The Magnificent Decency of Detective Inspector Lestrade

 (Sherlock Meta from before S3 by drinkingcocoa)

[...]

There is a bastion of decency in BBC Sherlock, an indicator of trustworthiness, and his name is Lestrade.  His very presence conveys security.  His character judgments are sound because where people are concerned, Lestrade doesn’t just see; he observes.

In “A Study in Pink,” what is John to make of the potential flatmate?  Genius or madman?  Mrs. Hudson seems to like Sherlock, but for all John knows, she could be mad, too.  And then a heavy tread on the stair announces a man in a trenchcoat talking half telepathically with Sherlock:  This one did.  Will you come?  And Sherlock whirls away.

What just happened?

John opens the paper.  There.  Just below the fold.  “DI Lestrade:  In charge of the investigation.”  And everything changes with that photo.  It anchors reality.  Lestrade is proof:  Sherlock Holmes is real.

At the crime scene, Sergeant Donovan voices every doubt John might have.  “Psychopaths get bored,” she warns, and just as John is pondering this –

“DONOVAN!”

Donovan immediately turns to obey Lestrade.  She leaves John with “Stay away from Sherlock Holmes,” but her warning is too late:  Lestrade has anchored reality again.  If this Donovan heeds Lestrade, and Sherlock also heeds Lestrade, and Lestrade believes in Sherlock… then Sherlock must be real.  Lestrade’s approval is confirmation enough for John.

They believe in Lestrade at the Met.  Proud, defensive DI Dimmock is not above Lestrade’s mentoring.  Lestrade advises DI Carter on Sherlock (“try not to punch him”) with the manner of a man who knows this grizzled cop will listen to him.  The Chief Superintendent calls Lestrade “a bloody idiot,” but the show makes sure he gets chinned later.

In “The Great Game,” Sherlock spurns Mycroft’s entreaties for help, but the moment Lestrade calls, he says, “Of course.  How could I refuse?”  In “Hounds,” and probably long before, Mycroft calls on Lestrade to intercede with Sherlock.

Even Moriarty acknowledges Lestrade, whom he casts as King Arthur to Sherlock’s Sir Boast-a-lot.  In “The Great Game,” Moriarty’s mouthpiece says, “It’s okay that you’ve gone to the police.”  But Sherlock didn’t go to the police.  It was Moriarty who involved the police by leaving them something to give Sherlock.  Moriarty recognizes the significance of Lestrade’s role in Sherlock’s life before Sherlock does.

We see in “The Great Game” that Lestrade is a childhood dream come true for Sherlock, though perhaps Sherlock doesn’t know to appreciate this.  Moriarty does, though.  Moriarty has been keeping track of everything that happened once the Carl Powers case hit the papers:

“I made a fuss,” Sherlock tells John.  “I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important.”  But now there is Lestrade, who comes personally when Sherlock requests “your least irritating officer,” who vouches for Sherlock with skeptical co-workers, who accepts Sherlock’s deductions with nothing more than “You sure about this?”  The Chief Superintendent points out that Sherlock’s been given access to all kinds of classified information.  Exactly.  Lestrade is aware that Sherlock has handled all of it flawlessly, confidentially, every single time.  There is no way Lestrade’s faith in Sherlock could waver; he has long-verified proof that Sherlock is real.

What makes Lestrade so certain?

He doesn’t just see; he observes.

Watch him in the “drugs bust” scene.  He’s focused almost entirely on Sherlock, and yet he’s simultaneously aware of every single person on the premises, so deftly in control that he can even afford humor (“No, Anderson’s my sniffer dog”):  he slots his interpersonal dealings according to priority without ever losing track.  He’s so attuned to people that he knows when it’s time to deviate from the script:  when he cuts off Sherlock’s resistance by revealing his own nicotine patch, we see a world of untold story about an authority figure who once, long ago, understood that the way to gain trust was to give something of himself.  How mercilessly Sherlock must once have deduced Lestrade’s nicotine addiction.  How little he must have expected that this surprising policeman would be secure enough to take it as invitation instead of attack.  Younger Sherlock probably loathed hypocrisy; Lestrade has none.

Once Lestrade has secured Sherlock’s participation, his eyes bear down intently on Sherlock.  His gaze flickers only when Sherlock asks why the dead woman would still be upset about a stillbirth:  Will the new man see Sherlock as a sociopath or as the rare treasure he is?  The camera cuts sharply to a close-up just of Lestrade’s eyes snapping to John, without his head moving.  He observes John, understands instantly who John and Sherlock will be to each other, then snaps his focus back to Sherlock.

With Sherlock’s permission, at Sherlock’s invitation, he’s plugging into Sherlock’s brain:  Sherlock is offering himself as a deducing machine for the two of them to use together, in partnership.  It’s incredibly intimate.  Especially considering the way Sherlock experiences revelation, Lestrade’s observation feels almost like watching for a mental orgasm, with a climax and an afterglow.  This accounts for Lestrade’s always slightly-too-interested demeanor, as we see at the Christmas party when Sherlock says “No, it was me” of the text alert.  But it accounts for Lestrade’s respectfulness as well, the measured but trusting dismissals when Sherlock goes his way.

By the time John asks Lestrade why he puts up with Sherlock, Lestrade has identified John as Lestrade’s ally for life.  His answer brings John fully up to speed.  Lestrade trusts in Sherlock for his job (“because I’m desperate”).  He treasures Sherlock for his gift, the same thing Sherlock values in himself (“a great man”).  And he is personally fond of Sherlock, invested in what becomes of him (“if we’re very lucky…a good one”).  This tells John:  yes, it’s okay to need Sherlock, admire him, and like him, too.  Lestrade does, and Lestrade’s judgment is sound.

Lestrade’s liking for people and his sensitivity for what makes them tick are the sources of his strength.  We see that he relies on these powers as securely as Sherlock relies on his deductions and perhaps, like Sherlock, he doesn’t fully understand what it’s like not to be himself:  he’s genuinely surprised that Donovan and Anderson can have seen Sherlock’s magic over the years and not believe that it is real.  This is part of the appeal of this character:  his innocence of his own gifts.

Perhaps, too, Lestrade’s powerful sense of humanity tells us why he missed when he shot at the hound in the fog.  The poison works with fear and stimulus to make people feel uncontrollably aggressive.  Sherlock sees the face of his fear:  Moriarty.  What did Lestrade see?  Perhaps he saw himself as a cop who has become jaded and brutal, violent, punitive.  It may be just as disorienting for Lestrade to lose touch with his decency as it is for Sherlock to be unable to trust the evidence of his senses.  Perhaps he felt so much unfamiliar aggression toward the menacing hound that his alarm interrupted his aim.  Of course, he could have just missed.  But he did see something he feared; they all did.

Moriarty’s attack in “The Reichenbach Fall” causes Sherlock, finally, to consider his relationship to Lestrade – to grow aware of Lestrade in a way reminiscent of a child maturing into new understanding of his parents.  Lestrade’s steadfastness, unblinking even when Sherlock tests him with a tap on the third eye, tells the whole story of his character.  The viewer knows, though Lestrade does not yet, that by the end of Series 2, Sherlock has become the good man that Lestrade always hoped he could be.  Lestrade’s comprehension of Sherlock’s goodness is one of the great pleasures to look forward to in Series 3.

"Sir, there’s been a break in" / "Not our division"

 (Sherlock Meta by intellectualfangirl)

I love this moment. Not just because it’s pretty hilarious; I think this reveals much of what you need to know about Sally Donovan and Gregory Lestrade.

Let’s look at Sally: she’s shown in motion, opening a door and delivering her line at the same time. She creates action, she sets events into motion, and she’s bent on justice. Sure, she functions as the giver of news here, but there’s an implication in what she says: there’s been a break-in and she wants to do something about it. Additionally, she doesn’t wait until Greg has acknowledged her presence: she knows that she is dealing with a pressing matter, so propriety is not her first priority. However, she still adheres to some etiquette (addressing Greg as sir), indicating that she respects him. Now look at her clothing choices: Sally wants to get shit done, and she wears what she wants while she does so. She wears feminine, practical clothing: there’s a beautiful necklace around her neck, and her shirt has this gorgeous pattern that I originally thought was lace-inspired. Still, it’s all stuff she can move in. But her clothing is much less whimsical than Molly’s, for example: notice the geometric lines of the necklace and the practical watch she wears on her left wrist.

Now look at Greg: Greg reacts to things. He’s clearly busy, and finding a moment to put his feet up and have a bit to eat (is that a scone? or in the tradition of stereotypical cops everywhere, is that a doughnut? we may never know)…and to have some coffee, of course. As he speaks, frustrated, harried, crumbs fall from his mouth (which really makes the humour of this moment, in my opinion). Paperwork is scattered on his desk, but besides an inexplicable paperweight/ornament and the cushy chair, the office looks rather utilitarian. Greg’s feet are on the desk in the classic “power pose,” but in his case the position serves to display his shoes, which don’t quite seem to match his already rather rumpled suit (well, rumpled by television standards). Is he wearing brown or black? I can’t really tell, but he’s not the natty dresser Sherlock is, that’s for certain.

