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BBC’s Sherlock Holmes (2010-2017) is a successful modern-day take on the famous duo Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Many recent adaptations of crime-fighting detectives in film or contemporary fiction feature figures whose character arc hinges on their mental health. Many have attempted to diagnose the famous detective’s character, often speculating that he is perhaps on the autism spectrum or exhibits a neurological difference in some capacity. Dr. Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds (2005-2020), for instance, is often considered as exhibiting autistic traits, and his character seems intentionally constructed to fulfill the ‘Sherlockian’ Archetype. Although many neurological conditions weren’t recognized or identified when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle created his stories of Sherlock Holmes, many involved in the canon still enjoy attempting to solve the mystery of Holmes himself.
These discussions and interpretations of the autistic detective aid in dispelling societal fears of people with a neurological difference or mental “illness” as dangerous, criminal, or deviant; there are, however, those who argue that such adaptations are incredibly toxic, as they drive forward common stereotypes about autism. Fans of BBC’s Sherlock Holmes, eager to emulate their favorite detective, further popularize these tropes by reinforcing them in problematic ways. Indeed, BBC’s Sherlock (2010-2017) presents their own diagnostic interpretation in the first episode “A Study in Pink” (2010): Directed at Sherlock Holmes, Anderson, who works in Forensic Services, sneers,
“According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath.”
Holmes responds dryly, “I’m not a psychopath. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research.” With this diagnosis, fans were quick to latch onto the idea, and there are numerous articles and forums which revolve around attempting to debunk and disprove this diagnosis. One post, for instance, lists all the “things Sherlock has done that are decidedly not sociopathic,” mentioning such instances as Sherlock Holmes “yelling at Mycroft after he insults Ms. Hudson” or “Faking his death to protect his loved ones.”
With efforts to re-diagnose him, many vehemently argue against this labeling. Even psychologists urge us to reconsider, pointing out that “sociopath” and “psychopath” are virtually the same and that a true “psychopath” would hardly ever admit to being so. (( Konnikova, Maria. “Stop Calling Sherlock a Sociopath! Thanks, a Psychologist.” Criminalelement.com, 8 Aug. 2012. )). And according to Sophia Beams for Medium, TV shows and movies conform to this general rule of making sure characters are “relatable,” meaning that regardless of his written “sociopathy,” he needs to have “emotional tendencies” so that audiences feel empathy — and there are viewers who are unable to recognize that Holmes does not reflect a “real” sociopath and start to self-diagnose and believe that such “disorders” are something they share with him. (( Beams, Sophia. “The Sherlock Holmes Problem: How Fictional Characters Lead to False Diagnosis.” Medium.com, 10 Aug. 2019. )).
But Holmes’s self-diagnosis — and the fact that he is wrong — is entirely the point. The Holmes stories have always been fraught with ambiguity, and this has undoubtedly been carried forward into BBC’s Sherlock and Watson. Sherlock Holmes is an unreliable narrator, particularly regarding what he claims about himself. Psychiatric labels can be problematic and harmful, and for Holmes, as the TV series lays bare, it becomes a deliberate and risky means of protection – from himself. To investigate this further, it’s essential to discuss the power not only of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes to enact change but of the fans themselves.
An “Overdose” Of Sherlock Holmes
Avid readers of Holmes have always initiated revolutionary change regarding literary representation. According to BBC, after Conan Doyle “killed” Holmes within his story “The Final Problem” published in The Strand after feeling “such an overdose of [Sherlock Holmes]” that the thought of the character gave him “a sickly feeling,” fans of the famous detective were outraged; The Strand was nearly “killed” itself due to the massive influx of subscription cancellations for the magazine as a form of protest by fans. Interestingly, reactions to literary characters by “the masses” hadn’t produced such fervid fans before Holmes. American fans were likewise involved, making Sherlock fan clubs in support of resurrecting their favorite character. Readers were beginning to “expect their favourite works to conform to certain expectations,” which helped create the fandom subculture. (( Armstrong, Jennifer Keishin. “How Sherlock Holmes Changed the World.” BBC.com, 6 Jan. 2016. )).
Due to such persistent reactions, Conan Doyle succumbed to the pressure eight years later and resurrected Holmes for new stories, though he kept Moriarty’s death from the previous “final” ending. Of course, this mindset can be problematic, as modern-day fans of Holmes, particularly of the BBC’s Sherlock (2010), flock to Speedy’s Café (a famous sandwich shop for BBC’s Sherlock and Watson) and Gower Street (the real-life “Baker Street” location in London), which has caused production issues during filming. So unsurprisingly (and quite naturally), BBC’s Holmes affects viewers regarding mental health and behavioral “reliability,” as fans continue to expect some sort of relationship with the character, often attempting to locate some semblance of themselves within their beloved detective and/or to locate inconsistencies in his behavior in tandem with his diagnosis.
