Unlike most modernised versions of the famous detective’s adventures, this account of Sherlock Holmes and his loyal offsider Dr Watson bypasses the gothic horror of the original, presenting the story as a merry spoof. 

Sherlock and Watson are fetched in to investigate the curse plaguing the Baskerville family, whose estate lies in the remote wilderness of Dartmoor. Here amidst perilous bogs and in the hunting ground of a monstrous spectral hound, the Baskerville family lives out the punishment of a forbear who hunted a hapless maiden across the same moor. It seems. Enter Sherlock, sleuth unparalleled, and a dastardly plot is unpicked.

The novel was published as a serialised account in 1901 with all of the regular dramatic high points that implies. This version hurtles along with outrageous relish, relying on each production component to create a marvellous romp through the familiar plot.

Melanie Camp’s direction keeps plot and execution nicely balanced. A critical factor, and one she stresses in her programme notes, is the positioning of the audience. The fourth wall convention is well and truly disestablished as we are addressed, admonished and engaged. The response to a twitter about pace sees the whole of the first half replayed at reckless speed to open the second half, to the delight of a thoroughly charmed audience. 

It all starts with the promising grandiloquence of Julian Southgate’s Victorian mock proscenium arch and the swishing purple and gold curtains. Fireplaces, a railway carriage and even a steaming bath house are accomplished with huge dash and in splendid collaboration with Giles Tanner’s lighting design and Peter Booth’s atmospheric work with sound. Visual gags, including deadly quicksands are great fun. Then there are the repeated motifs of frames used for various comic purposes and dummy characters which can be treated with even more abandon than their human counterparts.

The ingenuity of all this extends to costume. Emily Thomas is responsible for a range of English turn-of-the-century gear which imprints the stereotype but endows it with individual flair and most importantly allows lighting changes for the cast of three which covers multiple roles. 

It is the challenges so gleefully met by the actors which cement our attention and approval. The gallery of portraits in the centrefold of the excellent programme shows sixteen characters. Each actor has his anchor role and the hectic business of carrying the story forward through the rest.

As Dr John Watson and a yokel, Stephen Papps plays up the earnest, conservative foil with great zest. Watson’s lanky frame is rigid with polite self-discipline, which makes the various physical contortions he faces even funnier.

Gregory Cooper, whose comedic flair has lit many a stage at The Court, gives us a deliciously eccentric Sherlock, as well as furnishing the villainous Stapleton, his ravishing sister Cecille, servants Mr and Mrs Barrymore, all topped off by a yokel and a guard. Phew.

For accomplished Philip Aldridge, CEO of The Court and a favourite on its stage, the role of Sir Henry Baskerville is a gift. Quintessentially affable and English, he must morph into the forbear Sir Charles Baskerville as well as Scottish Dr Mortimer, a cabbie and no fewer than three separate yokels, each – he assures us at the outset – given sensitive definition. The results are very funny.  

Elementary it isn’t, but the complexity of the whole caboodle is handled with such charm that the impossible, just as Sherlock claimed, can really happen, at least in the cause of laughter. 

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