Every modern TV mystery’s DNA traces back to Sherlock Holmes. Understanding that is central to explaining why he always finds a way back into popular culture directly or otherwise, whether by name or inspiration.
“Sherlock & Daughter” draws on both by pairing its name-brand protagonist, played by David Thewlis, with a young American woman, Amelia Rojas (Blu Hunt). A murder hits him where he lives, and lengths of mysterious red thread appear in his path, a nod to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s 1887 novel “A Study in Scarlet.” These deadly puzzles have already reeled in Holmes when the very American Amelia infiltrates 221B Baker Street, claiming to be his daughter.
The traits that speak to Holmes’ timeless survivability in popular culture are his devotion to logic and his independence.
Holmes’ ardent followers know he has zero interest in women – save for The Woman, i.e. Irene Adler – but the serialized nature of Doyle’s mysteries makes it an easy launch for spinoffs. Other writers have assigned Holmes plenty of non-canonical family and offspring, emboldened by knowing the extent to which he is a mystery. The Netflix adaptation of “Enola Holmes” assigned him a kid sister uninterested in behaving as a lady of society should and, to sweeten the fantasy, cast the muscular Henry Cavill as Holmes.
In “Sherlock & Daughter,” Thewlis’ cranky, clipped performance spells out why so few venture to peel back the tweedy front he places between himself and everyone else. Only an insistent young woman with her own formidable mental and physical mettle would be bold enough to try.
Taking another turn with the Guinness World Record holder for the most portrayed literary human being in film and TV, then, is . . . nope. I refuse to invoke the phrase, “Elementary, my dear Watson,” since it’s one that’s been famously misattributed to Holmes, though, in actuality, found nowhere in Doyle’s pages.
However, the fact that his private investigator has been portrayed more than 254 times in movies and TV speaks to the endless malleability of a literary character that’s more than a century old. (That tally is low, by the way, established in 2012 when Guinness set that bar.) However, the traits that speak to Holmes’ timeless survivability in popular culture are his devotion to logic and his independence.
Holmes is the ur-citizen detective, but he’s also a gentleman’s version of an anti-establishment figure – content to help Scotland Yard when it and his interests align, but otherwise uninterested in serving the status quo. This independent streak is quintessentially American, we like to tell ourselves, and it can expand to malignant extremes.
Dividing Holmes from the average doubting conspiracy theorist is his reliance on empirical data. By pushing aside the distractions to zero in on what matters – like the frays on an aristocrat’s sleeve, or the faintest scent lingering on crime scene objects – he weaves a story that explains at least part of a crime and the reasons people commit them.
In calmer eras, such as when “Sherlock” and “Elementary” shared space on prime-time schedules, that skill was secondary to the charisma of the actors playing the detective – Benedict Cumberbatch in “Sherlock” and Jonny Lee Miller in “Elementary.” Their distinct approaches, along with Robert Downey Jr.’s version for the big screen, made the notoriously stodgy Holmes sexy.
Nowadays, Thewlis’ return to something approximating our old-fashioned picture of Holmes reminds us of sensibility’s valiance in a world given to absurdity and madness. He may be the latest out of many to play the role, but the same devotion to straightening odd knots keeps him ever-relevant.
Blu Hunt as Amelia in “Sherlock & Daughter” (Jim Hession/Starlings Entertainment)
The CW is under new ownership but still set on capturing the tween and 20-something audience that has long been its meat and mead – not a simple task in an entertainment environment friendlier to franchises than original concepts. “Sherlock & Daughter” hits the sweet spot between originality and familiarity with a plot that’s as devoted to unraveling the mystery of Amelia as it is to weaving a new entanglement for Holmes.
His proposed paternity would be ridiculous if Amelia’s mother, Lucia (Savonna Spracklin), hadn’t come to London as part of a Wild West touring troupe and fascinated Holmes with her genius. (Falling for an American isn’t unheard of for Holmes; Irene Adler was a New Jersey girl.)
These days, society’s most dangerous villains don’t bother with cloaking themselves despite what the conspiracy-minded choose to believe.
In a flashback, Lucia explains to Amelia that her forbears were Spanish and Apache, making the young woman’s English heritage a challenge to the status quo. “Part of everyone, all of nothing,” Lucia tells her.
