Showing posts with label unreconstructedfangirl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unreconstructedfangirl. Show all posts

Friday, 17 March 2017


Molly.
 (Sherlock meta by unreconstructedfangirl

unreconstructedfangirl:

So, I’ve read several people talking about what a shit thing this was to do to Molly in this episode – “treating her like a loser who’s still in love with Sherlock.” I don’t want to call anyone out, here, but…

Come the fuck on!

Why is she a loser? Because she’s single? Because she loves him? Because she’s having a bad day when he calls? How is that not straight up misogyny?! Who knows why she’s having a bad day? They didn’t tell us! Maybe her cat died! Ooh! A CAT! Why assume it makes her a loser? When is the fucking predetermined expiration date on her love, and why is that something that should affect her level of dignity? If there’s one thing that Loo has always done BEAUTIFULLY with Molly, it’s lend some fucking dignity to unrequited love. She made him say it to her FOR REAL, and guess what? He REALLY DOES love her. Maybe not the way she wants him too, but to say that her love for him, or his inability to return it makes her PATHETIC?

NO.

As a longtime serial sufferer of unrequited love, I object! I love Molly. I love who she is to Sherlock, and I love that she makes him treat her like her feelings are real. She forces real feeling out of him, and I loved her part in this.

HARUMPH! MOLLY!

pennypaperbrain:

I love Molly too. As ever, Loo and Ben do a sterling job of making something complex and dignified there. But all this season the writers have just been using her as a plot function; that’s the problem IMO. Time to service Sherlock’s angst; wheel in Molly. Inevitably that’s part of her character function but she needs to get to do something else too.

unreconstructedfangirl:

Here’s how I look at it: this show is about Sherlock, so we see her interactions with him. I mean, is it just because she’s a woman? Because I have WAY less of a sense of who Greg Lestrade is, in comparison, and we only see his interactions with Sherlock, too. Molly is MUCH more of a character than he is! And honestly, I don’t think it’s fair to say “wheel in Molly” to serve Sherlock’s angst! They know who they are writing for! They know what these actors will do with it. I think she does a lot more than serve Sherlock’s angst, but the bottom line is that, as a secondary character in this story about him, she does serve the story… about him.

We don’t see every minute of Molly’s days. Molly is obviously a highly competent, fascinating person who has all manner of other interactions in her life that don’t involve this man she loves without hope, and seriously, I LOVE HER. I love her clothes, the feeling I have that she is a shy, very clever, introvert, the fact that I feel like I know she has a cosy home and cat… I want to hang out with her! And, I think her love is generous and real and that she shows Sherlock to himself. Sherlock is lucky to have her, and he very clearly has the good sense to know it.

Maybe Molly is for us to write. In fact, I hereby vow to write her. I love her.

vulgarweed:

Thank you! I’ve honestly realized that people calling Molly “pathetic” is kind of a berserk button, because she is clearly anything but, and people who can look at the woman on screen and call her that, well…either they’re not watching the same show I am (and that’s very possible - and if so, I’m glad to have the one I’m see, because I think it’s much better than theirs) and/or they have a lot of internalized ideas about women that make my skin crawl.

I’ve been exactly where Molly is WRT unrequited love, and it’s a very vulnerable place, sure. It can be sad and lonely. But is it pathetic? No. It’s very human. That’s the reality of love. Not all lovers get their happy ending. Love doesn’t have to be mutual to be deep and real - and Molly’s love is deep and real. She passes out of the infatuation of S1 and early S2 by TRF, I think - when Sherlock needs her, not just because she loves him but because she is the only one with the skills and connections to do what he needs. For two years she keeps his secret. Because she’s his dupe? No, because she honors her commitments.

I definitely feel I have a strong sense for who she is. I know her humor, I know her sorrow, I know her anger. I know her courage and her desires and her way of moving through the world, frequently underestimated but never fully defeated (she dumped Jim Moriarty and survived).

