Are Sherlock And Watson Gonna Bone, Or What?

This biggest upset at this year’s Emmy Awards was Sherlock, the BBC series, taking home seven trophies — even more than the beloved drama Breaking Bad. After my colleague Meghan O’Keefe provided a quick primer on Sherlock and how it has surprised American audiences by becoming a thing, I decided over the weekend to give the series a shot.

I’ve gotten through the first two series, and I enjoy it quite a bit. But that’s not to say there isn’t a lot about the series that inspire various eye-rolls and groans. As we’re in a period rife with reboots of popular fictional franchises, often modernized and given very, very serious treatments (DC Comics, I’m looking at you), the BBC Sherlock falls into the predictable traps. “This is not your grandfather’s Sherlock!” the show seems to shout at me every time a text message or an email is superimposed onto the screen or when Watson updates his blog. And it’s exhausting, which quick cuts and rapid zooms exploring the meticulously detailed production and costume design as Sherlock examines with his keen eye the elements and evidence surrounding him. Just one episode, at 90 minutes long, left me winded as if I had run a mile instead of laid in my bed watching TV.

But the thing that really got me: the will-they-or-won’t-they nature of Sherlock.

You know what I’m talking about. That Sam and Diane thing. That Ross and Rachel thing. That Bert and Ernie thing. There’s clearly something there, so much so that nearly every other character on the show has made a joke about it. Sherlock and Watson are, like, totally gay for each other, right?

Well, no, but that the show uses their friendship as a the basis of a bunch of gay jokes is a little annoying, especially years after bromances have been a thing in movies and TV — a thing that needed a jokey masculine phrase to explain itself lest we assume that two straight dudes are secretly blowing each other in between rounds of Halo. I would expect this from the Judd Apatow crowd, but not the stoic, formal world of the BBC.

But it’s indicative of the larger issue I have with Sherlock, which is its tireless attempts at being a contemporary spin on an old thing. Added to the not-homoeroticism is Sherlock’s own shitty personality and behavior. Following years’ worth of unlikable protagonists and anti-heroes, Sherlock hopped on the anti-hero bandwagon and upped the ante, giving us a brilliant detective with one major flaw: he’s a bit of a sociopath. TV has allowed us all to play armchair psychologists, and it’s obvious to the viewer that Sherlock is on the autism spectrum in some way. His talents are massive, yet his interactions and total social ineptitude are unforgiving. He’s rude to his friends (who, for some reason, still hang around him) and is completely baffled by women, either dismissive of them entirely or threatened by them — especially when they come onto him sexually or compete with him for Watson’s attention.

Neither of those two characteristics make a case for a straight Sherlock. And yes, I get that sexuality is fluid and all of that, but honestly, can’t they just do it and get it over with? Either that, or shut up about it. As a viewer, I don’t like to see Chekov’s gun — in this case, a sexual attraction between Sherlock and Watson — being left on a mantle just seconds before it — being the possibility of Benedict Cumberbach rolling around in the nude with Martin Freeman at 221B Baker Street — is snatched from my grasp. It’s not good entertainment, but beyond that, it’s just not fair.

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Photos: BBC/PBS