Well, it’s nice to see that fangirls and fanboys never change
Open your eyes, let’s begin
Yes, it’s really me, it’s the Author: breathe it in! I know it’s a lot: the fluff, the angst!
When you’re staring at your favorite fics!
What can I say except you’re welcome
For the feels, the smut, the guys!
Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay
I’m just an ordinary fangirl or guy! Hey!
What has two hours and feels to share
When you were complaining about that last episode
When the fandoms on hiatus got cold
Who stole you feels from down below
You’re lookin’ at ‘em, yo
Oh, also I brought that character back to life,
To stretch their days and bring you fun
Also I wrote something about that pairing you love,
To fill the ship’s sails because it’s my OTP!
So what can I say except you’re welcome
For the “ships” that I pulled from the “sea”
There’s no need to beg for an update, it’s okay
Ha, I guess it’s just my way of being me
Well, come to think of it
Guys, honestly I can go on and on
I can explain every fandom phenomenon
The crack-ships, M-preg fics and all that weird stuff you found, oh
That was the fans just messing around
The show killed a guy, and buried his guts
I wrote a fic where he comes back and the fans went nuts
What’s the lesson
What is the take-away
Don’t mess with authors when they’re writing away!
And that link to my masterlist where all my stories have been,
Is a map of the fandoms I’m in
Look what I’ve written,
I make everything happen,
Look at that author just tippity-typin’
Well, anyway let me say you’re welcome
For the wonderful world of fan fiction you know
Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay
Well, come to think of it, I gotta go write some more!
Hey, it’s your day to say you’re welcome
‘Cause I’m gonna write about that “ship”
I’m sailing away, away
'Cause it seems nowadays “ships” can do anything but float
And thank you for commenting and liking!
Go thank all of your fan fiction Authors for writing such amazing and creative stories! Be sure to like and comment because they don’t get paid money for this they get paid in compliments! This song is a parody of You’re Welcome sung by Dwayne Johnson and written by Lin-Manuel Miranda for the Disney film Moana!
I FEEL LIKE MRS. HUDSON RUNS ONE OF THIS SHIPPING JOHNLOCK BLOGS ON TUMBLR.
Wouldn’t it be super awesome to have tea with Mrs. Hudson as a group of crazy fan girls, we’d spend our days talking about how much we all ship Johnlock, and every time John or Sherlock walk in we’d change the conversation to how pleasant the tea is or the horrible weather.
That would be like a fictional bucket list goal!
Summary: Reader is Sherlock’s longtime girlfriend and one of the few people in Lestrade’s division who likes him. Sherlock and Watson take her on all their adventures, as she is the one who presents cases to them and represents them in the police force. She finds herself awaiting their return to Baker Street often, but none have ended up like this. What does she do afterward? Can she find closure?
Key: (Y/N)-your name
Today’s Playlist: Hmmm…so many options… My original inspiration was Viva la Vida, though it doesn’t quite fit (still a good song tho :3 go listen to it) as well as I Was King (ONE OK ROCK) and I Want You Here (Plumb). As always, I usually listen to the nightcoreversions and those are the ones linked as they are my inspiration, but I highly encourage you to listen to the original songs, too!
Cast: YOU! Sherlock Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes, John Watson, Mrs. Hudson, Anderson, Mary Watson, and brief mentions of Donovan and Lestrade’s Ex-Wife
Warnings: Language? I think? Too lazy to check…. Smoking Habits, Depression (minor, nothing super serious other than brief mentions of grief and tragedy) Angst, Grief
Status: Complete (May consider prequels or a part 2 if requested and I can find the inspiration)
“Or, or, or- hear me out on this one- a bungee cord! That would have worked! I mean-”
It’s been almost a year to the day since his death, yet Anderson still holds hope. How? I’ve no bloody idea.
Even I lost hope a long time ago and I was quite possibly the closest to him, besides John. You’d think that being his girlfriend would dub you automatically closer to him than his best friend, but that’s not the case. John has known- knew him far longer than I did. Still, I loved him very much.
“I mean, obviously he had to have help from his brother, right? Because if not-”
It’s been hard without him. What has? Cases, for one thing, talking to people, waking up in the morning, and how about living? How’s that for an answer? He was part of me. He was my other half. We were both clever, but I’m a sweet talker and he was…antisocial, to say the least. He was a sassy bastard and a pain in the ass while I was sneaky and persuasive. We made an interesting couple, for sure. We definitely gave my dad headaches on the regular.
