Jeremy Eaton

As a child, I fancied myself an amateur detective. In fact, the neighborhood kids referred to me as "Encyclopedia Humpy" for my deductive abilities and encyclopedic knowledge of places where one could find cigarettes and porn. To this day I remain famous for solving the following mysteries: "The Case of the Crudely Drawn Penis," "The Case of the Bully who's Actually Super Gay," "The Case of Sylvia Masterson's Missing Hymen," and "The Case of 'Hey... What's that Monkey Doing?'" And of course, my most famous case, "The Hound of the Bastard Bills" (an absolutely cracking yarn featuring myself, bastard twins each named "Bill," and their dog "Peanut" who loved eating other animals' vomit).

Nowadays, my focus is on a far more important pursuit: Writing dumb-butt TV columns for newspapers. HOWEVER! I'm still a die-hard aficionado of the detective genre, which means I'm nearly pooping my pants about the second season of Sherlock (PBS, Sunday, May 6, 9 pm).

For those who didn't notice last year's uncontrollable squeals, Sherlock is a reboot of the classic Arthur Conan Doyle Sherlock Holmes stories, given a modern update by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss (who also write Doctor Who—which isn't nearly as embarrassing as it used to be), and produced for the BBC. Last year PBS rebroadcast the first season (only three 90-minute episodes), and the boners of a nation went kaaaa-BOINNNGGG!! What could have gone so terribly wrong—a modern update of Sherlock Holmes where Watson is a blogger? REALLY??—is nothing less than a revelation.

Sherlock has a uniformly fantastic cast, including Benedict Cumberbatch—which, by the way, is the most British name in history, even surpassing Lord Farnsworth Crumbsbury—who plays Holmes with a perfectly quirky, almost autistic quality. Meanwhile, Martin Freeman—which isn't nearly as British, and should be immediately changed to Sir Reginald Fink-Nottle—will be remembered from the limey version of The Office, and portrays Watson as a slightly depressed, but brainy schlump whose dry normality counterbalances Sherlock's sociopathic tendencies. Together they work like a Kraut-constructed clock, and along with Moffat and Gatiss' smart, snappy scripts, they make Sherlock almost unbearably enjoyable.

So what's up with season two? Since it was released in Britain back in January, one could easily watch all the episodes online—if you're that kind of person. (Meaning "not lazy like me.") However, for those who watch TV the old-timey way, expect newfangled and modernized adaptations of Doyle's most famous Holmes adventures: "A Scandal in Bohemia" (updated to "A Scandal in Belgravia" with newly added nudity, hurrah!), The Hound of the Baskervilles (now "The Hounds of Baskerville," set at a military base), and "The Final Problem" (renamed "The Reichenbach Fall," which every true Holmes fan will immediately recognize... okay, fine, I'll give you a hint: EEEEEEEeeeeeeeee—SPLASH! Glub, glub. Poop!).

Guys! If you love smart, stylish television, you don't want to miss Sherlock! And rest assured I've sent an email to their producers asking if they'd like to dramatize MY most famous adventure: "Encyclopedia Humpy and the Case of the Mysterious Hairs." (SPOILER ALERT: the perpetrator was "puberty.")

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