She’s the newer member of the force, he’s the greying veteran. He’s in a traditional position of power (both by his pose, his job, and his status as white, male, and older), while she’s somewhat of an intruder (or she could be seen as one). But Sally is the more active one—he’s so clearly exhausted. And when you look at their interactions beyond this scene, it’s so clear that he respects her, and she respects him, and they have a very effective working relationship—they might even be called friendly, if not friends. And I like to think that Sally, Sally who could so easily ignore him or mock him or just do her job and nothing more, I think Sally is responsible for that.

This has been a Sally Donovan and Greg Lestrade (but mostly Sally Donovan) appreciation post.

John Read the Flash Drive
(Sherlock Meta by archipelagoarchaea)

So I was going through HLV frame by frame, like you do, when I noticed something I hadn’t really noticed before. This is probably because John spends the entire confrontation scene furious and sarcastic, so it didn’t particularly stand out, but I think it’s important.

Remember the bit where Mary tells John not to read the flash drive in front of her, because she doesn’t want to watch him fall out of love (as if shooting Sherlock weren’t the worst thing she could possibly do)? Well, here’s John’s reaction, after snatching up the flash drive.



And in case you missed it, a slower, larger view of John’s face as he looks back at her.



If you’re still not sure, here’s the last frame of that.



That’s a smirk, I’m positive. And while I’m somewhat leery of making too much of a short clip, I think one thing is clear: John’s reaction wasn’t ‘my poor wife, I’m furious with her but I still love her’. It’s incredulity and scorn. If I had to guess what he was thinking in this moment, it’d be ‘Seriously? You think that’s going to work on me now?’

So here’s the thing. While it is technically possible that John was prepared to forgive Mary by Christmas (though I personally think it would be out of character for the man who punched the Chief Superintendent of NSY), that’s not when he got the flash drive. He was given the flash drive during a confrontation in which he showed no trace of love or affection for Mary, a confrontation in which he looked scornful and furious and murderous. And that’s before Sherlock collapsed again. And yes, Sherlock tried to convince him that Mary was trustworthy, but John was incredulous about it.

So what would you do if you were in the hospital waiting for your best friend to wake up from surgery because your wife had shot him, your wife was completely unapologetic, and you had information she didn’t want you to have burning a hole in your pocket?

John read it. Nothing else makes sense.

The Manipulation by Mary Morstan

 (Sherlock Meta by welovethebeekeeper)

It struck me that from the beginning there was something fishy about Mary.



Mary pretends not to recognise Sherlock. Even if we look at Mary here without knowledge of her past as revealed later in HLV, Mary is not believable. Let’s say she is an ex assassin, running from that life, assuming a new identity as a nurse and just happens to fall for one of the doctors in the practice. She supports her new boyfriend through his grief from losing his best friend, even pays respect at said dead friends grave. Who amongst us would NOT have googled Sherlock Holmes? It’s what we do when we enter a new relationship, we have a need to know about that person. Especially an issue which is badly affecting our new partner. Plus we have the fact that dead best friend was famous. OK, wow, photos and news reports are available. It’s not like Sherlock is any run of the mill looking dude here; he is damn unique, you wouldn’t forget that face in a hurry. Plus there is innuendo concerning your new boyfriend and his dead best friend; hints of a gay romance, enough to put any new girlfriend’s gaydar into operation. Yet when dead best friend arrives as a waiter at your table one evening, and your boyfriend is having an emotional crisis on the other side of that table, you look at the waiter and don’t know who this is? We know Mary is a smart cookie, observant, and yet she struggles to recognise the man before her? Fishy.



Then Mary suprizingly takes Sherlock’s side in the ensueing fight between Sherlock and John. She is not outraged that her boyfriend has been duped, hurt, manipulated, oh no, Mary begins to support Sherlock. By the time we reach the kebab shop we have John feeling alone, with Mary and Sherlock in some weird union of sorts.



Mary is acting as if John is behaving outrageously, she is giving Sherlock signals that she is agreeing with him, lulling him into a sense of simpatico.

Outside the kebab shop Mary choses to remain with Sherlock while John goes to flag a cab. She offers Sherlock help in bringing John around and back to Sherlock. She KNOWS exactly how to work Sherlock.



And how to work John.



The next we see is Mary teasing John about meeting Sherlock again, in a way that is filled with some vague sexual tease. Mary sounds like she is talking to a girl friend here about seeing a guy that the friend is interested in. It is almost as if Mary is using the sexual tension John feels for Sherlock to move him as a chess piece on the board. Move him into position.



Mary easily outwits both these men and by the time we see her ensconced in 221B, she has won. She has both men exactly where she needs them to be, in fact Mary is relishing her role, flaunting her power of observation and manipulation. The scene is demeaning towards the men and disturbing in it’s blatant power dynamic; a third party has moved in to the world of Sherlock and John and utterly destroyed the very heart of who they are. No wonder we get the image of a ‘horned devil’ at scene end.



Finally the coup de grâce, the wedding. Mary keeps on twisting that knife into Sherlock’s heart, and is openly gleeful about the effect she is having on him. Sherlock tries to strike back, his best man’s speech is a triumph of a love letter to John, he undergoes a life changing self revelation in the midst of it, he summons John back to him in several ways, he almost pulls off a ‘hail Mary pass’. But then Mary brings out the big guns, her secret plan for a wedding gift to Sherlock; she allows Sherlock to deduce her pregnancy. Check mate.

Looking at Mary from a non-Johnlock perspective, I can admire her skill and planning, what I cannot see is a woman in love. It is only in HLV when her need for John surfaces that I finally see true emotion in the character. Her desperation to keep John and her fake life is Mary’s defining emotion, and it is selfish, reckless and rings very true. It is the only real emotion I believe we see from Mary in S3. Everything else reads as manipulation toward a goal, as CAM says she is a very clever, very bad girl. I can admire that from a distance. As a Johnlocker I just need John to start fighting, not Sherlock, John. Because by the end of HLV John knows he’s been played, John knows he made the wrong choice, John needs to sort this.

A few thoughts about a Mycroftian trope: 

Would Mycroft ever have kidnapped Greg Lestrade? 

 (Sherlock Meta by theopoiesis)

Mycroft. He kidnaps everybody. Snags people off the street, makes veiled (and not so veiled) threats, sends messages via ATM. He’s creepy and Orwellian and more powerful than most people probably understand.

I’ve read a fair few fics where Mycroft kidnaps Greg the first time he meets him. Here’s the thing: I don’t think he would.

I suspect that how Mycroft “meets” Sherlock’s associates is context-sensitive. Mycroft threatened, kidnapped, and attempted to bribe John to see how he would react. He wanted to know what kind of man John is, see what John would do, because John was going to be constantly in Sherlock’s company. Sherlock’s asking John if Mycroft had offered him money means he has probably done it before, with others who might have been thinking of rooming with Sherlock. Considering Mycroft’s position and Sherlock’s general attitude, Mycroft has probably done this with anyone who has tried to share rooms with his brother.

In such cases, it makes a twisted sort of sense. Anyone around Sherlock would have to be able to deal with weird things, with the unexpected, with threats and mysteries. Mycroft has always known this. If someone about to share a flat with Sherlock couldn’t handle a little creepy intimidation from Big Brother, there is no way they’d be able to cope with eyeballs in the microwave and severed heads in the fridge.

Talking to John via ATM after John had proven himself was, I suspect, as much Mycroft’s sense of humor as anything else, but people are watching John and Mycroft may not always want someone to know details. Anyone could be listening in to John’s mobile. Hacking the ATM would certainly allow for private communications.

My question is, would Mycroft ever have kidnapped Greg Lestrade? I don’t think so, and this is why:

I believe Mycroft would take Greg’s position as a police officer into consideration. He would approach Greg differently. You don’t just snag a cop off the street. You don’t threaten a cop. Someone like Greg would respond to a show of authority and to a request for a meeting to discuss Sherlock, considering that it has to do with his work. He’d probably expect questions from his supervisors or other higher-ups. Mycroft might have collected him in one of his black cars, but I don’t think any threats, veiled or otherwise, would have been used. There might have been some talk of Sherlock being under government surveillance and a request for Greg to cooperate. Mycroft may even have scheduled an appointment with Greg at NSY early on, for all we know.

The use of intimidation, threats, and bribery would put someone like Greg off entirely. Mycroft doesn’t need to know whether or not Greg is brave or reasonably loyal, because the man goes out to work every day in situations where someone might kill him. It’s what he does. Bribery would most likely result in an extremely negative reaction - not just a “shove your money up your ass” response but going to his superiors and reporting an attempt at bribing a police officer, which is pretty serious stuff.

