I'll See You at Sherrinford

The whole “switched the babies then drown” storyline- I feel like you can pretty much drive a truck thru the plot holes. But the Colin Firth version of Grindelwald did say that the Obscurus was “useless” without a host in FB1. I don’t think we’ve seen how it switches hosts, but it must be able to - because Newt was able to capture one.

I’m also very happy that you seem to have independently come to the same conclusion as I’ve been harping on about for years now (originally @raggedyblue’s idea): that what we see in the show is Sherlock, after an OD, re-using the material he has read on John’s blog to compose new scenarios in his mind. In other words: the events on the blog seem, just as you say, more true to the show’s ’reality’ than the show itself. I’ve written rather extensively about this in some metas (X, X, X, X).

The only place where I differ slightly is the point in time when Sherlock ODs and loses contact with reality; I think it might have happened directly after John’s wedding, which is when Sherlock took over the online blog, and after this it stopped updating. The events of His Last Vow are, in my opinion, far more absurd than most of the show until then - the most apalling part being the destruction of John Watson’s character. The idea that John would even dream of staying married to and raising a family with an assassin who shot his best friend seems far more like a self-flagellating fantasy of Sherlock’s to me.

Also, I think we might be inside Sherlock’s brain already from A Study in Pink; the whole show is seen from Sherlock’s POV, hence its name. And the strongest evidence for this is, in my opinion, the huge similarity between Sherlock’s Victorian version in TAB of John waking up with nightmares about the war, and the very first scene of ASiP (X). How could Sherlock so accurately see something in his mind that (supposedly) was John’s own experience from a time when Sherlock wasn’t even present? As far as I can see, it only makes sense if this was Sherlock’s imaginary version both times.

Sherlock, the vicar  …..

When Sherlock - ordered by his brother (queen) Mycroft - sets out to meet Irene Adler, to retrieve compromising photographes about a ‘member of the most powerful family in Britain’ (the queen’s family), he decides to disguise himself as a priest.

“You think I’m a vicar with a bleeding face?”   (Sherlock, ASIB)

Some interesting details about the definition of words (because that’s always so much fun):

A VICAR is a representative, deputy or substitute; anyone acting “in the person of” or agent for a superior. Linguistically, vicar is cognate with the English prefix “vice”, similarly meaning “deputy”. It derives from the Latin “vicarius” which can be translated into: representative, replacement, surrogate, dummy …

A vicar can be an ecclesiastical agent, such as a church of England incumbent, a member of the Episcopal clergy or the representative of a prelate. The Pope uses the title Vicarius Christi, meaning the vicar of Christ.   (x x)

The title ‘vicar’ doesn’t appear in ACDs original story A Scandal in Bohemia. 

He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.   (ACD, A Scandal in Bohemia)

In English church history, a Nonconformist is a Protestant Christian who did not “conform” to the governance and usages of the established church, the Church of England, the Anglican Church. A Clergyman is a member of the clergy, meaning people, such as priests, who are the leaders of a religion and who perform religious services.

Most likely this little change from ‘nonconformist clergyman’ to ‘vicar’ doesn’t mean anything at all. After all, ‘vicar’ is much shorter, simpler and probably more modern than the canon version. Nonetheless, the origin of the word fits surprisingly well with the strong theme of replacements, representatives, ambassadors, agents and dummies - in short, with mirror-characters - that runs throughout the whole story. In that sense, ‘vicar’ is indeed a very good choice.  :)

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I also like the Canon idea of making Holmes a nonconformist, someone who does not conform to traditions and conventions. Which applies to our Sherlock as well.

And yes, @possiblyimbiassed  Truth and truth can be two entirely different things and the urge to lie is then the strongest when one fears the truth the most. 

Regarding the family topic: I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole story is about the reunion of a ‘family’, the Holmes family. ‘John’ has changed after he got shot by Eurus in TLD and at the beginning of the next episode Sherlock demands that he joines the ‘family’. By the end of TFP even Eurus connects with the ‘family’ again, although with great caution on both sides. Understandable, if one knows what man Holmes is (meant to be) and how he thinks about emotions. :) But Irene and Jim seem to be still out there. If they are who I think they are, they have to reunite with the ‘family’ as well, in order to give Sherlock Holmes the foundations for a complete personality. Yes, I’m speculating here with the idea that in Sherlock BBC the term ‘family’ might be a metaphor for all the aspeckts that are necessary to form a human being, who is able to live a happy and fulfilled life, including a loving relationship. :)

Thy magics bind again all that custom’s sword has parted Beggars become princes’ brothers, under the sway of thy gentle wings.

