‘Sherlock’ persistently spins such a deeply detailed, and often misleading, intrigue with many a moving part that when it finally reaches the climax and ‘all is revealed’, it takes great skill, intellect, patience – and a good memory – to keep from tripping over the mesh of mystery and pulling it all down, leaving little but a shambling mess of what the writer once believed was a brilliantly constructed castle of a case to be solved, with cheap, overused tragedy as the flag to adorn the crumbling spiral tower at its centre.

Long live Mary Watson, you assholes.