[Image 1 Description: A digital drawing of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson from the Granada series. In the top left corner is a bust drawing of John Watson in a dark grey suit. Behind him are two red hyacinths and their petals with a blue sky background. Below him, in the bottom left corner, is a waist up drawing of Sherlock Holmes. He is sitting with his legs pulled to chest and a sidelong glare. He is wearing a cream colored suit. Behind him are four red hyacinths and their petals with a blue sky background. In the remaining half of the page is a waist up drawing of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes together. Sherlock is sitting on a red couch, his back to John and his right arm propped up on the furniture. He is wearing a brown robe and patterned vest. His eyes are closed in a scowl. Behind Sherlock, John stands wearing a warm tan jacket and suit. He is holding his bowler hat to his chest with his left hand and looking down at Sherlock. Behind them is a simple background of a grayish brown wall with two black and white photographs hanging. There dialogue between them that reads:
Watson: Did I do well, Holmes?
Holmes: No.
End Description]
[Image 2 Description: A traditional drawing of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson from the Granada series. Sherlock is shown in his robe, holding up two chemistry beakers. He is smiling with his eyes closed and telling Watson to “Watch.” Behind him, John is looking at him with a small smile and has his right hand placed on Sherlock’s shoulder. To the right of this is Sherlock, the beaker in his left hand now smoking. Both John and his faces are blocked out by smoke clouds, but their facial features remain in a cartoonish way. Sherlock is scowling and John looks surprised. They are both saying, “Oh.” End description]
You know, the more I reread the canon, the more I have a hard time convincing myself that all the queer subtext was not deliberately written as so.
By God, there are more romantic passages than Basil confessing to have romantic feelings for Dorian in “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, an explicitly queer book – or as explicit as a book could be in the XIX century – that was used as “evidence” at Oscar Wilde’s trial for ‘gross indecency’.
The story itself was written by ACD from the point of view, mainly, of a military doctor discharged with honors (who subsequently share rooms with his found companion for at least 7 uninterrupted years), and writes 60 stories to give justice to his genius detective.
If this isn’t a love letter itself, I don’t know what it is.
Note: please, this is MY interpretation of the canon, and as many other Holmesians may share this view, I would like to expose it. If you see them as just intimate, good friends, go for it. This was not written as an attack if your view of the stories is different.
On April 24th 1984, a new Sherlock Holmes series from Granada Television premiered for the very first time on our television screens. The series was titled The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and the episode was “A Scandal in Bohemia.” It starred Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes, David Burke as Dr. John Watson, and guest starred Gayle Hunnicutt as Irene Adler.
Sherlock Holmes is not a religious nor particularly spiritual man. For this reason “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle” is a rarity much like the blue carbuncle itself is a rarity. The story not only features Christmas, but is also keeping with the Christian themes of the holiday. Luckily, unlike the blue carbuncle, there is not a sinister history behind it. As soon as I saw the Holmesian Holiday calendar I knew I wanted to write a meta comparing the ACD canon story to the Granada Holmes adaptation. I found a cheap audio edition of three unabridged stories including “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle” read by Edward Hardwicke at a charity store.
As any Granada Holmes fan knows David Burke played Watson in the adaptation of “The Blue Carbuncle”. I think that both David Burke and Edward Hardwicke are excellent Watsons. Recording an audiobook is not the same as playing a character on a TV show. With audiobooks more attention is paid to clarity than emotion. Obviously with an audiobook the actor only has their voice to convey meaning as opposed to body language and facial expressions. Despite the limitations I thought it would be interesting to compare not only the content of the canon story versus the Granada Holmes adaptation, but David Burke playing Watson versus Edward Hardwicke reading the story.
Edward Hardwicke does an excellent job with the audiobook. His voices for the minor characters are particularly noteworthy, but he conveys Holmes’ emotions well and, not surprisingly, does an excellent job with Watson’s lines. However, even based on voice alone, Burke’s Watson is a more energetic Watson.
David Burke is a master at the physical components of acting, but for the comparison I tried to focus solely on how he verbalized Watson. Although I have no complaints about Hardwicke’s reading of the betting scene, it was far more enjoyable with the expressions and physical comedy that Brett and Burke brought to their characters.
