deductions about the man's unfaithful wife. Finally, the torturer takes off, determined to catch his wife in the act.
Another soldier has been watching all along. Thanks to his clothing and the camera angles, we don't see his face either. Now that there are no witnesses, he approaches the prisoner, and (in Serbian) says, "So my friend, now it's just you and me. You have no idea the trouble it took to find you." The soldier grabs a fistful of the prisoner's hair, pulls upright and whispers, in English, in an ever-so-familiar voice. "Now listen to me. There's an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear. Back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft Holmes, you sadistic bastard. Through his veil of long hair, Sherlock gives us a wry smile. Title sequence. Opening credits.
John Watson rides the Tube. He is so lost in thought, he looks catatonic. We cut between shots of John's ride, shots of a black car featuring heavily tinted windows that eventually pulls up in front of the Diogenes Club and shots of Mycroft in a possibly window-free office.
John's crossing the street, now. Which street? C'mon, you know. On the sidewalk, he crosses paths with two boys who are wheeling their pumpkin-headed Guy Fawkes effigy. At first John ignores the boys, 'til they directly address him. "Oi, mate. Penny for the Guy." All the boys get from John is a bemused look, before he turns his attention to the door in front of him. That door. 221B Baker Street.
Upon entering, John has an auditory memory of telling Sherlock, "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." John remembers Sherlock's reply, too. "You invaded Afghanistan." Mrs. Hudson breaks his reverie when she pops her head out the door. John waves and clears his throat, then walks toward her.
We cut to a shot of a newspaper bearing the headline, "SKELETON MYSTERY." When the reader lowers the paper, we see Mycroft seated behind his desk, reviewing a dossier. "You have been busy, haven't you? Quite the busy little bee."
Sherlock is lying on a reclined chair near the door. A barber is shaving him. Sherlock drops the newspaper to the floor. "Moriarty's network. It took me two years to dismantle it." When Mycroft asks if he's confident he succeeded, Sherlock says the Serbian side was the last puzzle piece.
Mycroft delights in tweaking his brother. "Yes. You got yourself in deep there, with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme." Sherlock agrees it was colossal. Mycroft waits a beat, then says, "A small 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss." He wants to be thanked for wading in, and reminds Sherlock of his contempt for fieldwork.
Sherlock sits up. "Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp!" Mycroft says, "I got you out." Sherlock is vehement as he disagrees, then asks Mycroft why he didn't intervene sooner. Mycroft claims he would have blown his cover. Sherlock isn't buying that. "You were enjoying it." Mycroft says that's nonsense. Sherlock: "Definitely enjoying it." C'mon, Mycroft. Confession is good for the soul. He ignores me.
"Do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going undercover? [...] The noise. The people." Sherlock relaxes enough to let the barber continue his shave and tells Mycroft he didn't know he spoke Serbian. Mycroft prattles on about how since Serbian has a Slavic root and Turkish and German loan words, mastering it took him a couple of hours. In case we're not feeling stupid enough yet, Sherlock says, "You're slipping." Mycroft writes this off as the price of reaching middle age. "It comes to us all." Anthea arrives with a fresh suit of clothes for Sherlock. We cut back to...
Baker Street. In her kitchen, Mrs. Hudson serves up a simple if slammy tea and plops down a plate of biscuits, but the biggest thud comes from her ample platter brimming with an initially passive-aggressive guilt trip over not being in touch. When John doesn't know how to respond, she gestures at her own lip and says, "Not sure about that. Ages you." John says he's just trying it out. Mrs. Hudson: "Well, it ages you." She's not wrong, John. Finally, she opens up and says that while she's not his mother, he could have made just one phone call after all they went through. John says he is sorry. Neither of them ever verbally acknowledge Sherlock's death. John says it got harder and harder to pick up the phone. That's a life lesson. The longer a phone sits unused, the heavier it grows.
Back in his office, Mycroft gives instructions on finding the terrorist cell. Sherlock just wants to get back to London -- into London. Anthea says one of their men died to get this intel. All the chatter concurs there will be an attack on London. Sherlock is more interested in finding out about John. Mycroft snarks that he's met him every Friday for fish and chips, but quickly softens and says he's kept "a weathered eye on him." He hands Sherlock a file on his favorite subject. Mycroft asks Sherlock if he's been in touch at all or prepared John. Sherlock gives an absent-minded "No" in response. He's fixated on John's new facial hair. "We'll have to get rid of that. [...] He looks ancient. I can't be seen wandering around with an old man."
Back at Baker Street, John enters the flat he and Sherlock once shared. He's alone with the dust particles and his memories for a moment before Mrs. Hudson follows him in and opens the drapes. After brief small talk about Sherlock disliking it when she dusted, Mrs. Hudson asks John why he's changed his mind and come back to see the old place.
When John says he has some news, Mrs. Hudson is afraid he means bad news, so he sets her mind at ease and says he's moving on. She assumes he's emigrating. He clarifies: "I've met someone." Mrs. Hudson giggles with glee. John admits he's ready to propose marriage.
"So soon after Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson's delight turns to concern, but she brightens when John shows his resolve and asks, "What's his name?" John sighs and says he's met a woman. Since Mrs. Hudson finds that curious, John grows more exasperated and emphasizes that of course he's talking about a woman. Mrs. Hudson laughs. "You really have moved on, haven't you.
