Wait for the Punchline

Ep 3 was my last stab at this Sherlock spinoff that feels like a House rerun on a bad day.

Morris Chestnut's Dr. John Watson, still in his Pittsburgh clinic, unravels a case of a marathon runner with inexplicable paralysis. The medical sleuthing is as dreary as ever... more jargon-soaked diagnostics than detective flair.

The Sherlock nods, like Watson's "deductive" mutterings, are tacked-on and tired, as if the writers forgot what made Holmes compelling. Chestnut's gravitas is the sole bright spot, but he's stuck in a script that plods to a predictable resolution without a shred of wit or spark. This show can't decide if it's a hospital drama or a Sherlock tribute, and it fails at both.

I'm done, Ep 3 is as flat as the first two, and I'd rather dust off a House rerun for sharper quips and actual stakes.

Despite the ending, which I got fooled on last two episodes too.