Ode to Joy, Schiller/Beethoven

Order of events in BBC’s Sherlock

If you want to see the whole flowchart in one image, download it here.

Creating this flowchart has required me choose what to include and what to leave out. If you think that I have missed something, I’d be happy to hear from you, but please read the comments first, in case I had excluded that information for a ­reason.

This project has been made so much easier thanks to the Sherlock timeline at bakerstreet.wikia.com and the wonderful transcripts by @callie-ariane. Go look them up at arianedevere.livejournal.com!

Thank you to my wonderful proof reader @wetislandinthenorthatlantic!

I have completely lost track of who is discussing what in the aftermath of s4, but I’ll tag a few people under the cut anyway, hoping that you are interested. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future!

So the Christmas Sherlock called his brother (although he prefers to text) because he needed his help …

the Christmas of danger nights and caring not being an advantage …

the Christmas of telling John not to leave Sherlock because Mycroft was afraid his brother would relapse …

… is the same Christmas Mycroft gave his brother’s worst enemy as a Christmas present to their dangerous sister who wanted Sherlock dead and killed his best friend.

I did a visualisation of the order of events in the entire show a while back. This is the part with Christmas 2010:

Interpreted thru Mirrors:

the same Christmas Mycroft (Sherlock’s brain) gave his brother’s worst enemy (literal interpretation would be drugs) as a Christmas present to their dangerous sister (emotional part of Sherlock) who wanted Sherlock dead and killed his best friend (does death = sex still?)

On that same Christmas, could be read as:

Sherlock’s mind/logical/machine-like bit takes drugs, as a ‘gift’ to himself, to cope with his perceived dangerous emotional landscape created by having sex with or falling in love with his best friend.

(part 1, part 2)

To recap:

in the frame of the queerness of gothic literature, the Hound stands for John and Sherlock's relationship and their respective struggles with it;

while Sherlock resolves pretty quickly to find the truth, he has to do it by subjecting John to his experiment and make him see that his own denial is the real problem.

Let's wrap it up.

Killing the Hound

We're now at the show down with Frankland and the hound. John has very few lines here, but let's look at the dialogue between Sherlock and Henry:

HENRY: No, no, I know what I am! SHERLOCK: Yes, I’m sure you do, Henry. It’s all been explained to you, hasn’t it – explained very carefully.

SHERLOCK: You’d started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn’t an animal, was it, Henry? (Henry starts to straighten up, blinking.) SHERLOCK: Not a monster. (Henry turns to look at him.) SHERLOCK: A man.

SHERLOCK: But there never was any monster.

This is not about Henry (poor sod). This is about Sherlock and John, and Henry is just a literary device, again, one of the many mirrors.

Here's what Sherlock is really saying: John, you didn't see what's between us because you were in denial. I made you see it, and it scared you as it had been a monster. But there's nothing to be scared of. I'm just a man.

It is not a coincidence that, when the hound appears, John interjects with pure terror and confusion, looking at Sherlock as his lifeline:

JOHN: Greg, are you seeing this? [...] JOHN: Right: he is not drugged, Sherlock, so what’s that? What is it?!

and it is not a coincidence that Sherlock doesn't directly reply to John:

SHERLOCK: All right! It’s still here ...but it’s just a dog. Henry! It’s nothing more than an ordinary dog!

As pointed out in this post, John becomes our man of action: while everybody hesitates or makes a break for it, he stands steady at the center of the scene and he's the one that successfully shoots the hound. From the transcript (bold mine):

Greg aims his pistol and fires three times at it. His bullets fly past it and it flinches momentarily but then rises up and leaps towards them. John’s aim is truer and his bullets strike the hound accurately and throw it backwards. It squeals in pain and crashes to the ground, unmoving.

The hound is dead.

SHERLOCK: Look at it, Henry. HENRY: No, no, no! SHERLOCK: Come on, look at it!

The hound is not only dead, the hound has been stripped of its dreary features, and John did it. John is finally seeing that it's just a dog.

Well, what about the dog?

