#john watson things

So I'm reading this LGBT romance, Bromosexual by Daryl Banner. I always enjoy tongue-in-cheek titles, and tongue-in-cheek books. It's pretty good so far. One of the guys is gay; the other thinks he's straight, but isn't. They're at the point where they're having a sincere conversation about the not-so-straight guy's sexuality, 'cause it's obvious he's definitely sexually attracted to his friend, Ryan. And he's worried he's homophobic, 'cause he still doesn't think he's gay or bi, even after having sex with his male best friend. He honestly says he never related to the gay guys he'd known, but on the other hand, neither is he like the super sex-obsessed straight guys he knows, particularly 'cause he knows a lot of athletes and jocks. He's enjoyed straight sex, but hasn't had a serious relationship. He's like a perfect example of the romance novel and/or slash fic 'gay for you' stereotype.

They go a little further than some books like that, 'cause he says he used to actually think he was asexual (but I suppose he dismissed it 'cause he feels sexual interest sometimes). And although at first, Ryan had insisted that his friend Stefan was gay (or alternatively, bisexual), at that point he agrees with Stefan that maybe he doesn't need a label after all. Things aren't always black and white, are they? Why force it, right?

I don't know if they arrive at the idea of demisexuality eventually or if Stefan ends up identifying as gay in the end, which I know some demi and/or ace people do in real life. So Stefan may end up changing his mind in the future, theoretically, no matter where the story itself ends up. It's only been a few days at this point. Most people need way, way more time. This conversation is pretty early, all things considered. But given that it's called 'Bromosexual', I'm guessing the book doesn't choose to classify Stefan's 'grey' orientation by calling it grey-ace or demisexual. I don't even know if I'd be disappointed, 'cause even having an honest conversation is more than many books end up doing. It's unlikely that an average guy (of any persuasion) would have those kind of soul-searching talks with his friend *or* boyfriend, realistically. Although, well, Ryan is a school psychologist, so he should be more likely to initiate and/or sustain one than most.

All this *did* make me realize that there are actually many portrayals of male demisexuality out there, 'cause the gay-for-you trope is so very, very common. There's really no other way to look at it, at least for me: being sexually attracted only to the person you're super close to is what demisexuality literally means. Since almost all the stories with the gay-for-you trope have the main characters be way closer to one friend than any others, you can't really dispute it. Stefan may not be attracted to any other guys, but he's also not super close to any other guys. And then there's the fact that the only guy he maybe sort of also got attracted to, he was friends with. And nice as it is to talk about how not everything needs a label, basically I think that if you call gay people gay, there's no reason not to continue calling other things by name, too. Either everything has and needs a name, or nothing does. I'm not sure why I should really think that as soon as something becomes complex and difficult to figure out, the need for names and categories disappears. Surely it's *more* important to understand and name difficult things, rather than only the simple, black and white things. Honestly, if anything didn't need categorizing, surely it's the obvious.

You could talk about how the idea of someone only becoming gay because their friend is just that special is unrealistic, problematic or even truly negative for queer people or what have you, 'cause plenty of straight people have also had fears of being 'turned'. It's not as if queerness is actually contagious. But I don't really care about that angle, personally. Even though technically you could also solve this by calling your 'not gay' character 'queer'. Maybe it just hasn't been long enough for that usage to truly permeate and disperse far and wide enough to be broadly acceptable and accessible in fiction, although it seems like an out gay man living in the US like Ryan would be up to date with the umbrella usage of 'queer', even if he hasn't heard of demisexuality. I was actually a bit amazed a jock like Stefan even knew enough to consider his own asexuality. That's way further than most of these stories go, even in actual published LGBT fiction.

It's funny, 'cause there's definitely times demisexuality doesn't work as a label, and you should try for gay or bisexual. For example, with John Watson, given how repressed he is, yeah I'd still go for bisexual. It's one thing for a man to honestly admit they're not interested in guys that way, generally. (Though it becomes particularly damning if one doesn't generally have intense heterosexual romantic attachments either, like John.) But given that John has been so adamant, so messed up about his relationship to Sherlock... yeah, I wouldn't take any of what he says or perceives about himself at face value. Even if you accept John is actually straight, clearly he's not someone you can just believe to be honest to or about himself. While that isn't an excuse to project anything onto him as a character in an analysis, I'd say it's pretty apparent that there's something going on that he's repressing. Specifically about Sherlock. And well, demisexuality isn't about repression; it's more like a way to explain how some people may genuinely only like one person 'that way' and not dozens or hundreds, or what have you.