Like many fans, John has had it up to his eyeballs with this running joke. "Mrs. Hudson, how many times... Sherlock was not my boyfriend." Mrs. Hudson, like other fans, is not convinced, so she reminds John her motto is Live and let live. John leans in. "Listen to me. I AM NOT GAY." We cut back to...
Mycroft's office. Sherlock plans to pop into Baker Street and surprise John. Mycroft explains that John no longer lives there. When Sherlock seems perplexed, Mycroft reminds his little brother that it's been two years. John has gone on with his life. Sherlock asks, "What life? I've been away." He asks Mycroft where he might find John. Mycroft plays dumb at first, but eventually tells Sherlock where John has dinner reservations and indulges himself with a bit of wine snobbery. Sherlock decides to drop by the restaurant. Mycroft suggests he mightn't be welcome, but Sherlock isn't ready to even entertain that notion. Instead he asks, "Now where is it?" Mycroft asks what he means. Sherlock says, "You know what." Anthea appears in the doorway, already holding Sherlock's trademark Belstaff coat. Sherlock smiles at the sight of it. Anthea helps him slip into it. "Welcome back, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock thanks her, then turns to Mycroft and says, "Blud." This is most easily interpreted as slang for blood or brother, but given Mycroft's newly acquired fluency in Serbian, which has a Slavic root, I like to think Sherlock just called his brother a fairy.
We cut to Sherlock on what I believe is St. Bart's rooftop. He surveys his city -- breathes it in. What's going through that mind of his? I suppose a better question is: what isn't? The sun sets. Night falls. We cut to the...
Landmark, London. Sherlock enters and hands off his coat. The maître d' asks if he can help Sherlock. With a glance, he deduces the man is an expectant father and tells him his wife just texted him. "Possibly her contractions have started." Once he spies John across the room, Sherlock gets cold feet. For the first time, he seems to have let the thought hit him that it might be a bit awkward to spring himself on John. So does he go home and work out another, more gentle way to ease himself back into his old life and dear friendship? Of course not. This is Sherlock frigging Holmes; he's as socially idiotic as he is intellectually brilliant.
After a moment of downloading everything in sight into his heightned brain, Sherlock decides to pose as a waiter. He spills water on one customer in order to steal his bow tie. he snags another man's glasses as he retrieves his menu. He then swaps that menu for another that a female patron is reading, only to distract her as he swipes some sort of pen (or probably eyeliner) from her open purse. Using his ill-gotten gains, Sherlock draws on a ridiculous mustache of his very own and poses as John's waiter. His French accent is just a bonus.
The problem is that John never looks his impostor waiter in the face. Sherlock's words grow more desperately obvious, like when he likens a champagne selection to "a face from the past." He even whips off his stolen eyeglasses, but John remains oblivious and simply decides to go with the recommended bubbly. Sherlock tries again. "It is familiar, but uh... with the quality of surprise." Sherlock's voice rises on the last word and he makes a little flourish with his arms, but John still hasn't looked at him. He hands off the menu and tells the "waiter" to surprise him. Sherlock snits, "I'm certainly endeavoring to, sir," and swans off.
Once John is alone at the table, he takes out a small velvet case and opens it to reveal a diamond engagement ring. It's a lovely and perfectly respectable piece with a modest, but by no means small, center stone flanked by two slightly smaller ones. Still, American readers will feel me when I say that had this show been made Stateside, we'd now be looking at an improbably large, flawless stone that would be well outside John Watson's means, as well as most of our own. What I'm trying to say is that I appreciate this touch. That is the ring this John Watson should buy. Well played, Brits.
Mary (Amanda Abbington) returns to the table and apologizes for the delay. John smiles and shoves the ring in his pocket. It's not long before he tries to get right to business, but he is awkward as he tries to word and frame his proposal. He's not a question-popper, that's for sure. Mary knows what he's going to ask and takes an understandable amount of pleasure as he struggles to do this just right.
Just as John is about to get the words out, Sherlock returns to the table with the champagne, and immediately begins to babble. Mary bites a finger to keep from laughing. Again, Sherlock slathers on his own subtext as he describes his champagne selection. "It has all the qualities of the old, with some of the color of the new." Subtlety, thy name is not Sherlock.
John tries to shoo him away. Sherlock continues laying his clues. "Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers. Suddenly, one is aware of staring into zee face of an... old friend." He again removes the swiped spectacles. John looks up and says, "No, seriously. Could you just..." before his eyes meet Sherlock's. Then Martin Freeman performs some sort of magic with his face that would turn the most powerful sorcerer in the world pea green with envy. He's stunned. He's shaken. He jumps. He gulps. He recoils.
Sherlock babbles about tuxedos, but I can't pay enough attention to him, because John Watson is stealing my soul even as he looks from Sherlock to Mary and silently pleads with her to wake him from this bizarre dream, so he can tell her, We are never getting curry from the local take-away again, because you will not believe the dream....
John realizes he's awake. He bows his head toward the table, but it springs back up, almost immediately. He jumps out of his chair. His body hasn't decided if he should hug Sherlock or deck him. Mary knows he's upset, but she hasn't quite worked it all out. John draws a sharp breath through his flared nostrils. He screws up the courage to again look at Sherlock, but only for a moment. I want to get him one of those Eclipse viewer thingies, so his eyes aren't damaged. No, I don't even know what that means, but that's the thought that prances across my brain. All the while, Mary's been asking John things like, "What is it?" Still looking at John, Sherlock offers her something approaching an answer. "Well, the short version is: not dead."
