Spoilers ahead!
Almost exactly one year ago, I had the flu/mono/Spanish plague. I was in bed for a whole week. I had all kinds of nasty things leaking out of my face. I was cross and hot and miserably uncomfortable. I was looking for a diversion, and my sister recommended Sherlock.
“Why not,” I said to myself. After all, it wasn’t like I was going anywhere, and it looked like there was about nine hours’ worth of episodes. That would keep me busy for a while. So I started with “A Study in Pink,” and that was pretty intriguing. Then I watched “The Blind Banker,” and even though it wasn’t a particularly great episode, I kept watching. Then came “The Great Game.” It was at that moment I realized I was hooked.