In *that* sense, I agree that labels are certainly tricky things, and ought to be used responsibly. You shouldn't just apply them willy-nilly, or assume they explain individual complexities where they only barely hint at them. I mean, in my opinion, the word 'gay' includes the full spectrum of behavior and attraction from hyper-sexuality to asexual homoromantic people (and more). At the same time, this breadth means any given label can't predict or explain all the aspects of a particular individual, necessarily. That's not what labels are *for*, anyway. Of course there are things there are no labels for. I mean, you could always make some, but they're certainly not always necessary. That's true.

But it's maddening to me how often characters (and people in real life) will have this conversation, like in Bromosexual, where either someone goes for the obvious or demisexuality and bisexuality are both more or less hand-waved away. I mean, I understand that demisexuality is an obscure idea, so I'm not very surprised or particularly upset about it. But bisexuality gets the same treatment in the media, and that *does* upset me. Bi erasure is real. There's enough public awareness of bisexuality that ignoring or dismissing it as a useless label it is *obviously* purposeful on some level. Or at least, whether or not a given writer meant it that way, this would still be part of a general social trend towards erasure. It's not some innocent, abstract concern about naming things that don't need a name. No, because bisexuality has a name. And it's dismissed and suppressed because people are uncomfortable. Even bisexual or otherwise queer people. And, you know, that's not OK. That's prejudice.

Anyway, I will admit that a lot of times it's awkward. A lot of people genuinely aren't comfortable with overly concrete things or into self-reflection. That's a personality quirk I'm definitely aware of. There are certainly well-meaning people with that personality quirk. There are other writers like Maggie Stiefvater, who wrote LGBT books with sympathetic and genuinely realistic portrayals of characters who're truly unlikely to use the word 'gay' at a certain point in time, let alone jumping straight to declaring themselves bisexual. However, these writers, no matter how well-meaning and realistic, are also being privileged by the people in power in society who're uncomfortable with queerness in general or bisexuality in particular. And I will also admit that many times, stories that do use labels are very self-conscious or self-important about it, and realistic characterization often suffers. I've seen plenty of explicit bisexual representation that worked for me, but I've only read one novel or fic with a believably self-aware demisexual character (Santino Hassell's Concourse). It's hard to do well, and I don't think it's always necessary; the Raven Cycle is a good example of a series that worked great without any labels.

So I saw the new Kingsman movie and as I told my mom: this is why slash happens. It remains odd to me sometimes, because as I just wrote recently, I have a strong bias to not ignore canon in terms of characterization and even the underlying philosophy of any given work. And yet I'm into transformative works, reading against the grain enough to love slash. Even times when I don't ship a popular pairing-- and Harry/Eggsy is not my thing at all-- I can frequently see it (though this doesn't happen with random pairings at all). And Kingsman: The Golden Circle shows why even a canon-whore like me could see why people go for it, basically.

It wasn't so obvious in the first movie, but even my mother had to admit that the dynamic between Harry and Eggsy is literally the only emotional anchor in the film. Their scenes are intense when nothing else rings true. There are attempted moments of angst and romance between Eggsy and his devoted girlfriend, but they fall totally flat, whether due to the acting or writing or both. The scene where his girlfriend was about to kiss him after his trip through the sewers is about as subtle as a sledgehammer: Eggsy declared that this is 'true love', and we're supposed to believe, except there was no emotional punch and zero chemistry. Compare this to the scene where Eggsy tells an amnesia stricken Harry that he needs him: BOOM! Eggsy was shining with sincerity, with intensity. And this is the problem, right there.

It becomes completely ridiculous in Kingsman in a way it isn't in BBC Sherlock with John and Mary (as opposed to his relationship with Sherlock) because Kingsman is a farce, and the only really good acting is in Colin Firth's role as Harry. Firth really makes Taron Egerton shine in their scenes together. By contrast, Sherlock is consistently well-made, almost always strongly acted. And yet the huge divergence between the things we're asked to believe about the heterosexual couple ('true love'!) and the attention the relationship gets and its emotional intensity is still staggering.