Finally, Sherlock stops waiting for John's reaction once he realizes this is John's reaction. Regret flickers across his face. "Bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defense, it was very funny." To John's glower, Sherlock responds with a nervous chuckle. "Okay. It's not a great defense."
Mary can't take her eyes off Sherlock. She mutters things like. "Oh, no," and "You're...," but never finishes the thought. Sherlock answers her too quickly, each time. Finally, she says, "Oh, my God." Sherlock: "Not quite." Mary: "You died. You jumped off a roof." Sherlock: "No." Mary: "You're dead!" Sherlock: "No. I'm quite sure. I checked. Excuse me." He dips a napkin into a handy water goblet, then proceeds to wipe off his mustache. Looking at John, he asks, "Does uh, does yours rub off, too?"
John almost laughs, but when he swallows it down, the taste of bile in his throat kills the reflex. He's amused, then furious, then wounded and oh my word, Mary, stop your muttering, take your man home, wrap him in a blanket, feed him warm chocolate pudding and tell him none of this ever happened. Tell him he got some bad booze. Tell him anything to stop this emotional overload.
By the time Sherlock acknowledges that he owes John an apology, it's too late. John has already pounded his fist down on the table. "Two years." He thought his best friend was dead that whole time. He grieved that whole time. "How could you do that? How?"
Sherlock says, "Wait. Before you do anything that you might regret, um, one question. Just let me ask one question. Um..." He chokes down the threatening giggle fit and gestures to his own upper lip. "Are you really gonna keep that?" Sherlock looks from John, to Mary. Unbidden, a laugh bursts from her lips. Then it's game on.
John grabs Sherlock by the lapels and shoves him across the floor and then down onto it. Sherlock tries to save himself from a well-deserved throttling. Mary and nearby guests rush to pull John off of Sherlock. We cut to a...
Small cafe. Sitting across a red and white checkered cloth covered table from John and Mary, Sherlock seems under the impression that he's answering a reporter's questions. "I calculated that there were 13 possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible." He continues speaking as we flash back to scenes from "The Reichenbach Fall." Sherlock continues. "The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling..."
John's already heard enough. "You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick. [...] I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why." Sherlock, missing the point entirely, begins to drone on about how Moriarty had to be stopped, then bothers to gage John's reaction. "Oh. Why, as in..." When John nods, Sherlock says, "I see. Yes. Why. That's a little more difficult to explain." John says he has all night.
Sherlock clears his throat. "Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea." John raises an eyebrow at that. Mary is completely captivated by the story. "Oh, he would have needed a confidante." When she turns to John and reads his face she adds, "Sorry." John asks if Mycroft was the only one who knew.
Sherlock admits a "couple" of other people knew. "It was a very elaborate plan. It had to be. The of the 13 possibilities..." John interrupts. "Who else? Who else knew? Who?" Eventually Sherlock admits Molly was in on it, too. "And some of my homeless network. And that's all." John straightens up and looks from Mary to Sherlock. "Okay. Okay. So just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps." Sherlock snickers. "No! Twenty-five at most." John flies across the table -- hands straining for Sherlock's neck. We cut to a...
Tiny Take-Away Shop. There are only two tables. A couple is seated at one. Sherlock, John, and Mary are standing by the counter. Sherlock dabs at his now cut lip and asks John if he's keeping the mustache. When John says Mary likes it, Sherlock disagrees. John insists otherwise, but Sherlock persists. John looks from Sherlock to Mary and then back again.
Mary knows she's been found out. "I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you." John pronounces this all "charming." Poor noodle. He points at Sherlock. "I've really missed this." Yes, this is an anagram of shit. John says he only would have needed one word. Sherlock explains his way into the doghouse when he says he worried John mightn't be discreet.
"Oh, so this is my fault?" John's yelling now. "Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong -- the only one reacting like a human being?" Mary's already giggling. When Sherlock says he is overreacting, I'm not sure how John's head doesn't actually explode. I suppose the BBC doesn't have much of a special effects budget. He rants about Sherlock faking his own death, then waltzing back into his life. "But I'm not supposed to have a problem with that. No, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a perfectly okay thing to do!"
Sherlock shushes John. "I don't want everyone knowing I'm still alive." John's voice is dialed all the way up to 11. "Oh, so it's still a secret, is it?" The customer standing further down the counter can't help but overhear. Sherlock confirms it is still a secret. "Promise you won't tell anyone." John shouts, "Swear to God." Quietly, Sherlock starts to confide in John about the imminent terror threat against London, then he ices the cake. "I need your help."
John can't even with you right now, Sherlock. He doesn't listen to me. They never do. "You have missed this. Admit it. The thrill of the chase. The blood pumping through your veins. Just the two of us against the rest of the world..." John grabs Sherlock by the lapels and head-butts him in the nose. We cut to the...
Sidewalk. Sherlock's standing with his head tilted back. He pinches the bridge of his nose to slow the blood flow. Since he's already said he's sorry, he's not sure of John's issue. John is a few yards off, hailing a cab. Mary turns to Sherlock. "Gosh, you don't know anything about human nature, do you?" Mary Morstan, meet Sherlock Holmes.
