#sherlock analysis

I'm a screenwriter—not a professional one, but an autodidact. I haven’t had anything produced, but I have written several original screenplays. One of the most basic things you learn as a writer in general, and especially in screenwriting, is the concept of the character arc. It’s the art of starting a character off as one thing, taking them through a process of deconstruction or challenge, and letting them emerge as something different.

An exercise I enjoy is watching films or TV shows and analysing a character’s arc. I try to spot hints of how a character will change by the end of an episode, a season, or the entire series. That’s part of why I particularly love Michael Schur’s shows—Parks and Recreation, The Office, Brooklyn Nine-Nine. In the Michael Schur universe, character arcs are blatantly laid out for you in the pilot episode. There’s absolutely no need to philosophize or guess: the characters often state it themselves, or it’s clearly expressed through others.

Take, for example, Michael Scott.

In the Office pilot, he’s genuinely a terrible boss and a trashcan of a person. But we’re immediately shown his arc via one simple prop: a coffee mug. “World’s Best Boss.” That’s his journey—to become that boss, if not in the world, then at least in Dunder Mifflin.

Or take Jake Peralta. In B99’s pilot, Terry introduces the squad to Captain Holt with:

“Jacob Peralta is my best detective — he likes putting away bad guys, and he loves solving puzzles. The only puzzle he hasn’t solved… is how to grow up.”

From that alone, you know where Jake is headed. By the end of the show, he’ll still be the squad’s best detective, but he’ll also be a grown-up: a dad, a partner, someone who takes his job seriously and earns the respect of his captain.

In the Parks and Rec original pilot script, Leslie outright declares that she’ll be America’s first female president. In the aired pilot, the message is softened a bit when Leslie says:

“You know, government isn’t just a boy’s club anymore. Women are everywhere. It’s a great time to be a woman in politics. Hillary Clinton, Sarah Palin, me.”

There it is: Leslie’s arc will involve her rising through the boys’ club of American politics and becoming a truly great public servant (and maybe—even if it’s never clearly stated—the first female president).

So now that I’ve set the scene a bit—understanding how a character arc is seeded in a pilot—let’s talk about Sherlock.

What are we told about John and Sherlock in the pilot that sets up their character arcs?

Let’s start with Sherlock, because that one is spoon-fed to the audience—by none other than Lestrade. In response to John’s question, “Why do you put up with him?”, Lestrade says:

“Because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think, one day, if we’re very, very lucky, he might even be a good one.”

That’s it. That’s Sherlock’s arc. The writers are telling us outright: here’s a brilliant but emotionally disconnected man. And the journey ahead of him isn’t about intellect, but about goodness. About connection, humanity, compassion. Becoming not just great, but good. And, if I might add a bit of Johnlock, not just to anyone—but through John, with John, and ultimately because of John.

Now, John’s arc is a little less obvious in my opinion, though just as important—and it’s given to us by Mycroft, who says:

“You’re not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson—you miss it.”

To me, this says: here is a traumatized soldier who never fully came back from war. He’s unmoored, disconnected, half-alive. "Nothing ever happens to me." And the arc we should expect? A man who, over time, things happen to him and he finds peace. Who finds meaning in his civilian life—back in London, in friendship, in purpose, in (perhaps) love. Who, by the end of the series, no longer misses the war.

That’s the setup. That’s what we were promised. Or at the very least, that's what I feel I was promised.

Only… whatever I feel was promised never actually happened.

In fact, Sherlock ends up delivering the complete opposite. In Seasons 3 and 4, the show leans into Sherlock as a mythic, near-supernatural figure—the “adult who never was a child.” This directly contradicts the idea of humanising him. The sudden introduction of Eurus shifts the focus from internal growth to external spectacle. His evolution becomes a reaction to trauma, not a conscious transformation toward goodness.

By the end of The Lying Detective, Sherlock is still fundamentally isolated and emotionally unavailable. Despite supposedly learning to “connect,” he doesn’t share emotionally in any meaningful way—not with John, not with Eurus, not with Molly. The “I love you” scene is a puzzle to be solved, not a moment of genuine vulnerability. John and Sherlock’s confrontation at the end of TLD achieves absolutely nothing in terms of their openness or intimacy.

