I was just thinking about Sherlock’s father telling Mary that his wife is a flake but a genius, and that she’s unbelievably hot.
And it occurred to me that while I’ve been shipping it with my whole heart all this time, I may have underestimated how devastatingly attractive Sherlock actually is to John. There is the constant staring as a big hint, of course. The lip-licking, sure. The “being all cool with your cheekbones” comment, his agreement with Mary that watching someone you love storming into a dangerous situation is “a tiny bit sexy.” He knows. Of course he knows! He’s been experiencing that first hand, obviously!
But then this comment from Sherlock’s father which puts it all very plainly. He’s John, isn’t he? The mirror image and the future image. Sherlock says as much when John asks Sherlock on the stag night if he’s pretty, as far as I can tell. Sherlock’s impression of what’s attractive is based on childhood impressions, influences and role models. Of course John is attractive to him. John is perfect, as far as Sherlock is concerned. He’s the vitruvian man.
John is to Sherlock what Sherlock’s father is to Sherlock’s brilliant mother. And he says to Mary what John can’t quite manage to say to anyone, not even his therapist. Not yet, anyway. It’s what he will say, one day, when this drama and excitement is all over. When he’s an old man sitting and humming and looking back over the amazing things they’ve done together. Yes, Sherlock is a flake. He’s also a genius. And…he’s unbelievably hot. There was no other option for him. He couldn’t have chosen otherwise. He’ll drink his punch and hum to himself and Sherlock will finish his sentences and give him an affectionate pat.
Sorry, John. You’re already a passenger on this train, and it’s clearly only going in one direction. Good thing you don’t really want to be anywhere else.