"Hmm. Nature? No. Human... no." Sherlock's grin is obscured by his handkerchief. Mary says, "I'll talk him 'round." Sherlock's is taken off guard by this. "You will?" Mary's smile is warm as she nods. "Oh, yeah." Sherlock reads her. Words surround her face. Linguist. Liar. Lover. Nurse. Guardian. Shortsighted. Nurse. Part. Tattoo. Disillusioned. Size 12. Bakes own bread. Liar. Clever. Only child. Liar. Romantic. Appendix scar. Cat owner. Disillusioned Lib Dem. Liar. As Sherlock considers Mary, John calls out to her to join him in the cab. Sherlock watches them leave.
Once they're on the road, John asks Mary if she can believe Sherlock's nerve. Mary grins. Her voice is soft and warm. "I like him." John says, "What?" Mary shrugs. "I like him." John can't believe his eyes and ears. We cut back to Sherlock who walks off alone. We cut to a...
Sidebar A: Remember that front-loaded commentary metafiction about how the characters represent us, as well as the cast and crew? John is the avatar of the true blue fan. He's sane, practical, rock solid. He, however, is as smart as he is engaged. He'll get mad at his favorite show (or sports team or artist) and be disappointed by it (or him, or her, or them), but he is in it for the long haul. The John Watsons of this fandom want to understand, want to enjoy, want to lend their support. This is the fan base that Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat and Steve Thompson (and the rest of the cast and crew) most want to court, please, entertain, delight and satisfy.
Sidebar B: Because the end of "The Reichenbach Fall" is so outrageous, "The Empty Hearse" is crafted to satisfy the John Watsons among us. Some fans are never going to be satisfied, while others will accept anything you fling at them, and I'll get to those groups later. John has always put up with a lot of nonsense from Sherlock because the friendship is so dear to both men. What John needs from Sherlock right now is to know he still matters to Sherlock as much as Sherlock matters to him. The way to satisfy fans of this ilk, within the text, is to satisfy the character John Watson.
Sidebar C: I'll just take on Mary and Maryish fans before returning to the story. Mary, God bless her, is perfect, isn't she? I mean, she's probably not perfect, but she's well written and played. Since John and Sherlock are so tight, it would be easy to make Sherlock and Mary prickly around each other and envious in petty ways of one another. We don't get that from Mary. She loves John, knows John loves her and also knows John loves Sherlock. She knows how important this friendship is to the man she loves, so she's determined to support it. If you're a Mary, you're probably new to the show and you got sucked into it because someone important to you loves it dearly. Instead of resenting this odd pastime and all the fannish fury it can spark, you're leaping in with both feet, learning the lingo, the running jokes, the back stories. Welcome. Sit back and enjoy the ride.
Molly enters the St. Bart's locker room. When she opens her locker, she gasps to see Sherlock's reflection in her door mirror. We cut to a...
Sidebar: Molly, like John, is also true blue. The difference is that she's been in on the charade since before Sherlock leapt off the roof. In that sense, it's hard to say she represents a faction of fandom. I like to think of her as an avatar of the unsung crew -- you know, the ones whose names we don't know. She takes an awful lot of guff from Sherlock, and has for longer than any of us have known (this iteration of) him. She continues to have his back. Without her, there is no Sherlock Holmes.
Lestrade enters a dark car park. He doesn't notice the shadowy figure trailing him, rows away. He stops and pats himself down. He's startled by a noise and looks around, but sees nothing out of the ordinary. Finding his cigarette pack, he takes out one and is about to light it when a familiar voice says, "Those things will kill you." With his lighter still lit, Lestrade freezes in place. Finally, he shuts the lighter. "Ooh, you bastard!"
Sherlock emerges from the shadows. "It's time to come back. You've been letting things slide, Graham." Lestrade corrects him. "Greg." Sherlock looks chagrinned. "Greg." Lestrade reaches out, puts his arms around a startled Sherlock and pulls him close. I laugh at Sherlock's discomfort, until I remember how physically wounded he must still be, then I cringe. We jump to a...
Sidebar: Remember, during Anderson and Lestrade's conspiracy theory scene, I said to stick a pin in something. It's time to unpin it. It was after Lestrade told Anderson, "Two years and the theories keep getting more stupid. How many more have you got for me today?" I claimed I didn't think this statement was meta-commentary from the writers about the fans. That may be an overstatement. I would imagine everyone involved in the show feels this way to some extent. The thing is, I also think Lestrade's line about the stupid theories also serves as some fans' commentary on the theories posited by the more imaginative (and sometimes the more rabid) among us. Confession: I am not a John Watson-like fan. Sherlock is not as central to my life (or even my leisure time) as it is to true-blue fans. I like it. I know it's smarter than me. I count on it to get the job done. As soon as I finished watching "The Empty Hearse" the first time, I started watching it for the second time because there's so much to it. When I got to this "Ooh, you bastard," scene, I saw myself. I saw my own reaction to this episode. I knew I'd been had, but was so glad the show was back, and as fun as ever, that it only took me a second to accept what I'd been given and acknowledge it matters less to me how Sherlock lives than it does that he lives, still.
We cut to John and Mary's bedroom. Mary is sound asleep. John's stare burns holes in their ceiling. We cut to...
221 Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson is doing her washing up when she hears a noise. One gloved hand turns down the radio volume while the other grabs her weapon of choice -- a frying pan. Opening her flat door, she heads toward the door in the corridor. Through the window, she sees a long, lean, oddly familiar silhouette. Sherlock opens the door and enters the hallway. Mrs. Hudson screams.
Sidebar. Despite her prolonged scream, I don't associate Mrs. Hudson with any out-of-control fan faction. She loves Sherlock and she does what she can for him, even though she doesn't always understand him. This is not the worst type of fan in the world.
