I’ll never forget that week I binged episodes 1-9 of BBC Sherlock for the first time and the actual tremors I felt from my heteronormative glass shattering at Sherlock’s aborted confession on the tarmac. “Oh my god oh my god what the fuck oh my god oh no oh no oh no fuck fuck fuck oh NO” I mean my jaw was fucking wrenched open during that scene as everything I had missed in the past eight episodes punched me directly in the face. It was the most memorable, visceral reaction I have ever had while consuming a piece of entertainment. That two minutes of television changed my whole fucking life because it exposed me as the fraud that I was, carrying on with a biased system of knowledge i didn’t even know was there in the first place. It’s like thinking your brain is the perfect automobile, except out of nowhere you realize you’re not in a car at all, you’re on a plane and flying on autopilot. Holy fuck, what the fuck kind of hallucinatory bullshit is that and why is it on my television. That scene, my reaction, is the one true reason I stand by the writers, the producers, and their vision for this show, because if what happened to me occurs on a grand scale, history will be made.
