John Watson doesn’t give a fuck about meeting the most dangerous man in an empty warehouse.
(John Watson doesn’t give a fuck series)
I appreciate how John speaks to Mycroft here. He does not explain nor does he want explanations. He responds very simply, and in a way brutally, to shut down and end each one of Mycroft’s comments. Then he takes charge and ends it.
I spent so much time being dazzled by Benedict it took me a while to genuinely appreciate the deeply interior work done by Martin.
I will always love Ben the most, but this show just wouldn’t be the same without Martin as his partner. His reactions are brilliant. I’m so impressed at how far he’s come in acting since The Office.
This scene is the main reason I’m so glad they scrapped the original pilot episode.
It’s great 1) because at first you assume Mycroft is Moriarty (if you have any familiarity with the Sherlock Holmes stories); and 2) Martin established John as tough and brave with a subtlety and simplicity that is easy to overlook.
John Watson makes this series for me. He makes it. I love everyone on this show, everyone, I do, but this version of John Watson, not just loyal and fascinated, but conflicted and struggling, constantly hungry for something he doesn’t want to long for, trying so hard to be normal and failing, a desperate beam of sunshine on the inside and tough, quiet, no-nonsense on the outside, he makes it. He’s this careful balance between the semblance of ordinary with this burning inferno of extraordinary inside him.
Never underestimate John Watson.
His character shows the most courage, I think, of anyone on the show (and that’s saying a lot given the courage it takes to be Molly or Sherlock or even Mrs. Hudson). But we’re introduced to him when everything he’s devoted his adult life to has been suddenly taken from him: the man he loved and his physical health and his mental stability and his career and his home. His sister is no longer someone he can talk to or trust–lost in substance abuse, having rejected her wife, who he cared about. His parents aren’t in the picture, his friends have moved on in life without him, his new flat is truly awful.
And here he is trying so hard. Fighting against using that gun on himself, going to therapy, attempting the blog even though he hates it–why? What does he have to hope for? He makes the effort to be nice to Mike, who he didn’t even know that well, when it’s obviously draining and awkward for him; he feels like no one would want to live with him, but still takes the risk of meeting a stranger on Mike’s say-so; and within hours he has the courage to respond to Sherlock with humor and interest and trust, to Mycroft with strength, and to Jefferson Hope with a bullet.
The man’s made of steel.
I’ve said this plenty of times, but one of the things I admire the most about John is that he is one of the very few people who’s ego wasn’t bruised by Sherlock’s deductions and he was able to see him for how brilliant he is.
I love John and Martins acting here or at all. He is just great. All the comments above couldn’t describe it better.
This John is the number one reason why this is (still!) my all time favorite TV show. In a lifetime of consuming Sherlock Holmes adaptations and pastiches, this is the first time that Watson was every bit as interesting as Holmes. He has so much depth, so many layers, hidden behind that quiet exterior.
Not a bumbling sidekick, not an everyman or an audience surrogate, but a complex, extraordinary man who is, really, the only logical companion to the great detective.