We cut to St. Bart's rooftop. I'm tired of the end of "The Reichenbach Fall." You know the drill. This time, instead of the real Sherlock standing on the roof, we see a corpse propped up. It's holding a mobile phone, and there's a picture of Sherlock pasted over its face. Against a chimney, further back on the roof, Moriarty sits and snickers, as Sherlock, who is seated to him, talks on the phone to John. When Moriarty giggles too loudly, Sherlock shushes him and continues his telephoned suicide note, then releases the corpse. It plummets to the sidewalk, below. John screams Sherlock's name. Blah blee bloo. Back up on the roof, Moriarty and Sherlock share a laugh. When their eyes meet, they recognize their attraction. Sherlock moves in for a kiss.
"What? Are you out of your mind?" Anderson's leading a meeting of his Empty Hearse group, and he can't believe the above theory. Laura, the young woman who floated it, says it's just as likely as some of Anderson's theories. Anderson is irate. "Look, if you're not going to take it seriously, Laura..." Laura (Sharon Rooney) insists she does take it seriously. Anderson blusters about how he founded the Empty Hearse group to discuss theories. He's convinced Sherlock is still out there. The TV in the background is going to back him up any second now, but before I cover what the reporter is saying, take a moment to notice the bottom BBC News crawl. It reads, "MAGNUSSEN SUMMONED BEFORE PARLIAMENTARY C..." More importantly, of course, is the "BREAKING NEWS" text above it, which reads: "HAT DETECTIVE ALIVE." Laura says, "Oh, my God." There are at least eight people in Anderson's flat. Their phones all go off at the same time. Laura holds her phone up for Anderson to see, as she says, "Oh. My. God." Text messages pop up on our TV screens. Most of them read #SherlockLives.
We cut to John and Mary's bedroom. She's reading one of his blog entries aloud. John begs her to stop, but Mary's having fun. She's determined to continue until she realizes John's face is covered in shaving cream -- including his mustache. Mary's not above needling her man. "Six months of bristly kisses, and then His Nibs turns up." John supplies my recap headline. "I don't shave for Sherlock Holmes." Mary laughs. "You should put that on a T-shirt." John tells her to shut up. Mary asks, "Or what?" John turns from the mirror, toward his woman. "Or I'll marry you." Mary smiles.
Sherlock narrates about London's criminal element. This recap is already running long, so I'm going to try to be more concise. There are certain people he watches. They're markers. When they start to move, Sherlock sees rats deserting a sinking ship. That's how he'll know something is up.
We cut to a clean-faced John who is walking to work. Then we cut to...
221B Baker Street. Mycroft is seated opposite Sherlock and it appears they're playing chess, but they can't be,because their hands are never over the board. They discuss the impending terrorist attack. Sherlock hasn't found the answer yet, but is sure he will. These two don't need to play chess. Their every conversation is a chess game. And they're not playing chess. They're playing Operation. Ha. Mycroft fails to treat the broken heart piece. Sherlock says that's telling. They measure their respective intelligence, the way other men measure other things. Both seem in agreement that Mycroft is smarter. I dither on this. They also agree that everyone else is stupid. Still, Sherlock can't help but wonder if Mycroft connected with any goldfish (as they call us mere mortals), during his absence. Mycroft orders him to change the subject.
They're interrupted by Mrs. Hudson who is still aglow over Sherlock's return. When the boys are snarky with each other, Mrs. Hudson says, "He's secretly pleased to see you under all that..." Mycroft says, "Sorry, which of us." Mrs. Hudson stops on her way out. "Both of you." they pass the time by "doing deductions." Sherlock tosses Mycroft an old hat. They each point out features and flaws in the hat to deduce its owner, which Sherlock already knows. It's tedious to transcribe, so I'm not going to. Sherlock started the whole exercise in order to bring the conversation around to the owner's isolation, so that he can again point out Mycroft's own isolation. Mycroft insists he's not lonely. Sherlock asks, "How would you know?" The conversation shakes Mycroft more than he cares to admit, so it's all pip pip, back to work. We cut to...
John's office. Mary is his nurse, and his first patient has an undescended testicle. These sorts of cases are hardly a challenge for a combat surgeon, never mind the danger-hungry associate of the world's first consulting detective.
We jump back and forth between the surgery and 221B Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson asks Sherlock if he's tried talking to John. Sherlock says John made his position clear. We jump back to the surgery, where John is putting on a glove. Only his middle finger is extended. Ha. Back at 221B, Mrs. Hudson asks what John said. Sherlock says, "F."
"Cough," John tells his patient. Most of the cuts back and forth feature cleverness like that. It plays better on screen than it ever would transcribed. Somewhere in there, Molly arrives at 221B. She assumes he's going to ask her to dinner, but Sherlock has asked her to help on some cases. She knows she's being Sherlock's "John," even though he denies this. The first involves Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt and their mysteriously empty bank account. Sherlock looks at Harcourt for mere seconds before spotting that the man is engaged in an affair, and he's the one who has drained their funds.
Meanwhile, John is treating a patient for piles (hemorrhoids). Oh.
Back at 221B Sherlock deduces that Mr. Windibank posed as his stepdaughter's online lover and broke off their relationship so that she'd remain at home and he'd still have her wages coming in.
At the surgery, John treats a patient so ridiculous that he's sure it is Sherlock in disguise. In fact, he just about assaults the man by tugging at his beard, ripping off his hat and pulling his hair before he realizes this is just a strange old man. I suspect John diagnoses himself with a case of wishful thinking.
