"You don't want readers to solve the crime ahead of your detective—better withhold all the really critical clues."
"The key to mystery stories, the white-hot burning core of the genre that makes it what it is, is being given information—just enough that you could maybe figure out what was happening—and then having a character show you something about the information you managed to miss, or put the pieces together in a way you wouldn't expect. But to make sure you can't possibly solve it before Sherlock does—because he's supposed to be the most amazing, special boy in the world—they can't risk giving you too much information. So they craft a story in which you're shown basically nothing, and then told, "Bing! It's a legendary serial killer I just made up." "Bing! Someone else told me the answer offscreen." "Bing! It was a fucking BOOMERANG!" The audience will never really accept Sherlock as smart, because they're never given the pieces for themselves and then presented with a solution they wouldn't have thought of. Instead, they're told next to nothing, and then Sherlock walks in with the information you didn't have, or does something unbelievably unrealistic. The show is edited as if you're supposed to—like Adler—be completely in awe of this genius, but that's never gonna happen! Contrast is required. This is precisely why puzzles are fascinating in the first place. There's a tangible, emotional reaction to figuring out how to solve something and putting something together. Similarly, for a mystery story to work, you have to be shown the problem and the clues before it's solved so you have a chance to do it yourself and then marvel at seeing someone else find the solution. You're entertained by seeing someone else solve a puzzle you can't because you recognize they've seen something you haven't. Sherlock gives you a meaningless glimpse of a trivial piece of the puzzle, then produces the finished puzzle and tells you "It was very hard, I promise." In this show the viewer's never given a chance to observe, so there's nothing for Sherlock to reveal he observed. So you're left with an incredibly expensive sequence of elaborate camera tricks shot on an aerial Lexa, featuring a man telling you he's very smart, because he observed events you never got the chance to observe better than you. Look at all these hard-working people, dragging their camera rigs all the way out here so they can film a smooth transition, laying all their dolly tracks and lugging a couch all the way out there and carefully planning and timing dozens of shots, doing excellent, professional work, and it's all in service to a mystery story where you're not told anything, so you're not engaged with it at all, and then at the end, you're told a fucking bullshit explanation that you could not have seen coming, and he was really smart, you just have to trust me."
Mike: Okay, guys, at this point we need to start piecing together the information we've gathered. So let's make a list of what we've learned.
Tom: Well, we've learned that the mayor has been murdered.
Mike: Right. Anything else?
Crow: Ummm...no, I think Tom pretty much covered everything.
Tom: Well, we've learned that the mayor has been murdered.
Mike: Right. Anything else?
Crow: Ummm...no, I think Tom pretty much covered everything.
