sherlock, “his last vow” and questions
Just finished watching the “His Last Vow” episode of Sherlock. There were several plot points I don’t understand and was wondering if anyone else has ideas.
— Why does Mycroft bring a laptop, in theory filled with State Secrets, to his family’s Christmas party and then leave it on the table where any number of kitchen-related accidents could happen to it?
— Was the scene where Sherlock is in the restaurant with his morphine drip simply a dream? As a general rule hospitals don’t let their patients wander the streets in dressing gowns, pulling their IV stands with them.
— Are all major characters in this show high-functioning sociopaths? It’s hard to believe that Mary is the first person ever to try and kill Magnussen, but not as hard as the idea that, after begging for his life on his knees, the moment Mary makes her exit Magnussen simply goes back to being his old self with absolutely no self-reflection and no extra steps to protect himself.
— If the reason that no one has tried to kill Magnussen is because everyone believes in the existence of the vault, then why hasn’t MI6 or the CIA or any number of intelligence services actually confirmed its existence? Are we seriously to believe that Mycroft can hack into any computer and put incriminating evidence on it but an isolated glass house was too secure to break into?
— Also, if the reason that no one has tried to kill Magnussen is because of the vault, in short, it was what kept him protected from all his enemies, why then would he admit that it was all in his head to Sherlock and John? It was that bit of information that gets Magnussen killed. That like the Riddler obsessively calling up Batman to give him easily-decoded riddles about the next crime he’s about to commit. You go from sinister force of evil to stupid git with moves like that.
BUT THE MACHINERY OF HALLUCINATION …
“and ‘tis known a pretty piece of flesh am I.”
… is just simple brass trapezoids, organs
attached to organs, atoms to atoms.
The thermometer’s quicksilver lengthens.
Wheels whirr. Steam steams. These retrograde systems,
archaic even, concentric streamlined
gadgets, working elements that Dante
called hell, all of this, everything I find
inside myself, this heart beating away
in the dark, will one day melt into air.
Stop. Cease. Listen. Hear it? The cynic’s star
laughs, makes signs of the Hobo and the Bum.
What a piece of work caught between despair
and joy. I count the beats, play the guitar
and wait. I’m air. I’m song. I am rhythm.