Greg Lestrade is now with Sherlock and Molly. He tears down the crime scene tape and leads them into a building, as he says the case has baffled the police. Molly holds her own with Sherlock as they look for clues, but Sherlock keeps hearing John's voice and responds to it, even though John is nowhere to be found. The case is Skeleton Mystery, touted on the front page of the paper Sherlock was reading in Mycroft's office. Lestrade is still keen on Molly and asks if this new partnership is a standing arrangement. He's dismayed to learn that John's no longer in the picture. Of course, Greg can't hear John's voice inside of Sherlock's head.
Toward the end of the investigation, Sherlock finds a book. On its cover is How I Did It, "By Jack the Ripper." Sherlock, with some clever work by Molly, and some insulting barbs from Imaginary John, has figured the whole thing out. "The corpse is six months old. It's dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It's been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing southeast, judging from the fading of the fabric. It was sold off in a fire damage sale, a week ago. Greg says, "So the whole thing was a fake? Sherlock says it was and heads out of the room. When Molly wonders why someone would go to so much trouble to fake a crime, Sherlock answers, "Why indeed, John?" Aw.
Sherlock and Molly arrive at the flat of the man who owns the knit cap Mycroft and Sherlock used while doing deductions. His name is Howard Shilcott. Sherlock returns the hat and he and Molly follow the man inside. Howard works for the Tube and is a train enthusiast. He wipes the security footage after it's been cleared. He noticed a solitary passenger getting on at an empty car at one station, but when the train arrives at the station, that car -- the last car -- is empty. This happened last week. What's more, the driver of that train hasn't been to work since. Howard says the driver's flatmate says he came into some money and is on holiday. Now, the train never stops. The doors won't open while it is operating and the maps show no other side tunnels or escape routes. Riddle us that, Sherlock! Sherlock watches the footage again and realizes he knows the lone passenger. It's one of his markers. We take a jarring trip through Sherlock's Mind Palace, which this week is more of a mind subway, then we cut to...
221B Baker Street. John stops outside the front door. He can't quite make himself go in yet, and more's the pity. One man bumps into him, and keeps moving without apology. This distracts John enough so that a second man has a chance to inject something into John's neck. John tries to fight off his assailant, but the drugs hit his system too quickly. The first man rounds back and helps the assailant lower John to the ground.
Back at Howard's place, Sherlock has figured out that the journey between the two train stations in question (Westminster to St. James Park) should only take five minutes, but on the night in question, it took ten. As Sherlock and Molly leave, he rattles off a list of things his going to need (old maps, etc.), then he asks Molly out for fish and chips. Molly asks him what today was all about -- them working together. Sherlock says it was his way of thanking her for everything she did for him. "Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake, because the one person he thought didn't matter to me at all was the one person who mattered the most. You made it all possible, but you can't do this again, can you."
Molly stumbles over her response, but before she gets to a definitive refusal, Sherlock notices the diamond ring on her left hand and congratulates her on her engagement. Molly is quick to point out that her new man is not from work. They were introduced by friends and she's met his whole family, even his dog. Sherlock tells her he hopes she'll be very happy. "After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths." Molly says, "No?" Sherlock answers, "No." He gives her a tender smile and an even more tender kiss on the cheek, then walks out ahead of her. Molly waits a moment. Her eyes glisten as she says more to herself than Sherlock, "Maybe it's just my type."
We cut to a moonlit sky. John wakes. At first, it seems like he's beneath a shrub or something. Coughing, he tries to sit up but soon collapses.
Mary is walking down the street alone when she receives a text that reads, "Save souls now! John or James Watson? Saint or Sinner? James or John? The more is Less?" She thinks about it for a moment, then rushes off to 221B Baker Street. Barging in, she tells Mrs. Hudson that she thinks someone has John. Of course Mrs. Hudson hasn't yet met Mary, so she's alarmed until Mary explains she is John's fiancée.
Sherlock, emerges from his flat, fish and chips still in hand. Sherlock calls out, "Mary, what's wrong." She shows him the text. She thought at first that it was just spam, until she realized it was a skip code. I'm sure Sherlock will file that observation away for further review. Right now, though, he must concentrate on the text. He says it uses the first word, then every third. Once the irrelevant words fade from our screen, it reads: "Save John Watson. Saint James The Less."
Sherlock drops his dinner to the floor and rushes outside. Mary follows him. He decides a car is too slow and commandeers a motorcycle. Mary hops on behind them. Throughout the ride, Sherlock keeps calculating the best route and recalculating when he runs into unforeseen obstacles. Although it comes through on Mary's phone, the message reads, "Getting warmer, Mr. Holmes. You have about ten minutes." Mary and Sherlock can't figure out who has John or what they'll do to him.
We cut to John as he still struggles but is unable to free himself from wherever he is. You can hear the muted sound of children over John's grunts and groans.
Sherlock changes routes as need be and ignores the police officer who tells him he can't take one of them. We cut to a bonfire party. There are children with sparklers. The fire hasn't been lit yet, but the Guy Fawkes effigy sits atop it. A little girl, Zoe, stands a bit apart from the crowd. Oh my word, John is under the bonfire wood. John cries out, but his voice is weak and the crowd is loud. A torch-bearing man bends over to start the fire.
Mary and Sherlock get a new text that reads, "Better hurry things are hotting up here..."
