The new TV "Sherlock" ingeniously reimagines the inexhaustible Holmes source material

Martin Freeman (John Watson) talks about the set designed for the 221B Baker Street flat, and is seen in clips with Benedict Cumberpatch (Sherlock) and Una Stubbs (Mrs. Hudson). If you care, you can check the show's PBS web page for information about the "final Sherlock Twitter event" tonight at 9pm ET or an online Q&A with the series creators tomorrow at 1pm ET, or to watch episodes or join the Book & Film Club, or on and on.

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research."

-- an indignant Sherlock, to a hostile police officer

by Ken

When I ventured on Election Day that one dodge I might try to avoid the traditional election vigil, commenter Tom M chimed in helpfully that he "quite liked the Holmes episodes," adding that "the idea of a modern Watson serving in Afghanistan as did Conan Doyle Watson seemed too sad to say anything about. More pathetic than ironic." I found other ways to occupy myself Tuesday night, but now I've caught up on the two episodes of Sherlock shown so far on PBS's Masterpiece Mystery (the last of the initial trio, "The Great Game," airs tonight), created and written by Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat for BBC Wales, and I have to report that I'm quite liking them too.

Considering how much ink has been spilled -- and how many trees felled -- trying to both satisfy and explain the world's never-ending craving for more Sherlock Holmes, I don't plan to try to explain the fascination. It's enough, I think, to note it as a fact. The appetite for more of Conan Doyle's indelible characters really does seem insatiable. This latest incarnation, dubious though it may sound, honors the tradition while creating characters of strong, fascinating profile who all seem highly organic, without ever resorting to caricature or imitation.

As bits of canonical Holmesiana slip out -- the first visit to the rooms at 221B Baker Street (presided over by, yes, Mrs. Hudson), for example, or Sherlock announcing, "The game is on," or the long-delayed utterance of the dread name of Sherlock's self-described archenemy (over John's objection that people don't actually have "archenemies") -- they're occasions for fresh delight rather than the groans you'd expect.

You'll note in the preceding paragraph that I'm trying to train myself to the central characters by their first rather than last names. Perhaps in deference to modern custom, it's how they know each other from their first meeting in the premiere episode, "A Study in Pink," contrary to the custom of their Conan Doyle forebears.

The casting of both roles is inspired. Benedict Cumberpatch, previously known to me only for perfectly honorable toil as one of the sons in the hope-arousing yet strangely dreadful Hugh Laurie series Atonement, has a striking yet offbeat look that commands attention and lends the character an atmosphere of gaunt theatricality, and he has the verbal facility to make Sherlock's breathtaking mental agility.

Martin Freeman, who as the life-despairing Tim was the one character I found genuinely interesting in the British Office, does a lovely job filling out this strong-profile John Watson, scarred by his action in Afghanistan and his dismal economic prospects, highly disciplined and highly challenged socially. The young men are brought together by a mutual acquaintance who knows that they're both in desperate need of, and yet highly unlikely to find, suitable flatmates. There's even an interesting air of sexual tension in the relationship -- everyone they meet seems to assume they're a couple.

The other recurring roles are also extremely well imagined. With all ties to Victorian quaintness severed, Rupert Graves comes across as a cool, competent Detective Inspector Lestrade, clearly a good policeman, who's unapologetic about the occasions when difficult cases prompt him to call on the services of the world's first "consulting detective." There are strong characters among the other police officers. Una Stubbs is a caricature-free Mrs. Hudson.

All the characters are smoothly integrated into 21st-century London, with remarkably believable incorporation of contemporary technology. These people all depend heavily on their mobile phones -- Sherlock explains that he especially likes texting, perfectly logical for a man who really doesn't deal well with people. When John returns to Baker Street and is annoyed to find Sherlock typing away on his (John's) notebook computer, Sherlock "explaining" that his own computer is in his bedroom, John points out, rather futilely under the circumstances, that "it's password-protected." Sherlock rejoins calmly, "In a manner of speaking."

The plotting of the first two episodes struck me as just fine, especially considering that unlike most previous Holmes screen adaptations, these shows have no material to "adapt," just the set of characters and circumstances. In any case, the interest of the Holmes material has always been the fascination of seeing these singular characters set in motion among one another rather than the gripping brilliance of the plots, and the new version seems to me to have accomplished in its own purposeful and decisive way much the same thing Conan Doyle's original stories did (to which the innumerable film and TV adapatations have struggled to give credible screen representation).

I'm sure these things are damnably hard to write successfully, so it's probably just as well that this first season consists of only three shows. I don't think there's any question that we'll seeing more of them.

Rupert Graves cuts a figure of cool competence as D.I. Lestrade.

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