“So he had to have done that or else he would have-”
Dad. He’s taken his death pretty hard, too, though not only for his sake. He can’t stand to see me like this. He’s started smoking again. He thinks I haven’t noticed, but I’m not that blinded by grief. I tend to notice the little things. Besides, he’s not the only one with a pack of cigarettes under his bed. “See what I mean? That’s absolute bollocks!”
I’ve detached from everyone. Dad and I don’t talk. I haven’t seen John in a while. He’s probably moved on at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to cut ties after what happened. Mrs. Hudson checks in on me often and I take care to call her at least once a week for fear that she might come after me if I don’t. I haven’t spoken to Mum since the divorce. She never cared for me, anyway. Never wanted a kid, much less a daughter wanting to follow in her dad’s footsteps. It was kind of a blessing when she left. Donovan doesn’t dare even think of talking to me. It was all her fault after all. I doubt I’ll ever be able to forgive her. It’s a miracle I can tolerate Anderson after that. Anderson is one of the few who dares to approach me, though I’m sure he’ll stop once I give him what for.
“What do you think? (Y/N)?” He asks, holding out his coffee in questioning.
I turn to him with a frustrated sigh. “Stop it, Anderson. Sherlock is dead. He’s not coming back.”
“But he-” He starts to argue with me, but I can’t take it anymore.
I shout, “I saw him fall with my own eyes! I identified his body, Anderson! Don’t tell me for some bollocks reason that Sherlock is alive because he’s not.” I glare him down as he goes silent, glancing down at his feet. I desperately have the instinct to bring up how Sherlock’s death was partly his fault in the first place, but I don’t. He’s already expressing his guilt through coming up with theories and acting as if there’s hope, not to mention starting the fan club. “Sherlock is dead and it’s about bloody time you accepted that because he’s not coming back.” I storm off, choking back a sob.
It’s hard to accept, but I know he’s dead. There is absolutely no possible way he can be alive after that.
I go home after that, not wanting to bother with anyone for the rest of the day. I’ve left Baker Street by now and moved back in with Dad. I can’t stand living in a flat completely composed of things that remind me of Sherlock. At the same time, I can’t fully move on.
He was the first person to truly see my potential and help me to use it. He wasn’t like Dad, who refused to bring me on dangerous cases because he was so scared for my well being. No, Sherlock was the exact opposite. He wanted me to be there. He wanted my opinion and my help. He wanted to hear what I had to say. He wasn’t like Donovan or Anderson who doubted me and turned on me within milliseconds. Even when his reputation was tarnished, he was careful to make sure I was safe and that Moriarty had no idea how close I was to him. Even when it meant that we couldn’t be seen together in public, he kept me safe. I wasn’t like other people in the force. I didn’t think he was a freak. I thought he had an amazing talent that could change the world and I so desperately wanted to learn it. He was astonished by this and, after some suspicion and time spent together, started to teach me the science of deduction. I have learned a lot, though by no means have I mastered it. I only wish he could have taught me more before…
I find the door to the apartment unlocked, surprisingly, which means Dad’s home. We don’t cross paths a lot anymore. In fact, it feels like we avoid each other. I just can’t face him after all that’s happened. I’m afraid that if I do…well, there’s no avoiding it now.
I climb the stairs and enter the living room, barely glancing at Dad, who’s sitting on the couch staring at nothing with a blank look on his face. He looks up as I enter and close the door behind me. I toss the keys onto a nearby table nonchalantly and turn slowly, pausing there with my hands in my coat pockets. “Hey,” I mumble quietly, not making eye contact.
Dad mumbles a reply that I can’t hear, running a hand through his grey hair and sighing. Suddenly, he notices a pack of cigarettes peeking out of my pocket. His head snaps up, “Have you been smoking?!”
I don’t answer, glancing away and furrowing my brows in slight frustration. I don’t feel guilt. I turn back to him with a huff. “Yeah. So have you.”
His gaze softens as he takes his turn to glance away and lean back onto the couch. I’ve caught him. “Talk to anybody today?” He asks, casually slipping concern into the conversation rather than facing up to my accusation.
“Anderson,” I mutter quietly with a sigh, something Dad quickly picks up on.
“He badgering you with his theories as well?” He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Of all people he had to-” He mutters a few incoherent thoughts as I stand there awkwardly. Then, he’s silent.
There’s a tense air filling the room quickly as neither of us wants to talk about it. We don’t want to talk about the fact that Dad had to help in the events that killed my boyfriend. We don’t want to talk about how he died. We don’t want to talk about the idea that he might be alive. We just don’t even want to bring up the topic of Sherlock.