Back at the park, the man decides the wood is a bit too damp to light. He walks off to get some fuel to help things along. A little bit of the fire has caught. The smoke streams over John. He groans a bit louder, this time. Out in front of the bonfire, Zoe seems to have heard him.
Mary and Sherlock get another message. "Stay of execution. You've got two more minutes."
Back at the fire, Zoe's father has returned with some gasoline. She tells him Guy Fawkes doesn't like this. Her father ignores her concerns, and warns Zoe to stay back as he douses the wood with the fuel.
Another message comes in over Mary's phone. "What a shame Mr. Holmes. John is quite a Guy!" As Sherlock takes it in, he notices the bonfire starting and realizes what it all means. He and Mary hop off the bike and run to the bonfire. Zoe is there, still the only one not oblivious to John's cries for help. When Sherlock and Mary arrive on the scene, Sherlock Holmes walks, crawls and digs through the fire for John Watson, and he always will. Sherlock has earned back John's friendship, without a thought to himself.
The day at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock closes his eyes as an older couple prattles at him about a missing lottery ticket. They're played by Wanda Ventham and Timothy Carlton, who are Benedict Cumberbatch's real parents. It's not revealed until John Watson arrives, but they're also the parents of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. They're also lovely, personable and oh so normal. Sherlock, of course, acts the spoiled, impatient, dismissive brat. When John does arrive, Sherlock hustles his parents out the door, and thinks he's escaped clean, until John asks if they're clients. Sherlock says, "Just my parents." They're in town because Mycroft promised to take them to Les Miz, and now wants to weasel out of it. Like me, John can't get over how ordinary they are. A lot of fans seem upset that the parents are shown at all (they never appear in the books), and that they're so ordinary, but I was charmed by them even before I learned the actors are Benedict's parents. John, of course, asks if the folks also knew Sherlock was alive. I think this question is a bit beneath him. They're Sherlock's parents, after all.
The men catch up on John's clean-shaven face before the talk turns to John's adventure the night. When John asks if his abduction could be related to the terrorist plot Sherlock is investigating, the pieces start to come together. He mentions that one of his markers is acting suspiciously. John recognizes the face in the photo. Sherlock tells him it's Lord Moran, a peer of the realm who has been working for North Korea since the mid '90s. "He's the big rat. Rat number one. And he's just done something very suspicious, indeed."
After a time cut, Sherlock shows John Howard's security camera footage. It's Lord Moran who gets into and disappears from the train. Sherlock realizes the intel for which Mycroft's agent gave his life wasn't vague after all, but incredibly specific. "Not an underground network, John. It's an Underground network. Watching the footage again, Sherlock realizes that seven cars leave Westminster, while only six arrive at St. James Park. While the maps don't show another tunnel, there must be one, and that car must be in it. It's not long before they realize it's Guy Fawkes Day (which makes me wonder why the bonfire was the night before, but I haven't seen any Brits question that, so I'm sure it's something I don't understand). There's an all-night vote on a new anti-terrorism bill scheduled for tonight. Sherlock realizes Moran won't show. "Not tonight. Not the fifth of November." John chimes in with, "Remember, remember." Sherlock: "Gunpowder, treason and plot." Via Skype, Howard tells Sherlock he's found a never-opened station down by Sumatra road. There's a tunnel, tracks, platform and even staircases. The station itself was never built because of a legal dispute. Sherlock says, "It's right underneath the Palace of Westminster." John asks if there's a bomb down there. Sherlock walks off. John realizes the game is on and scurries after him.
The TV news airs a segment on the terrorism bill. Lord Moran watches from the safety of his hotel room. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John walk by Parliament and into Westminster Station. When John starts to call the police, Sherlock's voice is sharp as he tells him, "No!' He mutters about the cops always getting in the way. They enter a service gate and descend to the tunnels. When they arrive at the Sumatra Road Station, there's nothing there. Sherlock is confused. He enters his choo-choo Mind Palace again and imagines a fireball headed straight for him. Mentally, he moves to another spot along the line and envisions where the fireball would travel, which concludes with Sherlock envisioning an explosion that levels the Palace of Westminster. It's very V for Vendetta.
Back in the station Sherlock changes directions, hops down on the tracks and pooh-poohs John's concern about the live rails. On the way, they see demolition charges placed all along a vertical air shaft. Finally they find the errant train car. Explosives are packed under all the seats. Sherlock realizes the entire train is the bomb.
Back in the hotel, Lord Moran opens his briefcase to reveal the detonator.
Back in the train, Sherlock lifts a floor panel to reveal the main explosive device, the one that is going to trigger the explosion of all the other materials packed into the car. When John demands he do something, Sherlock asks why he thinks Sherlock would know what to do. John says, "Because you're Sherlock Holmes. You're as clever as it gets." Sherlock says that doesn't mean he knows about bombs and asks Watson what he thinks they should do. John points out he never did bomb-disposal duty. "I'm a bloody doctor." Sherlock snarks that he's also been in the army, as he's so fond of reminding everyone. John suggests ripping off the timer. Sherlock says that would trigger the whole deal. John says, "You see? You know things."
In the hotel, Lord Moran triggers the device.
In the train car, the lights come on (I'm not sure why) and the countdown clock starts to count down from 2 minutes, 30 seconds. John berates Sherlock for never calling the police. He's terrified when he realizes Sherlock can't switch off the bomb. Sherlock tells him to leave now, but John says there's no point. There's not enough time and if they don't figure out what to do, others will die.