I don’t really ship Sherlolly but I’m fond of many people who do. But this phase of the fandom has me questioning what it means to me to “ship” something or not. Shipping for me has never ever meant that I expect or need it to become canon, and that hasn’t changed at all, I still don’t care all that much about that WRT what I ship. Do I ship Sherlolly in the sense that I’ve enjoyed a lot of art and fics? Well yeah, because I have. I even wrote Johnlockolly once and very well might again. I still haven’t disembarked the giant ship Johnlock completely. But is there a part of me that wants Molly to get the particular happily-ever-after she wants after all? Hmm. Yes. Sure. Because there is NOT ONLY ONE ANSWER. Not ever. Not in fandom. Fandom has infinite possibilities for that. There are many universes in which she does, and I’m fine with that. There are also many in which she doesn’t, or she finds another love as deep and real eventually. As long as my girl is happy somehow in the majority of universes, I’ll feel justice is served.

justaminion:

I would certainly have loved to have seen more of Molly, but I think Steven and Mark have always been more interested in finding new and clever takes on old canon material than indulge themselves in a non-canon character, as much as they love her. From what they’ve said I think Molly kind of represents the canonical characteristic of Sherlock as being gentle and kind towards women, and the fact that he never rules out marrying and being a father one day - so she’s trapped as a possibility - Sherlock’s “High Wycombe,” if he chooses that.

The beauty of the phone call scene is that it’s inevitably going to break them out of this trap. Sherlock might have previously believed Molly was over him, but not any more. The new “grown up” Sherlock is going to realise he has to decide where they stand, whether he’s going to let her down gently (which, as many have pointed out, he’s never done despite every opportunity), or try for something more. Either way, we know from the end montage that Molly absolutely over the moon. And we get to fill in the blanks, which is awesome.

Monday, 6 March 2017


The love that “conquers all” and who idealises who
"If there was one single theme that ran through this entire season, it’s family. Tackling both the families we’re born into and the ones we create, season 4 reveals the dynamics between members to be as intricate as the deductions that Sherlock makes. John and Mary play perfect partners and parents, but their hidden insecurities do not a happy ending make. The tightknit relationship between John and Sherlock is built on shared experiences and mutual trust, but as soon as they are challenged they fall apart. The three Holmes siblings share exceptional gifts of intelligence and social inadequacies, but the streak of madness that runs through them forms rifts between them all.  
As dysfunctional as these families are, they do shape who our heroes become. With Mary’s death and becoming a single father, John steps up to the challenge to be the man she imagined him to be. Sherlock, in his attempt to save John, ends up saving Eurus and himself as well when he finally connects with his emotions. Mycroft comes to realize that he does care for others more than himself, and reveals his vulnerability when he offers to be the one who dies. Even Eurus ultimately reveals that it is her desperation for familial love that drives her madness, and Sherlock’s empathy salvages what little humanity she had left. We get a chance to see that each one’s love for biological and chosen families make them better people in the end. " 
unreconstructedfangirl:

This is nice commentary. I felt like the plot was all over the place, but the emotional story rang true for me, so I enjoyed it. People who refuse to see what Benedict Cumberbatch meant when he says “love conquers all” were anticipating a narrower definition of love.

mild-lunacy:

I agree with the theme of Series 4 being families in large part, as in @stephisanerd’s meta, and at least it’s a positive review, but…. Man, I’m used to a deeper and higher quality analysis in fandom. So this is… not cutting it for me, particularly the simplification of the dynamics and heteronormativity involved. Like, John ‘steps up to the challenge to become the man she imagined him to be’? Hell no. With Sherlock’s help and acceptance, he accepted that he *can’t be* that man, and that’s okay. Mary idealized him and didn’t really know him. John became more *himself*, not some projected ideal of a father and soldier, thanks to the faith of a good woman! That is a cliche, but it’s not the story here (thankfully).

And of course, I take issue with the description of John and Sherlock’s relationship as falling apart ‘as soon as they are challenged’. They’ve been challenged many, many times already and survived, not least in The Empty Hearse. That suggests it’s actually weak, or that falling apart was somehow a sign of how they didn’t really know or really trust each other in the end. The Lying Detective shows both of them know the other deeply, with Sherlock’s predictions being spot-on, including knowing John would leave the cane with the recording device Sherlock slipped inside, because he hated himself after beating him. That’s actually some amazing insight and closeness with another person, even at their lowest point. And of course, the fact that John’s back at Sherlock’s side by The Final Problem suggests their trust and ‘tightknit relationship’ was as strong or stronger than before and equal to the heaviest challenge.

