I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere: Leah Guinn

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<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<o:p>"These are very deep waters" [SPEC] </o:p></h4>
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[<b><i>Editor's Note:</i></b> this is the 11th in our <a href="http://www.ihearofsherlock.com/search/label/Series%204#.WH4nefkrLb0" target="_blank">series of reviews</a> of <i>Sherlock</i> Series 4. And if we have to tell you that there are <b>spoilers below</b>, you really need to spend more time with us.]<br />
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Dear readers, I may review books from time to time, but I am
not a media critic. The nuances of film, etc., slide right past me, unnoticed,
and I am remarkably unpicky. Basically, I want a good story and characters I
can care about. For the past six years, BBC's <i>Sherlock</i> has delivered that in big
heaping covered plattersful. Lest anyone think that I am completely uncritical
of Moffat and Gatiss’ creation, let me say that the first time I saw <i>Sherlock</i>,
I was unimpressed. I was a new Sherlockian, a zealous guardian of the Canon,
and when I happened onto the middle of “The Blind Banker” on PBS, I thought it
was really boring and possibly even stupid. Was Watson in love with that girl?
Sherlock Holmes doesn’t look like that. Dudes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>*Click</b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Perhaps a year
later, I decided to try the show again, this time starting at the beginning. By
this time, I had read dozens of pastiches. I had begun to look at the Canon in
a historical context, and had become more acquainted with Sir Arthur’s personal
life than he would think proper. I could slide in and out of 1895 at will, and
this time, I was enchanted by the time Benedict Cumberbatch said “Afghanistan
or Iraq?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">And I stayed that
way. Friends, I was very loyal, very quickly. Did I love every single thing the
writers came up with?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course not. I
still think “The Blind Banker” is a little lame, but it has some wonderful lines.
I feel the same way about “The Hounds of Baskerville,” but as a Hoosier who has
actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">been </i>to Liberty, Indiana, I
can forgive the DEVI/HOUN fusion that deprived me of a giant, phosphorescent
hound (Plus, does anyone miss the whole icky “she’s my sister” bit? I thought not).
When Series 3 came along, however, I was bowled over, because this—this is what
I came for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h3>
"it is a matter of history" [BRUC]</h3>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">For most of my life,
I have been enthralled, not by fiction, but by <i><b>history</b></i>. So many people, so like, so different, separated from us only by ticking seconds. We “learn” about them,
or at least we think we do. You, and I, and most of the Sherlockians we know
can cite birth and death and publication dates. We can list the important
events in Arthur Conan Doyle’s life; we have one diary, a roman à clef,
letters, and an autobiography. But if I think of my life, and you think of
yours, I think we might agree that the most important moments in both are not
those we can plot on a calendar. Sir Arthur remembered March 15<sup>th</sup> as
the day he met his second wife, Jean Leckie, but at what moment did he finally
give himself permission to love her? When did he know that his father could no
longer be his father? When did he begin to replace his actual son with the “spirit”
he “spoke” with? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me, there was the
moment my daughter was born, and the moment I became a mother. There are the
things we do, and the things we are, and they are not necessarily one and the
same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">In the Canon, we read
quite a lot about the things Holmes and Watson do. They meet, they have
adventures, they solve crimes. Watson gets married twice. Holmes does the
occasional (legal!) drug and smokes a lot. There is excellent banter and fog. There
are puzzles and clever deductions, all in Conan Doyle’s pleasantly
stripped-down prose. For a lot of Sherlockians, I think, this is enough. We see
a man we admire (or with whom we identify), using science and logic to serve
the cause of Right. We see a friendship that never ends, mostly unencumbered by
jobs and spouses and family and even “death.” We know who the bad guys are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">For me, however (and
for a lot of people—I am not unique here), the best parts of the Canon are the ones
Conan Doyle occasionally let slip. “It must tend to some end.” “…there still
remains the cocaine bottle.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“For years
I had gradually weaned….” “It was worth a wound….”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Sir </span>Arthur was a romantic, passionate man in an
age of emotional repression. He gave us the things Holmes and Watson <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did,</i> while the men they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were</i> remained largely hidden. I would argue
that, with a few exceptions (Jeremy Brett’s Holmes providing many of them) most
film adaptations pre-2009 have done the same, taking at face value Conan Doyle’s
view of his detective as “a calculating machine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h3>
"a new element has been introduced" [SILV]</h3>
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Moffat and Gatiss have never pretended that their Sherlock
Holmes is a machine, no matter what John shouts at him in frustration. A
sociopath, “high-functioning” or otherwise?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> 
</span>Please. Series 1 and 2 hint at this, somewhat canonically, but Series 3
decides to go deeper. How do you respond if you’re John Watson and your best
friend has just returned from the dead? What do you think, when you’re Sherlock
Holmes and your only friend punches you in the face when you gave up nearly
everything to save him and the family you’ve made for yourself?<br />
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One of the
fascinating things about Cumberbatch’s Holmes is that a lot of people have been
able to identify with what may seem to be problematic aspects of his character.