Sherlock's arc—of becoming a good man—is never achieved. Now, we can argue about that, because Sherlock is a softie at times. He is kind. And don’t get me wrong—when Michael Scott leaves Dunder Mifflin, he’s by no means a perfect boss. But he’s loved by Pam, he’s missed by Jim, and the Dunder Mifflin team has learned to respect him in their own way.

I know some of you are itching to shout that Sherlock's arc won't be complete without S5 and in theory, I agree! But! Lest we forget, Lestrade’s “prophecy” (supposedly) comes full circle in The Final Problem:

"No, he’s better than that. He’s a good one."

This, supposedly, is the great moment of The Payoff. Here stands Sherlock, A Good Man™.

Which… always makes me scratch my head.

Is he, Lestrade? Really? What is it, exactly, in those last few days that convinces you of that? What moment between The Six Thatchers and The Final Problem gives you that impression?

Nothing. Really—nothing. This, for me, is absolutely zero character arc payoff.

Now, what about John—who was supposed to come back from the war, or at most, get his adrenaline kicks chasing criminals with Sherlock through the streets of London?

Mary’s death completely hijacks John's growth as a character. Rather than showing John finding stability in his marriage and family (or with Sherlock, in whatever shape that takes), the show strips it all away. And worse, it distances him from Sherlock once more—throwing him into another spiral of guilt and rage, effectively rebooting his trauma rather than resolving it.

The finale gives John no closure. We don’t know where John is emotionally by the end of The Final Problem. Is he at peace? Are we supposed to believe that a happy montage fixes everything? Does he still crave danger? Does he still feel violent impulses toward Sherlock?

I can’t even begin to think when or how Mycroft’s seed of John’s arc—“you miss the war”—comes full circle in The Final Problem. Unlike Lestrade’s line about Sherlock, there’s nothing that brings that theme to any kind of resolution. It’s as though Moftiss forgot to give John a conclusion altogether.

I’ve sometimes wondered if Sherlock’s words to John in TLD—“We might all just be human”—were meant to gesture at John’s arc. But… why would it?

John never struggled to understand that he was human. That wasn’t his arc. That wasn’t his flaw. He knew he was human and he always craved for that humanity from Sherlock. So what, then, was that line supposed to resolve?

I can play devil's advocate here. Character arcs can be negative. A character doesn't always have to have a happy ending, and had Moftiss boldly done that, I would have appreciated it. But they hadn't- they give us a weird ass montage with John and Sherlock happily giggling at Rosie. It's just feels like there's absolutely no conclusion for John, whether negative or positive.

Adding insult to injury, Mary’s 'speech' during the final montage is actually dismissive of their "growth":

“There are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat. Like they’ve always been there, and always will.”

Which completely negates the idea that they’ve changed. At that point, they’re not like they’ve always been. John's quite possibly worse than when we met him.

“The best and wisest men I have ever known.”

Again—what’s with the John erasure? Let’s say, for the sake of argument, Sherlock is better now—what makes him wise? And John’s arc was never about becoming wise, so what does that even mean?

“My Baker Street boys.”

Are they? Are they still the Baker Street boys (I hate that nickname)? We’re never told if John and Rosie move back in. In fact, in a Q&A Moftiss declare John does not return to Baker Street.

And that’s just it, isn’t it?

The Final Problem finale doesn’t fail because it was mysterious or ambiguous or hilariously bad or tragic. It fails because it abandons the emotional contract it made with its viewers in the very first episode. It forgets the arcs it promised, the healing it hinted at, the people these characters were meant to become.

But Jesus Fucking Christ Jim!

Anyway the fight scene looks so weird and sherlock would be unconscious irl with his head slammed 3 times against a table

The fighting itself like the moves so useless, sherlock just punching him in the chest whats that supposed to do? Go for a weak spot the eyes the throat nose crotch joints sherlock should know this

And ajay would be dead with the bust being full force hit against his head skull fracture

“Is that a British army browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Both”

Sherlock is clearly pleased to meet him and Moriarty is glad Sherlock is putting in effort. Let’s not forget the intimacy. If he shoots, they both go down. Sherlock is aware it couldn’t be this easy, nor would he ever want to kill Moriarty anyway. It’s once again the Shakespearian notion that they’re forever connected, intertwined in an intellectual romance, even in death, which makes sense considering their passively suicidal tendencies.