To offer Greg a bribe would be to imply that he’s a bent cop, and I can’t see him responding to that in anything but the most negative manner possible. Threatening him would leave him ready to fight, and to bring his people in on it. It would attract far more attention than Mycroft would want. These things would shine light into the dark corners where Mycroft conducts most of his business. It would cause overreactions where a simple phone call or a quiet meeting would actually produce results.

Mycroft would know that. He’s a subtle manipulator, and he knows which tools to use with which people, and under what circumstances. Bribing a police officer would not be politic, and I’m sure he’d be aware if Greg had ever been susceptible to such things. Greg’s record would be easily available to him, and he would certainly have looked it up.

Add to that the fact that Greg is a professional contact, not a potential flatmate. He’d see Sherlock, but he wouldn’t be spending every day with him. He wouldn’t be living under the same roof. He wouldn’t have cause to be in nearly as close contact with Sherlock on a regular basis, and therefore would be a lower priority on Mycroft’s radar.

Mycroft might have kidnapped most of Sherlock’s potential flatmates, but I don’t think he’s ever had reason to do it to Greg.

Notes On Sherlock and Mycroft: Your loss would break my heart. 

 (Sherlock Meta by stephisanerd)

(Note: Spoilers for all of Series 3. This is a really long analysis–including admittedly copious quotes, it’s nearly 3,000 words. There are several thoughts that made it in, mostly contrasting John and Mycroft that aren’t really expanded on but I’m going to do it elsewhere, because this is reaching such an obscene length.)

The relationship between Sherlock and Mycroft has always been a little tense and snarky, and before this series, it was generally impossible to tell who was getting the best of who, when. You were never quite sure who was outwitting who, or even really, how much emotion was hiding beneath their interactions. It was often-times the comic relief, and we never had quite enough context to judge what was really going on. But then we got series three, and it not only provides the needed context and a completely different perspective of their interactions, it recolors all of their earlier interactions and makes you look at them in a different light.

For example, take this interaction from The Great Game:

SHERLOCK: How’s Sarah, John? How was the lilo?
MYCROFT: Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa.
SHERLOCK: Oh yes, of course.
JOHN: How …? Oh, never mind.

In the larger scene Mycroft is in 221B, attempting to get Sherlock to take a case. Sherlock is resistant, mostly to spite him, and on first watch, it plays as simple sibling rivalry. Sherlock doesn’t want to take the case to spite Mycroft, and there’s no mention of the fact that Mycroft has come by shortly after news broke that a group of flats opposite his on Baker Street had blown up.

In the context of this scene from The Empty Hearse, the thing reads a little differently.

MYCROFT: Don’t be smart.
SHERLOCK: That takes me back. “Don’t be smart, Sherlock. I’m the smart one.”
MYCROFT: I am the smart one.
SHERLOCK: I used to think I was an idiot. …
....
SHERLOCK: I’m just passing the time. Let’s do deductions.
SHERLOCK: Client left this while I was out. What d’you reckon?
MYCROFT: I’m busy.
SHERLOCK: Oh, go on. It’s been an age.
MYCROFT: I always win.
SHERLOCK: Which is why you can’t resist.

This gives their earlier interaction, one that originally just seemed to be simple bickering, more weight. Mycroft has out-deduced Sherlock, and again Sherlock is second best. As he always is. Series three draws into sharp focus the idea that Sherlock sees himself as inferior to his more powerful and smarter older brother. But notice, for all that Mycroft can deduce about the hat in The Empty Hearse, he misses the human element—he misses the possible isolation, something that Sherlock, notices immediately.

SHERLOCK: But you’ve missed his isolation.
MYCROFT: I don’t see it.
SHERLOCK: Plain as day.
MYCROFT: Where?
SHERLOCK: There for all to see.
…
SHERLOCK: Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn’t in the habit of hanging around other people, is he?
MYCROFT: Not at all. Maybe he just doesn’t mind being different. He doesn’t necessarily have to be isolated.
SHERLOCK: Exactly.

MYCROFT: I’m sorry?
SHERLOCK: He’s different – so what? Why would he mind? You’re quite right. Why would anyone mind?
MYCROFT: … I’m not lonely, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: How would you know?

But they’re speaking two different languages here- both seeing and not observing, neither hearing what the other is saying, and it continues to happen all series long. Maybe if they could have bridged that gap, it all could have ended differently. By the end of His Last Vow we, as the audience, are aware of two things–first, that Mycroft deeply cares for his younger brother, and wants to protect him and second, that Sherlock sees himself as lesser than his older brother, a disappointment to the man that he still very much wants to impress. Neither one of them understands how the other views him, and it is one of the smaller, understated everyday tragedies of a very human Sherlock Holmes.

MYCROFT: Anyway, you’re safe now.
SHERLOCK: Hmm.
MYCROFT: A small ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss.
SHERLOCK: What for?
MYCROFT: For wading in. In case you’d forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu.
SHERLOCK: “Wading in”? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp.
MYCROFT: I got you out.
SHERLOCK: No –I got me out. Why didn’t you intervene sooner?
MYCROFT: Well, I couldn’t risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything.
SHERLOCK: You were enjoying it.
MYCROFT: Nonsense.

Notice here—though Mycroft is being a touch condescending, he really is relieved that Sherlock is safe now. Sherlock interprets the thing differently and immediately berates Mycroft for not wading in faster, believing that Mycroft was enjoying watching him get tortured. Mycroft can’t express his concern and relief in a way that Sherlock can understand. Sherlock is caught up in the idea that Mycroft had to rescue him (I got me out!) Different languages.

MRS HUDSON: Oh, isn’t it wonderful, Mr. Holmes?
MYCROFT: I can barely contain myself.
SHERLOCK: Oh, he really can, you know.
MRS HUDSON: He’s secretly pleased to see you underneath all that…
MYCROFT: Sorry – which of us?
MRS HUDSON: Both of you.

Mrs. Hudson is right, of course. But neither of them see it or comment on it.

By the beginning of His Last Vow, the gulf between their perspectives becomes even more clear. After Sherlock tests positive for drugs, he gets to 221B to discover that Mycroft is there, waiting.

MYCROFT: Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?
SHERLOCK: What are you doing here?
JOHN: I phoned him.
MYCROFT: The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy – though, in many ways, cross-dressing would have been a wiser path for you.
SHERLOCK: You phoned him.
JOHN:’Course I bloody phoned him.
MYCROFT:’Course he bloody did. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?
SHERLOCK: “We”?
ANDERSON’s VOICE (from upstairs): Mr. Holmes?
SHERLOCK (furiously): For God’s sake!
 …
MYCROFT: What have you found so far? Clearly nothing.
SHERLOCK: There’s nothing to find.
MYCROFT: Your bedroom door is shut. You haven’t been home all night. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so on this occasion?
SHERLOCK: Okay, stop! Just stop. Point made.
JOHN: Jesus, Sherlock.
MYCROFT: Have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma. Won’t be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line-dancing.

We find out that what Sherlock had in his bedroom wasn’t really drugs, and we also recognize eventually that Sherlock’s behavior is at least partially explained by his attempts to convince Magnussen that he has a drug habit (A fact that Mycroft reacts to with some alarm.) However, this scene plays out entirely from Sherlock’s perspective—he’s frustrated, angry, and defensive. He reacts badly to the intervention, in a way that is very true to real life, as anyone who has been confronted by concerned friends and family about self-destructive behavior could tell you.* He sees the disappointment, the anger, the frustrated ‘oh-here-we-go-again-with-you-fucking-up’, but he misses the concern that is beneath it all. Compare the above scene to the one from A Scandal in Belgravia below from John’s perspective.

MYCROFT: He’s on his way. Have you found anything?
JOHN: No. Did he take the cigarette?
MYCROFT: Yes.
JOHN: Shit. He’s coming. Ten minutes.
MRS HUDSON: There’s nothing in the bedroom.
JOHN: Looks like he’s clean. We’ve tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonight’s a danger night?
MYCROFT: No, but then I never am. You have to stay with him, John.
JOHN: I’ve got plans.
MYCROFT: No.

We see the deep concern that both Mycroft and John have over even the possibility that Sherlock may be in danger of using again, something they want to prevent. But Sherlock misses it there, as he does in His Last Vow. Magnussen, when he reveals to Sherlock that he is Mycroft’s pressure point puts it like this “Mycroft’s pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock.” He reinforces the idea to Sherlock that Mycroft sees him as a junkie, his screw-up younger brother, and again, though we know differently, Sherlock does not. 

But it’s not just Sherlock that’s missing something obvious here. Mycroft, with his tendency to miss human emotions, either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care how Sherlock believes Mycroft views him.