This isn’t to say, of course, that the *overall theme* of hidden faultlines in seemingly happy families, or the potential hidden even in the most broken of bonds, wasn’t part of it. And naturally, Sherlock’s success with Eurus and ability to tap her remaining human feeling was definitely a sign that he 'finally connects with his emotions’. I just like the more nuanced narrative. This surface description is probably not enough to make people see what was really poignant and powerful in Series 4 if they’re not seeing it already.

Definitely think that 'love conquers all’, though. John and Sherlock’s, even, haha.

unreconstructedfangirl:

Do you really think MARY idealised him? I don’t. I think Mary knows him and loves him for a damaged, morally complicated man who is trying to live up to his own ideas of himself. I think Sherlock idealises John to some extent, but not nearly to the extent that John idealises himself. John has an idealised, perfectly upstanding version of himself in his mind, a man who meets every metric, and whose image he compares himself to, and continually comes up short, and hates himself for not being. I definitely see nothing in it at all to indicate that Mary is guilty of idealising John. Perhaps she sees him with the eyes of love, that expand every good and minimise faults, and perhaps she knows what kind of man he can be, but I don’t think she idealises him.

But Sherlock, though. Sherlock sees his every fault magnified in John’s eyes, and sees John as the arbiter of whether or not he is worthy of BEING ALIVE. He bets on John in the biggest way possible and he does so straight out of the depth of his oceanic feelings of unworthiness.

So, we’ve got one man who can’t accept himself because he never manages to live up to the idealised version of himself he has in his mind, and another who has dissociated himself from his own emotional life out of self-defense and who can’t imagine he deserves what he wants, and from this they are supposed to have an unassailable bond? Something that doesn’t fall apart when TRULY tested? How can they really know and trust each other when neither of them is willing to admit what he really, really is?

Sherlock’s insight into what John will do shows he DOES know John, but to know that John would say goodbye forever and leave him that stick? WOW. Bummer. Plus, all of that insight, apparently, is on Sherlock’s side… because that’s what he does.

Personally, I would say that there is no question of HIDDEN fault lines. The fault lines are big, obvious and yawning, and that’s been true from episode 1. I’ll agree that the Eurus plot was a bit ham-handed, but the Sherlock who could succeed in finding and comforting her only got there because every single person in his life who loved him brought him there and helped him see how much he needs and loves them back.

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I feel like every single thing that happened after Reichenbach is a resolution of the rupture of Reichenbach. They did fall apart, and it took all of this to put them back together. What they were together before that was built on shaky foundations, but what they have at the end of season 4 is honest, realistic and survived the fire.

mild-lunacy:

I definitely agree that everything that happened post The Reichenbach Fall have been repercussions from Reichenbach; I just wrote extensively on it yesterday. I also think that John and Sherlock’s relationship was built on some shaky foundations, because Sherlock tried to embody the 'high-functioning sociopath’ persona (or more like, used it as a 'disguise’), and to some extent John believed it, as @stephisanerd described in her classic meta. At the same time, it’s John who’s always telling Sherlock he’s 'flesh and blood’, asking him what he’s feeling on ASiB, still telling him to take a chance while he has one with Irene. He knows Sherlock for real if anyone does; it’s himself John has real issues with. Still, I think those shaky foundations don’t justify the review saying 'as soon as they are challenged they fall apart’, and I also think that John clearly forgives Sherlock fast enough and often enough that it’s worthwhile to focus on their strengths *because* of the fact that there are also these impressive weaknesses or issues standing in their way.

With regards to Mary, I just had a discussion with @airstyledraconos about these issues in The Lying Detective. I don’t think it’s that Mary is the source of John’s issues; clearly they predate her or anything she said. However, I was replying to the article, which did say that in The Final Problem, John chose to live up to her challenge of being 'the man she imagined him to be’, which is idealization. That directly states it’s about Mary’s narrative, with which I disagreed. Yes, definitely, it’s about the issues John has with himself. I simply think it’s canon that *John* was frustrated with and ashamed of Mary’s faith in him (that he’d rescue Sherlock if Sherlock went to 'hell’, for example). That’s what he told Sherlock: he went to the hospital since it was Mary’s certainty that he’d do it, but he still didn’t believe in the two of them (or himself) being salvageable before Sherlock embraced him and said it was okay. 'It is what it is’. Not to mention, you can certainly argue that since the whole point of Sherlock’s efforts in The Lying Detective was to save John from himself, as per Mary’s instructions (not just defeat Smith), he also had to know leaving the cane wouldn’t be their last goodbye. Basically, I simply think Sherlock’s the bigger catalyst in John’s growth and progression in The Lying Detective, and the review totally ignored this (heteronormativity or too shallow of a reading, take your pick).