“I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see”“Like you” 

S: “Consulting criminal. brilliant.” A moment of pure admiration from Sherlock.

M: “isn’t it?” 

Another parallel. Of course, many of which are the products of Moriarty’s life long obsession with Sherlock. 

*John looks at Sherlock* He’s searching to decode whether Sherlock is with him or if he’s aligning with Moriarty on some deeper and more unsettling level. John wants reassurance that Sherlock isn’t crossing into Moriarty’s territory, where morality and loyalty are fluid.

*Moriarty looks at John looking at Sherlock* Moriarty of course notices that, he understands what an influence John is to Sherlock even if it’s subconscious. So he decides to play along, to be the villain everyone wants him to be, thus allowing Sherlock to become the hero, making this moment more comfortable for Sherlock. Ultimately, as I've stated before, Moriarty longs to free Sherlock from the chains of responsibility that don't reflect his true values, thus freeing himself (mostly from the loneliness, by having someone who's on the same page), but to do so he can't risk scaring Sherlock off.

"*Moriarty smiling* No one ever gets to me, *face darkens* and no one ever will”

The singsong tone is followed by a voice drop. It’s not hard to notice that the charisma is an act, it is a part of the Moriarty, "The Criminal Mastermind" persona. So here that first half of the line in singsong is a way to trick John into thinking that this is just a normal “crazy funny villain and the serious hero” situation. Which of course it is not. Then the second part of the line is a very cold “ and no one ever will”. Now that was said directly to Sherlock.

(Let me explain how to understand most of these lines with this example:

Moriarty says something that is such a basic villain line that “villain: 101” should sue. But what he says doesn’t matter in the context of “the game”, if we think of this line literally, the only thing it's adding to the tension of their rivalry is the challenge of unattainability. But it’s not about the game anymore. Nothing in The Pool scene actually is. Such basic villain lines don't matter in their content. All that matters is HOW Moriarty says them. The words were basically said to John, but the intention behind them was bluetoothed directly to Sherlock.)

He says it so calmly and yet with a note of despair, this hopeless level of indifference and emotional resignation that he couldn’t hide, that his fun act can’t cover. 

This line has more significance than it seems so on the surface. A theory is that with this line Moriarty admits to his loneliness, he jokes about it first, concealing the meaning behind with the very literal unapproachability that comes with his job, but ultimately no one gets (to) him, because no one understand/reaches him personally and emotionally. He might even be sceptical that Sherlock actually could, maybe he’s Moriarty’s only chance, which considering what happens in the Reichenbach fall, seems to become a reason for his suicide (with calling Sherlock "ordinary"). He’s been disappointed all his life, he’s so used to the isolation, so it seems natural to doubt the possibility of happiness. And so he communicates that with Sherlock, his only chance, he reaches out, because he knows Sherlock understands that feeling, that untreatable loneliness of unreachable ideals, which in a way makes it all even more heartbreaking. This glimpse of hope, Sherlock, in front of him and a painful crumb of realisation (“and no one ever will”) that the connection he seeks may be impossible after all…

*cocks gun* “I did” Sherlock doesn’t let the moment linger for too long and answers back with confidence. 

Sherlock truly is the first person to really meet him. Moriarty is a puppet master which means everything is done remotely, he “knows people”. But Sherlock is the only person who was actually allowed to see him, whether literally or figuratively.

Now… I would normally leave it at that, but something about this moment hooked me. I must warn you that this is some deep water, bottom-of-iceberg shit that you’re about to read.

REGARDING THE *cocks gun*:

I did some mild research and cocking a gun usually means “establishing control, authority”, I think everyone knew that. But what’s interesting is that the gun useless here in a traditional sense. It isn’t a threat, as NO ONE HERE CARES ABOUT THEIR LIVES. Which then means that it’s symbolic.

I WON’T BE ANALYSING THE GUN SYMBOLISM HERE. PLEASE I’VE BEEN IN THE DUNGEON WRITING 20 PAGES OF THIS ALREADY (I want to do it someday though, I think it's very interesting and GAY)

What will do though is walk you through everything that this moment could mean. Which is a lot.