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“Huh?” I turn suddenly to him, not sure I heard him right. He can’t mean that…
He stands and starts toward me. He looks unsure, though his eyes are full of love and hope. He stops just in front of me and continues on, knowing I heard and acknowledged what he said. “I’m worried about you.” He puts his hands on my forearms gently in a loving motion. “You don’t talk anymore, (Y/N). At least talk to me. Please?”
I’m silent as he pulls me into a tight hug. He closes his eyes and holds me close, resting his head on top of mine.
“I love you.” He whispers, “This scares me.”
I blink a few times as tears come to my eyes. I bury my head in his coat and mumble. “I miss him.” I start to sob as Dad pulls me closer and rubs my back, comforting me the only way he knows how. He understands loss, sure. I mean, he felt it with Mum. However, he doesn’t know what it’s like when someone you love with your entire being dies unexpectedly, especially not in the way that Sherlock went.
“I know.” He whispers. “I know, love. I miss him, too. We all do.”
“What will you do when you tell her, then?”
“You don’t seriously think you’ll be able to avoid her?”
“She hasn’t forgotten you, Sherlock.”
“I hope not.”
“You have to talk to her.”
“Don’t be so selfish, Sherlock!”
“Me? Selfish? Well, that’s just irony at it’s best, isn’t it, Mycroft?”
“Talk. To. Her.”
“She’s better off without me.”
“And why is that?”
“She won’t have anyone on her tail, won’t be constantly watched by my government official brother…I don’t know.”
“The sarcasm is overwhelming, brother mine. Despite your best efforts and ignorance, I will always keep an eye on her.”
“Then you admit you care?”
“No. I simply know that you do, though you ever refuse to act on it.”
“What do you mean you haven’t told (Y/N), yet?!” John whisper-shouts, floored by Sherlock’s admittance.
“Exactly what I say, John,” Sherlock mutters, uncomfortable speaking about this around Mary. He barely knows the woman and now she’s going to hear about his girlfriend- ex-girlfriend?
“You can’t be serious!” John is even more furious with him now.
“Completely,” Sherlock assures him.
John lets his jaw drop in anger. “You have to talk to her. She is in absolute ruin, Sherlock! She wouldn’t speak to Lestrade- her father, mind you- for a year! A year, Sherlock!”
Sherlock tilts his head ever so slightly upward, cocking an eyebrow at John. He doesn’t show it, but that statement concerns him. Surely (Y/N) would have moved on by now. Surely she’s found happiness elsewhere.
John quickly realises what Sherlock’s thought process was and leans back into his chair with an angry smirk, the token expression of a Watson’s fury. “You bloody idiot. You thought she would forget you?” He leans back onto the table, pointing his finger angrily at Sherlock. “She is worse off than when her Mum left. In fact-”
He just saw her the other day at Baker Street, meeting with Mrs. Hudson. He immediately smelled the smoke on her when he first walked in but was even more shocked when she walked out the door and started to smoke right away. She didn’t care about the consequences nor what anyone thought when they saw her smoking. She needed it. It was her coping mechanism, if you could even say she was coping at all. She hadn’t talked to John at all, which Sherlock quickly deduces was because she was envious of his relationship with Mary and his ability to move on from him. All of this shocks Sherlock. He can’t believe that she’s so hung up on him…Why?
“Because she loves you, Sherlock,” John tells him fiercely.
He rings the doorbell cautiously, taking a deep breath as he does and preparing himself. As the door creaks open, he greets her casually. “Hello.” He can barely catch a glimpse of her shock and overwhelmed emotion plastered on her face before he closes his eyes, ready for her fist to come in contact with his jaw.
To his surprise, it never comes. Instead, she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug, immediately starting to cry into his coat. Sherlock opens one eye, glancing down at her curiously before comfortably wrapping his own arms around her tightly. She doesn’t say a word at first, just holds him close as if he’ll run away if she lets go. “I thought you were dead.”
“Yes, well, a lot of people did.” Sherlock jokes lightly as (Y/N) looks up at him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. He hates to see her cry. “Now then, stop that. You’ll get me started.”
To her shock, she sees a few glistening tears in his eyes. She stands on her toes and presses her lips to his, holding his cheek in her gentle hands. Once she releases, she leans against his chest. “I love you, Sherlock.” She knows he won’t reply. Sherlock isn’t one to say those things, especially not out loud.