Through Amelia, series creator and executive producer Brendan Foley has an opportunity to address and perhaps challenge the colonialist outlook imbued in Holmes by his author. Since this is TV, the heralded investigator doesn’t show these flaws, preferring for a class and race-conscious Lady Violet (Fiona Glascott) to call attention to the difference between their station and that of Holmes’ American guest.
But this is the most overt reminder that Sherlock Holmes has long been construed via a single lens, that of his partner Dr. John Watson — who, Holmes explains, is away on a long holiday. Between Amelia seeming utterly convinced about her paternity and demonstrating she has a logician’s sharp sensibility, he agrees to tag her in.
If Holmes’ constant appeal is an easily solvable case, then countenancing the possibility that there may be much more to his life than what Doyle shared isn’t impossible either. The author himself permitted an American actor who cabled to him in 1899 to ask his permission to take a creative liberty with his signature hero. ”You may marry or murder or do what you like with him,” Doyle reportedly told the man.
Screenwriters and showrunners have seized that permission ever since.
CBS’ crime-time detectives and Dick Wolf’s crusaders are constructed from the bones of Doyle’s eternally durable creation, but so are medical mysteries. “House,” after all, was Holmesian to its marrow. If “Watson” draws comparisons to that long-retired drama, that’s because the Fox show’s creator, David Shore, intended Gregory House to channel Sherlock Holmes.
CBS’ addition to the oeuvre casts Morris Chestnut as a modern version of John Watson investigating rare medical conditions, most with a ticking clock counting down to death. This Watson’s career is a tribute to Holmes (voiced by Matt Berry), who left his dear friend the funds to open his clinic in the wake of the detective’s apparent death in the Reichenbach Fall incident.
The detective’s preference for operating solo and keeping people at arm’s length is a constant. That behavior speaks to us in any decade, but especially in times of cultural regression.
Since Watson is a sucker for enigmas, he surrounds himself with a team of young experts, each of whom is defined by one of their own. A recent episode revealed the most mysterious and ambitious of them to have offed her abusive father.
Like his friend, Watson has secrets of his own. A brain injury sustained in a near-death tumble during the events leading to Holmes’ death is manifesting — a condition he’s self-medicating with the help of Holmes’ old ally Shinwell Johnson (Ritchie Coster), who is not the only person to tag along with Watson on his return to the United States. Now that his archrival is dead, Holmes’ nemesis Moriarty (Randall Park) has resurfaced and is dedicated to torturing the detective’s closest confidante.
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Moriarty figures heavily in the opening episodes of “Sherlock & Daughter” too, although Dougray Scott lends a malevolent scruff to him that Park’s interpretation tidies up. Introducing his villain at the start of each series is another modern shift; Conan Doyle saved him for what he believed would be the end of his journey with Holmes.
These days, society’s most dangerous villains don’t bother with cloaking themselves despite what the conspiracy-minded choose to believe. Our equivalents of Doyle’s supervillain dominate headlines and dance in the spotlight to the applause of adoring fans filling stadiums. Moriarty is simply playing to type.
Holmes may have (or once had) a partner in Watson, but it’s the latter’s dedication to the former that defines their relationship, especially in TV adaptations. Regardless of the era or in whose skin the character shows up, the detective’s preference for operating solo and keeping people at arm’s length is a constant. That behavior speaks to us in any decade, but especially in times of cultural regression.
The other side of the detective’s profile has him strolling between the starched propriety of upper-class society and the sooty underbelly, doing rich men’s dirty work. Holmes’ willingness to stare into the murk and discern the truth makes him an uncommon hero and an effective instrument of justice, rare and necessary qualities in a society corrupted by fear. Dauntless, rational visionaries are always in short supply, especially now. Doubling the dose of Holmesian exploits on TV won’t correct that reality. But the times and our sentiments toward each other always change, whereas the essence of what makes Sherlock Holmes who he is doesn’t. That reliability is always welcome.
“Sherlock & Daughter” premieres at 9 p.m. Wednesday, April 16 on The CW. New episodes of “Watson” air at 9 p.m. Sundays on CBS.
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