#BelieveinSherlock - A theory
Tumblr’s been talking about how the fans in the Sherlock-universe would react to his end. And out of that the whole #believeinsherlock-movement grew.
Today I was thinking, why “believe in Sherlock”? Where would they get that? Would there just be one person starting it, choosing those words and people following, or would there be something bigger? And then I got this:
Reporters have been following John around. They’re waiting outside Baker Street, outside the clinic he would soon get fired from, they try to catch him on the street while he’s getting his, only his now, groceries. John walks with his head down, he pushes through them, tries to ignore their words “Dr. Watson, when did you realise Sherlock Holmes was a fraud?” “Dr. Watson, is it true you saw him jump?” “Dr. Watson, how do you feel about Sherlock Holmes lying to you?” “Dr. Watson, where you involved in his schemes?” “Dr. Watson, what do you have to say about the tragic death of Richard Brook?” and clenching his teeth when they reach him anyway.
And one day he snaps, it’s about a week or two after Sherlock’s death, and he’s on the steps of 221B Baker Street when a reporter asks him once again about Sherlock’s lies. It’s not a special question, it’s not extraordinarily hurtful or rude. It’s just the last drop, and he spins around, dropping the grocery-bags and stares into the crowd. And gone is John Watson, silent mourner and former side-kick of a fake genius. Back is Captain John Watson MD. The man who’s injured and healed and been injured and been healed.
His voice is calm and desperate at the same time.
“Enough. I’ve had… enough. I’m tired of this. I’ve said it in my blog, and I’ll say it now. I’ll say it and say it until you decide to listen. I knew Sherlock Holmes. Something happened that day, on that roof, that none of us understand but I knew that man. Probably more than anyone else does. And he. was. real. I know you people believe everything that’s said in the newspapers, I know you trust the people behind the printed words, but trust me on this: it’s all lies. It’s all a big scheme to amuse a madman and you are falling for it. Everyone of you believe in Richard Brook, but you didn’t see what he did, the people he killed, the lives he ruined. Including mine.” His voice falters for a second and he clears his throat. “It’s all there if you look deep enough, it’s in everything he said to you, the lies are screaming you in the face but you’re not listening, because it’s easier like this, isn’t it? Easier to look the other way and belittle Sherlock Holmes because you feel so clever when you do. Like you saw through him-” He stops for a second and almost laughs, looks away and then back at them. His voice filled with contempt he continues “Like any of you ever could. You think you see so much but you’re missing the obvious. Sherlock Holmes was a good man. Richard Brook was not the storyteller, Moriarty was. Moriarty was real. Moriarty tricked you all, but not me. I know what kind of man Sherlock was, he was my friend, and you can believe the lies all you want but I- … I Believe in Sherlock Holmes.”
The door slams shut.
And people heard. And people went to their friends. And they told them about John Watson’s words. And that night a small group of people gathered together, and they took their spray-paint and painted the walls and the ally-ways with their beliefs. With their support for the broken man on the steps of 221B Baker Street.