He doesn’t even hesitate. He shocks even himself. His emotions overwhelm him to the point where he has to say it or else he might just die then and there. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s a feeling he’s never experienced, only heard of before. At least, he strongly believes he’s never felt it quite this way.
“I love you, too, (Y/N).” They’re frozen there for a few moments before he reverts back to his bastard self. “But really, you should stop smoking. Not exactly pleasant for physical contact.”
She giggles lightly, shaking her head. “God, I hate you.”
Note: I love the idea of Dad!Lestrade so much!! Seriously, if I ever have the opportunity, I will write with him as a dad again! There are just so many options! Anywho, hope you enjoyed my first Sherlock fic!
Prompt: Mycroft runs into Greg at Sherlock’s birthday party and Mrs Hudson catches them snogging on the stairs leading to the other bedroom… Smut or implied smut is desired.
Mrs Hudson had never seen Sherlock so happy. She fussed over the buffet table, straightening plates and refilling platters whilst keeping a fond eye on the birthday boy. He was almost like a son to her, although she would never admit it. Sherlock had never been good with feelings.
She sighed happily and straightened her party hat, watching the crowds of people milling around the living room. 221B had never been so crowded. Half of Scotland Yard had turned up, not to mention most of John’s work colleagues, several of Sherlock’s homeless network and the entirety of his fan club.
Sherlock himself was guessing the contents of gifts without bothering to open any. An admiring crowd had gathered around him and he was clearly in his element, spouting deductions at 100 miles per hour. Mrs Hudson chuckled and shook her head fondly.
Only one person was missing from the scene. Mycroft Holmes. She tutted to herself and poked her head into the kitchen, expecting to find the man lurking in there. Whilst she could understand that the two brothers weren’t always the best of friends, it would be a crying shame if Mycroft missed the party. She checked her watch. It was almost time to bring out the cake.
More meta: But, if it was a fantasy inside Sherlock’s Mind Palace™ and he is so obviously in love with John, why hasn’t he imagined himself kissing him?
@sherrydcherry and me were having this fascinating conversation (which was basically babbling about how amazing the special was and when the f#ck are they going to make this sh#t canon because it’s about motherf#cking time), and then she asked me:
“I was thinking, why hasn’t Sherlock brought himself to imagine (or see) in his mind palace a kiss yet? I mean he obviously loves him!“
So I started to write down my answer going as far back as the beginning of Series 3, and somewhere along the way it turned into a very fruitful piece of meta, so I’m sharing it.
Do y’all know how in TEH, when the Sherlock Fan Club (The Empty Hearse, but to avoid confusion with the episode’s name I’ll keep calling them that) started speculating about how he could have survived The Fall, they fantasized about Sherlolly and Sheriarty?
Well, there has always been one thing nagging at me about that.
There were enough fans in the club for both Sheriarty and Sherlolly shippers to exist among them.
And yet, do you mean to tell me, considering all the comments the media made about John’s ‘bachelor’ status…
…as well as the fact that John and Sherlock had been living together for years…
…the fact that they stayed in a hotel together during the case in Baskerville…
…despite John always being used as a way for criminals to get to Sherlock…
…the fact that they ESCAPED from the police together…
…Despite ALL OF THAT, do they really mean to tell us there was not a SINGLE Johnlocker in the Fan Club, no one that could have come up with a fantasy about Sherlock’s survival that involved Sherlock and John fleeing the country together?
Because I mean, the fans being the Sheriarties and Anderson being the Sherlolly (lol, I’m still not over how hilarious his heteronormative mind is) implies that the fans ARE aware of the fact that Sherlock IS, indeed, very much gay.
And do you know what other things the fans knew that could have confirmed the “Johnlock escaped the country together” theory for them? They knew that John wasn’t living in Baker Street anymore. They probably had no clue as to what his new address was, but they knew the flat was empty.
Granted, John didn’t leave the flat until months after The Fall, but they could have come up with some explanation for that, something like “well, John couldn’t just LEAVE the flat in the SAME day that Sherlock ‘died’, that would have been too obvious.. So he waited for a reasonable amount of time before he went to meet Sherlock in… say… Amsterdam for example, so that no one would be suspicious, and then they started a new life together under false identities…”
MY POINT BEING
There was enough material for the Fan Club to put together a story about forbidden love and eventual eloping (and I, in fact, think someone must have done it), the same as there is enough material in Sherlock’s Mind Palace/drug-induced fantasies that it would be possible for him to hallucinate about finally banging John.