I realize I didn’t really address how and why I think John does know Sherlock, and of course, it’s just Sherlock’s nature to be much, much better at deduction than John. A lot of it’s kinda sublimated because we primarily see into John’s mind in The Lying Detective through hallucinated Mary as the conduit and/or 'inner voice’, but as Ivy said, a lot of it’s about what Mary says (Sherlock’s 'our monster’) or how she looks at him when he’s talking about the old case to the children at the hospital, or the way he deduced it’s Sherlock’s birthday at the end. And then there’s the way he *knows* he’s Sherlock’s family in The Final Problem, and gives a private little smile to himself: they definitely did talk and have come out of it stronger than ever. Even so, I think it’s simply canon that in fact, they have always had an unassailable bond (whether or not John or Sherlock believes or accepts it at any given time). I just don’t think John’s break was purely due to the weakness of his relationship with Sherlock, certainly not predominantly. It was also about weaknesses within *himself*, unaddressed issues even with Reichenbach, a lack of self-acceptance and a huge helping of projection and guilt.

My point: some relationships are definitely meant to be seen as stronger than others. John and Sherlock’s bond is canonically extremely strong, the central thread that binds it all together for both of them and triumphs. I’m honestly not being shippy, that is really how I read Series 4. However, I’ll admit that both John and Sherlock had certainly had unhealthy aspects in how they related to each other and themselves; as @notagarroter wrote recently, for example, Sherlock’s reckless relationship with his own mortality has been pervasively problematic since The Reichenbach Fall, and probably earlier. Realizing that his death is 'something that happens to everybody else’ was a sign of growth for him; his *fake* suicide was certainly something that nearly destroyed John, and he was rather blase about this initially in The Empty Hearse. And yes, I do think he lives for John, or that’s where he was in His Last Vow after Mary shot him. But Sherlock’s grown too: he didn’t want to die (for the first time ever on the show) when Culverton Smith was strangling him. He’s slowly learning to value his existence, just as he is, and if he still uses John, then it’s just because John’s someone who loves him. It is what it is, and I still think that’s beautiful.

unreconstructedfangirl:

@mild-lunacy, you say in your post that you’re really honestly not being shippy, but… I don’t mind a bit if you were, and if you were, you’d be preaching to the choir in your reply to me. I ship it, as I always have! I don’t need convincing that John and Sherlock are two halves of an unbreakable whole – that’s canon, and that’s embedded in the very DNA of the characters from their inception.

That said…

I said that Sherlock seems – to me! – to be the one with all the insight in The Lying Detective, and that the insight he has is… pretty sad really. I stand by that. I think Sherlock HOPES John will come back to him, but I don’t think he KNOWS he will. He’s taking a chance. He does bet on John, which to me indicates that he has some measure of faith in him, but without the true peril of the possibility of John making another choice, the whole thing falls apart a bit, doesn’t it?

I think John ends The Lying Detective having made a breakthrough, but he’s still pretty deluded in some ways – cases in point, his apparent belief that Mary idealised him, and his suggestion that Sherlock take up with Irene don’t strike me as particularly insightful. Your examples of John’s insights, like suggesting that Sherlock take his chances with Irene, strike me as instances in which (unless they are viewed metaphorically, with Irene as stand-in for Sherlock’s sexuality) John kind of proves he still does not quite understand Sherlock. Also, what kind of advice is that! Go experience love and high expectations from… Irene? That does not strike me as a particularly good perscription, Doctor. All in all, I feel a bit… unconvinced by John’s insight into his friend’s heart of hearts, and whatever realisations about it he has come to by the time of The Final Problem must have been reached in a moment we do not see on screen. A room for us to fill, I guess, as fans.

I mean, I even have a very different reading of John’s little half smile when Sherlock insists he stay on the basis that he is family – I read it as John being gratified and a little… not surprised, but perhaps still in the process of accepting that THAT is is place in Sherlock’s heart. Something he is still learning is true. I see that as a moment in which he is reassured of his place and smiles wryly at himself for still needing it. John is always in need of reassurances and finally Sherlock has reached a place in which he is able to give them in a meaningful way.