During The Sign of Three, when Sherlock is attempting to figure out who the murderer present at the wedding is, we get a different look at his mind palace than we have before, and it is clear that Mycroft—his smarter older brother, the voice of reason and intelligence that Sherlock holds so dear, looms large. He literally hold court in Sherlock’s head, helping him reason out the correct answer.

MYCROFT (disapprovingly, offscreen): Oh, Sherlock.
MYCROFT: What do we say about coincidence?
SHERLOCK: The universe is rarely so lazy.
MYCROFT: So, the balance of probability is …?
SHERLOCK: Someone went to great lengths to find out something about this wedding.
MYCROFT: What great lengths?

But it’s not the solution that Sherlock wants or needs. In the end, Sherlock chooses the human connection—saving the life. Mycroft has always encouraged him to stay unattached and uninvolved, and even mocks him for his clear involvement when Sherlock calls him at the reception. Sherlock chooses John over Mycroft here, in what could be an interesting bit of foreshadowing of His Last Vow. 

Aside from being a figure that Sherlock looks up to, it’s also clear that also Mycroft acts in a different capacity in Sherlock’s mind. After Sherlock has been shot, and he is trying to reason out how to save his own life, the following scene plays out in Sherlock’s mind-palace.

MYCROFT (offscreen): Oh, for God’s sake, Sherlock.
MYCROFT: It doesn’t matter about the gun. Don’t be stupid.
MYCROFT: You always were so stupid. (Sherlock continues towards him, but now he’s a young boy – about eleven years old – and wearing dark trousers and a shirt with a buttoned dark green cardigan over it. He walks slowly towards his big brother.) 
MYCROFT: Such a disappointment.
YOUNG SHERLOCK (angrily): I’m not stupid.
MYCROFT (sternly): You’re a very stupid little boy. (He stands up and walks around the table.) 
MYCROFT: Mummy and Daddy are very cross … (He reaches the other side of the table and leans against it.) 
MYCROFT: … because it doesn’t matter about the gun.

In his own head, Sherlock is a small child that his adult brother is berating for being a disappointment. It works—Sherlock does come to the correct solution—the mirror behind him didn’t shatter, so the bullet is still inside of him, but one can’t help but wonder how often Sherlock feels like this when interacting with Mycroft. How many of their interactions over the course of the series have played out like this in Sherlock’s head? How often does Sherlock feel like he is simply a disappointment to his brother?**

As the plot of His Last Vow moves forward, Sherlock continues working his scheme to get the best of Magnussen. As the plan is set in motion, though the audience doesn’t quite know what it is yet, this exchange happens:

MYCROFT: I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline.
SHERLOCK: I decline your kind offer.
MYCROFT: I shall pass on your regrets.
SHERLOCK: What was it?
MYCROFT: MI6 – they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months.
SHERLOCK: Then why don’t you want me to take it?
MYCROFT: It’s tempting … but on balance you have more utility closer to home.
SHERLOCK: Utility! How do I have utility?
MYCROFT: “Here be dragons.”
…
 MYCROFT (without turning around): Also, your loss would break my heart.
SHERLOCK: What the hell am I supposed to say to that?!
MYCROFT: “Merry Christmas”?
SHERLOCK: You hate Christmas.
MYCROFT (pretending to look puzzled): Yes. Perhaps there was something in the punch.
SHERLOCK: Clearly. Go and have some more.

Sherlock accepts that Mycroft wants him here because he’s useful, albeit maybe slightly bitterly, but he doesn’t have any idea what to say to the implication that he means something to Mycroft beyond his ability to do legwork as Mycroft so often calls it. Sherlock often underestimates how much he means to those around him, and he does so here, again.*** Mycroft doesn’t spell it out for him, and lets it drop.

The audience finds out pretty soon after that there is, in fact, something in the punch, as Sherlock needs to knock everyone out in order to put his plan in motion—he’s taking Mycroft’s laptop in an effort to trade it for all of the information Magnussen has on Mary. And Mycroft appears to be completely aware that it’s going to happen. I agree completely with the interpretation of the scene found here (X)–Mycroft isn’t ignorant of the fact that Sherlock has drugged the punch—Mycroft could probably deduce why Billy was there in an instant. He’s letting him do it, and Sherlock is telling him here that he has a plan, that there’s an end-game. So Mycroft doesn’t stop him, and Sherlock takes the laptop.

And then the plan falls apart.

SHERLOCK: Oh, I think you’ll find the contents of that laptop…
MAGNUSSEN: … include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived they’ll find top secret information in my hands and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I’ll be imprisoned.You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath. Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He’ll be a very, very proud big brother. 

We find out that Sherlock has grossly underestimated Magnussen, and that the vaults were only ever in his head. Mycroft isn’t going to be a proud big brother, after all. He’s going to be very, very disappointed. He’s going to have a huge mess to clean up. But note this, it would have been salvageable, at least as far as John and Sherlock’s immediate futures. The whole 'trying to sell state secrets’ thing would have blown over. It wouldn’t have stopped Magnussen from going after Mary, John Sherlock, and Mycroft though, and so, as the plan comes crashing down around Sherlock’s head, he makes his choice. He kills Magnussen, to save John. He does everything Mycroft has always warned him against—he’s emotional, involved, and his actions are not logical or reasonable.**** He throws the gun down, and raises his hands and falls to his knees in front of the helicopter, (much like he ended up on his knees in The Empty Hearse, begging forgiveness from John) Who knows what the hell he’s thinking in that moment, but he has to be painfully aware of how bad he’s messed it all up for Mycroft. He’s the junkie detective younger brother who wasn’t smart enough to figure it out, who was too involved and missed the obvious. He has gone too far, and made an irrevocable choice, one that cannot be fixed or swept under the rug. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that in that moment, he believes himself to be unworthy, and a deep disappointment.

But as the camera changes, we begin to recognize that’s not how Mycroft sees it. Mycroft frantically tells his men not to fire at Sherlock, and then removes his headset, before quietly whispering “Oh, Sherlock, what have you done?” For once, he doesn’t sound condescending or even disappointed. He’s devastated. “Can’t handle a broken heart, how very telling.” “Your loss would break my heart.” The camera angle changes again, and Mycroft is staring down, not at his adult brother, but the childhood version, who is standing there, hands raised and tears streaming down his cheeks, terrified. This is what he sees, probably what he always sees, and Sherlock has no idea.

There is no stopping the fallout. Mycroft arranges to send Sherlock off on a suicide mission to Eastern Europe, and Sherlock prepares to go, accepting it as his due.

SHERLOCK: The game is never over, John but there may be some new players now. It’s okay. The East Wind takes us all in the end.
JOHN: What’s that?
SHERLOCK: It’s a story my brother told me when we were kids. The East Wind – this terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path.
SHERLOCK: It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth. That was generally me.
JOHN: Nice.
SHERLOCK: He was a rubbish big brother.

While doubling as a neat canon reference, it’s also a callback to something that Mycroft said in Sherlock’s mind-palace earlier in the episode when he was dying. “The East Wind is coming, Sherlock. It’s coming to get you.” Is Sherlock really joking as much as he appears to be, or does he really believe himself to be unworthy? I’d be willing to argue that he, at least, believes that Mycroft sees him as unworthy.

Notice, from his perspective, he sees his older brother sending him to a death that he believes is his due. He still doesn’t see the rest of it—your loss would break my heart. Oh Sherlock, what have you done? 

And Mycroft, cold and logical, misses what he has missed all along—that Sherlock is desperate to please him, that he believes himself to be a disappointment. He doesn’t allow him to be emotional about what has happened—I’m not given to outburst of brotherly compassion, he comments. He coldly refers to his brother as a murderer. He does not offer understanding or forgiveness.

And like it does in so many other places in this episode, in the end, all the things that really matter are left unsaid. Sherlock boards the plane and flies away. And then—there’s a video, a voice, an emergency and a phone call. Sherlock suddenly has utility. Here be dragons. It’s not much, it’s not enough, but it’s a chance.

—

Note: All quotes taken from here, with thanks.

*A fact that convinces me that for all that Sherlock was doing this for a case, there was at least an element of self-destruction here, deliberate or otherwise. Also, having had friends stage interventions about my occasionally poor mental-health, I can tell you that this scene was PAINFUL to watch in it’s accuracy. The perceived disappointment, the anger, the lashing out. It’s clear watching it that this isn’t the first time Mycroft and Sherlock have had this particular confrontation.

**I’m not including it, because this is more than long enough and there are about 50,000 other things from that scene that I’d want to touch on, and really it just needs its own post, but go watch the climax of A Scandal in Belgravia again. Ouch.

***Yeah, that also needs to be a separate post—but as an example, Sherlock obviously underestimates what he means to John, but John eventually spells it all out for Sherlock in a way that Mycroft doesn’t here.

****I’m pretty sure that Mycroft would never consider any sort of self-sacrifice to be logical or reasonable.

Can we talk about Mycroft Holmes?