As explained in the essay mentioned above, the beauty of THoB lies in its resolution; the classical gothic trope - where facing the monster of queerness inevitably brings to demise and horror - gets flipped on its head and brings us to this exchange:

SHERLOCK: So they didn’t have it put down, then – the dog. JOHN: Obviously. Suppose they just couldn’t bring themselves to do it. SHERLOCK: I see. JOHN: No you don’t. SHERLOCK: No, I don’t. Sentiment? JOHN: Sentiment!

What's interesting is that we're initially diverted to see Sherlock's struggle as prominent, but it really is both his and John's journey.

Sherlock needs to be analytical to unravel the mystery, which is not the hound in itself (he knows it's a dog), but rather learning that if he can't trust his eyes it's because there's an emotional side hidden inside him that he has to integrate - and he needs John to do so.

John needs to see "the monster" to begin with, he has to feel all the fear and the shock, he needs to face it in a very physical way - and he needs Sherlock to do so.

In the end, they're not strictly standing against the hound, and killing it is just a metaphor. They just need to see it for what it is: sentiment, and they need to do it together, as a unit.

Remember?

"We’re not a couple." - "Yes you are".

So we're left with John and Sherlock, both more aware of what's going on... where will this go? Stay tuned (or not, but if you do... prepare the tissues)

____

Just rewatched The Lying Detective, and it’s struck me this time – when it first aired, we all spent so much time thinking about Sherlock and John and Mary and Eurus, etc., that we didn’t give a lot of thought to Culverton Smith.  But he’s actually a pretty interesting baddie.

What’s interesting about Smith is, despite being a serial murderer, he’s not actually motivated by a desire to kill.  He *thinks* he is – I think he genuinely believes he enjoys killing people just for the fun of it.  And at first, Sherlock buys this premise, too.  But the episode is really careful to seed in Smith’s actual compulsion – a compulsion to confession. 

In fact, I think it’s arguable (though we don’t really know him well enough to say for sure) that the main reason Smith kills people is so he’ll have something to confess. 

Throughout the episode, Smith entertains a bizarre kind of flirtation with the idea of confession.  In the TD-12 scene, he desperately wants to get something off his chest, but he’s terrified of facing any repercussions for it.  This is why he develops this whole weird ritual of drugging his friends and business associates – so he can confess his crimes (or would-be crimes) to them without consequence.

SMITH: Confession is good for the soul … providing you can delete it.

It’s worth noting that Smith has specifically chosen police officials and judges to be part of his TD-12 audience, as well as his daughter.  He wanted the confessions to be *meaningful*, even as he wanted them instantly forgotten.

And why is the morgue is favorite room?  Not just because he likes corpses.  As Sherlock eventually figures out, before he developed TD-12, he needed the corpses to serve as an audience for his confessions.

SHERLOCK: You talk to the dead. You make your confession to them.

I think it’s fair to assume that eventually, confessing to corpses stopped giving Smith the desired thrill, and that’s why he moved on to the TD-12 sessions.  But soon enough, that palls too – which is why Smith seeks out and encourages Sherlock’s attention (albeit only in a very controlled environment).

THERAPIST: Culverton gave me Faith’s original note.

It always bugged me before – why would Smith do this?  Of course, we can easily justify the choice as being a result of Eurus’s irresistible powers of mind control…  But it’s even more deliciously satisfying to realize that Smith *wanted* to draw Sherlock to him, because what could be more thrilling than confessing to the world’s greatest detective? 

Sherlock gets this, and so he engineers a situation he knows Smith will find irresistible: an opportunity to confess his sins to a detective who is conscious and in full possession of his mental faculties.  But Smith will only do it if he feels certain that Sherlock will die immediately afterward. 

SHERLOCK (quietly): I wanted to hear your confession; needed to know I was right.

Smith is willing to believe that Sherlock is just as twisted as he is – that even though Sherlock doesn’t want to die, he’d be willing to sacrifice his own life just to hear Smith’s confession.

Of course, the little twist at the end is that Sherlock winds up giving Smith the greatest gift he never knew he wanted: the opportunity to confess in a situation that involves true consequences.  Smith had spent his whole career as a murderer avoiding this situation, but when it’s finally forced upon him, it turns out to be exactly the thrill he was seeking all along.

SMITH: It’s funny, I … I never realised confessing would be so enjoyable.