1. Playing the Hero for John  

 The *cocks gun* moment is, above all, for John. Sherlock knows that John needs reassurance, not just of his safety but of Sherlock’s allegiance to morality and goodness.  The cocked gun signals that Sherlock isn’t on Moriarty’s side, that Sherlock hasn’t been seduced by the villainous allure of Moriarty’s chaotic world. It’s a signal to John that, at least in this moment, Sherlock chooses him. 

2. Sherlock’s fear of vulnerability and threatened identity

It’s also important what that gesture means to Sherlock himself. He’s in the middle of this intense intellectual and emotional push-and-pull with Moriarty, someone who fascinates him, understands him, and yet challenges him in ways John can’t. 

Sherlock is so invested in maintaining the illusion of invulnerability, not just for Moriarty or John but for himself. Acknowledging fully that he loves and needs this connection would shatter the way he defines himself. 

Sherlock’s fear of vulnerability runs deep, and it often manifests as denial—of feelings, of needs, even of his own humanity. With Moriarty, the connection is so raw, so intense, that it’s almost impossible for Sherlock to face without losing the carefully constructed emotional distance he clings to.

Cocking the gun could be a way for Sherlock to reassert his own identity, to remind himself and everyone else that he isn’t like Moriarty, that he has lines he won’t cross. The gun becomes a tool of self-protection, not physically, but emotionally. He’s essentially saying, “I’m not like you. I’m not drawn to you. I don’t feel this.” But the very intensity of his reaction suggests the opposite. He does feel it, profoundly, and that terrifies him more than any bomb or bullet ever could. 

3. Emotional Deflection through aggression

Sherlock is creating a barrier between them by cocking the gun, a way to avoid confronting the depth of their connection. 

And then there’s Moriarty, who seems to recognize this instinctive defense for what it is. He doesn’t flinch, he just watches with this almost knowing, dark amusement, suggesting that he sees right through it. Moriarty understands that Sherlock’s aggression is rooted in fear, and maybe even hurt, at the prospect of what their connection means. Moriarty doesn’t flinch because he knows the gun isn’t the real weapon here, it’s Sherlock’s emotional avoidance. Moriarty’s indifference to his life in that moment reinforces this. He’s not afraid of dying, what wounds him is Sherlock’s inability (or refusal) to meet him on that emotional plane, even though it’s what they both crave deep down. And to be fair threatening with a gun is such a "normie" move. Not only isn't it a threat, but Moriarty probably likes it. Ignoring the emotional connotations of this moment, this was flirting more than it was ever tactical.

In a way, both of them are locked in this tragic dance, afraid to admit they want the same thing: to be understood, to be gotten. But while Moriarty expresses his fear as defiance, Sherlock buries his in shame and instinctual rejection.

It’s also ironic that he hates the idea of being a hero, of being boxed into John’s moral framework, but he uses it here because it’s convenient. It gives him an excuse to push Moriarty away under the guise of righteousness. 

4. Returning to the Game to Avoid the Emotion: 

Sherlock’s inner conflict: He needs to say something to continue the game (which they both love), but the truth behind his words is dangerously real: “I see you. I understand you.” It’s a confession disguised as a taunt. 

The *cocks gun* and “I did” together are Sherlock’s attempt to drag the moment back into the comfort of their shared game, away from the messy, vulnerable reality beneath. Let's not forget the line before this "No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will". Sherlock's smug answer is almost like saying "yo, what are you talking about, can we just like, be normal?".

The line is textbook intellectual sparring, a move in their game, where Sherlock is claiming a small win over Moriarty. But beneath the surface, this line is charged with raw emotion. It’s Sherlock’s way of acknowledging Moriarty’s vulnerability while hiding his own. The cocky delivery is Sherlock’s shield, a way to keep things “in the game” rather than letting them spiral into the emotional realm that terrifies him.  

This is classic Sherlock. He frames everything as intellectual so he doesn’t have to confront the emotional. But the irony, is that his response betrays his emotions more than he realizes. By adopting the “hero” role here, Sherlock not only reassures John but also deflects attention from the growing tension between himself and Moriarty.