I think the point of the whole series thus far was building a characterisation and a backstory that could explain the depth of Sherlock and John’s friendship, and the lived-in strength of it that we see in ACD canon. I think the point is that before all of this, they are VERY assailable. Both of them are very unstable and mired in self-doubt and self-hatred of different provenances, and don’t know how to properly love anyone. John holds himself and Sherlock both to impossible and unrealistic standards, and Sherlock is so busy pretending to be a thing he isn’t and preening his pretty feathers of genius and/or drowning his sorrows and then hating himself for not being the man he imagines John is, or the man John imagines he is… I mean… I think THE POINT is that none of that is any kind of basis for an unassailable bond.

I think you’re absolutely right that John is deeply ashamed of not living up to the man he imagines Mary imagines he is (because, seriously, there is no real evidence ANYWHERE that Mary is unrealistic about John and plenty of evidence that she isn’t) and I think he is even more ashamed of not being worthy of being called the bravest, wisest and kindest man Sherlock has ever had the pleasure of knowing, because let’s also remember that John is pretty unrealistic about who Sherlock is in lots of instances, and appears to believe he is capable of actual magic tricks. All of this builds up into John’s finest moments at the end of The Six Thatchers and The Lying Detective, in which he behaves in a nigh-on unforgivable manner that he SHOULD be ashamed of.

And, in fairness to him, HE IS. Good.

I’ll agree that the review we are both responding to could be more nuanced on the subject of who idealises who, but even so, I think it shows some insight into the kind of love that “conquers all” in series 4, and the fact that it’s not narrowly defined by romantic love between John and Sherlock, which is something I, personally, am tremendously RELIEVED about in the story, and further, it does nothing to negate that notion, if it’s the hill you die on.

Nor, I would argue, does it particularly point to any kind of “heteronormativity” either in the story, or that I can identify in the reviewer’s thinking. It’s just that the romance you are saying that you are not championing is beside the point in a discussion of all the other forms of love that are the explicit focus of the discussion and the story. They told a story about how the love in a person’s life can make them whole, and give them the strength that allows them to forge a bond based on real things instead of imagined ones. They declined to make romantic love the only form of love that can do that. They opened all the rooms, and closed no doors, and they refused to authoritatively privilege one reading over alternatives. At the same time, they made them, finally, people who might be capable of that kind of love.

I think that despite some arguably messy narrative shenanigans, they managed to tell a story that had, for me, some emotional resonance, and I think it was the right decision not to force it to a single point. We are all free to have our reads, and as you know, @mild-lunacy, I have mine. Nothing that happened had jossed it. I have no need to prove it or torture it further. It is what it is.

Saturday, 25 February 2017


Sherlock and John at the end of TLD
 (Sherlock meta by unreconstructedfangirl)

[In TLD] John completely lost his mind and acted like the world’s biggest gold medal dickhead, and then admitted that he doesn’t know how to be the man they all think he is, but he wants to be that man. Meanwhile, Sherlock continued his campaign of ridiculous self-abnegation in an effort to save John, showing that he is not only heroically selfless, but also completely stupid and desperately needy. He really, really can’t do it alone. He will do anything.

Then get this! These two massive fuck ups hugged, and went out to have some cake. 

I feel like so many of us around here are over-leaping this massive development to demand something more definitive, but this was John Hamish Watson ugly snot crying into the front of Sherlock’s pretty, pretty shirt, and Sherlock (!!) physically comforting him with his big beautiful hands. It was huge! It was beautiful! It moved me! It was love and tenderness, and actual inyimacy, and real change in these two characters who, let’s face it, are seriously emotionally challenged, but who love each other despite it all. [...]

Personally, this kind of painful, incremental movement and understated cataclysm is what, the more I think about it, I want! I’ve watched it three times now, and it slays me. Oh my god, they are [...] idiots, and I love them. I am getting what I want from this story. I hope they all manage to continue to make it very clear what this relationship is in a fundamental way, and at the same time letting it simply have it’s own, deeply affecting nature, even if that is undefined and unlabeled and open to interpretation and full of problems. All I want is for them to be together.

I don’t need more proof. I can see a church by daylight.