 (Sherlock Meta from before S3 by ibelieveinmycroft)

As you may have gathered, I believe in Mycroft Holmes. Many do not. There has been a lot of hate towards the eldest Holmes brother since Reichenbach and I’m not of the opinion that any of it is deserved. While we may have a year to wait to discover the truth, and it is a capital offence for a Sherlockian to theorise without data, it is inconceivable to me that the events surrounding Mycroft during Reichenbach should be taken at face value.

I am slowly becoming aware that what I think occurred during The Fall is something of a marginal theory, (I don’t understand why, it makes perfect sense to me) so please allow me to detail the reasons why I believe Mycroft is in on The Fall.

It is quite long, and contains pictures and quotes, so see under the cut. Some of it is convoluted; some of it is pure speculation….enjoy!

First things first – the canon.

This should be the first clue to everyone. While Sherlock itself is, at times, lovingly irreverent, skewing with names and reversing deductions, Moffat and Gatiss always tell Arthur Conan Doyle’s tales and never stray too far from the canon. We’re all rather expecting an adaptation of The Empty House, the story that followed The Final Problem, when Sherlock returns in 2013. Mycroft is referred to in this tale – the final mention of him in the original canon – just after Holmes reveals himself to Watson:

“I had only one confidant — my brother Mycroft. I owe you many apologies, my dear Watson, but it was all-important that it should be thought I was dead, and it is quite certain that you would not have written so convincing an account of my unhappy end had you not yourself thought that it was true. […] As to Mycroft, I had to confide in him in order to obtain the money which I needed. […] I came over at once to London, called in my own person at Baker Street, threw Mrs. Hudson into violent hysterics, and found that Mycroft had preserved my rooms and my papers exactly as they had always been.”

While it would be quite a simple thing to leave out, should the writers want to go in a different direction and, say, cast Molly in the role of Sherlock’s confidant, in their version of Mycroft they have created a character with the infinite wealth, power and resources to be of assistance in a way that other characters cannot. Even if it transpires that all Sherlock asked of his brother is to maintain the flat and send him enough money, those small acts alone are more than Molly is capable of. Although the likelihood is Sherlock would need far more.

Mycroft vs. Moriarty

The main accusation laid at Mycroft’s door is that he sold out his younger brother to Moriarty. John charges Mycroft with giving Moriarty the “perfect ammunition” to destroy Sherlock.

I may have believed this, had they key code existed. Faced with a mad man with a weapon that could “blow up NATO in alphabetical order”, what is Mycroft prepared to sacrifice for the good of millions? But it didn’t – as many commentators on this episode have pointed out, computers do not work that way. Jim is clever enough to fool every criminal the world over into believing that he has the key to every locked door. And I agree with why Sherlock could fall for it, just wanting everything to be clever, instead of base and criminal and vulgar – it’s straight out of the canon, from Abbey Grange.

“Perhaps, when a man has special knowledge and special powers like my own, it rather encourages him to seek a complex explanation when a simpler one is at hand.” - all thanks to the amazing I Bovary You for tracking this quote down for me. It was driving me crazy.

(The lovely A-Study-In-Teal tracked down a similar quote from The Woman in Green, the Rathbone film which provided a lot of inspiration to this episode, in which Moriarty remarks “Holmes has one weakness, his insatiable curiosity. If you can rouse that, you can lead him anywhere.”)

But how did it fool Mycroft? Particularly as this took place prior to Jim’s big stunt at the Tower. He had no proof that it worked.

I have little doubt that Jim Moriarty got himself locked up under his own terms – he was only in Mycroft’s prison because he wanted to get to Mycroft, to have a word, (can I just take a moment to say that goes a long way in confirming Mycroft’s standing…that the greatest criminal mind the world has ever seen had to get himself put in an interrogation room just to meet the minor government official…) to con the information he wanted out of him. Even if Mycroft hasn’t realised this, though, he is still too clever to just give information of any kind away. Although we know very little of Mycroft’s background and training, we must assume that he knows how to negotiate. Negotiation does not include telling your prisoner about your brother’s childhood.

And more to the point – why did Mycroft release him? A mad man who had scratched his brother’s name all over the cell.

That narrowing of the eyes – Mycroft’s plainly not happy about it. Although the mention of a cabinet reshuffle earlier in the episode is an almost-convincing explanation for the sudden release, I don’t see why that wouldn’t have been explained in the confrontation scene between Mycroft and John. I am of the opinion the release was at Sherlock’s request (see below…)

The Baskerville Conundrum

I keep coming back to Baskerville. There was an odd discussion about the basement in Baskerville near the beginning of the episode and it was never mentioned again. Sherlock noticed the lift goes all the way down, and then John asks about it, only to be told that’s where the bins are kept and…that’s it. That was weird.

Unless that’s where Mycroft was keeping Moriarty.

Sherlock only has to make a phone call to his brother to get himself let back into a top secret military base that he’d already broken into the previous day. We don’t get to hear the content of this phone call, or what makes Mycroft acquiesce to such a ludicrous demand so quickly, and then Sherlock is off screen for some time. Although Sherlock was conducting experiments on poor John, that doesn’t quite account for all the time he was offstage.

I am of the opinion that Mycroft came up from London at the same time as Lestrade (save your Mystrade giggling for later!) and invited his brother down to Baskerville’s basement, to show him where he was keeping the criminal mastermind. Mycroft may have been making plans to make Moriarty just disappear, but Sherlock is already aware of the criminal network Moriarty has spun around himself; killing him would only be the beginning. And so this is where the brothers cooked up something fiendishly clever to dismantle Moriarty’s web. Sherlock persuades his brother to release Moriarty, and the final game begins.

This is further borne out by Moriarty’s appearance to Sherlock in the woods. Drugged, and provoked by fear and stimulus, Sherlock hallucinates his nemesis’ face. But why? The drug works through suggestion:

Sherlock: I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told you.

So why would Sherlock see Moriarty out on the deserted moor, during a case that is entirely unrelated to him? Unless Sherlock had seen him earlier in the day, in that same place.

I think I’m going to die…

We mustn’t forget, in Reichenbach, Sherlock knew he might have to “die” before he went up to the roof, and so went to Molly.

Far earlier in the episode, during the case with the Ambassador’s children, Molly comments that Sherlock looks sad, like her dying father, when John isn’t looking – Sherlock already knows, even before the little girl screams, and Moriarty’s plan really begins to come to life, that he might have to die. His plan, to fake his own suicide, pre-dates Moriarty’s attempts to discredit and destroy him.

In addition, on the roof, Moriarty mentions Mycroft:

“Sherlock, your big brother and all the King’s horses couldn’t make me do a thing I didn’t want to.”

Sherlock isn’t surprised by the mention of his brother, even though we never saw John deliver the information that his brother made a terrible mistake that risked Sherlock’s life. It could feasibly have been done off screen, but I am of the opinion that Sherlock already knew. He had already planned for this.

Whenever the plan for surviving the fall was formulated, it was before this point and, for my money, before the episode itself, in Baskerville.

Faking a death in London in 2012 is much harder that faking a death in Switzerland in 1891.

Whatever Sherlock’s plan was, in getting from the roof to the pavement while remaining alive, it had to fool three people. Moriarty from the rooftop (Sherlock couldn’t have known he was about to shoot himself), John from the ground and the sniper (Moran? Please be Moran) from his vantage point opposite. So far, so simple (if you’re Sherlock) – an obscured field of vision here, a cyclist giving a blow to the head there and, hey presto. But if he was out to fool his brother too? Mycroft has a legion of CCTV cameras and a deductive ability that surpasses Sherlock’s own. I think it would be a near impossibility to fool Mycroft in this way. And while it’s entirely possible that Sherlock didn’t consult his brother before jumping, knowing Mycroft would work it out later, that seems a bit careless, even for Sherlock. Leaving incriminating CCTV footage outside of Mycroft’s capable hands, where any of Moriarty’s web might get hold of it, would be foolish and likely derail anything he was hoping to achieve
.
Not to mention the family connection. In cases like this, it is normal to get a family member - not a friend or colleague - in to identify the body, and Mycroft is the only blood relative that we know Sherlock to have. He would have to come in to identify his brother, and the ever-observant Mycroft would detect a fake in three seconds flat. He knows what his brother looks like.

As a quick aside, can we just quickly clear something up here – Molly is not a pathologist, she is not a doctor. Twice in the series she is referred to as Miss Hooper – and one of those times is by Mycroft, who is genteel enough to at least ensure he address her correctly. Molly may have been necessary for the initial cover-up, when Sherlock’s body is first pulled into the morgue, and perhaps she even provided a fake corpse, but that is as far as her influence goes. A death certificate would have to come from someone else. The British Government himself could easily pull some strings to obtain this.