It's especially ridiculous when the two men have a vulnerability with each other, an emotional intimacy that is all but taken for granted, while the heterosexual couple gets married... for much less of an apparent connection. Again, it's much more obvious in Kingsman, but the problem is the underlying understanding of women and relationships by the men predominantly writing these stories. Of course, the Kingsman movies were co-written by Jane Goldman, just as Sherlock was co-written by Mark Gatiss, so there are attempts to break the mold at multiple points. It's just not enough. In Kingsman, Eggsy calls his girlfriend to ask her permission to have sex for a mission. This is some next level feminist-friendly behavior, in my opinion. Except then she tried to say it's only all right if he married her, gave her that commitment-- proved he was on a leash. This is extremely manipulative, stereotypical female behavior to the point I'd consider using marriage in an ultimatum this way to be a misogynist trope. And Eggsy looked queasy and completely unprepared, just as John was at the idea of Mary's pregnancy. These are not things that they wanted, not the life these men wanted to lead. And yet both ultimately fell in line after the inevitable break to adjust and/or 'man up', I suppose. After all, this is 'true love'.

Essentially, the problem is that the relationship with the love interest is taken for granted and often uses multiple sexist tropes or stereotypes as short-cuts, including behavior that should be unforgivable in Mary Morstan's case. It's not as well-acted, not as important. Understandably, since it's not part of the plot. The real issue is that the story nevertheless treats the male friendship which it's actually focused on as subordinate, as less vital. In the end, Eggsy seemingly quits his job as an undercover agent to marry a princess, and John becomes a family man (though at least we know he still helps out on cases). On one level, this can be seen as the natural end of a Hero's Journey, or the natural progression of a heterosexual man's life... except then there's Harry (or Sherlock), and Harry doesn't fit. And Harry has a problem. Harry is a problem.

The thing is, we're not supposed to care. It's supposed to be normal, or at least acceptable. Like Sherlock, Harry is a man who consciously chose to be alone, though unlike Sherlock, he regrets it. However, there's nothing to be done, and we see Harry at Eggsy's wedding, just as John and Sherlock obviously remain very close. The thing is, though, to get back to my original point: Eggsy and Harry (or Sherlock and John) are real in a way the heterosexual couple can't begin to match. That's where the emotional intimacy is. That moment when Harry tells Eggsy he didn't think of anyone in the moments after he was shot, and he wants more for Eggsy: in my opinion, that's what romance is actually made of. That's where the actual story is. It just seems deeply unnatural to give the happy ending to someone else (though with Sherlock, this is more fudged, and you can argue John and Sherlock have their happy ending after all). Kingsman is more classic in that regard.

It's not that I personally ship Harry/Eggsy and think they should literally be together instead. I agree with my mom that their relationship is a lot more like father/son than lovers. That's my point: that's why it's transformative, that's why it's slash and not a reading of canon. It's not that I think Eggsy wants Harry that way or even should, which clarifies my thought processes in a way Sherlock has muddled. It's the contrast between the natural and central platonic dynamics and the forced and unnatural heterosexual couple which is given way too much primacy and respect by the narrative. This had long been seen as the foundation for slash, and it's going strong. It's not simply about heteronormativity, because it's all right to say 'Eggsy is straight' or even 'John isn't gay' and take it at face value, in the end. It's all about the toxic concept of masculinity in these sort of action-adventure heroic narratives. That's behind the way heteronormativity intertwines with the portrayal of women and the sidelined yet pumped up heterosexual relationships in these types of action-adventure stories. That is what's simply unnatural.

Against my better judgment, I was talking about Sherlock recently, and I had a realization about the use of Rosie. After Series 3, we'd all been wondering about the baby for a long time, and I actually wrote a whole post insisting 'Parentlock is Very Unlikely', convinced the baby wasn't really gonna happen permanently, all evidence to the contrary. It just didn't make sense structurally to me; it didn't *fit* with the show, seemed too much like a convenient plot device in HLV for John's forgiveness to be a permanent fixture. Anyway, so I was thinking in passing about how we don't really know if John moved back in at 221b at the end, but he probably wasn't intended to, and how it ultimately seems pointless and wrong. Except well, there has to be a point.

Why wouldn't John move back in?

First of all, you have to realize I'm only talking about what the text can suggest about Authorial Intent. I'm simply curious, that's all. Second, you have to accept that (from what I can tell) the goal Mofftiss have with writing BBC Sherlock has been to sort of play with the entire Holmes canon and universe (taking a generous view), modernizing while paying homage. Moffat and Gatiss don't mind changing things dramatically in terms of characterization or plot, especially to fit with the shifts in time and genre, but there's usually some kind of very broad intent to retain a Conan Doyle (or Wilder, with Irene and Mycroft) canon feeling even with the twists and turns. There's a certain aesthetic that's personal to them, but my point is that they seem to try to keep the major outlines intact.