As stated above reading an audiobook is not the same as playing a character, but it was still a bit weird to hear Hardwicke reading Holmes’ dialogue. There was a part of my brain going “No, you are Watson.” It also reminded me just how much Brett’s physicality brought to the character of Holmes. His “oh you scared me gesture” to Peterson or the look in his eyes as he watches Watson try to deduce the hat and then lists his deductions based on the hat brings so much more than can be shown with the written word or an audiobook. Brett was a brilliant actor and it is unfortunate that he did not receive more recognition for his work as Holmes.
Granada Holmes especially in the earlier episodes tried to stay as close as possible to the original canon stories. Jeremy Brett was a strong proponent of being as true to Doyle as possible within the constraints that come with translating a written story into a filmed episode. “The Blue Carbuncle” is one the closest episodes to the canon stories. A large portion of the dialogue is taken straight from the story. In cases when the physicality of the actors, scenery, and props eliminated the need for some canon text the rest of the dialogue is frequently retained.
This being said there are some noteworthy differences between the stories. In the canon story Watson visits Holmes after Christmas and finds him contemplating Henry Baker’s hat. As Watson is telling the story in canon it is necessary that he be present or told about something in order for it to be included in the story. In Granada Holmes we are seeing the story unfold and, thus, scenes that Watson doesn’t know the details about can be included. On Granada Holmes Watson never marries and Watson comes home from Christmas shopping to find Holmes contemplating the hat. We are also treated to Mrs. Hudson waking up a very grumpy Holmes. There is a certain irony to Holmes’ grumpiness at being woken up considering how he expects Watson to be cheerful whenever Holmes wakes him up. .
As Watson is not the narrator on Granada Holmes we also get the treat of the humourous first scene between Peterson and Holmes. Compared to many other stories “The Adventures of the Blue Carbuncle” is a light one, but this scene is just plain fun while still contributing to the plot. These scenes are great examples of an adaptation enhancing the story in the telling rather than changing the story in the telling. Happiness and humour have a place in Sherlock Holmes stories.
In light of Holmes’ general lack of religious belief the ending is surprisingly overtly Christian. “I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to jail now, and you make him a jail-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward.” Brett delivers the line “I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies” with much more anger than in Hardwicke’s does in the audiobook.
Another change made for dramatic reasons is that Watson says he cannot enjoy dinner while knowing that John Horner is still falsely imprisoned. Holmes sighs and he and Watson leave immediately go to the authorities to make sure that Horner is reunited with his family. The episode ends with the heartwarming scene of Horner being reunited with his wife and children.
On a less positive note Brett’s Holmes, in contrast to the canon story in which Holmes sends word to the Countess that he has the blue carbuncle, says he is keeping it for his museum. It is unclear whether Holmes is entirely serious. If so, Peterson would no longer be receiving the award from the Countess. One would hope that in that case Holmes would be giving Peterson a reward.
It is not often that one has the opportunity to appreciate ACD canon, Jeremy Brett, David Burke, and Edward Hardwicke in the same story. “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle” and the Granada Holmes adaptation of it give fans that opportunity.
The Granada promo photo shoots are like an article for middle aged married men, sharing their happiness. So, I…. Um….
Many years ago, a young doctor found himself alone in London, without kith nor kin to turn to in his disillusion and loneliness. A detective struggling to create his own private consulting practice found himself unable to afford lodgings in the City. A chance encounter, a few glossed over confessions, and a murder investigation later, saw the beginning of a devoted and loving ‘intimate companionship’ that has spanned decades.
I sat down with Mr Sherlock Holmes and his beloved Boswell, Dr John Watson in one of the Speaking Rooms at the club of Holmes’ brother. The Diogenes, with its silence and secrets allowed us the opportunity to speak frankly and openly with one another.
[Young love. Holmes and Watson shortly after they began sharing their rooms in Baker Street. Even while trying to keep their bond a secret, they were less than discreet.]
More than thirty years, including fifty-six short stories, and four novels. How can you explain the strength of your relationship?
Holmes gives a cheeky, sly smile, shared with his Watson. “He is nothing, if not eager. Enthusiastic. After all this time, he is still an excited boy when it comes to me and my skills.“
Eyeing his partner, Watson snickers. “You’re six years younger than I am, my dear.”