Tuesday, 21 February 2017


On John leaving his cane
 (Sherlock meta by doctornerdingtonworkfornow and unreconstructedfangirl)


doctornerdington:

Does anyone have a reading of this that is not just… deliberate cruelty? Because we’ve not seen John being premeditatedly cruel before, and I find this more chilling than the beating, honestly.

workfornow:

Once he goes in to “say good-bye” (and I am not going to try to parse that, there are several readings I’d accept), it’s all just enormously sad at the very best. But I read it [leaving the cane] as a reminder of better days, even as a thank-you, an acknowledgement of how their friendship pulled John back from an edge, once.

(It makes no sense to have a recording device in it unless Sherlock thought he might bring it with him though. And I thought it would make perfect sense if John knew it had such a device, but we were told later that he did not know.)

doctornerdington:

It is desperately sad. But a reminder of better days is – a positive way to read it, at least, and I hadn’t even thought of it. I hope it is that. I read it more as, “hey, remember when I needed a cane and you healed me? Well fuck you, now you need the cane, and I’m not sticking around to heal you.” Fucking OUCH. And possibly Sherlock anticipated this (although, haha, this doesn’t really make sense, does it?)?? Jesus.

unreconstructedfangirl:

I read this as a rueful “thank you” and as a kind of apology for the fact that he is checking out. It’s horribly sad, I agree, but I didn’t see it as 100% cruel. What gets me is the idea that Sherlock predicted, I guess, that John would do this, and that means that even if John is a guy who would leave him alone in the condition he’s in, in Culverton Smith’s murder hospital with his cane, Sherlock loves him and wants him back. That idea hurts me.


“I made me” vs. “Eurus made you”: some rambling and likely incoherent thoughts on this apparent contradiction
 (Sherlock meta by unreconstructedfangirl and anarfea)

unreconstructedfangirl:

Something I really liked in the story from The Abominable Bride to The Final Problem is the whole question of what made Sherlock what he is – and indeed, I think it’s the central question in The Final Problem. I’ve read lots of comments on this in people’s meta around here, and wanted to have a go at saying what I liked about the storytelling in this particular regard.

Many have noted the apparent contradiction between Sherlock’s “Nothing made me. I made me” and Mycroft’s saying that everything Sherlock is, ever decision he’s ever made is because of Eurus. I feel like a mistake we make is taking everything the text tells us as a thing we are being told directly by the text, rather than thinking about how reliable what the text is telling us really is, considering the source and the character who says it.

I loved Sherlock’s “I made me” in The Abominable Bride. It was one of my favourite moments. I loved the idea that in his mind, he was able to take responsibility for himself, and know, somewhere deep inside, that he was the one making the decisions that kept him separate and alone. I feel like, if we can realise that WE choose things, then we have some kind of agency, and power over them, and I like the idea of his having that kind of power over his own narrative. So, when this story of Eurus and young Victor comes along, and Mycroft tells us of that this isn’t true – in fact, Eurus made him? If I’m to take that at face value, it’s disappointing – childhood trauma made Sherlock what he is.

Dull – and done to death, right?

The thing I love, though, is that they are both right, and both wrong, and I really enjoyed thinking about what the constellations are in the spaces between them.

What we all do, every day (and I think being in love with and retelling this story is part of this effort for many of us) is tell ourselves the daily story of what we mean and who we are. In the words of Neurologist Oliver Sacks, we “throw bridges of meaning over abysses of meaninglessness” and create ourselves via narrative – the stories we tell ourselves about who we are. This is what makes us human beings – this continual myth-making – and this narrative of who we are and what we mean is a construct of our minds.

So…Sherlock told himself a story – he made himself. It was a defensive mechanism, and it coincided with his emotional withdrawal, a mechanism he used to protect himself from the pain of love, loss, grief, and importantly, horror. Sherlock made himself, and part of making himself was denying the fact that other people have the power to shape us, and reshape our narrative. He radically claimed agency in defiance of pain. But, it’s not quite true, and what’s more he can’t quite stay away from a world full of horror, can he? As a detective and a junkie, he tries to solve the mystery of horror and pain over and over again while keeping emotional reality at a distance.