So I was thinking, well, 221b is kind of sacrosanct in canon for Holmes and Watson. This is their refuge, their cozy home in the battlefield of London, as well as being their place of business. 221b is eternally representative of the partnership, of who they are together. On the one hand, this is why many Holmes fans were dying to have John back, and it's why the whole story with John's chair being back after Sherlock moving it was an issue in HLV. John's presence, his residence and his place as Sherlock's partner-- it means a lot. At the same time, there's Rosie. And while we see Rosie in 221b, we see it being rebuilt with her in mind in TFP, the fact is, the place isn't that different. Their relationship has been symbolically rebuilt just as 221b has been, and it's changed but not drastically transformed. Not as fundamentally different as it would become if Rosie was an actual resident, I think.

Rosie is a huge change. John is a father, so his priority can't just be Sherlock and cases. So this is inarguably a shift away from their previous state of being. They may have become 'family', as Sherlock told Mycroft, and their bond is permanent, but they're still Sherlock and John. That's the primary point. They're not Rosie's parents, first and foremost. John is primarily Sherlock's partner in crime solving, not parenting, and John has his own life even if Sherlock's a huge part of it. This is, more or less, canon after Watson's marriage: Watson living away, still visiting for cases. Not drifting away, exactly, but at a different stage in his life. I think that's the idea.

It seems that after Series 4, an increasing number of people think BBC Sherlock is TPLoSH come again. Sherlock is therefore in unrequited love with John (ala Molly, seen as Sherlock's own mirror). Whether it's because they cannot unsee the gay pining in TSoT or because a loving John wouldn't have beat up Sherlock or blamed him for Mary's death, it is what it is. And either that's okay, or (more commonly) it's the reason people leave fandom or simply reject BBC John as hateful and Johnlock more broadly, or at least shipping it in canon. The way I see it, however, BBC Sherlock only makes sense and works for Mofftiss' stated purposes in showing how Sherlock became a 'good man' and John and Sherlock became the legendary Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson in two ways.

Version One: it was always just really intense devotion, true platonic love at first sight. John is 'not gay' as in he's heterosexual, and Sherlock made the choice to be pure mind, as Moffat has said. So basically, he's not gay or straight because he's not anything, as I discussed in my post-S4 reading of ASiB and Sherlock's sexuality. Sherlock genuinely angsted over losing his life with John in TSoT, as I've said post-S4, but it doesn't mean that he's in love. It certainly could be but doesn't have to be read romantically to make sense. Given we're interested in making the show work as a narrative, I think TSoT works best as a tribute, a high point before John and Sherlock's slide into prolonged suffering, and a narrative demonstration of the parallels between John and Sherlock and John with Mary.

This is the level of nerdery I'm at: anytime I have to talk to someone named John, I'm like, '.... John.... *fond sigh*' haha This happens often 'cause the balding middle-aged lawn mower guy is called John. 😘

Alas, though it may seem from my last post on Sherlock Series 4 that I'm always obsessively going 'with the grain' of the text, I'm actually not a total purist.... Though I admit it sounds false when I just say so. So, all right, I'm probably a textual purist and/or a canon-whore (as I've often lamented), but I've been around. I mean, I've been a lurker in so many fandoms (usually at the far edges, where the truly wild things are), of course I've worn the 'transformative reading' shoe on my own foot before, so to speak. Usually I make up all sorts of *reasons* for why my relationship with Draco Malfoy or Loki is 'not the same' (and I did just recently), but my point is that I know what frustration with the canon feels like. I think that's a pretty universal experience, surely. It's probably impossible to always take everything in stride; if nothing else, sometimes the writing is just... bad. Right?