“In years, yes. In cynicism? Never.” He pats Watson’s knee, earning an eye roll.
[Hard At Work. Holmes and Watson: partners in every sense of the word.]
Do you find it difficult to separate the different halves of your life? Keeping servant and chronicler apart from partner and friend?
Holmes snorts and claps his hands together in his amusement. “When he takes up his pen, it as my other half, rather than my chronicler. It is what leads him to so greatly embellish my skills. He thinks he is doing me a service.“ he hums, squirming in his seat. Beside him, Watson gives me a long suffering look and raises his eyebrows towards Holmes, as if to say ‘You see what I live with?’
“He has always been like this.” Watson mutters. “The man positively wallows is false modesty.“ His voice is flat, but there is an obvious look of mirth about his eyes.
[Beekeeping In Sussex. Even in retirement, Holmes tries to keep his mind active.]
“We bought a small cottage with the fee Holmes charged for a case involving a-”
“Hush, Watson!“
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry. This case hasn’t been put into print yet. It’s not important. Allow me to simply say, we were financially secure for the first time in our lives. Holmes had given his life savings to a distant cousin of his, in order that he might purchase my practice.” The look Watson gives Holmes is half deep love, half annoyed resignation.
“You were trying to sell.” Holmes chimes in, lighting a cigarette. For the rest of our interview, he only inhales it once, but uses it the gesture wildly to make his points. “I thought it best to keep the practice in the family. And besides, since the money went to you in the first place, and I maintain your finances, it was little more than just taking it from one place to the other.“
“You just wanted me to move back home.”
“Yes.”
[Doctor, writer, soldier, surgeon. Watson is just as impressive as his more analytical companion. Here we find them in Watson’s consulting room.]
Was it ever intimidating, working along such a great mind?
Before Watson can even open his mouth, Holmes leaps in with a reply. “Yes, I did find it so, on occasion.“ This earns him a kiss on the temple, and an elbow in the ribs. At the same time. “When I first met Watson, I was little more than a boy. Still in my twenties, and rather embarrassingly innocent.” he continues, rubbing his side.
“You make me sound like some sort of deviant, Holmes. I was hardly older than you.”
“You thought I was a student.” The detective’s grey eyes twinkle as he laughs.
“I hadn’t learnt your methods yet. I found you in a school laboratory, mixing chemicals. What was I meant to think? I was soon corrected.”
“When I told you your own circumstances. Recently home from the war.” Holmes rests his hand on Watson’s knee.
“Friendless, and alone.” Watson murmurs, covering Holmes’ fingers with his own.
Seeming to remember my presence, both men clear their throats and shift in their seats.
“I’m sorry, what was the question?”
[Ever the show man, Holmes shamelessly flirts with our photographer. Watson is less than amused.]
"It took me several years, to be completely comfortable with Holmes. Comfortable enough to speak my mind about certain topics.“
Holmes nudges the doctor, and leans against him for a moment. “Watson is very much a proper gentleman. He is referring of course to my addiction. It had come between us for many years.” He links their fingers together, and I can see that he is squeezing hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
“But you’ve overcome it, my dear."
"With your assistance.” Holmes’ words are low and soothing, obviously trying to comfort Watson over a subject that still smarts him to this day. “Every day, Watson would do what he could to distract me from the black fits and boredom that threatened to drive me mad. Whether it was shuffling me about on walks through the Park, or evenings at the opera house, he staved off the need to poison myself.“
[Philosophy and agriculture. Watson lovingly maintains a garden, which provides Holmes’ bees with something to do.]
"Before, I had thought rusticating in the country would be a punishment. I’ve since learnt how wrong I was.” Watson grins. “The cottage is situated near the sea. Holmes goes swimming nearly every day. I, on the other hand, am lazy and old. I tend our garden, and write when I’m bored. Holmes hasn’t taken to retirement as easily as I have.“
"I believe I have been doing admirably.” Holmes puts in, waving his still smoldering cigarette near Watson’s face. The doctor doesn’t even flinch as it comes dangerously close to his eye.
“You’ve solved four murders, a kidnapping, and a case of mistaken identity.”
“That’s only been this month, though.”
[Looking ahead. Watson is still writing Holmes’ adventures, and Holmes is still amazed that Watson is by his side.]
