I get bored. A lot.
The life of Sherlock Holmes could be compared to walking on a tightrope, thousands of miles above the ground. Holmes himself was an expert in his footing, and knew nearly every obstacle. But then again, every human makes mistakes. And there is also the situation of being pushed from behind.
And then came Watson. One person he could always rely on. Watson was there to catch him if his feet slipped, his spotter. No one could sneak up behind him with Watson there. Together they were the most incomparable team of acrobats.
Then Watson was gone, and Holmes, so accustomed to his reassuring presence, was vulnerable. No one to warn him, no one to catch him. No one he could trust.
It's not meant to be great. Critics...