Yet Moriarty hears the disguised confession in “I did,” even if Sherlock is trying to drown it out with smugness. It’s like he’s patiently waiting for Sherlock to catch up emotionally, to stop hiding behind his role as the hero and see the truth of their dynamic for what it is. 

SUMMARY:

On the surface, it’s a simple game move: Sherlock reasserts control.  But beneath that, it’s profoundly emotional—two people who understand each other deeply, who see themselves reflected in the other, but who are too guarded to fully acknowledge it. It’s a moment of connection, disguised as competition, wrapped in deflection.  

M: “You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way”

Basically to translate: “you are truly remarkable, because you’ve gotten so close that now you’re capable of disrupting my plans, which no one before was able to do”.

The singing tone this time implies that his plans, his work don’t mean much to him. Sherlock is in his way and he doesn't mind one bit. It’s not really about all that, all his criminal work was the best high he could get when he couldn't have a connection with Sherlock. The real point here is that Sherlock cracked him, Sherlock passed the test. He saw through his villain behavior and found a lonely, tortured sould just like him. Sherlock was able to understand Jim and that intimacy is what Moriarty values more than anything. So yes, it is a compliment. but Moriarty says “closest” as if it’s still not close enough, that’s a hint for the hopelessness Moriarty feels. I don’t think at this point they’re fully aware of just how deeply they need one another, the feeling of being understood, valued and accepted, whilst being intellectually stimulated and entertained. “Thank you” Sherlock demonstrates their understanding and connection, even if here he's probably answering in the context of the game(aka: he's the first to come so close to an opponent of such class). And he genuinely appreciates the compliment, their mutual respect is apparent.

M: “I didn’t mean it as a compliment” was definitely teasing.

S: “yes you did”

M: “yeah, okay I did” (cutie :3)

I often see people comparing William and Fyodor and I mean sure, I don’t know Fyodor enough to tell you how much they might be similar, but then who is Sherly compared to ? I always see dazai, but I think that y’all are just missing out on this one.

Sherlock is Ranpo. And I know I just lit up something in your brain right now if you never thought about it.

It's funny how you think I can choose.

OST track would have to be Irene Adler's Theme (The Woman) or Who You Really Are.

Quote? Literally the script is GOLDEN. It's so well written how could I ever choos-

"Because I took your pulse."

"I was just playing the game." — "I know. And this is just losing."

"You look sad, when you think he can't see you."

"Whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now I own I swear I will always be there. Always."

"The problems of your past are your business. The problems of your future are my privilege."

"Taking your own life. Interesting expression. Taking it from who? Once it's over, it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is. It your own, so keep your hands off it."

"Who you thought I was, is the man who I want to be."

"It's okay." — "It's not okay." — "No. But it is what it is."

Sherlock states throughout the show that he is an emotionless sociopath. Many people seem to agree and think that that explains his arrogant behavior and anti social tendencies. However, this is not fully correct. Granted, I have not yet finished the show, therefore I do not know if it is addressed later on, but there are moments in the show where his behavior contradicts that of a sociopath, especially during season 3. Then I began thinking, "Why would Sherlock so blatantly declare himself a sociopath if it were not so?"

The most probable answer I could come up with was: Mycroft. What I can say for Sherlock, I cannot say the same for Mycroft. During an episode, Sherlock states that he thought he was dumb before meeting other children which implies two things. 1. There was a (long [if he can recall it so well]) time where he had little to no socialization with people other than his family and more specifically his brother, and 2. During this time, Mycroft would tell him repeatedly that he was stupid.

As it is shown throughout the series, Mycroft does seem to be in ways smarter than Sherlock. Being the younger sibling, it is understandable that Sherlock would look up to his brother and would like to be like him. What if Sherlock noticed that Mycroft was different, that he thought only with logic and reason rather than emotions? Then Sherlock would surely think that that is why Mycroft is smarter. What if then Sherlock began imitating him and training himself to "not feel", because emotion "is a grit in a sensitive instrument”? But of course, due to human error we are not always perfect at what we train ourselves to be, which is why Sherlock shows empathy, sympathy and love through the series, and why he was so shaken about feeling fear "for the first time" even though he implies that Mycroft used to scare him with stories as a child. Of course, these are only my thoughts about the subject, and I'm only referring to the BBC show.