Mycroft, meanwhile, sees Sherlock from the outside – sees him as a victim of trauma whose subsequent decision not to feel has kept him safe from further trauma, and he encourages it: “…caring is not an advantage … don’t get involved … Redbeard!” Mycroft sees Sherlock as fragile, prone to self-destruction, and in need of protection – as powerless, and he’s not wrong. Sherlock is compulsive, an addict, and a person in denial of his own heart. Mycroft acts out of love in a paternalistic manner towards not only Sherlock, but the whole family, because that’s the story Mycroft told himself… and the story tells us that this is “limited”, and it is. It’s nice that in the end, Sherlock is able to see that Mycroft did his best, though. That’s real progress.

The fact that both of these things “made” Sherlock isn’t a contradiction, it’s two seemingly contradictory things that are both true from different perspectives; two data points that allow us to see what’s happening when Sherlock remembers Victor and opens his heart to his Eurus, and then chooses the path that will allow him to remake himself, having integrated what he knows into a truer version of events. He DID make himself, and also, she made him. We are not impervious to others, but we do choose which way we go. Sherlock chooses love.

The experiments Eurus runs to try to find out who Sherlock is – what he will do given the choices she gives him all lead to this question of what he will do with her when he knows the truth – and she needs him to know, or she can never come down from her metaphorical plane. She loves him and she needs his love, so she is trying to find out how his love works throughout the episode. Because, Eurus did something terribly damaging, and she needs her brother to know it. She also loves him, and needs him to love her. I love that Sherlock, because of everything that he has been through and felt and experienced is able to have the empathetic response that he has. That he realises that he has a role in healing something in her, as she has healed something in him by finally helping him to see that he is not, never has been, and can never be an island.

And I love, at the end, seeing Sherlock embrace the fact that who we are is a co-creation – a relationship between the people we love and our responses to them. We are not islands of independent myth-making. Sherlock Holmes is not an isolated freakish genius – he is a person of some experience and the wisdom that came from it – he has a past, he lived a life.

The final scenes, in which John and Sherlock embrace what they can be together, and rebuild their home and their hearts to include all that they have experienced and become because of love, and they are surrounded by their village of loved ones were really moving to me. In fact, when I watched it again, I didn’t even hate Mary’s voice over – she was an important part of their shared story, she loved them both, and she belongs there. I really like this as the beginning of them BEING WHAT THEY ARE in legend – a brilliant, humane detective and his astute storyteller who is smarter than he looks, and now the myth they are making is their partnership. It’s a story with both horror and love, and the only way it is what it is, is in partnership. I mean… I loved that! [...]

anarfea:

So, I agree with your analysis but one of the things that always got me about the line, “you do remember her, in a way. Every choice you ever made, every path you’ve ever taken, the man you are today: is your memory of Eurus.” is how true this is –of Mycroft. 

Mycroft says, “what Uncle Rudi began, I thought it best to continue.” Locking Eurus up wasn’t Mycroft’s choice. If we decide that they took Eurus away when she was five (which I’m basing solely on child Eurus’ apparent age and Mycroft’s comment to the governor that “she’s been capable of [enslaving people] since she was five”), then Mycroft was thirteen. He was a child. Rudi decided to lock Eurus up in Sherrinford with the “uncontainables” and lie to Mr and Mrs Holmes about the fate of their daughter. Mycroft simply carried on the lie. Again, he was thirteen and presumably traumatized by knowing that his sister killed his brother’s best friend and his brother no longer remembered her. Presumably he thought it would be best if his parents could also, if not forget that Eurus existed, then move on with their lives thinking she was gone.

But that decision irrevocably changed Mycroft’s relationship with his parents, and with Sherlock. It isolated him from his entire family (ironically, except for Eurus, the only one in on his secret). Mycroft spent Christmas with Eurus and Jim Moriarty and then went home to drink alone while Sherlock celebrated at 221b surrounded by friends.

Uncle Rudi also seems to have set Mycroft on his career path. He seems to have been some kind of shadowy government spook, and put Mycroft on the path to shadowy government spook. Who knows who or what he might have been if he hadn’t spent his entire life protecting this secret.

So yes, Mycroft is the man he is today because of Eurus. And IMO, he’s projecting when he says that about Sherlock. It’s true for him, so he thinks it’s true for his brother. And on some level, it is. Someone on my dash (i think @themissadventurer?) was saying that when Sherlock says “I made me,” in The Abominable Bride, we hear a dog barking in the background and he says “Redbeard,” immediately after. Of course his childhood trauma influenced him. We are all shaped by our childhood traumas (or at least I know I was). So Eurus having shaped them is the truth.

