Dedicated to the Sherlock Fandom.
(And to the The Sherlock Cast And Crew as well, even though they will probably never see this)
Author's Note:
Let me begin by saying that I have completely, utterly fallen head-over-heels in love with the Sherlock fandom. I have never encountered a group of people who are… well, who are so many things all at once. Talented, intelligent, humble, scholarly, warm, witty and utterly crackers at times, and all so incredibly devoted to these timeless characters created by the unsurpassed Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. And yet what sets this fandom apart from all the others is the utter love that goes around, not just for the fandom or the work people put into it, but for the love the people in the fandom have for each other. The mutual admiration and respect is so tangible that the connection can be felt all over the world—and I know this because I live halfway across the world from all of you and yet I can't help but be drawn into your tangles and be quietly content and happy to stay.
I haven't been the most vocal or the most active member in this fandom, despite being part of it for quite a long while now. And I'm prone to suddenly disappearing for extended periods because of personal reasons I can't safely divulge. But I want all you lovely people to know that this fandom has touched and moved me deeply than any other fandom ever had. Because what amazes me most is the knowledge that I'm not the only one whose life has been changed by the mad, brilliant world of Sherlock Holmes.
The piece I have written is dedicated to all of you in the Sherlock fandom. It's based on the current BBC adaptation but is still heavily influenced by the original ACD canon. I actually have no idea how to categorize it; it's not exactly a fanfic, but it's not exactly a non-fiction essay either. A tribute? Possibly. A work of love? Most definitely. Nevertheless, please consider this my humble contribution to this already wonderful world that you have all created and are continuing to create.
Like everything else in life, one day we will all eventually move on and discover something else that we will love as deeply, if not more. And so while we are all still here, I want to remember and honor and memorialize the reasons why we have all fallen in love with ACD's immortal characters. And I am hoping that through this, we will all carry the knowledge that ours is a fandom that's as timeless as the partnership of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson.
And so, without further ado, I present to you:
THE HEART OF DEDUCTION
A Study in the Elements of a Timeless Partnership
In which a pseudo-scientific method is employed in investigating the curious and complex relationship of the best and wisest men we have ever known. Only instead of allowing logic to fully dictate the study, we have permitted another procedure to surface: we let ourselves be guided by methods of the heart.
PART ONE
The Problem
When Sherlock Holmes enters the room, everything stops. We zero in on him. He doesn't just catch our attention—he demandsit. He's an otherworldly being, clearly untouched by the excruciating limits of ordinary human thinking. He's magnetizing, riveting, vibrant, pulsating and thrumming with energy, an unstoppable force of nature whenever his mind is set on the current puzzle at hand. When he speaks, we are enthralled. We listenas if we can't help it. When he moves, our gaze follows his every action, every cell and muscle and fiber in his body cataloguing and categorizing every minute detail of his precious puzzle. And then he lights up, quite literally with the way his eyes and his whole countenance brighten when at lastthe solution presents itself. His mind is onfire, blazing through with a trail of logic and facts and observation and deduction, leaving behind cooling embers of grudging admiration and awe, the gripping danger of the case both forgotten and enhanced in the wake of his brilliant mind.
And then our gaze shifts towards the sidelines, and we see the slightly obscured but unmistakable presence of Dr. John Watson. We don't really take notice of him at first—and yet we are gradually drawn to him as well when we realize he is more of a puzzle than even the most elusive and cryptic of Sherlock's cases. We begin to wonder why he keeps reappearing alongside the great detective as a constant and humble companion, as an unassuming pillar of quiet strength. And then we realize that he's there because Sherlock is there. Where Sherlock is, John is sure to follow. And we come to expect his presence unthinkingly, as naturally as needing oxygen to breathe. Because when Sherlock is without his blogger, his Boswell, we find ourselves feeling uneasy, anxious, like the earth has tilted on its axis and everything is now unbalanced. And whenever John catches up, as he always eventually does, we find ourselves breathing a little easier, and our hearts feel a little lighter, and an odd sense of calm wraps itself around us even as the world goes on with its chaotic and dull trivialities. Because we know that as long as John is there—solid, steady, and strong—then Sherlock is safe. Because we know that Sherlock needsJohn as simply as basic survival. Everything else is transport.
But why is this so, we wonder? The answer does not seem immediately apparent, and it's dangerous to jump to conclusions without having sufficient data. Let us then examine the body of the problem more closely.