“Mirroring” Holmes
This connection has led to a sort of “mirroring” effect, as there are fans who are in some sense imitating Holmes in terms of his mannerisms, gestures, behavior, voice, etc. This, some argue, is a severe issue, as it leads to misconceptions regarding “real” mental difference; and, as Beams claims, it is “unfair” that there are fans who degrade “something as beautiful and wonderful as having a mental illness portrayed on a TV show” with self-diagnoses or with the need to point out how the character falls short of “sociopathy,” since the show itself must make “minor exaggerations” in order to generate “audience attachment” (( Beams, Sophia. “The Sherlock Holmes Problem: How Fictional Characters Lead to False Diagnoses.” Medium.com, 10 Aug. 2019. )). Yet, this diagnosis for Holmes — and the resulting “minor exaggerations” or inconsistencies in his portrayal of mental and behavioral sociopathy — is, as the Holmes stories’ fundamental, narrative basis has been deliberately problematic and ambiguous since its inception.
Are We All Unreliable?
Conan Doyle’s stories of Holmes, whether narrated by Dr. Watson or Holmes himself, certainly utilize the literary technique known as the unreliable or untrustworthy narrator. In essence, this means that the narrator isn’t simply recounting events objectively; instead, their narration of events is colored by their own perceptions or views of what happened — a narrative which likewise reveals the storyteller’s own personal fears, anxieties, and beliefs, among other realities. Thus, arguably, we are each unreliable narrators, not only in the way we tell stories to others but in what stories we tell ourselves. This development is not lost on creators of BBC’s Sherlock (2010-2017).
The “truth,” as the show attempts to demonstrate, is that Sherlock intentionally labels himself as “sociopathic” in a deliberate attempt not only to affect public perception but as a means of, in a sense, deceiving himself. According to Steven Moffat, one of the writers behind BBC’s Sherlock (2010-2017), “He SAYS he’s a sociopath — he clearly isn’t. He’s formed several powerful attachments in the show already. Don’t take anyone to be what they say they are, or you’ll never be a good detective.” As Moffat implies, Sherlock is particularly alert and wary of ‘human error’ and emotional vulnerability, and as viewers, we are meant to use our own powers of “deduction” — on Sherlock. What he says, what he does – all conceivably unreliable. In the episode “A Scandal in Belgravia,” an interesting conversation ensues between Dr. Watson and Sherlock:
Sherlock, glancing over John’s shoulder to see John’s latest blog entry regarding a case, exclaims indignantly, “No, no, no, don’t mention the unsolved ones.” John replies, “People want to know you’re human.” In response to Sherlock’s “why?” John describes the swift rise in “hits” to his blog site, adding, “This is your living, Sherlock – not two-hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash.” Clearly, John’s blog posts are colored by his desire to showcase that Sherlock is still “human” and likewise susceptible to human limitations.
Yet Sherlock himself, throughout the series, appears intent on showcasing that he is not. He calls himself a “high-functioning sociopath,” as this is how he desires to be perceived so that he appears “stronger,” in a sense than those around him. Emotion and empathy, it seems, are what he is most often loathe to admit to experiencing. This is perhaps most apparent in the episode “The Hounds of Baskerville.” We find Sherlock at perhaps his most “human” as he travels to Dartmoor and uncovers that the mystery of the “monstrous dog” seen to stalk its grounds results from a hallucinogenic drug still being tested in secret at Baskerville. Within the episode, he angrily admits to having been afraid in the forest, but in a touching scene, Sherlock, though loathe to do so, finally confesses to John that he is sorry that he acted so reprehensibly — and that he did, in fact, drug John for an experiment in order to test a theory.
We see Sherlock feeling empathy and appreciation for John. But this scene is important in another way. We start to see that Sherlock is, rather, an emotionally driven person. It’s significant to note that, regardless of the horrible situation Holmes put him through, John forgives him – though not without pointing out that Sherlock was, in fact, wrong about a deduction.
The Importance Of Representation In Sherlock (2010-2017)
As the series slowly uncovers, it is evident that if Sherlock dwells or relies too much on his “human” susceptibilities, he becomes more as he was in “Hounds”: that is, unable to cope or to rely on his own judgment. Of course, that is not to say that a diagnosis for Holmes is entirely ill-founded. “Even outside the world of detection,” Moffat surmises, “I think Doyle began the idea that super-intelligence comes at the price of some kind of social dysfunction, something that we’ve grasped as a narrative possibility ever since.” (( Armstrong, Jennifer Keishin. “How Sherlock Holmes Changed the World.” BBC.com, 6 Jan. 2016. )).
That is, it is not for us to simply point out how his self-diagnosis is problematic. Rather, the point is that there is no clear “answer” or label, and that representation, however ambiguous, can be revolutionary. The Holmes canon is innately unreliable, and the success of BBC’s Sherlock Holmes lies in ambiguity, relatability, and, most importantly, acceptance of difference — in all its neurological forms.
