Enola Holmes 3 Finally Announced, Because Apparently We Didn’t Learn Our Lesson About Franchises
Look, I get it. The economy is in the toilet, the planet is slowly turning into a lukewarm rotisserie chicken, and the only thing keeping us from fully embracing the void is a constant drip-feed of IP slop. So, yes, Netflix has officially announced *Enola Holmes 3*, because why would we ever let a perfectly decent concept die with dignity? According to the trades, Millie Bobby Brown is back to break the fourth wall, look directly into the camera, and remind us that she’s too old to be playing a teenager, while Henry Cavill will return to look like a Greek god who accidentally wandered onto the set of a BBC period drama. The plot? Who cares. Probably something about a missing earl and a coded message hidden in a crumpet. The real mystery is how Netflix keeps greenlighting these things while my favorite shows get cancelled after one season because they didn’t have a Stranger Things cameo.
Let’s be real. The first *Enola Holmes* movie was a pleasant surprise. It was charming, had a solid message about girls being allowed to be messy and smart, and featured a scene where Cavill’s Sherlock did a cool gun-spin thing that made half the internet question their sexuality. It was a fun, low-stakes whodunit that didn’t try to set up a cinematic universe. Then *Enola Holmes 2* came out, and it was... fine. It was the cinematic equivalent of a participation trophy. It had more action, a slightly more convoluted plot, and a weirdly earnest vibe that felt like it was written by a committee of marketing executives who just discovered feminism. But hey, it had a fight scene in a match factory, so points for historical accuracy, I guess.
But now we’re getting a third one. And here’s where I start to sweat. Sequels are a slippery slope. First, you get a fun, self-contained movie. Then you get a sequel that expands the world but feels a little bloated. Then you get a third movie that introduces a secret twin, a hidden prophecy, and a 45-minute monologue about systemic oppression that sounds like a college freshman’s thesis paper. I’m not saying *Enola Holmes 3* will be bad. I’m saying it has the potential to be the *Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen* of Victorian-era girlboss detective stories.
The announcement came with all the usual Hollywood buzzwords. “Expanding the universe.” “Deeper character exploration.” “A thrilling new chapter.” Which is marketing-speak for “we have no idea what to do, so we’re going to throw money at it until something sticks.” Reports suggest the third film will introduce a new villain, probably a corrupt aristocrat with a secret underground lair and a monocle. And Enola will probably have to navigate a romance with some bland love interest who is “not like other Victorian men.” Meanwhile, Sherlock will probably get, like, three scenes where he says something smart and then disappears for an hour so the budget can go toward more period costumes.
And can we talk about the release strategy? Netflix is probably going to drop this thing on a random Thursday in November with zero marketing, then act surprised when nobody watches it. Or worse, they’ll do a limited theatrical release, claim it’s a “prestige event,” and then cancel the fourth movie because the box office numbers didn’t hit *Barbie* levels. It’s the same cycle every time. You get a hit, you milk it, you overextend, you reboot it in ten years with a younger cast. It’s the circle of Hollywood life.
But here’s the thing: I’m probably going to watch it. I know I will. Because despite my cynical, jaded heart, I still have a soft spot for Millie Bobby Brown yelling at sexist Victorian men while wearing a cute waistcoat. And let’s be honest, Henry Cavill is the only reason half of you are even reading this article. You want to see him in another waistcoat, holding a magnifying glass, and looking like he just walked off the cover of a romance novel. I get it. We’re all basic.
So what do we want from *Enola Holmes 3*? Honestly, not much. Just don’t screw it up. Don’t make it three hours long. Don’t add a post-credits scene teasing a villain team-up with Moriarty. Don’t give Enola a magical powers or a secret lineage to a lost royal family. Just give us a solid mystery, some fun banter, and at least one scene where Sherlock does something ridiculously cool that has no business being in a family-friendly mystery movie. Is that too much to ask? Probably.
But let’s be real, the most dramatic part of this franchise is still going to be the discourse. We’re going to get thinkpieces about how the third movie “betrays the spirit of the books” (there are books, apparently) or how it’s “too woke” or “not woke enough.” The internet will argue about whether Enola is a good feminist icon or just a corporate-approved version of one. And somewhere, a dusty British historian will cry into their tea because the costumes are inaccurate. It’s the circle of internet life.
So, fine. I’m in. I’ll watch *Enola Holmes 3*. I’ll laugh at the fourth-wall breaks, I’ll roll my eyes at the anachronistic dialogue, and I’ll probably cry a little when Henry Cavill smiles because I’m a simple creature with simple needs. But if this movie ends with a credits scene of Sherlock looking at a mysterious letter and whispering “Mycroft…” I swear to God, I’m turning it off and never looking back. We don’t need a universe. We don’t need a shared continuity. We just need a good movie. And maybe, just maybe, Netflix will remember that. Or they won’t, and we’ll get *Enola Holmes 7: The
Final Thoughts
Having watched the first two films feel more like charming appetizers than a full meal, I'm cautiously optimistic that *Enola Holmes 3* could finally deliver the substantive course the franchise needs. The real test isn't just solving another mystery, but whether the writers will allow Millie Bobby Brown's Enola to evolve beyond her brother's shadow and grapple with the messy consequences of her growing independence—a narrative risk the previous entries largely sidestepped. If the third installment leans into a darker, more politically charged London while deepening Enola's own agency, it could transform this series from a delightful diversion into a genuinely compelling statement on a woman forging her own path in a man's world.