A year after the death of his friend and partner, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson resumes his medical career at a clinic dedicated to the treatment of rare diseases. However, he soon finds that his old life is not done with him yet.
Let’s be real: when you title a series “Watson” and put Morris Chestnut front and center, you’re setting the bar high and inviting audiences to expect something sharp, maybe even a little bit genius. Instead, the first season delivers a muddled blend of medical drama, detective show, and something vaguely comedic that tries to cover all the bases but mostly just ends up existing.
On the bright side, Morris Chestnut is easily the standout here. He gives Dr. Watson an easy confidence and worn-in appeal, occasionally breathing some spirit into lines that sound like they were cobbled together by an algorithm set to “generic network drama circa 2008.” He carries the role with real skill, which only makes you wish he were working with material that had some actual spark or ambition.
To be fair, there are glimpses of promise—moments when the show flirts with being entertaining or clever or just picking up the pace. At times, you can almost see what “Watson” could become, if someone in the writers’ room decided to take a risk and inject some originality. With a little more daring and a lot more personality, maybe it could be the kind of show you’d actually want to watch live.
But now for the bad news: most of the time, “Watson” doesn’t work. The show tries to mash up medical cases, crime-solving, and buddy-comedy banter in a way that’s more confusing than compelling. It’s like tossing together a bunch of your favorite foods and hoping they somehow become a meal—it’s ambitious, sure, but the end result feels forced and off.
The scripts are, at best, passable. The dialogue is packed with tired jokes and lines that sound like they were written by a committee running on too much coffee and not enough sleep. The mysteries are so transparent that viewers will likely figure things out long before Dr. Watson does. Whenever the show aims for depth, it barely makes a ripple.
And then there’s the apparent influence of “House” looming over everything. “Watson” can’t seem to step out of that show’s shadow, instead settling for a sanitized, risk-averse imitation that lacks the sharp edge, biting humor, or real tension that made House work. Instead, it feels like something designed to be as innocuous as possible—unlikely to offend, but just as unlikely to get anyone excited.
All told, “Watson” is fine if you need something to play in the background while you tidy up, check your emails, or wonder why you didn’t just revisit “House” instead. Maybe with time—and a stronger sense of direction—the show will find its footing. For now, both Morris Chestnut and the audience deserve something a lot better.
Available on DVD September 23rd
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