Why Watson’s Moriarty is the most dangerous version of the iconic villain – and it’s not what you think

Sherlock Holmes' world has seen its fair share of Moriarty, some enigmatic, some theatrical, but Watson's is a whole new beast. "Watson," a TV series that reimagines the Sherlock Holmes universe with Dr. John Watson at its center, introduces a fresh take on the legendary rivalry with Moriarty. But what makes this one version of Moriarty the most dangerous of them all?

It’s not just their intellect or criminal prowess. It’s the fact that the rules of the past don’t bind this Moriarty. This is not only another genius tugging strings from the darkness. This Moriarty excels in changing identities, in being unreadable, and in pushing Watson (and us) to challenge all we know.

A Moriarty unlike any before. So what makes them truly dangerous?

The answer is simple: unpredictability.

Randall Park's Moriarty doesn’t follow a blueprint. They are a specter of doubt. They are someone who transcends categorization, not only a criminal genius or mastermind. And this alone is horrific.

Their concealment until it is too late causes their threat. Unlike previous iterations who clearly followed roads of chaos and ambition, this Moriarty flows like a ghost, always one step ahead. Watson and the viewers are left groping at shadows, attempting to figure out if they are dealing with a master manipulator or something much worse.

And that is precisely why they work so well. Their plans are existential dangers rather than merely intellectual pursuits. Every deed they do forces Watson to rethink his views on the world, his methods, and his own moral compass. This is a force threatening to redefine the hero's base of identity, not merely an opponent to be outwitted.

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Was Moriarty also autistic-coded?

Neurodiversity has long been used to examine Sherlock Holmes; many academics and fans view his exacting logical thinking, social disengagement, and rigorous attention to detail as signs of autism. Regarding Moriarty, nevertheless, Moriarty could be seen as the dark mirror—a man whose own intelligence follows a different, but equally rigid and obsessive, pattern—if Holmes stands for the brilliant mind channeling its abilities toward inquiry and justice.

Doyle characterizes Moriarty in The Final Problem as a mathematical genius whose intellect operates in a sophisticated, ordered manner but stays cut off from emotional ties.

His speech is exact, his actions deliberate, and his capacity to create complex criminal networks reflects Holmes's own approach to building deductions. These qualities fit current conceptions of autism, which begs the issue of whether Moriarty, like Holmes, moves on a spectrum of neurodiversity never well defined at the time.

Moriarty's adaptation in contemporary retellings adds even more evidence to support this view. While some depictions follow his cold, logical accuracy, others add a layer of social unpredictability, therefore rendering him an enigma difficult even for Holmes to understand. This view renders their conflict much more intriguing. It's more than just a struggle of virtue against evil. It's also a collision between two remarkable brains that view the world differently.

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Moriarty through the ages: a villain in constant evolution

Forget the overtly evil, larger-than-life Moriartys of the past. Watson, which is even officially referred to as a medical drama, reinvents the character as a shadowy, cerebral threat who thrives on manipulation rather than outright confrontation. Instead of grandiose speeches about the 'Napoleon of Crime,' we get a more insidious, unpredictable force slipping through the cracks of Watson’s world like smoke.

This evolution of Moriarty follows a broader trend in Holmes's adaptations. Conan Doyle’s Sherlock has often been read as autistic-coded, a characteristic that modern versions have embraced, like Enola Holmes and Elementary. Speaking of Elementary, Moriarty was played by Natalie Dormer as an enigmatic, layered adversary. Now, Watson introduces another shift, casting a Black actor in the role, further challenging long-standing assumptions about who gets to embody this iconic villain.

More than just a casting choice, this reinvention speaks to how Moriarty has grown over time. They are no longer simply a villain lurking in the dark corners of the criminal underworld. They have become something more: an idea, a force capable of destabilizing not just the great detective, but the very narratives that have shaped the Sherlock Holmes mythos for over a century.

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Randall Park: A harmless face hiding a deadly threat?

At first glance, casting a comedian as Moriarty might seem like an odd choice. After all, the role has traditionally been played with a menacing gravitas. But that’s exactly what makes it brilliant. Randall Park’s comedic timing adds a layer of unpredictability, making his Moriarty all the more unsettling.

History has proven that comedic actors can deliver chilling performances. Just look at Robin Williams in Insomnia or Bob Odenkirk in Better Call Saul. Park follows this tradition, bringing a deceptively lighthearted touch that makes the villain’s darkest moments hit even harder.

What makes this version stand out is how Park’s natural charm plays against expectations. Audiences are conditioned to associate him with warmth and humor, making his turn as Moriarty all the more jarring. This performance does not lean into overt menace; it’s a slow burn, a quiet unraveling of the villain’s true nature. The threat doesn’t come from grand displays of power but from the creeping realization that we never saw it coming.

More than that, Park’s Moriarty weaponizes perception itself. Comedy disarms and makes us lower our guard—and that’s when the knife strikes. This approach makes for a Moriarty unlike any other, one whose greatest weapon is not just their mind but our own expectations.

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Watson vs. a phantom in plain sight

Here’s the real game-changer. Sherlock isn’t here to play. Watson, the so-called sidekick, is now the lead, and that throws the entire dynamic off balance. Without Holmes’ razor-sharp deductions as a buffer, Watson has to face the full weight of Moriarty’s machinations alone. The result? A rivalry that’s more of a psychological chess match than a battle of wits, where the stakes feel more personal and the danger cuts deeper.

Yes, Randall Park in a polo shirt. But pay attention to the Easter Egg. Very visible this time. Literally written on his attire.

But is Moriarty really just a villain this time? Or is there another layer yet to be revealed? Their motives remain murky, their methods even more so. Maybe this isn't just about outwitting Watson—it’s about forcing him to become something new. Something neither he, nor we, were prepared for.

A phantom is dangerous not because of what they do, but because of what they make others become. Watson may think he’s playing detective, but in this game, he might just be another piece on Moriarty’s board.

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A Moriarty who plays the long con

Unlike previous iterations where Moriarty burns bright and fast (cough Andrew Scott’s Sherlock cough), Watson seems poised to play the long game. This isn’t a one-and-done antagonist. This is a creeping, evolving menace, a Moriarty who doesn’t just want to win but to dismantle the very idea of Watson as a hero.

That makes for a slow-burn tension we rarely get to see with this character. But with all the twists Watson has been setting up, are we even sure this is the final form of the villain? Is Moriarty really the endgame, or just the first in a series of reveals?

More than that, this version of Moriarty understands patience. They don’t strike when expected. They wait, letting their influence fester until the moment is right. A true long con isn’t about making a move—it’s about making the world move around you.

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A danger beyond villainy

So what makes Watson’s Moriarty the most dangerous of them all? It’s not just the intellect, the mind games, or the sheer unpredictability. This version isn’t simply a master of strategy. It’s a force that redefines the battlefield itself. By shifting the focus from a Holmes-centric duel to an existential threat aimed directly at Watson, this Moriarty transforms the very concept of what it means to be an arch-nemesis.

But maybe that’s the trick. Maybe this isn’t about being a villain at all. Perhaps Watson is setting up something even bigger—an adversary who isn’t playing by the rules of good versus evil, but by something far more complex. And when the lines between hero and villain start to blur, the real danger isn’t just losing the game. It’s realizing you never knew what game you were playing in the first place.