He is the British Government

While we’re on the subject, Mycroft is essentially a deus ex machina in a suit. His levels of power, much less his job title, have never quite been clarified on screen, but what we do know is he can walk into a top-secret military base just by flashing his ID card, seems to be on personable terms with the Queen, handles cases involving MI6 and runs aeroplane-themed counter-intelligence operations despite claiming to work for the government (Whitehall and the Secret Service are quite separate operations…for people who aren’t Mycroft, anyway) and, also, is involved with the clandestine interrogations of criminal masterminds.

So, we’ve seen him do all that, and yet he couldn’t neutralise Kitty Riley, the failing tabloid hack? Without this story, Sherlock’s problem, of being accused of being a fake, unravels. Yet, Mycroft doesn’t stop it. Instead, he is seen reading it.

In fact, he is seen reading the tabloids twice in Reichenbach. While I believe that, were nothing more sinister afoot, he would probably read the press coverage on his brother, the focus of this episode on the press is quite telling. Sherlock, despite saying at the beginning of this series, in Scandal, that, being a private detective he “doesn’t need a public image,” is now seen in the opening of Reichenbach posing (grudgingly) for pictures with John. This courting of the press is, for my money, the ‘out of character’ thing Sherlock does. That Mycroft is keeping up with the press reports, and that he doesn’t kill Kitty’s story, for me, points to this forming a part of the brothers’ plan.

John…

Poor John. I feel so bad for John. So does Mycroft. He was collateral damage in the Holmes brothers war against Moriarty.

The scene is gut-wrenching….but if Sherlock can cry on cue, then Mycroft can act too. I am reminded of Mycroft’s brief appearance in The Final Problem:

“Did you recognize your coachman?”
“No.”
“It was my brother Mycroft. It is an advantage to get about in such a case without taking a mercenary into your confidence. But we must plan what we are to do about Moriarty now.”

Mycroft can play a role as well as his brother, and if this scene demands for him to play the villain, then he can. He slips momentarily, though - when Mycroft says “John, I’m sorry…” he’s not apologising to Sherlock. His apology is for John and what the brothers are about to do to him.

Silence is Golden

After two episodes exchanging insults, favours and one tender moment, suddenly the brothers are no longer on speaking terms. John actually draws attention to this repeatedly, questioning both brothers on this on separate occasions:

John: Why don’t you talk to Sherlock if you’re so concerned about him?… Oh God, don’t tell me.
Mycroft: Too much history between us, John. Old scores; resentments.
John: What about Mycroft? He could help us.
Sherlock: A big family reconciliation? Now’s not really the moment.

Mycroft’s presence at the Diogenes Club throughout this episode reinforces the mantra Silence is Golden. Of the three scenes Mycroft appears in, all of them are in his club. For a man facing the loss of his younger brother, for whom he cares deeply – this series went out of its way to confirm that – he seems decidedly static, sat in his silent club, reading the paper and drinking scotch and sharing nothing.

Staying away from each other, pretending to hate each other, reinforcing their perceived estrangement, keeps Mycroft out of Moriarty’s line of fire. I can’t help but think the writers had good reason to keep him off screen during the crucial moment, just as Molly – also unthreatened and indisputably involved somehow – was nowhere to be seen.

And finally…

The final scenes from Reichenbach do not show a Mycroft in anguish. We saw him upset, after Sherlock inadvertently grounded his flight of the dead in the opening episode of this series: in his shirt sleeves, with a glass of brandy and a look of horror in his eyes. But this Mycroft is one who is deep in thought, mirroring Sherlock’s own “thinking gesture”, hands together in silent prayer after he folds the paper away, the plan complete. It’s a lovely touch, and shows Mycroft scheming, strategizing, planning their next move.

…I really need series three to hurry up and put me out of my misery.

They do not make very much room for each other’s uncontrollable emotional outbursts

 (Sherlock Meta by Ivy Blossom)

John squeezes Sherlock’s neck

then he squeezes it again, harder

and finally as he moves to sit back down, his hand lingers and drops slowly, still on Sherlock’s shoulder

John is not done hugging Sherlock. He’s supposed to be done, and Sherlock’s trying to move on with his speech, and there’s an audience to all this, but John is not done and can’t quite take his arm away. He doesn’t want to let go.

John tells Mary to stop him; he can feel it coming. He knows his desire to hug Sherlock is latent and might, if Sherlock goes far enough in his speech, spill over and he’ll do it, audience be damned, with the ecstatic delight he genuinely feels, and indeed that’s just what happens.

Neither of them make very much room for each other’s uncontrollable emotional outbursts. They’re like ships in the night that way.

When John tells Sherlock that he loves him, that Sherlock is his best friend, Sherlock practically loses his bloody mind. John reassures him in a heartfelt way, briefly, and then quickly changes the subject, even through Sherlock is completely and obviously too overcome to proceed. I always wondered why he did that.

John doesn’t appear especially uncomfortable at that point, as he does later after the wedding when Sherlock looks so heartbroken that John will dance with Mary from now on. We see John being uncomfortable with Sherlock’s feelings, and that best man request isn’t one of them. It looks instead as though he’s just misunderstood which feelings Sherlock is having. John instead reacts as if he thinks what’s overwhelmed Sherlock is primarily the necessity of the speech, not the reality of his place in John’s life and his heart. It’s not clear that he entirely understood that that was actually news to Sherlock, which might help explain why he didn’t leave any room for Sherlock have those feelings in the first place. He didn’t believe they were mutual at that point, did he!

Likewise, Sherlock seems utterly oblivious to John’s desire to hug him during his speech. John is genuinely overcome, so much so that he is willing to ignore the audience and just react with pure delight and affection. And that’s a big deal for someone as buttoned-down as John is. But Sherlock doesn’t react to John at all.

We know the wedding was a very difficult day for Sherlock, and during the speech he reverts to the rather shy and introverted person he sometimes is when he is deeply uncertain and out of his depth. It’s the same version of him we see when John tells him off for getting something wrong, when he listens quietly and does what John tells him to do rather than getting into a spectacular fight. Or when he’s drunk off his face and tries to make a joke. It’s his rawest self, the one that has no automatic defences. And that’s who he is when he’s giving his speech (until his speech becomes something else, naturally). That’s who he is when John hugs him, though it looks as if he can’t accept the hug, or even feel it happening, because he’s trying to do this difficult thing instead. He can’t make room for John’s feelings at that moment, because of the wedding, the speech, the loss he’s experiencing. So it happens, and then they move on, and it’s all unexamined. Until later, perhaps.

Desperately unspoken, indeed. There is a missing scene in series 3, and you can feel it. Maybe it was in the drunk tank, lost to the comfortable amnesia of alcohol. Maybe it’s at the hospital after Sherlock’s been shot. Or afterwards, when John knows that Mary isn’t what she seems. Maybe it didn’t happen, which would mean it’s still to come. The moment when they look at each other with the real weight of all those feelings and reactions, all understood and acknowledged, interrogated and confirmed, and actually have the space to hold them all.

Is Sherlock a compulsive liar?

 (Sherlock Meta by Ivy Blossom)

tykobrian:

Is Sherlock –for a lack of better term- a compulsive liar? I mean the way Sherlock was focusing on the importance of serviette making in criminal (?) investigation instead of answering Mary’s question rang a few bells. And before Mary pointed out that his fibbing won’t work on her like John (?) it didn’t even occur to me that he would be exaggerating for this simple matter. I mean Mary was already impressed to begin with! And so what if he did learn it from youtube, it’s still cool! Thoughts?

Ivy Blossom:

A Sherlock is not a compulsive liar. What he is, most definitely, is a man with a big ego and low self-esteem. He knows that John thinks he’s dashing and brilliant, as well as charming, dangerous, and sexy with his flipped collars and his cheekbones.

Of course sharp-as-a-tack Mary can see right through Sherlock the way that John can’t; John sees Sherlock through the buttery light of his intense adoration. John expects Sherlock to have an amazing story about how he learned to fold napkins. He can’t conceive of Sherlock as an ordinary man, because to John, Sherlock is always, always extraordinary. Either he’s extraordinarily terrible (”You machine!”) or he’s extraordinarily spectacular (most of the time). An ordinary person learns to fold napkins on youtube. Sherlock Holmes would not be so ordinary!

Sherlock Holmes is indestructible, unflappable, untouchable, and emotionless. He wants to be a high-functioning sociopath, probably never more so then right then. Sherlock has an appearance to keep up, but only for John.

Especially just then.

Sherlock might be married to his work, but he doesn’t care about cases or criminals while he’s folding napkins. At that moment, he’s terrified that he’s only got John back in order to lose him again to his impending marriage. He’s having a serious emotional crisis and is trying to act like he isn’t, wouldn’t, and couldn’t. He’d just learned how to not be alone, and suddenly he’s about to be alone again. He’s in an absolute state, but he’s trying to make sure John doesn’t notice.

