I...it was...no words. My roommate spent a good five full minutes laughing at my face.
Let's just say it was possibly the most emotionally effective episode of television ever created.
There's a reason Sherlock Holmes is one of the top three most well-known characters of all time. (The others being Mickey Mouse and Peter Pan. Can't remember where I heard that). We want to be him. Sort of. We want to be able to look at someone and know everything about them. He's just a brilliant character.
And Benedict Cumberbatch. Oh wow. I mean, beyond the squeeing about his curly hair and blue eyes (holy cow oh my gosh his eyes), the man is a genius. His Sherlock could not be more perfect. And Martin Freeman as Watson? Yes please. The fact that they're going to be in The Hobbit together (AHHH!!!) way overflows the worlds cup of awesome and almost makes up for the fact that we have to wait a year and a half (freaking year and a half!) for the next episode.
And you guys. I don't know how I'm going to make it, like for reals. When this episode was done I wanted to slap the freaking freak freak out of Steven Moffat. And then kiss his feet. But mostly slap him.
So yes, all I can manage right now is this incoherently fangirl squee, but if you haven't seen this show, you need to fix that. Right now. It's only six hours total, but if it were six hundred I would say the same. Please, please, please do yourself a favor and watch this show.
Why does this happen, guys? Why do we (please tell me its not just me) get so entirely invested in made-up stories and characters? I relish what that says about the importance of story to our most basic nature, but I can't quite figure out how it makes any logical sense. It's not about the logic at all, which is why it doesn't make sense, but still...why?
And how do we make people feel that way about our stories?
*Sigh*. God bless the BBC for everything they do. And God bless Benedict Cumberbatch and those eyes...