So what’s next for you?
The pair share a speaking glance. It’s easy to read the exchange.
‘Would you care to?’
‘No, you can go ahead.’
‘Are you sure?’
It’s Watson who speaks first.
“I still have dozens of stories that have been unpublished, for safety reasons. I would like to put them into print. After that?” he looks over at his companion.
Holmes gives me a serene smile, his lashes coming down over his pale eyes almost coquettishly. "Bees, flowers, and honey.“
Thank you! This is the content I needed today. ❤️❤️
hope our next book club is the og sherlock holmes, just so people can realize how needlessly obnoxious most modern adaptations make him when he’s actually merely moderately obnoxious in a very funny way
1984 Granada series with Jeremy Brett comes the absolute closest and I urge everyone to watch it free on youtube
In case you’re having a bad day or feeling a little under the weather, here’s some pics of Jeremy Brett with some doggies aka some of my absolute favorite photos of all time <3
Summary:Holmes and Watson meet as young adults and develop a relationship. However, the day comes for Watson to leave for war, and a painful goodbye plays out as he and Holmes part ways at the train station.
Pairing:Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson (Granada versions/acd canon)
Warnings: angst, fluff,
I’d expected the day to come, but the happiness I’d been basking in for the past ten months had made me desire it to take longer and longer until it wouldn’t come at all. After meeting him, time went by too fast for me to leave now. Far too fast.
Holmes walked beside me as we reached the train station, other gentleman dressed in similar attire as myself beginning to climb aboard the smoking train after saying their goodbyes to their own loved ones. I felt Holmes’ eyes upon me as he waited for me to abandon him, rip the bandaid off and hopefully make this moment less excruciating. Although, I believe it was easy to say that we both were aware that it would be just as torturous regardless of how fast or slow this went, or how much longer I’d get to be with him until I left for lord knows how long and returned after what will feel like a lifetime, if I’m lucky enough to return at all, that is.
I closed my eyes before turning to face Holmes who was now observing the train, seemingly admiring it. I sighed to try and buy some time to think of the right words to voice, with no avail.
“It won’t be forever, you know.”
I said as gently as I could, to which Holmes turned back to face me, his eyes leaving their blissful thinking state and returning to the sombre appearance they’d held from the moment I’d told him about what today meant whilst at breakfast. Of course, it didn’t take much for him to fill in the silence before I even got a word out to say what was to happen later. He simply looked at me and said, “What time?” His voice slower and heavier than I’d ever heard it to be. And now the moment had finally come.
“There’s no guarantee that you will be back, Watson, and as much as I appreciate your attempts to conceal the fact, I’m afraid it’s something I’ve tried to come to terms with myself.”
I’d felt a sting in my chest that got harsher with every word that escaped his mouth.
“Well, have you?” Asked I as I fought to keep my voice steady, although I’ve learned rather quickly that hiding anything from Holmes was always a losing game.
His eyes stared into mine like daggers, and his lips formed a small, painful smile.
“Not in the least.”
And with that, I could hold my emotions back no more. I lunged at him and buried him into my arms in an embrace, feeling his arms tighten around me as if his life depended on it, his breathing unsteady in my ear as he ran his nose slightly on my neck.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered in his ear. It was all I could think to say.
He let out a quick and soft laugh before placing a kiss on my jaw.
“Please, you mustn’t be anything of the sort. You’re the most admirable man I’ve ever gotten the absolute privilege to meet, to hold, to kiss.”
“You speak of me as if I’ve died.” I joked.
Holmes failed to laugh.
“I’m afraid that in this moment, there’s not a trace of certainty to ease my mind and promise me you won’t do so.”
I breathed in sharply before pulling him away from my neck and placing both my hands on his cheeks to face me.
“I won’t. God as my witness. I’ve got far too many beautiful things to come back for. You, my dear, are the face of them all.”
I slid my left hand off his cheek and onto his shoulder and let my right hand’s thumb caress and trace his cheekbone as I rest my forehead upon his, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep my composure.
Holmes slid his hand upon my wrist and gripped it hard enough to where I felt my blood circulation on that arm slow.
“Do not make promises you cannot keep, John. Not now.”
“I won’t if you promise me something in return.”
