The problem with Mary and her storyline in 

His Last Wow

 (Sherlock Meta by wingsoutstretched) *

Okay, so here’s my problem with the way this episode handled Mary and her storyline.

Mary, as it turns out, is another in Moffat’s long line of Super Special Fantasy Women which, given the wonderfully comic book-like quality of this show is fine. Great, even. Almost certainly meant to be this adaptation’s version of or nod to col. Moran, she’s a crack shot, an international assassin who went ‘freelance,’ who gave it all up for a future and would kill to protect her new life with her husband and baby on the way. I’ve got no issue with any of that; in fact, I think it’s pretty terrific on the spectrum of things they could have done with Mary.

The problem is what happens starting from the very moment Mary pulls the trigger and shoots Sherlock Holmes. At that moment her story — and her redemption — is lifted out of her hands and placed into the hands of the men around her, and she never gets it back.

Sherlock leads Mary to the empty houses at Leinster Gardens (even though she thought she was acting under her own power, Sherlock was leading her on all along), where after being asked to prove her skill with a gun (and thus unwittingly absolving herself of guilt in Sherlock’s eyes, but that comes later), she pleads for him to understand her resolve to keep john from learning her true identity, but to no avail. Sherlock has already exposed her — or, should I say, he manipulated her into exposing herself — to John Watson, who was lurking in the shadows spying on her the whole time (and yes, given the voyeuristic nature of the whole episode when it comes to Mary, it’s more than a little disconcerting.)

The trio then return to Baker Street, where they pause for a nice bit of psychoanalysis of John Watson with Mary as a component of his danger-seeking psyche. It’s important to notice that this exchange is between Sherlock and John, not John and Mary. Mary stands there silently while Sherlock tells John all about why he would be attracted to Mary.

And then John asks Sherlock, ‘why’s she like that?’ — referring to Mary but not looking at her — and Sherlock replies ‘because you chose her.’ It is literally constructed as ‘everything that is relevant or important about Mary’s character is contained in the fact that John Watson picked her.’ If it hasn’t been clear by now that Mary isn’t actually about Mary at all, it’s really apparent now.

And then. And then. Sherlock asks John ‘What is she?’ Not who. What. He repeats the question. Twice. The answer, of course, is a client — ‘That’s all you are now, Mary,’ John tells her. He stands in front of a chair and orders her to sit. He tells her, ‘This is where you sit and talk, and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not.’ Working in tandem, John and Sherlock have completely stripped Mary of her own authority, telling her that they are judge and jury, that they will decide if she is ~worthy~ of being wanted, accepted or redeemed. 

And then things take a little meta twist, because we quickly discover that Mary’s actual story apparently isn’t worth devoting screen time to. Instead of learning about Mary’s background (aside from what Sherlock tells us he’s deduced) and any depth to a justification for her actions beyond must protect John!, we get the cleverly canon-referenced ‘A.G.R.A’ data stick. I cannot stress enough that Mary’s story, her past, her foregrounding as a character, is literally placed in John’s hands. And he, you know, tosses it away. Doesn’t matter. Past is the past, etc. Because John Watson loves her despite whatever-it-was-that-made-her-who-she-is and because Sherlock said it was okay she shot him because actually she wasn’t trying to kill him.

(And I’ll pause to point out here the other person who literally holds Mary’s untold story in his hands: Magnussen. He sits exhibition style in a chair, mentally fondling Mary’s files with with his sweaty hands while chuckling about what a ~bad girl~ she is — it’s a tactic to trigger John’s pressure point, yes, but it’s also a pretty goddamn repulsive appropriation of Mary’s power and backstory as well. That was obviously an intentional aspect of making Magnussen even more abhorrent, but it also serves as another time that Mary’s story is reduced to a passive object handled, used, or discarded by the men on the show.)

So, back to Christmas: John forgives Mary, all is well, the two men sat in their chairs and decided they wanted Mary and so therefore we want her, too. Only problem is, they didn’t hear her story. And neither did we.

I’m not saying John shouldn’t have been angry — hell, furious — at Mary. I’m not even saying I think he should have forgiven her. And this is not a critique of John or Sherlock’s reactions, but of the frame within which Mary’s story was constructed and presented to the audience. I’m saying that Mary’s power in the process of her redemption was completely stripped away, that the story arc told us that all we need to know is whether John and Sherlock forgive her. Her character is reduced to signifiers and objects while she stands by and waits to be absolved. Her story is all flash and no substance, and to me, she deserves a hell of a lot better. Faux housedressing, indeed.

(* This text is moderated by the blog author. Original text found here.)