So the big question remains: Why the HELL wouldn’t they all do it? Sherlock, the Fan Club, the writers, whoever, why wouldn’t they simply show us what is obviously in their minds? Here’s what I think:
Because the Sherlolly and Sheriarty fantasies were a discard method.
This was the writers going, "Look at how weird and out of the blue this would be, there is no way that we could organically include this in the plot, just scratch it, lol!”. This was their way of“invalidating” both ships.
You don’t simply show the culminating moment of a ship (aka passionate kiss), laugh at it, dismiss it as a stupid daydream and still manage to keep that ship’s validity status.
So, this was really a discard method. Something like, “Hey, Sherlollies and Sheriarties, have this consolation prize and go home; there is nothing left for you here”.
So if we continue along that line of thought, it makes sense that, if they indeed are going for Johnlock as the endgame, they don’t use their way of TAKING THE TRASH OUT in order to hint at John and Sherlock becoming canon.
If they did, it would send mixed signals, and honestly, when you’re going for the endgame in a slow-burn story that’s been unfolding for the past six years, you don’t simply give away one of the most important moments (the kiss) just to hint at the chance that it may, indeed, happen one day.
And that’s as far as my theory goes concerning why we aren’t being shown what is clearly on everyone’s mind these days.
edit: tagging @malinwolf because she’s always ready to hop on the crazy train :D
This is the second part to John’s Sister, requested by @silverhart93 I accidentally made this hella long and I’m sorry, but hopefully, you guys like that it’s over ten pages?? :) Also, it’s late so I apologize for any spelling mistakes that I missed.
Warnings: It’s a case so there are descriptions of a dead body. I think I said Hell in there, Is that a curse word?
Pairing: Sherlock x reader
Made By: Mrs. Holmes
“I can’t believe they just let us take their reservation.” You remarked, sitting in the back of a cab with Sherlock.
“Yes, very kind of them.” He said, distracted since he had his phone out in front of him and was typing away vigorously, his thin fingers typing with dexterity.
“Will you finish your story once we get to dinner?” You asked him, hope in your eyes as you smiled.
“Hm, not exactly.” Sherlock hummed, still typing away as you shot him a curious look. “What do you mean?” You asked him, an eyebrow raised.
“I just got a call from Lestrade, I have a case.” He announced, still looking down at his phone
You tried not to let the disappointing frown take over your whole face as you tore your gaze from the detective and instead looked straight ahead of you.
“Oh, Well, I can still catch up with John and Mary. You probably have some sort of murder to solve.” You told him, trying to feign casualty despite the feeling of dismay that was pressing down against your chest.
He turned to you, albeit quickly, for the first time. “Oh, No, you can’t leave.” He disagreed suddenly.
Let's have John Watson and hair. On his head. That hair.
Sherlock had been surprised by a lot of things when he came home. He was surprised to find that Mrs. Hudson’s scones tasted even better than he remembered. He was surprised that Anderson of all people had started a Sherlock Holmes fan club. He was surprised that he still knew London as well as before, that the city’s pulse still matched his own. But mostly he was surprised by John.
There were unhappy surprises. John had moved out of Baker Street. He had grown a ridiculous mustache. Greeted Sherlock’s return with anger and anguish. Gotten himself engaged.
But there were happy surprises, too. John had shaved off the ridiculous mustache. He had joined Sherlock for a case again far sooner than Sherlock could have expected. He had ultimately forgiven Sherlock and slipped back into a comfortable, if slightly more distant, friendship.
The best surprise though had been John’s hair. Before Sherlock left, John’s hair had been a sandy blonde with a few grey strands here and there, a perfectly normal ratio of grey-to-blonde for a man of his age. But now Sherlock could read the toll of his time away in the current color of John’s hair. Every strand had taken a turn toward silver. More individual hairs were grey, but even those that remained blonde were lighter, as if Sherlock’s absence had begun to leech the color from John’s life. Maybe it had. The result was that both blonde and grey gleamed brightly, catching the light and reflecting it back into the world as something even more dazzling.
Sherlock knew he should feel badly that his fall had stressed John so badly, but he was too fascinated by the change to be ashamed. Sherlock had always thought John attractive, but now he was radiant. His hair was a perfect mix of silver and gold. Sherlock stayed awake at night wondering if he touched it whether it would feel like sunshine or frost. John’s hair had become a beautiful contradiction, a perfect metaphor for the man himself. He had always been cuddly jumpers and hidden danger, healing hands and steady aim, perfectly ordinary and absolutely extraordinary, and now his hair had grown to match, a gorgeous conundrum Sherlock couldn’t wait to unravel.