Is that a lie? I suppose so. But it’s not compulsive. He’s doing it for a good reason.

Sherlock's and Molly's relationship in The Empty Hearse

 (Sherlock Meta by Ivy Blossom)

Q: tarale43 asked: What do u think about Sherlock's and Molly's relationship in The Empty Hearse? That kiss on the cheek? That you be yourself and not the replacement of john? People kept worrying about Irene and sherlock, but molly just breaks some of sherlock's rule? He said that she is the most important or some thing around that line of the friend that morierty doesn't know about.

A: What I think? I’m not sure you’re going to like it.

Their relationship is odd, and it’s interesting. They don’t quite know how to talk to each other. There’s always this undercurrent of discomfort between them. Molly is hopelessly and pointlessly in love with Sherlock, and he doesn’t return the feeling. She is the opposite of him in pretty much every way. He doesn’t know how to relate to any element of her. Until suddenly he does.

Sherlock constantly rejects Molly in series 1, and becomes awkwardly aware that he’s causing her so much pain and how inexcusable that is in series 2. His relationship with her demonstrates how he changes once John enters his life, and the fact that he alters his behaviour towards her is entirely due to John’s influence. He tries to be kinder to her, but he’s not very good at it, and fails.

When John rejects him, Sherlock finally knows what it feels like to be rejected by someone you love completely and hopelessly.

Often Molly is a mirror of John, and putting her in John’s shoes seems to underscore that, but I think Sherlock’s behaviour towards her at that point is more about himself. John has told him to fuck off. Sherlock doesn’t think he’ll speak to John again, and the mean voice berating him in his head is John’s. He’s haunted by that rejection. He’s ravaged by it. His heart is torn out, just like Molly’s always is.

It’s interesting that he chooses to include Molly in his life in a new way just then. He suddenly understands what it would mean to get the attention of someone he loves, and he’s finally behaving with some level of empathy towards Molly. For once, they’re in the same boat.

Sherlock’s assurance to Molly that she shouldn’t be what someone else wants her to be, but should just be herself, is the lesson he’s also trying to learn. He says it to Mycroft, too: maybe he doesn’t mind being different. Why would anyone mind? He’s finally looking at her and seeing himself: rejected, awkward, feeling out of place, and alone without wanting to be. But why shouldn’t he be himself? Why shouldn’t she be herself? Neither of them can mould themselves into being what they think someone else wants. They just have to be themselves, both of them. Rejected or not, it’s the only way. That’s Sherlock’s reality, and Molly’s.

When Molly is a mirror of Sherlock, she’s his quiet, shy, awkward and emotional self, the one who’s too nervous to say how he feels or ask for what he wants. When Molly is Sherlock, she’s the part of him that will accept whatever crumbs he can from someone who’s rejected him. And she’s the part of himself that he wishes were stronger.

That’s what I see in their relationship in The Empty Hearse.

Q: tarale43 asked: Thank you for the meta, it really fits fromt hat perspective. Total respect, but could you explain the kiss on the cheek thing? That's the part I don't understand why A [This is a follow on from tarale43’s previous Q about Molly, which I attempted to answer here.]

A: No? It’s a perfectly fitting action, it seems to me. Sherlock has been terrible to Molly, and he’s only just begun to understand what he’s been putting her through. He’s suddenly very sensitive to it, since, as I said, he’s hurting from being rejected himself.

In spite of being engaged, Molly still wants Sherlock, and he knows it. He tries to fit her into his world, but it doesn’t work out. For once, he’s sorry that he can’t give her what she wants, and he doesn’t want to make her feel the way he feels. So while he does reject her again because he has to, he’s much more kindly about it this time.

He’s grateful for what she’s done for him, and what she’s endured because of him. He kisses her on the cheek because he’s both grateful for her actions and repentant for his own. He knows viscerally how much pain he’s caused her, and in that moment, for this and other reasons, he’s sorry that he’s a terrible human being. Molly never deserved to be treated the way he treated her, and neither did John. Sherlock’s very, very sorry.

What is John thinking here?

 (Sherlock Meta by Ivy Blossom)

You’ve been reading John’s blog. The story of how you met. 

I’m a bit irritated that I don’t know what John’s thinking here. I mean, clearly he’s surprised that Sherlock considers his blog useful on a personal level. He didn’t know that. Generally John’s blog seems to be only irritating or amusing to Sherlock, though it’s in the end their main source of advertisement and therefore revenue. John has argued with him to recognize the value of his blog for that reason I don’t think he would have guessed that Sherlock would value it for another.

It’s a sad statement on so many levels. John is describing reality, and Sherlock keeps calling him romantic. Sherlock thinks John paints him as “so much cleverer” than he actually is. He wants to live up to John’s image of him, not only morally, but intellectually. John surely thought he had that side covered!

I don’t know what John’s thinking here, but I think he’s…I don’t know, touched? The way he was during Sherlock’s speech, perhaps. Maybe that’s not a strong enough word. He’s having a strong feeling. I’m struggling to find the right word for it. Gratefulness, affection. Touched. Is that the right body language?

A failure with a massive, monstrous consequence 

(because Sherlock is an idiot)

 (Sherlock Meta by Ivy Blossom)

I think, in retrospect, one of my favourite things about series 3 is how we learned that Sherlock’s lie to John about his fake suicide is actually fairly pointless and was just a really bad idea from start to finish.

I know lots of fans were distraught that Sherlock’s death was planned in the first place, and many more were horrified that Sherlock didn’t appear to have a clear and meaningful reason to lie to John about it. Sherlock decided that he would fake his death, and only the people who had to know, would. His brother because he was part of the large mechanism that made it possible. Molly for practical reasons. And his parents, because naturally. But not John. He didn’t need to know. Sherlock obviously failed to articulate a reason why he did.

John should have been the other exception, but he wasn’t. It was such a total betrayal of that relationship, and many fans had invested in the idea that Sherlock would only do such a thing under very extreme circumstances. He had to do it for a reason. But that’s not what we got. It was just a terrible, thoughtless oversight. It was tone deaf and cold-hearted. It was a complete misreading of their relationship. It was stupid.

And I love it. It’s just delicious, isn’t it? It’s perfect.

It’s not because their relationship wasn’t as devoted as we wanted it to be. It’s because Sherlock is an idiot.

Is John trustworthy? Of course he is. Sherlock should have known that. Even if John failed to keep a secret, would it have mattered? I can’t see how. You can build a version of the story where John’s belief that Sherlock is dead is significant, where his grief serves an obvious and useful purpose (I gave it a shot myself), but that’s not what we got, in the end. At least, not so far.

It’s possible that we’ll learn more about Sherlock’s hiatus in series 4, and perhaps John’s grief will gain some meaning if we do. That would be terribly interesting.

But as it stands, Sherlock simply failed to understand that lying to John meant losing the thing he valued most in the world. Sherlock only wanted his coat and John after coming home, that’s all he cared about. Being Sherlock Holmes again, hanging out with his mate, solving crimes, getting back to how it used to be. It hadn’t crossed his mind that he had destroyed that with his lie.

He fucked up.

And why? That, it seems to me, is the theme of series 3. Sherlock is pretty useless at processing his own emotions. He’s kept them in check for so long I’m not sure he even able to easily identify them. And he’s certainly crap at coping with them when they become overwhelming.

He doesn’t understand why John cares what people say about him. He can’t imagine what it would be like to hear slander about someone you love; he can’t imagine that he is someone John loves, in spite of all evidence to the contrary. His lies tell us that he doesn’t understand what it’s like to love someone, either, even though he does. He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t understand that he and John are a matched set, that they belong to each other. Even at their very closest, when they are, as Irene correctly points out, a couple, Sherlock fails to see it. The man who can deduce everything fails to deduce the very thing every single other person who comes within ten feet of him and John have already deduced: John loves Sherlock, and Sherlock loves John.

I like that failure. It’s a failure with a massive, monstrous consequence. You think it’s all over and done with in The Empty Hearse, since he was forgiven and all was well, but it’s not. The entirety of series 3 is an exploration of the consequences of Sherlock’s failure to understand his relationship with John. He loses that relationship, then has to process the fact that he had something to lose in the first place. And then he has to cope with the fact that John’s pain and his own loss is entirely his fault.

He can force John to forgive him in a pinch, but the consequences of his terrible actions remain. He has lost John, and even when he gets him back, he doesn’t really. John has moved on. That thing they had, that you and me against the world, that’s over. Not only is John married, he’s about to have a baby. It will never been just Sherlock and John again.

Or so he thinks. We’ll see what comes next.

Sherlock redeems himself the end. His great act of emotional awareness and understanding, the demonstration of his growth, is pretending, not that he’s going to die, but that he’s going to live.

Now, we see, he understands: John’s feelings matter, they’re important, and Sherlock is mindful of them, even in the face of his own tragic end. He wouldn’t have understood it before, but now he does. He understands, and he accepts it.