But the truth, as Oscar Wilde said, and The Final Problem keeps reminding us, is rarely pure, and never simple.

Sunday, 19 February 2017


Thoughts on John and the cheating after TST
 (Sherlock meta by weeesibandersnatchmycummerbundasortofbookevent

weeesi:

So my sense is: most people HATE the insinuation that John wants to or is cheating … Is that right? I ask because …. I think I don’t actually hate it? I think it’s 1) within the realm of John’s character and 2) a device to show he’s not happy/with the right person at this point in his life and 3) still an insinuation or suggestion at this point.

bandersnatchmycummerbund:

I don’t hate it! Honestly I love it– I think it’s in character and a super interesting storyline. Or rather that it would be. I don’t personally think that’s actually what’s happening here, but I’m super hopeful that John at least thinks that’s what’s happening because I’d love to explore John and his (bad) choices and struggles in that way.

I also like it, actually. On my read, John has always been someone who wants very much to be seen as a decent, stand-up guy, but doesn’t really want to do the work to be that guy (or maybe can’t, actually – because I’m pretty sure John’s idea of Myself, A Good Guy, is not full of barely-suppressed rage.)

In a way, hanging out with Sherlock has always been a great solution for that tension: he gets to be the normal one, and the clear-eyed moral compass, while being neither particularly normal nor particularly grounded in the moral mainstream – all while enjoying the pleasure of living in Sherlock’s London battlefield.

We saw him get anxious in the beginning of HLV, and I think this is similar. In a way, his attachment to Mary is beside the point; he actually chafes against the normal middle-class life he tells himself he wants… and that feeling makes him angrier still, because his fiction about himself has become harder to sustain.

So yeah, it seemed in character to me. Regardless of whether or not he loved his wife (and I think he did, in a complicated way, it YMMV, this is an point on which I think BBC canon is terminally ambiguous) I think John Watson would self-destruct just for the sake of a spark.

I love the character of John Watson, even on the days when I don’t like him very much as a human being. We all carry around fictions of ourselves – it’s part of being human – and it’s wonderful to see that realized so compellingly on screen. To me, the infidelity is a sharp but fitting piece of that puzzle.

asortofbookevent:

I would be surprised if we don’t see John’s “flirtations” explained by plot reveals in the later episode. But I do hope they don’t totally sweep away the element of infidelity, for the sake of the beautiful characterization you’ve described!

unreconstructedfangirl:

I don’t hate it, and I love @tiltedsyllogism‘s characterisation.

I feel like John is a guy that is pretty well in need of certain kinds of validation. Think about his attempt to make a move on Anthea, and more importantly, the woman he thinks is the new Anthea in ASIB, but who is really Irene’s agent. “Nothing I couldn’t heartlessly abandon…” Add that to his string of girlfriends?

The departure, really, from John’s prior characterisation is that in the past, John has always been loyal when he is emotionally engaged… but there’s always a first lapse if there’s going to be one, isn’t there, and I do think he is under pressure, so… it could happen.

That said, I don’t think he actually cheated, I think he just seriously considered cheating, and it’s enough to make him feel very guilty, which in the end gives me ample reason to forgive. He’s not a perfect man.

notagarroter:

To be perfectly honest… If anything, I like John *more* now than I did before.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t like this behavior in a partner or father of my child. Not in real life. But for a fictional character? Bring it on.

The fact is, “John Watson the Moral Compass” is a bit of a pill. He was always telling Sherlock how to behave and scolding him when he was "a bit not good.” Dull. He may have been the best and bravest man Sherlock ever knew, but he was also kind of bland and conventional, or at least he presented himself that way.

(And I totally agree with @tiltedsyllogism that John was never as decent or moral as he wanted to believe – it was a fiction both he and Sherlock created together, because it served their purposes.)

Now that the fiction is starting to fall apart, I find him suddenly fascinating and I’m desperate to know what comes next, what consequences there may be.

My hope is that he’ll develop a more subtle and empathetic understanding of the world around him, because he’s aware of his own weaknesses. It’s too bad Mary had to die, because I wonder if this new, weaker, more morally compromised John might have understood her better than sanctimonious S3 John did.