"I'll never think about fandom the same way again" - Jordan Brooks, Never-Never Press Give Up After Three is an exercise in literary forensics, tracing the story of how BBC's Sherlock became so bad that fans became convinced there was a secret final episode that would fix all the dissonant plot joints. Join David on a strange evening at 221B Baker Street, journeying through the history of Sherlock's most influential online fans, hunting for the smoking gun that created one of the most absurd conspiracy theories in media. Premium bound hardback with #60 weighted paper. Ships in 5-10 business days. Shipping flat rate internationally. Read Preview The aesthetics of Moffat’s postmodern interpretation of Sherlock Holmes infused Sir Conan Doyle’s world with snarky Whedonesque dialogue, and centralised the relationship of Watson and Holmes, making the story far more a character action adventure than mystery story (Sweney, 2010). This change is not inherently negative. Adaptations necessarily make structural alterations to the source work, but having the core cast of characters speak in snappy epigrams creates a very specific style of text with predictable outcomes. Motherboard’s Gita Jackson (2021) explained that characters written in this way are “often imprecise in their language, letting sentences trail off as they struggle to articulate themselves. They turn nouns into verbs and vice versa. They say ‘thing’ or ‘thingy’ or ‘stuff’ in place of more descriptive terms” and frequently comment on their surroundings or circumstances with a level of metatextuality, dissolving the barrier between character, dialogue and creator (Jackson, 2021). This style of dialogue winks at the audience, placing focus on cleverness at the expense of characterisation or drama. Jackson (2021) goes on to explain that if every character speaks this way it can distance the audience from the characters, making it challenging to relate or care about their inner world. The jokes aim to impress the audience, lending to the trend of quoting Sherlock’s one-liners on Tumblr or embroidering certain exchanges on graphic tees (221 BoyLove, 2016). And all of Sherlock’s characters speak like this. From the queer-coded villain Jim Moriarty to Holmes’ housekeeper Mrs. Hudson, none are exempt from Moffat’s snappy presentation of intellect. The few characters who escape this curve are either background figures of no consequence, or stooges for Sherlock and his friends to out shine. The challenge this presents is multilayered, but leads to one inevitable consequence: characters and plot must constantly one-up themselves. Must be smarter. Must be quippier. Must be even more mind blowing. An exchange between Holmes and Watson from the second episode perfectly illustrates the snappy dialogue in action. HOLMES I said, "Could you pass me a pen?" WATSON What? When? HOLMES 'Bout an hour ago. WATSON Didn't notice I'd gone out, then. WATSON Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery. HOLMES How was it? WATSON It's great. She's great. HOLMES Who? WATSON The job. HOLMES "She"? WATSON It. This style of dialogue works in concert with the actors and direction to create snappy scenes that keep your interest and draw you into the world of Holmes and Watson. You can almost feel it leap off the page. This stylised cleverness becomes the primary mode of conversation by the commencement of the second episode. Sherlock and Watson investigate a break-in at a bank, and a subsequent series of murders with the police, and throughout they maintain their quick back and forth at the exclusion of other characters. This creates a point of contrast and calls our attention to Sherlock as the smartest person in every room. Per Ashley Morgan’s article from The Conversation (2021) about Sherlock: “Sherlock often tells people around him to ‘shut up’ to allow him to concentrate, or because he finds them annoying. He takes every opportunity to deride the police, often insisting on being the sole source of information. He is always exasperated at other people's lack of brilliance: ‘Dear God what is it like in your tiny little brains? It must be so boring!’ While superiority might be a common trait in brilliant people, what makes it toxic is that Sherlock projects himself as totally unique, creative and the answer to everyone's problems, while putting everyone else down.” Morgan describes Sherlock’s characterisation succinctly: toxic superiority. The show does not directly endorse this behaviour. In fact, Watson remains passively critical of Sherlock’s behaviour, giving him the occasional verbal slap on the wrist throughout the episode but never challenging the behaviour with any kind of meaningful conversation or ultimatum. So the story is left with a challenge: how to make a rude, superior character likeable. As Jackson alluded to, the simplest method appears to be lamp shading the behaviour, and as we’ve already identified, contrasting the behaviour. Most characters around Sherlock excuse his behaviour “that’s just Sherlock” they’ll say, even while they chastise his rudeness. They even have Sherlock double down on this, where he repeatedly describes himself as “a high functioning sociopath” as if this is a brag or point of pride. That Watson puts up with his crap on a daily basis is unbelievable. So much so you might ask the question: why does he stick around? Almost every theory about the lost final episode relies on some kind of queer ending - Sherlock and John pairing together, Sherlock and Moriarty, and so on. Therefore it’s crucial to unpack the show’s portrayal and understanding of masculinity and sexuality. Because even this early on, episode two contains both lamp shading of Sherlock’s anti-social behaviour, and an expression of Sherlock’s sexuality in contrast to John’s. Sherlock is the brilliant, toxic, superior intellectual who doesn’t quite seem to understand sex and romance, while John is the bumbling every man who just can’t catch a break dating. Close
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