Over the billions of years Sherlock Holmes has been portrayed in many different guises from brainy opium fiend to super pipe smoking sleuth and this show is no exception. Jeremy Paul’s The Secret of Sherlock Holmes is concerned wholly with phantoms of the mind. A somewhat refreshing under the deerstalker look at the dark side of Holmes’ genius. It’s got all the requirements for corker of a two hander “who dunnit”, everything you could possibly want in a slice of cerebral entertainment. Thriller, spiller, creepy violin music, dry ice, mild use of narcotics there’s even a bit of a “bromance” – it ticks all the boxes for a pacey Victorian gentleman’s adventure. It even has a catchphrase. – “elementary”, absolute comedy gold, brings the house down in a reserved kind of a way every time. And who knew that running gags have been around long before Catherine Tate’s “am I boovered”. Holmes and Watson are the ultimate double act, it’s quite the challenge and thankfully Peter Egan (Ever Decreasing Circles) and Philip Franks (Heartbeat) are the perfect combination of chemistry and slicing the ham real thick.
A bold brave attempt of a play
With Robin Herford’s direction Egan and Franks put in a remarkable performance, dealing the best they can with this rambling script. You can’t but help during the interval overhear people remark on just how many words – it’s quite a lot of words to learn – how do they do it? Not really the thing you want to hear. A bit like overhearing conversations about the scenery “wasn’t the yukka simply marvellous in second half” It is a bold brave attempt of a play, although the idea of it seems to be more engaging than actually watching the play itself. It’s an ambitious word heavy two hander that never fully delivers. Ultimately it doesn’t hold us, and not really sure who it’s for. School parties from Fife or the die hard Conan Doyle fans? That’s one mystery that remains unsolved. And with that I leave a Werther’s original on the chair as my calling card and I bid you goodnight.