“Anything.”
“Please, stay off those dreaded poisons.”
Holmes looked down away from my eyes and onto the cement ground underneath us. I’d been dreading the thought of him turning to his substances and abusing his body and miraculous mind whilst I’m away. Seconds passed and he continued to avoid my gaze, without an answer slipping his lips, only increasing the fear building up in my chest more and more.
“Sherlock…”
He continued to avoid my gaze with a sharp exhale, until under a whisper, I uttered the words,
“For me.”
I’ve learned with time that those words seemed to always touch a place within him that no other words of mine could ever reach. It always rose an immense feeling of adoration in my heart.
With that, he finally looked into me once more.
“I promise you.”
I rubbed my nose lightly on his and brought him closer, lacking care in what the people around us thought about it.
“I cannot afford to lose you. Swear to me, please.”
He smiled, his hand placing itself onto my neck.
“You never will. I swear it.”
The bubble we’d felt surrounded us away from the world had popped with the sound of the train whistle and the conductor yelling for the final riders to aboard the train.
“I must go.” I whispered, forcing my voice to form the words as I felt it weaken with emotion. And to my surprise, and slight horror, I witnessed a small droplet escape Holmes’ left eye and leave a shiny trail down the smooth skin on his face. I’d never seen him show this kind of emotion in the entire time we’ve known each other up to this point in time.
I’ve seen Sherlock Holmes in many states in different circumstances. I’ve seen him lost in thought when at times he forgets my presence as I observe his mind begin to swallow him whole and allow him to wander elsewhere away from his surroundings as he observes something, I’ve seen him close his eyes and lean his head back in bliss and pleasure as his ears savor the melody of a violin, or as we finally get our time alone and he allows me to cherish his being without the obnoxious barriers of his clothing to stop me, I’ve seen him groan in pain and annoyance as he stumbles backward into the corner of a ring after an especially hard blow to his nose from his opponent in a boxing match. I’ve seen blood run down his face; but not tears.
I had hoped I would never get the chance to do so.
I wiped the stray tear away with my thumb and planted a kiss on his forehead, caring less and less about the eyes that were surly upon us.
“It might take months, perhaps years, but I promise I’ll come back for you. I plan on keeping that promise to the very end.”
Holmes smiled and let out another small, quiet laugh.
“Please do so. After all, I am lost without my Boswell.”
I let out a small laugh of my own and returned the gentle smile.
“And I without you.”
We stood in silence, savoring our time together for another moment, until the conductor caught Holmes’ ear.
“Go on. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here expecting your return.”
“You better be.”
I made note to glance around us to see if eyes were observing us, and when I failed to find any, I pressed a deep kiss onto his soft lips, tasting a lick of tobacco and lavender tea from his breakfast this morning. A very poor one, at that. I made a mental note to send him letters ordering him to maintain a less than unsustainable diet.
Holmes returned the kiss and pulled me closer by the collar on my soldier’s uniform, gripping it tight enough to where I feared he might rip it. His lips abandoned mine allowing him to breathe.
“Damn you John Watson and those magical lips of yours.”
I laughed and grabbed my luggage before placing a quick but passionate kiss on his lips once more and holding his hand, feeling it slip away as I climbed aboard the train quickly before it departed, and opened the window beside my seat, allowing my head to pop out as the train whistled in announcement of its departure.
My eyes caught Holmes’ once more. The train had not yet began to move, thankfully, and I watched Holmes walk quickly to the window and reach out for my hand for a final time which I painfully took and tried my absolute best to memorize the way it felt, his lips catching my gaze as he mouthed:
“I love you.”
The train began to move slowly, but not before I managed to mouth back:
“And I you.”
And with that, my fingers felt down his palm until they could no longer as the train began its journey. Holmes waved me goodbye with a smile I’ve only ever seen when he stood in front of me and me alone, as he fell behind more and more.
Not wanting to stick my head back inside the train, I watched him until he completely left my sight and vanished behind the train’s smoke. And when he did, I laid my head back onto the seat, and let the sob I’d been desperately fighting back out into the palm of my hand to suppress it from the ears of others.
“I will return to him.” I swore to myself.
“I must.”
Author’s note: forgive my punctuation it’s never been my strongpoint.