Sherlock Holmes returns from the dead very quickly in the new, third season of Sherlock, which begins this Sunday on PBS’s night of Must See British Accents and Cheekbones, right after Downton Abbey. The last episode of Sherlock, “The Reichenbach Fall,” aired two years ago and featured Sherlock (Benedict Cumberbatch, who has now been famous long enough for me to call it: Yes, it will always be funny) taking a swan dive off a building into cement pavement. Presumed dead by the public and his best friend, Dr. John Watson (Martin Freeman), Sherlock was revealed in the final minutes of the episode lurking in the shadows, alive and well. Sherlock Holmes does not die, especially not in a TV show bearing his name.
Presumed death has, if anything, energized Holmes and his show, a modern take on Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective that imagines him as a sort of brainiac superhero whose special power is ice-cold logic. This Holmes has a cape (fine, a long coat), a lair on Baker Street, a good right hook, and a devoted following, but his true identity—that is to say, his heart—is known only to one man. Since Sherlock’s presumed death two years ago, that man, Watson, went through a period of intense and profound mourning, one he is just coming out of thanks to his new girlfriend, Mary (Amanda Abbington). Sherlock expects to be welcomed back by Watson with open arms; he’s not quite attuned, as ever, to the feelings of the more feeling people around him. The third season is looser, funnier, more emotional and also significantly less logical than what has come before. It takes its structure not, as in the past, from specific cases, but the evolving relationships between the members of its newly minted love triangle.
Each season of Sherlock consists of three episodes, each an hour and a half long. Historically, there has been one excellent episode, one pretty good episode, and one episode redeemed by Cumberbatch’s extraordinarily charming performance. (Or, in the case of last season’s “The Hounds of Baskerville,” not redeemed.) The second episode of this season, set at Watson’s wedding, is a pure delight, the best episode the show has ever done. The third episode initially appears to be about a German Rupert Murdoch blessed with a particularly malevolent and powerful pair of Google Glasses before taking a more personal turn and getting rivetingly cuckoo. “The Empty Hearse,” the season opener, is the not-so-great entry in this newest batch of episodes, sick with a case of smugness.
“The Empty Hearse” is the most meta move imaginable, featuring a Sherlock Holmes fan club, blatant stand-ins for the show’s own fans, in a key role. The solution to Holmes’ great escape is complicated and opaque and unsatisfying: It has none of the simplicity of the best mystery resolutions. (Also, apparently no one checked on Sherlock’s body in the morgue.) There is a point at which meta ceases to be a cute wink acknowledging your fans’ existence and starts to be a self-aggrandizing hyper-awareness of how important your TV show is to them. Fans are very fannish, but perhaps even they would rather watch a diverting episode of Sherlock than a bunch of jokes about their relationship to Sherlock, which they definitely already make themselves on various message boards.
Also getting the meta treatment in “The Empty Hearse”: the true bromance of Sherlock and Watson. The show wastes no time getting the “Watson and Sherlock are in love with each other” cracks out in the open, but without ever quite descending into a homosexual panic. Watson loudly and regularly asserts that he and Sherlock are not lovers, but he is vulnerable before Sherlock and openly caring and protective of him. The wonderful second episode revolves around Sherlock’s very moving wedding toast to John. Their love is deep and real. The show even goes so far as to suggest that Mary, much more complicated than she initially seems, is, in some ways, a female Holmes—a person who lives in an exciting moral gray area—and that’s why Watson likes her so much.
And yet, Sherlock is not quite following its title character to his logical conclusion on the subject of sexuality. Cumberbatch, with his near bouffant of black, curly hair and long trench coat, his dashing and glorious way with the neg, is swoon-worthy in the part. Holmes may be a virgin, but according to the show’s creator (and Dr. Who showrunner) Steven Moffat that fact is “the choice of a monk, not the choice of an asexual.” (Moffat has also said, “[Sherlock] wouldn’t be living with a man if he thought men were interesting,” so it’s hard to say how much his judgment can be relied upon.) But Watson is the only person in the whole world that Sherlock loves, the only human being who Sherlock apologizes to, misses, gets jealous of, plans weddings for. Are we really supposed to think that Sherlock, master of logic, would care that Watson is a man? At the very, very least this Sherlock Holmes would have no qualms with bisexuality: He would flirt with men as shamelessly as women to crack a case. But Sherlock and Moffat are very insistent on asserting this hero’s appeal specifically and primarily to women, a blinkered perspective that Sherlock, who sees more than anyone else, would be the first to dismiss as elementary.