For me, the portrayal of an introvert who is very sure he doesn’t fit in with “normal”
people, who wants to connect but overinvests and withdraws from friends in
turn, and who demands reassurance of their affection in subtle (or for
Sherlock, not so subtle) ways rang strikingly true. To see Sherlock gradually
begin to realize that he had friends who liked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>, and that, while their lives changed in ways his did not, he
remained important to them, was touching. He grew during that season, arguably
in ways that the canonical Holmes did not.<br />
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Because of this, I could look past the silly
“knife in the belt” thing and the really uncomfortable “let’s play murder” bit
in “The Sign of Three” to see the real event. If, as they often do in weddings,
someone read <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+13" target="_blank">1 Corinthians 13</a> for the Watsons, it was actually Sherlock, believing all
things and not self-seeking, and not Love, who kept them together in “His Last Vow,” again at
a<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> cost no one fully appreciates. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">In
fact, as we begin Season 4, John and Sherlock both seem to believe that
Sherlock has some sort of magical ability to keep everyone safe—which, of
course, he does not. The general takeaway from that episode is that Sherlock was humbled by the
realization that the deductions he used as bullets had unintentional ricochets, but I think the wider lesson is that no matter how clever we are, or how
much we love and are loved, we will all keep an appointment in Samara. Obviously this was most traumatic for John, and the fact that his
marriage was in a normal, post-baby rough patch before Mary’s sudden death didn’t
make it better. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I know that many people were bothered by his beating Sherlock
in Episode 2, which is good, because frankly, that behavior is not okay. But at
the same time, I understood that even very good people, under particular sorts
of stress, can lose control. I’ve seen it happen. In the throes of new
emotional pain, people blame, they strike out, they anesthetize themselves with
all sorts of substances. None of this works, and it cannot continue. “It is
what it is” isn’t a platitude, or some sort of brush-off. It’s the
acknowledgement that some parts of life are horrible. They really, really are,
and they cannot be fixed. Sometimes, too, we do awful things that we cannot
ever take back. In each case, the only way to take away the power of either is not
to fight, and not to run: instead, only by looking at death and guilt straight
on can Sherlock and John start to clean up the emotional wreckage that damages
and separates them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Which brings us to
"The Final Problem."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I don’t avoid spoilers,
so having read the first batch of reactions, I felt some trepidation as the
show began. After all, I was one of the people who didn’t quite get “The
Abominable Bride” the first time through, and despite everything I wrote above,
there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">were</i> bits of the season’s first
two episodes that I found underwhelming. I didn’t really buy that Mary, a new
mother, would sacrifice herself for Sherlock—however much I—er—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she</i>—loves him. I liked knowing that Mrs.
