One of the few great re-imaginings has been Sherlock. There was nothing wrong with Doyle's literary detective, but the Moffat show has been a classic in the making. It could be The Version. Yet! The conclusion of the second series has left me with a lukewarm feeling. Consensus decrees that it was the previous episode, a Hound adaptation that was weakest, but I enjoyed it so much more than the final problem. The Richenbach Fall converts the Holmes formula into a serial killer, no one beleives me, Batman and Joker duality slowjam. The details nag: Moriarty's plans are so complicated that at any point, random chance could have unraveled them. For a property so invested in logical mystery solving, these leaps of faith conspire to expose the show's machinery, a plot delivery system with only the needed parts included. Plus all the best king chairs are in glass booths at Westminster Abbey, not The Tower of London. That's where the jewels are. Not important. Forget it. It would seem clear that Moriarty is not dead...

Holmes does not examine the body, and after so many layers of deception and stagecraft, who would believe it? As in the source story and the TV show, Holmes is not dead. Sherlock arranged something prior to the meeting with his smitten medical assistant. His "I think I'm about to die, I need you" is meant to mislead on the romance angle, but we know better, especially since nothing is shown or implied. She has the keys to the morgue, and probably knows some EMTs. Forget what you were shown, the trick will be revealed. In fact, the entire rooftop showdown seems to have been a double-fakeout by Sherlock, meant to convince Moriarty that Holmes was beaten and to con his friends into believing him dead, so that he could vanish into the grave and work the case undetected. Holmes, beaten by a "we're not so different" gambit and the life of his landlady? I should think not, I say!

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