I just wanna know what Mycroft was like in his early 20s….. Did he deal the Korean elections and then come home and spend the next 24 hours sitting silently in his umbrella pajama pants? Did he stress out about nuclear warfare over a bowl of ramen?
Sherlock’s misconceptions about Harry Watson’s gender are important.
Pilots are where shows begin. It’s the setup. Additionally, the pilot of a show is written to gain an audience. That means that every small detail has been planned to achieve this goal. It’s all calculated and important to the eventual reaches of the show and the tone that the writers aim to set for it.
By making Harry Watson a lesbian, Moftiss is already squelching heteronormative ideas. Period. You think that because this person is married to a woman, they must be male? Wrong.
They would not have included this detail in ASiP were it not important; that is, if it did not say something that they felt needed to be stated.
And then there is always the other argument. “No, it’s probably because Harry is most often a male name. He would have thought of anyone named Harry as male.” But then, why name the sister Harry? Why would the writers, who are planning the beginnings of a Sherlock Holmes series that has never been done before and are rather excited there, give John’s sister that name? To make a point.
Because as attached as we all are to these characters, and I’m not discounting myself from that either, we must remember that at the end of the day, they are still characters. They are incredibly and heartbreakingly human, but they are creations nonetheless. Their thoughts and actions are planned; there are no mistakes. It didn’t need to be “natural” for Sherlock to perceive a person named Harry as male. But the writers decided that, for whatever reason, it was important that Sherlock be wrong in a heteronormative oversight.
John and Sherlock write their own vows for their wedding.
John goes first. He talks about how he and Sherlock met, how he loved him from the moment he first saw him in the morgue. He talks about their first kiss on a rainy Tuesday in September. He talks about how he’s never known anything as strong as this, how he’s never loved anyone like this and how he never really thought he would. He sighs.
Sherlock takes out a notecard, looks down at it, and puts it on the table. And he talks. Stories pour out of cases and of habits, but he doesn’t go on. He looks down. And speaks.
“And John, I want you to know that I never imagined that I would be standing here one day. Certainly not with you. So, what I mean to say is, thank you. Thank you for choosing me as your best friend and now for choosing me as so much more. I love you. That’s the whole of it. I know that people often go on when they do these things, but I can’t find anything else to say except that I love you. So.”
He bites his lip.
“Here we are.”
The room is silent. Sherlock once again looks at John.
“Did I do it wrong?”
But instead of saying anything else, John pulls his husband in for a long, slow kiss.