Hudson has a Secret Sports Car, but I felt that scene was a little silly—and I
certainly hope her funds come from an offshore account and not a side hustle. I
had also been excited each time Mofftiss announced that Magnussen and Culverton
Smith were Supremely Evil Villains—only to feel that they just didn’t have
enough time to develop either one. It was inevitable that the finale also had
its own hits and misses for me:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">That was a lot of convenient DVD, Mary.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Moriarty! I love you so much! Although the
ticking was annoying.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I’m going to assume that at least a few people
ended up dead because Eurus could not manipulate them.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">And speaking of Eurus—she was the villain I
expected in Magnussen and Culverton Smith. I hated her. I enjoyed hating her
and may have called her bad names out loud. I’m glad her own name is really hideous. Even
now, I want to pummel her into the ground. Well done, Mofftiss, well done.</span></li>
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In the end, we learn, the
Holmes family <i>did</i> produce a true sociopath (or, perhaps more correctly defined as a <a href="http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2015/02/12/differences-between-a-psychopath-vs-sociopath/" target="_blank">psychopath</a>). Not Mycroft, the man who knows good
from evil, and believes he is serving the greatest version of the former, even
if his methods are dubious and indirect. Not Sherlock, who has, for
self-preservation, sublimated his emotions and modeled himself after his older
brother, becoming, essentially, a Mycroft who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would </i>get his hands dirty when he believes it required.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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No, of course it’s Eurus, at once the embodiment
of (seemingly) pure intellect and the repository of very primitive, child-like and
self-centered emotions. Her brother didn’t play with her, so she murdered his
friend. She kills and damages and manipulates for her own gain while insisting
on seeing herself as a scared little girl on an out-of-control plane. It may
seem to some that Eurus undergoes some character changes during this
episode—development, healing, whatever. No. She doesn’t. She’s just
manipulating you, too. Her brothers, however—now that’s different.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">"Mycroft Holmes struggled" [BRUC] </span></h3>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">My
best friends and I, all oldest children, agreed that the entire episode gave us
“eldest child feels.” Mycroft like many older siblings, is bossy, pretty sure
he knows best, and has an enormous sense of responsibility; for him, it extends
beyond his immediate family to the entire United Kingdom. He worries about
them. Constantly. And he’s made decisions for all of them, some of which he was
not really qualified to make. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">It wasn’t
okay to tell his younger brother that “caring is not an advantage.” It wasn’t
kinder to tell his parents their daughter had died. And it did not protect the
citizens of Britain, or the world at large, to give Eurus five unsupervised
minutes with Moriarty in order to have her predict terrorist plots. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">In episode
three, Mycroft is forced to see himself as he really is: someone who believes
the ends justifies the means—as long as they cannot be traced back to him; someone
who, for all of his intelligence, can’t predict the outcome of his actions; and
someone who, in trying to do the right thing, has, instead, hurt the people he
loves and serves. He is fully humbled, as he needed to be, and by the time
Sherlock is given the impossible choice, he has not only taken responsibility,
he is willing to pay the most loving price he can imagine. This was, to me, the
most powerful scene in the entire series.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">So, if you’re making
a list: with Eurus, we have pure intellect. With Mycroft, we have intellect
tempered by ethics (of a sort) and responsibility. And then we have Sherlock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h3>
"with an evident effort he got a grip upon his own emotions" [VALL]</h3>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">There is a lot of
talk about how life with John “humanizes” Sherlock. I’m not so sure that’s
true, as much as John’s friendship allows Sherlock to feel safe enough to be
human. When Eurus killed Victor, she taught her brother that love was
dangerous, and in his reactions to this, he ensured that it also became
unattainable. </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Gradually, however, through his interactions with the people
Mycroft considers “goldfish,” he’s learned a different lesson. He no longer has
to take refuge in a sense of superiority, as his brother does. He knows he can
fall, spectacularly, and still be loved. He’s feeling brave enough to venture
out into some sort of arrangement with Irene. </span>And he loves Molly.<br />
<br />
You can see
it dawn on him when she is about to hang up during that crucial phone call.
Molly loves Sherlock in ways in which he does not love her, but she also loves
him in that deep, permanent way which puts another’s interest ahead of one’s
own. At first, Sherlock feels guilty for seeming to toy with her affections—notice
that he doesn’t just give her what he knows might work—but, as she’s about to
end the call, he realizes that yes, he does <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her.</i> This won’t be the death of an
elderly blind woman he will feel the weight of being unable to prevent. This
won’t be Mary’s willing sacrifice. This will be a loss he won’t be able to
bear, and so, when he says he loves her like he means it, he means it. Utterly.
Just as he loves John, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Greg</i>, Mrs.
Hudson, and his parents.</div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">And Eurus? I’ve
heard someone people say that Sherlock has forgiven her, but I don’t think it’s
quite that simple. I believe that Sherlock feels pity for her, but he also
knows exactly who he is dealing with. This is why he plays the violin with her, but doesn’t
speak, staying three feet away from the glass. The whole thing is sad. It’s incomprehensible.
Eurus used to be a little girl and perhaps she has diminished culpability. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she is who she is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The last episode of
Series 4 was, to me, the perfect mix of what Sherlock <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">does,</i> as well as who he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is.</i> </span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Having, in effect, solved the puzzle of his own life, the 21<sup>st</sup>
century Holmes can be who he was </span>always meant to be: a quirky genius whose
intellect and emotions are tempered with compassion, humanity, and love. It is
this integration, and not the identity of “the other one,” or even Redbeard,
which is the true solution to the final problem.<br />
<br />
Sherlock Holmes finally is who
he is, and whom we love: the Great (and Good) Detective.</div>
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The Final Problem — Balancing Intellect and Emotion

"These are very deep waters" [SPEC] [ Editor's Note: this is the 11th in our series of reviews of Sherlock Series...

