This isn't a detective show pretending to hunt vampires. It's a vampire show pretending to be a detective show, and it commits to the bit so hard that coherence becomes irrelevant. Three minutes at a time means you're never trapped long enough to resent the incoherence, and by episode six you've stopped asking what the plot is and started asking what happens next. The show exists in that perfect sweet spot where it's too committed to its own logic to be accidentally funny, but too broken to be taken seriously, which somehow makes it weirdly magnetic. It's the kind of cult experience that only works if you go in knowing it's supposed to be a disaster.

Holmes is billed as a great detective, yet he neither solves mysteries nor relies on deduction. What he does instead, he claims, is hunt vampires. His ordinary detective agency takes an occult turn when London's Metropolitan Police secretly hire him and his assistant Hudson to look into vampire activity. At least, that is the story Holmes gives anyone who asks. In truth, the two spend most of their days sitting around bickering and failing to crack a single case. Rounding out the household are Kira, a demon cat who is not quite black, and a frightening landlady who is always after the rent. Told in three-minute episodes, this short comedy with mystery and supernatural touches recasts the famous detective as a man who is anything but the finest in London.