TLD!John… or, just John.

 (Sherlock meta by wssh-watson)

So after I’ve had some time to think about this, I want to say some more words about TLD!John. Or, just John. Just John Watson.

Before TLD, I was begging for more John. That was the one thing I wanted most of all: to have John Watson back. You don’t always like things when they are given to you, even though you asked.

I asked for John Watson. I wanted John Watson to develop. I wanted more of him.

I got it. I was appalled. Naturally. I thought it was horrid, still do. Horrid, scary, and problematic.

But guess what? John and Sherlock both have done horrid, scary, and problematic things right from the start. 

Sherlock drugged John and locked him in a lab to have the shit scared out of him as experiment. For proof? He did that, fully knowing that John has a war history. Then he jumped from a roof, condemning John to two years of extreme grief and mourning. How is that, any of that, okay? It isn’t. Why do we gloss that over? Oh, right, because John forgave him. Because the Sherlock we see in seasons one and two are the Sherlock John sees, and that colours our—the audience’s—perception. Sure, Sherlock is clever as fuck, and he’s scary, but he’s also very weird and maybe even oddly sweet. But we forgive him: it’s Sherlock.

We forgive Sherlock for three reasons. One: John forgives him. This is his POV, so the audience is likely to adopt his perception. So, John forgives him, and we forgive him. Two: that’s the first thing Sherlock is introduced as: a freak. We’re led to believe Sherlock may get off on crimes, he doesn’t do emotions in any capacity, he’s a social outcast, he’s a sociopath. Three: he developed. We got season three and we saw what was always there, just underneath the surface. We had time to adjust since then.

The sort of behaviour like drugging and locking John up and then jumping from a roof and damning John to two years of intense grief isn’t really contrary to the character as he was introduced to us, so we can get behind that. It isn’t stellar, it isn’t okay, actually isn’t okay at all, but to an extent we understand that. It’s still within the realm of that character’s world… and John forgives him. So we move on. And anyway, we have Sherlock realising his errors and striving to be a better man for John in season three. Isn’t it beautiful?

But why do we condemn John for the very same? Now I know that when I asked for more John Watson, what I was really asking for was this: can I have the one-dimensional John back from seasons one and two that called Sherlock amazing and looked at him as if he’d hung the moon? Can I have the John back who is always to a fault trying to be morally upright? Because that’s the John I wanted back.

I didn’t want a real John back. I didn’t want John to be like this. I didn’t want his messier side. I liked the messier side of him that likes a drink or two too much, the side that’s emotionally constipated. I didn’t like the rest.

But that’s the point the show makes. John himself even says so: “that’s the point. That’s the whole point.” We condemn John for the very same that we have seen Sherlock do because we don’t want to see it. Or at least I didn’t. Sherlock has become human and has progressed, and we’ve forgive him that. Hell, we’ve welcomed it, we’ve craved it, and now we look at him and think, yeah, obviously he can’t be anything but this underneath.

We saw Sherlock became human. Now John became human, too.

I think that’s what TLD is mostly about: for the audience not to forget that John isn’t just an army doctor with a danger boner. He’s also problematic and flawed. He shot a man in the first episode, and if that wasn’t a red flag for most of us I don’t know what else is. The John beating Sherlock to a pulp, as little as I like it, is still the John from season one and two and three. They’re the very same John—only this John has finally allowed himself to become human, after all these years.

Sherlock’s humanity is his softer side, his heart.

John’s humanity is this: his violent streak, a certain kind of monstrosity. We liked it when he shot a man for Sherlock in the first episode because that revealed a strong moral character, his “nerves of steel,” and because he saved Sherlock. Why do we stop liking it when we see the other side of that violence that necessarily must exist? Because it appals us. Because we don’t want to believe that this is something John is capable of. But he is.

Just as Sherlock is capable of the softer, warmer emotions, John is capable of the more monstrous, terrible ones. We shouldn’t forget that. John is human too. We take Sherlock’s humanity in stride because that’s what we wanted, but we see John’s humanity as fallibility, as horrible and wrong. It is horrible and wrong, just like Sherlock’s actions were, but it is still John. That’s the point of the show. They were both fucked up from the start, and we knew that. This could never be anything but a problematic and fucked up relationship, too.

But do you know what’s beautiful about it? Do you know the saving grace of this relationship? They’re two:

One, that when John became human, he did it in front of Sherlock. That humanity included beating Sherlock bloody, and it included crying and sobbing. Both in front of Sherlock.

Do you know how fucking monumental that is? That is a HUGE moment. This is the John whose grief we saw reflected only in Sherlock’s grave. Now we see John’s grief, as real as ever, and it is right in front of Sherlock. When we saw the world through John’s eyes, we got blinded to a certain extent: John included us in his grief but kept us at a distance. He allowed us to see that yes, he mourned Sherlock, yes, his entire world changed, but he didn’t allow us the details, didn’t allow us close. He didn’t allow us to see his face, his eyes, the tears on his cheeks.

And TLD? In TLD, he allowed Sherlock that.

Saving grace two is: they make each other better. Just like John unlocks love and affection in Sherlock and brings him down the sociopathic and superhuman pedestal and renders him blinking, stuttering, and in love, that’s what Sherlock does for John. Sherlock makes John loosen the tight grip he has on his own control, makes him lose it. Sherlock makes John let go, in more ways than one: he makes John laugh, but he also makes John angry and indulge in those violent impulses, and he also makes John cry and sob. He makes John human.

They make each other human. We’ve had a long time to adjust to Sherlock being human, and now it’s our turn to adjust to John being human and to welcome that: because it’s real.

But you know the best thing about it? Nobody gives a fuck if we can or want to adjust to that, because that isn’t the point. The point is for John and Sherlock to reach their human sides, to reach them with each other and accept them about each other. And just like they are fucked up and messy, their relationship is fucked up and messy. But that’s something they know, and still they are better together than without each other, always. And they know this. 

Maybe we, the audience, forgot John is human. Lucky for us, Sherlock didn’t. He tells John that unfortunately he believes they may all be human from time to time, “even you,” John. Sherlock knows John, and what he ends up doing is welcoming John into his arms. When he embraces John, he doesn’t just embrace the John that cries. He embraces the John that kicked him while he was lying on the floor until he was bleeding, because he knows this is who John is, too.

And how does he do it? He does it looking overcome and overwhelmed that John would grant him this, finally grant him this. His mouth goes a bit slack, and he blinks rapidly. His hand may just be trembling a bit. This is a big moment for him, this is huge, and he feels overwhelmed. He feels grateful. He feels like this is everything he wanted.

Like John’s subconscious in the form of Mary agreed: yeah, Sherlock knows you. He knows you better than anyone else. And, knowing this, John stays in Sherlock’s arms. He allows Sherlock to see those damned tears on his cheek, dripping down his chin. He allows Sherlock to hear his sobbing, to see his shaking shoulders—

just like he allowed Sherlock to see and feel the rage in his face and fists and feet.

And here we are, having them at the end of the episode, embracing one another with all that they have become: human.

It is what it is.