Sometimes that's not the problem, of course. I was never in fandom for Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series, but I remember my outrage quite clearly. I felt let down on a very fundamental level, even though now, I would probably try to rationalize it. I would probably say, 'well of course Will and Lyra are apart, that's the kind of story it always was'. That's the sort of thing I'm used to saying about The Raven Cycle and Sherlock, right? Except even then, young and relatively innocent as I was, I was certainly aware that it was an inevitable, built-in issue of narrative type. It's just... I didn't want to accept it. It went against every natural feeling in me, 'cause I was so certain the protagonist shouldn't *have to* go back home after their adventure in the fantasy world. Like, yeah, I know that's a founding trope of the entire genre, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Well, everyone has their limits, and things they are and aren't interested in seeing, particularly in genre fiction (where the whole idea is to have a special slant to reality). I don't begrudge people who need to nope out of any story, and of course I also understand the urge to fix what seems 'wrong' even if technically it's intrinsic to the story. I rebelled against Spike having to die as the ending of his relationship with Buffy, for sure. I read tons of fix-it fics. For an even better example than Buffy, or even Draco's arc in the Harry Potter books, you have Loki in the Thor movies. I was talking about it recently, and my friend told me that Loki and Thor's relationship is tragically doomed. Like, well, I get that it's basically what the story is saying, but... well, I don't think Loki and Thor *have* to be doomed. I think they're stuck in an endless cycle, stuck in this story *together* without beginning or end, and it ultimately seems satisfying and natural to imagine an actual resolution and growth for Loki. Same for Draco or Spike: where there's growth, there's a way.

I will defend BBC John Watson to the death.

I've been thinking about the John characterization in Hubblegleeflower's post-S3 fic 'In the Dark Hours', in the context of S4 and specifically The Lying Detective. It really seems on-point, even prescient. I was also thinking about what Ivy said about John's inherent violence, how "when John is bad, he is terrible", and how disappointed in himself he was in TLD. The fic makes me think about what John must have wondered about himself *before* Mary's idealization to have the dissonance hit him *so* hard, that he'd have to punish himself and Sherlock and lash out so extremely. In the fic, a younger John sounds like shades of Sherlock-- wondering if there something 'wrong' with him for being addicted to danger, for getting off on the rush, enjoying these things to make himself feel alive. That tendency to say and act the right way in order to 'seem normal'-- he actually has that in common with Sherlock, except that (of course) John is much better at it.

On the other hand, I agree with John's own conclusion in the fic and with Ivy that John is actually not 'like that'. He's definitely not like Mary (as per all those endless debates post-HLV); he *is* a good moral compass after all *because* "he knows exactly what it means to be pointed the wrong way". At the same time, the fact that he'd wondered about himself seems realistic. Seems *likely*, even. If Sherlock is someone who has tried-- and ultimately failed-- to make himself into a high-functioning sociopath after Eurus, as I wrote recently, John is coming at his persona from the other direction. Trying to be *normal*, trying to do good, trying to be someone he thinks-- he knows-- he's not.

A lot of people depended on John to be Series 1 John even after Series 3, essentially, even though Sherlock told us in HLV that John is addicted to a 'certain lifestyle' and 'abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people'. John is not surprised, he just says *Mary* wasn't supposed to be 'like that'; he's not happy about his attraction to all these things but he was *aware* of it, and he wanted to get away from it. It seems to be that instead of an arc, what we have here is a sort of deconstruction. We started out with John and Sherlock in opposite corners in Series 1, and they're in opposite corners again in Series 4, except they're the flipside of each other. Sherlock is the 'good man' even though he'd shot someone to protect someone else, and John... John is a bit 'not good', but he has a heart. He's still human. On the abstract level as well as implicitly, being truly established partners in TFP, they've met in the middle.

I know I've said yesterday that my problem is that Sherlock's arc encompasses and sort of *consumes* John's role, with John not really being able to match Sherlock's growth due to being the deuteragonist. I agree with @plaidadder's comment on @ravenmorganleigh's post, about the growing fannish consensus that "John and Sherlock's emotional arcs are no longer intertwined" in Series 4. I do still disagree that this means Sherlock's growth in Series 4 is somehow more about Eurus and Mycroft (and Mary!) instead. Certainly (but more subtly), John's arc also didn't suddenly become about Mary either, if nothing else then because everything (but everything!) in this show has always been about Sherlock. Although this means Mary's not the *point* in TLD, in many ways it also means that unfortunately, John is not the point either. I do agree with the analysis in that the plot of TLD is essentially *all* orchestrated by Sherlock (including John's beating, which was demonstrably part of Sherlock's plan to stop Smith). The only bits Sherlock didn't predict were to do with Eurus, and more broadly the fact that Mary was shown to be wrong, because she didn't know John the way Sherlock did. As I said, and I cannot emphasize this enough, this is because everything is about Sherlock.