With 1:58 left on the clock, John orders Sherlock to use his Mind Palace. We don't see any special effects this time, so it's uncertain whether Sherlock has already figured out the game and is already manipulating John, or if the writers just didn't want to give away the solution via Mind Palace scenes. Sherlock certainly goes through the motions. With hands to his head, he quivers and shouts. When he opens his eyes, John takes one look at him and realizes they're going to die. "Oh my God."
Sherlock takes off his scarf and kneels above the master explosive. He reaches into the floor compartment, and mutters, "Turn that off, oh God," then continues to fiddle. From there on in, it is definitely for effect. This fan's interpretation is that Sherlock really did go to his Mind Palace, and that's where he realized the bomb would have an off switch. His most blatant deception occurs from the moment he flips off the switch, but doesn't share this information with John. You are free to think I'm wrong. I do, half the time. Admittedly, my take fails to address why Sherlock didn't let John call the police and didn't tell John he'd already called them himself.
There's 1:29 left on the clock, when Sherlock begins his apology to John. He remains on his knees, and he damned well should. He says he's sorry and begs John's forgiveness for all the hurt he's caused him. John nearly figures him out. He even accuses Sherlock of trickery, which the tricky trickster denies.
Eventually, John's floodgates open. He admits asking Sherlock not to be dead. He strokes his tormentor/best-friend's ego as he tells him he's the best and wisest man he's ever known. "Yes, of course I forgive you." Fade to white.
Sidebar. Cutting away from the last scene to the , is a big mistake, in my opinion. It's mostly why this episode gets an A-, rather than an A+ or A. Oh well.
Sherlock is in Anderson's flat. Anderson films him as Sherlock explains how he faked his death. He and Mycroft imagined the 13 possible scenarios that could play out between him and Moriarty on that roof. Sherlock never counted on Moriarty killing himself to force Sherlock's hand. There was a vast conspiracy involving Mycroft, Molly and faithfuls among Sherlock's homeless network. They had an airbag in place to cushion Sherlock's landing. Molly had a corpse that resembled Sherlock thrown onto the sidewalk so that John would see a body. Once the biker took out John, the corpse was removed and Sherlock lay down in its place. Helpers squirted him with blood. Sherlock placed the squash ball he'd been bouncing under his armpit to temporarily block his pulse. Molly falsified the death records. Ta dah.
Anderson considers all this for a moment and then starts up with the that's not how I would have done it business. Remember, I'm a Lestrade type: I have no patience for that. So while I feel for Anderson (who, by the way, faked up the Skeleton Case), I also enjoy his epic meltdown as he tears down the evidence and theories tacked to his wall.
We return to the train car. Having made a clean confession, John braces for the explosion that never comes, unless you mean Sherlock's explosive laughter. John calls him an utter cock, like you do, and makes Sherlock swear never to reveal that he pulled this over on John. Sherlock eventually tells John that there's an off switch. "There's always an off switch." John asks why Sherlock let him go through all that. Sherlock deflects with more mockery. Soon, John spots approaching flashlights, and realizes Sherlock even called the police ahead of time.
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Moran is arrested. Hurrah!
221B Baker Street. The day, Sherlock is home when he gets a call from Mycroft, who is suffering through Les Miz. Eventually, John arrives and asks Sherlock to come to the living room. Mrs. Hudson is there, as are Mary and Greg, and it's champagne all around. There's laughter about the interrupted first proposal and we're promised a spring wedding. When Mary asks Sherlock if he'll be there, he tells her weddings aren't really his thing. You don't say. Molly arrives with her boyfriend in tow. Unsurprisingly, he is a Sherlock clone -- right down to his coat and scarf. Somehow, somehow, Sherlock manages not to say a word, as Molly introduces Tim. Poor Lestrade looks crestfallen.
Sherlock and John make their way to the door. There are reporters outside, hungry for a statement. They acknowledge Tim's similarity to Sherlock, without articulating it. John says he's still waiting for Sherlock to figure out who kidnapped him and how and if it all ties in. Sherlock hasn't figure it out yet, but guarantees he will.
When John suggests that Sherlock is enjoying all the attention of being the hero again, Sherlock denies it, badly. John says, "You love it." Sherlock asks, "What?" John says, "Being Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock says, "I don't even know what that's supposed to mean." On their way to the door, John asks if Sherlock is ever going to tell him how he faked his death. I think you blew that chance in the cafe, John, though I can't blame you. John confesses he went to Sherlock's grave, made a little speech, and asked him not to be dead. Sherlock's voice is soft as he admits, "I heard you." They exchange looks, then Sherlock starts off. "Anyway, time to be Sherlock Holmes." As an afterthought, he grabs the deerstalker and places it snugly on his curly, crazy head. Outside, the reporters and photographers close in around Holmes and Watson.
Elsewhere, in a dark room, a man repeatedly watches footage of Sherlock and Mary rescuing John from the bonfire. It must be on a loop because we keep hearing Mary shout John's name and get several shots of Sherlock saving him. Our unknown(ish) villain pauses on Sherlock's face. Fade to black.
Now it's up to you how you receive this text. Are you a Watson, a Hudson, a Lestrade, a Mary, a Molly or an Anderson? The writers don't get to define you. Only you can tell your story.
I'll be back week with coverage of "The Sign of Three." In the meantime, please grade the episode at the top of the page, and then come on over to our brand-spanking new Sherlock forum where we don't shave for Sherlock Holmes; we wax.