Prove me wrong, ordinary Sherlock. Prove that you’re not like them. I want you to prove that you know the truth, thatwe are one and the same, in both life and in death. Prove that you’re not ordinary, convince me.
There is clarity in loneliness. To feel nothing is to know everything, to love no one is to see everyone for who they really are.
Sometimes, yes. But not often. Not anymore.
To care — that is an enormous risk. To care is to put yourself in a position of vulnerability, to increase greatly the possibility of pain or betrayal. Sentiment clouds logic, love impedes judgment, and heart will always win the battle with head, if you give it the chance.
So don’t. Perhaps there is something wrong with us. But whatever it may be, we are better off with it than without it.
It’s okay if you hurt me sometimes, Sherlock, or forget me sometimes, because my job isn’t really to be your friend. You already have one of those, and a person like you wouldn’t need another. I suppose my job is to just…to just be there for you whenever you do need me.
I’d do anything for you, and of course you already know that, but sometimes I don’t think you really believe it. When I say anything, I mean anything.
I’m not invincible. I’m only human. But you know that. Obviously.
In fact…you always knew that.
Even before I did.
I wonder what it would be like to tell a person’s entire life story at a glance. How could you do that without any emotion, Sherlock? To know so much and not find any meaning in it? To look at the world, and see everything, and understand nothing. I mean, well, of course you understand it. You take what you see and you make deductions, brilliant deductions…but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? That doesn’t mean you understand.
No, you don’t feel things that way.
At least, I thought you didn’t.
Because we’re not so different, you and I. Because we both get bored, we both spend all our lives searching and searching for distractions…only you’re boring. You prance around London, solving other people’s problems, and you know it could have been different, oh, it could have been very different…when you look at me, Sherlock, you don’t see a criminal or a monster. You see the man that you could have become. You see yourself.
Maria Konnikova - CriminalElement.com
I’d like to get something off my chest. It’s been bugging me for a very, very long time. Sherlock Holmes is not a sociopath. He is not even a “high-functioning sociopath,” as the otherwise truly excellent BBC Sherlock has styled him (I take the words straight from Benedict Cumberbatch’s mouth). There. I’ve said it.
Happiness, love, empathy. Emotions that are as simplistic as they are uninteresting. And so easy to fake. And people…so easily manipulated. All you have to do is appeal to whatever mask they are wearing; and everyone wears a mask, no exceptions. Hiding your real feelings makes everything easier.
Psychology of Sherlock Ships [2/6]
It is intriguing that a ship which involves a character who does not yet exist could be so popular, but when you consider that it’s the intrigue that makes the ship so appealing, it is less surprising. Mormor has many similarities to Johnlock… one man is a criminal mastermind whose sanity is more than questionable, and the other is a world class sniper, dishonorably discharged from the military. Both are cold blooded killers which gives the ship a thrilling dark edge to it. Add in the fact that Sebastian Moran is not yet a canon character, it is no surprise that this ship so popular, what with the large amount of speculation and headcanons. And, like Johnlock, it is clear that these two men need each other, despite their penchant for crime and lack of morality.
Psychology of Sherlock Ships [1/6]
There is something undeniably romantic about aromanticism, about a relationship that is so deep and profound, but also seemingly platonic. And the idea that two men that are so different from each other could have such a strong bond is very appealing. They are from two different worlds; an army doctor, back from war, whose injuries are not just physical… and an eccentric genius who lives for intellectual stimulation, but denounces the idea of “love” and “sentiment”. Their only similarity is that both of them were alone before they met each other. And even if they would never admit it, it is undoubtable that they need each other. This is a ship that is encouraged by subtext, but also by the equally undeniable fact that everyone who ships this wishes they were someone else’s John or someone else’s Sherlock.
I should never have let Sherlock in on the cases. I should never have trusted him, never believed in him. I was wrong, so wrong, about him. He was a fraud. He always was.
But somehow, I still believe in him. Maybe I’m stupid. Maybe it’ll cost me my job. Maybe I’m still wrong. But I don’t care.
I believe in Sherlock Holmes.