+ Read more »

by Leah Guinn

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"I am much obliged to you for bringing us together." [STUD]</h4>
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<br />
One of the downsides of living in the Midwest is the dearth of regular (irregular?) Sherlockian get-togethers. For those of us living in smaller cities and towns, it seems as if our counterparts in large urban areas—and particularly on the East Coast—spend their days running from event to event, while we're staring out at the cornfields hoping that this is the month we'll be able to make an hours-long trek to see people we can't see often enough.<br />
<br />
So it is that most of my Sherlockian interactions happen via the Internet. I've been thinking some about an online conversation I had with a few Sherlockian friends a few nights back and, musing it over, it's dawned on me why I love being part of this community.<br />
<br />
For most of my life—maybe even all of it—I've been very concerned with "doing the right thing"...but not so concerned with following rules. Yeah, yeah, I know we have to have them, and I know they apply to me, but basically, I'm not a fan. To me, life, and goodness and right are greater than this.<br />
<br />
However, most of life doesn't work that way. As a Christian, I do have to be concerned about doctrine; it's God, it matters, and it matters even when I wish parts of it were different. I obey the speed limit (at least, after that meeting with Trooper Curtis on US 40). I pay taxes (and we actually pay—no refunds). I get my oil changed, queue where the arrow is, and if I don't turn off my cell phone in the movies, I don't talk on it, either. Our kids have structure, our utilities are on, and with the exception of the occasional small rebellion, you'd probably never know that, while I look like a devout church-going middle-aged wife and mom, I'm—internally—more of a pragmatic bohemian who just wants people to be happy as long as they're not hurting anyone else.<br />
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When I first entered the Sherlockian world, I was, like many new converts, really, really concerned with the Canon. It wasn't long, however, before I saw that the world of 221B was so, so much more.<br />
<br />
Here, if you want to memorize all 56 stories and 4 novels, you can do that, and we will all be very, <b>very</b> impressed. But if you want to devote the majority of your efforts to rehabilitating the image of Matt Frewer's Sherlock Holmes, you can do that, too. Quite a few of us adore <a href="http://ihose.co/ihose33" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Edward Hardwicke's Watson</a>...but if you're planning to cosplay <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherlock_Holmes_(1954_TV_series)" target="_blank">H. Marion Crawford's</a>, you just go on with your bad self.<br />
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I love <i>Sherlock</i> Series 3 with every fiber of my being. It could be that Steven Doyle doesn't feel the same way....not sure about that... but we like and respect each other and he throws great parties. Vincent Wright and I don't agree with each other on God—but we're friends, and he has been a wonderful mentor and research buddy. I know all of you can think of your own examples.<br />
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Really (unless you're hurting others) as a Sherlockian, you can be who you are, and find that you're welcomed, appreciated, and accepted for just that. And when that happens, something else tends to happen, too: people blossom—often in ways that their regular lives don't  encourage. They try new things. They give toasts. They paint. They write. They wear outrageous clothes. They leave their houses and fly on planes. They become leaders. They host events. They write books with their best friends. Some of them even marry each other. Just as an invalided army doctor and his weird, anti-social (but brilliant) best friend could become a famous writer and the world's foremost detective, Sherlockian men and women find, in 1895, ways to be themselves in ways they may never have imagined possible.<br />
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Today, as part of my podcast exercise program (6 lbs down so far, thank you), I happened to listen to <a href="http://ihose.co/ihose89" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">IHOSE Episode 89: The Adventuresses of Sherlock Holmes</a>, and, as Mr. Stix read out the names of people who should have been part of the BSI ages ago — "<a href="http://pca.st/Sb9u#t=3565" target="_blank">righting old wrongs</a>" — it struck me that, any time we dismiss others for not being quite what we think they should be, we not only deny them a chance to become far more, we miss out on all the good they have to offer. How many of us would have moved out of Baker Street within the first several weeks? But had John H. Watson, MD, done that—weirded out by all those strange people in the sitting room—he would have missed out on the best part of his life.<br />
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Let's follow his lead and remain, always, brave and loyal friends.<br />
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