In what was meant to be his last act as Sherlock Holmes, he opts to avoid hurting John all over again with the truth. He gives John a happy lie instead, because he loves John, and he doesn’t want to cause him any more pain. John being happy is more important that Sherlock’s own needs. It’s more important than the truth.

Awkward Conversations 

(Sherlock Meta by Ivy Blossom)

Sherlock was high as a kite while in his fact-based Victorian fantasy, but if you accept that he was at least partially in control of it, if only enough to remain aware that it wasn’t real (at least most of the time), then he knew the conversation he endured with Watson in the greenhouse was his own projection. It was his subconscious getting personal.

Was it something he had been anticipating with some dread? Had he wanted to just get it over with? Or was it a kind of fantasy, something he wanted to happen? John has hinted at this sort of conversation before, though much more gently. Sherlock knows it might come up again, if the right circumstances occur. Does he prepare himself so that he has a witty retort on hand? Or is he longing for John to understand him, to know the degree to which he’s been lying about who and what he is, and guess the real dimensions of his very human heart?

Sherlock himself knows that the emotionless persona he adopts is a sham. He knows he has impulses, feelings, a desire for companionship and love. His subconscious is fighting him on his decision to remain alone and pretend it comes naturally to him. He projects John as the one to make these obvious deductions about him and confronting him about them. Does he want to be revealed? Or does he fear the revelation? Or both?

The significance of the heartbeat sound 

(mostly in A Scandal in Belgravia)

 (Sherlock Meta by Loudest Subtext In Television)

lindefishway asked:

hello!i love yor metas. can i ask you? during the series we can often hear some heartbeat. so...if s2 is from John's pov, does this mean that we hear his heart? a lot of it during sh+irene scenes. (I'm only on 56min, but I have already counted 46!+ don't forget music=heartbeat). Or are they belong to sh? it also a lot of it in s3 >.< what do you think? sorry for my english^^

Loudest Subtext In Television:

Thank you!

We get the heartbeat sound in the soundtrack a LOT starting from A Scandal in Belgravia forward. It might be in the soundtrack even before that, but I would need to rewatch.

The heartbeat sound is used for whatever character is on the screen. In ASiB we hear it for Sherlock, Irene, and John just off the top off my head, and possibly other people. It’s not exactly accurate to say that any episode is from any single character’s perspective, as they always jump around a bit. We get a lot of Sherlock’s perspective in all the episodes, for example, so we need to note the context and camera perspective every time.

 The heartbeat sound is used broadly to signify anything of significance, i.e. anything that would strike someone strongly. That makes it difficult to attribute special meaning to it in most circumstances. For example, Sherlock gets a heartbeat sometimes when he has an epiphany, Irene gets a heartbeat when Sherlock discovers her safe and her heart keeps pounding while he works out her code, there were heartbeats all over the place when the CIA had guns on people, the CIA guy’s heart beats a few times when Sherlock is telling Lestrade his (future) injuries over the phone, and so on.

The time we need to pay attention to the heartbeat is when there isn’t an obvious reason for it:

- In ASiB, Sherlock gets a few stray heartbeats over time when he’s deducing naked Irene and doesn’t know what she’s trying to pull… but also when he’s deducing familiar, comforting John – and then he gets three very close together. Why does Sherlock’s heart pound when he gives John a full body once-over?

- After John hauls Sherlock back to bed, John says he’ll be in the next room if Sherlock needs him. Sherlock says, “Why would I need you?” and John says, “No reason at all,” and shuts the door – and we get a huge heartbeat with the sound of the door closing. Both of them are on screen and it could apply to either or both of them: it’s either a blow to John that Sherlock doesn’t need him, or a blow to Sherlock that he needs John and John is leaving, or both.

- We get the heartbeat for John in moments that shouldn’t be anxious for him at all. Right after John figures out the text alert sound is Irene, Mycroft tells Sherlock he’s to stay away from Irene Adler. Sherlock says, “Will I?” and we get a big reaction shot of John with a heartbeat; he’s sitting, and behind Sherlock and Mycroft, so it’s not natural to cut to John and do this, but they did it.

- We get another heartbeat when Sherlock shuts his bedroom door in John’s face at Christmas, after John lets us know he’s been counting Irene’s texts and says, “Do you have a reply?” and tries to overhear Sherlock’s phone conversation.

- We get another out of place heartbeat from John after Sherlock says to Irene, “You’re rather good.” Why does that make John’s heart beat? A second later John gives them his hated middle name as a potential baby name. Hm.

- There is a HUGE heartbeat for John when Sherlock rattles off the first part of the Bond Air code and Sherlock looks at him. Oh, John. Those deductions really get your blood pumping, eh?

- We get a heartbeat for Mycroft after hanging up with Sherlock: Irene doesn’t matter to Mycroft, Mycroft is bothered that Sherlock is concerned about Irene Adler. We get another one at the morgue from Mycroft’s camera perspective when Mycroft is looking at Sherlock’s back before opening the door to go talk to him. We get another heartbeat for both of the Holmes brothers when Mycroft says, “Well. You barely knew her.”

- We also get a big heartbeat when Sherlock is casually talking about the hiker deduction and we see the hiker representing John’s heart. The hiker isn’t dead yet, so it seems to be a nod to the symbolism.

Worth noting: we don’t get a heartbeat when Irene kisses Sherlock on the cheek, and we don’t get a heartbeat when she tells Sherlock she’ll make him beg for mercy twice, even though we get other heartbeats in the same scene. (Some scenes are devoid of music and heartbeats both.) He stares her down so she doesn’t stab him with a syringe, but he’s apparently exactly as calm as he looks.

“Mary Watson” isn’t good enough 

 (Sherlock Meta by Ivy Blossom)

The only thing I wanted out of Mary Morstan in Sherlock is that, if John is going to betray her or abandon her, which I think he arguably does in the original stories, (though it’s never framed that way, of course) that Mary return the favour with at least equal force.

What is clear already in His Last Vow is that John is not happy in his very new marriage. He’s having nightmares. His tremour has returned (but not yet the limp). He on the verge of bolting, keeping his things as close to packed as he can. He hasn’t seen Sherlock for a month, and a month is far too long, as far as John’s concerned.

In The Empty Hearse, Mary is delighted by John’s fixation on Sherlock. She teases him about it, encourages their relationship. She appeared to be completely unthreatened by it. By His Last Vow, John has worn through her last nerve. When we see Mary comforting her neighbour in her sitting room early in the morning, she is pretty much fed up with John’s whining, and I don’t blame her. They are both chafing inside that relationship. It’s a holding pattern for both of them.

Both of them find a release valve, and it’s the same one. Mary asks Sherlock to take John out and run him, which should appease John for a while and will give her the freedom to stop playing happy housewife. She needs to go take care of the business that has been plaguing her. As Sherlock notes, there must have been a part of her that had been missing that.

Mary and John both have the same problem at the opening of His Last Vow. They’re bored. And they’re bored for the same reason: they’re both trying to be ordinary.

When John asks Mary if “Mary Watson” is good enough for her, she says yes, but I think she’s wrong. It’s not good enough. It names and shapes one part of her persona, one that is arguably completely false. It shuts out the rest of her quite deliberately. John doesn’t even want to know about it. He doesn’t want to hear about it, and he doesn’t even want it named.

I think that’s a tragedy. I’ll be honest with you, I love the little peek into the rest of Mary’s character. She’s tremendous.

She’s cold-blooded, cruel, impatient, rude, conniving, ruthless, and manipulative. She’s at least as observant as the Holmeses. She’s smarter than John, and quite possibly smarter than Sherlock. When Wiggins poses as a beggar she dismisses him loudly and impatiently, but gives him money anyway, in spite of being in the middle of something quite important. She believes in social justice. She’s psychopath who voted lib dem. She’ll probably vote labour next time around. She bakes her own bread, can tell when Sherlock is fibbing, and can shoot a hole in a spinning coin. And killing (presumably) bad guys on a freelance basis is what she does for a living. She’s not ashamed of it. She’s proud of it. It’s not a stretch to say she probably enjoys it.

While her “Mary Watson” persona is demonstrably a lie, there is likely some truth to it (as there inevitably would be). I’m not sure what to think about her feelings about John (too complicated to judge at the moment, I’m afraid), but it’s clear that she likes Sherlock. While it wasn’t even close to enough to stop her from putting a bullet in his chest, I think they were genuinely friends. Unlike Sherlock, feelings don’t get in Mary’s way.

Is “Mary Watson” good enough? No. It can’t be. Neither she nor John can go back to their ordinary life as if none of this happened and be happy, which appears to be the plan. It didn’t work the first time, even before Mary shot Sherlock and her secrets spilled out. I can’t imagine a baby will make it any better.

When “Mary Watson” breaks apart and the real AGRA steps out, it will be spectacular.