Sherlock’s Danger Night: On Sex, Drugs and Violins
Aside from the confrontation between Irene Adler & John Watson, the most erotically charged scene in Belgravia (and perhaps the whole of Sherlock to date) is, for me, the brief clip of Sherlock smoking Mycroft’s Christmas gift, a low tar cigarette. After Sherlock positively identifies Irene Adler’s body, Mycroft offers him an admittedly inferior smoke which Sherlock accepts nonetheless. Once Sherlock leaves the morgue, Mycoft phones John straight away to tell him that Sherlock has fallen for the temptation. When John asks Mycroft if it is a danger night, he replies that he doesn’t know and tells John to nix his plans for the evening. John’s girlfriend who is about to become yet another ex, tells John he’s a great boyfriend…to Sherlock, that is. Mrs. Hudson searches 221B and concludes that Sherlock “is clean.” John waits patiently and when Sherlock returns, he deduces immediately what has happened. He hopes that John hasn’t disheveled his sock index (!) this time. Sherlock spends his days composing sad music, refusing to eat, and generally acting distant and seemingly despondent.
In canon Sherlock has been known to partake of a cocaine solution— a solution, Sherlock notes, that Watson has at times tried to dilute. In Sherlock we see Mycroft, John and Mrs. Hudson poignantly trying their best to keep Sherlock off drugs, to see him through his danger nights to daylight, his reason restored. The devotion they show is heartbreaking— again a scene of Sherlock evoking deep care, indeed love, from a variety of unlikely figures— his own brother included. This turn of events made me love Mycroft for we finally see that he ultimately is— Sherlock’s big brother.
But why— how could it be— that the very idea of Sherlock turning to drugs, particularly to shooting up, could be so ungodly erotic, so enticingly homoerotic? Is it a sense of his vulnerability that excites? Is it the idea of something (if not someone) penetrating that thick skin of his? Of him shedding, for a spell, his ice cold analytic being? We know that John hasn’t usually been successful at dissuading him, but hasn’t stopped trying. Never will. In real life, we know we can’t change an addict’s behavior just by being there for them. There is nothing more hateful and tragic than drug addiction. But, thank god, this isn’t real life. We don’t WANT John to change Sherlock. This is partially what makes him the most human- human being.
This beautiful image of Moriarty/death angel and a blood letted, overdosed Sherlock is sexlock's amazing work, “You Need Me, Sherlock Holmes" I can’t do it justice in a short post but the overflowing blood, the opened shirt, the hypodermic at Sherlock’s crotch— tantalizes. It is sexual, sensual, brutal, ugly— and really, really freaking hot. Moriarty is Sherlock’s smack, of course. He is the fix, the cure for boredom- the aching need John can never fulfill. And, if left unchecked, what will ultimately kill Sherlock. We don’t yet know how, but Sherlock has mastered Moriarty. How has he lived to tell? How will John forgive him? How much will Sherlock suffer without John’s care? And how will Sherlock survive without Moriatry to keep him occupied? The devil he knows.
Drag on that smoke, Sherlock. I need a cigarette, too.