#autistic!sherlock

[cupids-fiction]

i think johnlock affected me so deeply (specifically sherlock & co.) is because it shows a clearly autistic character (fuck u benebuckt cimbersnatch) struggling with risking his relationship, which he thinks could be taken from him at any moment, for staying true to himself. he chooses structure over love, mostly out of fear hed be doing something selfish/taking mary from john.

and john waits, and waits, because he knows sherlock just isn’t ready.

and mary lets them after her death. she gives sherlock this explicit permission which he has been afraid to ask for. it’s both a tragedy and a blessing.

[shylockgnomes]

NOW I HAVE TOO MANY HEADCANONS...

Of autistic!Molly and autistic!Sherlock finally figuring each other out hanging out and just literally being So themselves. Just like ASD besties in the lab. Getting bluntly annoyed with the other’s stims, and not holding back from saying so... Molly leaving her stim toys around the lab and coming in and finding Sherlock sitting there thinking through a case using one.

Molly eating the fish from Sherlock’s fish and chips because she likes soft stuff, and being healthy... and he eats the batter... :)

John getting a present of a jumper that’s a bit small from his sister and Sherlock getting Mrs H to wash it four times to soften it up and then passing it onto Molly... she loves it!

Someone stop me.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Autistic Sherlock - The Great Game

So many autistic cues in this show, but here’s where I’m at right this minute. 

Sherlock’s busy looking through his microscope while John waits nearby. Molly and “Jim” come into the St. Bart’s lab, and Moriarty flirts with Sherlock a bit. After he leaves, Sherlock tries to tell Molly that “Jim” is gay and that she should break it off to save herself some pain. She gets upset and leaves. Baffled, he tells John, “Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder?”

John directly informs him that it is not kinder.

Sherlock secretly appreciates his directness and the information John imparts. Such clear information will help him to communicate better with people in the future, and he knows he’ll be at the lab again soon enough and interacting with Molly specifically. To reward his friend for helping him understand what he did wrong and why Molly didn’t appreciate his efforts, he promptly gives John an opportunity to examine the shoes they recovered from the basement apartment. He’s giving John a chance to be like him, since he values so highly the opportunity to be more like John by learning his values.

Sherlock’s behavior looks cold, calculated, random. But it makes perfect sense to me. The clearest evidence in this scene is the way his face falls when Molly doesn’t appreciate his gaydar warning. He assumed she would be pleased, and when she was not, he was hurt. He was trying to be a good friend, but he doesn’t have a very good picture of what that looks like. Mycroft was certainly no road map to normalcy as a boy. A sociopath wouldn’t give two shits for how Molly felt, and if no one was looking at his face, there would be no point in pretending to be upset in the first place. But Sherlock is indeed caught off guard by Molly’s reaction. It’s a genuine reaction, and neither she nor John can see his face at that moment.

That whole “high functioning sociopath” shtick is exactly what I’d say to give myself enough breathing room to function in a world full of people who couldn’t hyperfocus if their lives depended on it. Plus, Sherlock said that line to Anderson. Anderson hates him. Of course Sherlock would say something tactically calculated to keep someone like that at bay.

[ladyautie]

I rewatched the first Sherlock Holmes movie and discovered the second one (both with Robert Downey Jr) very recently. I watched the first one a long time ago and I didn’t notice back then how autistic Sherlock is, in this particular version ! 

Between the infodump, the constant hyperfocus, the impulsivity and the close-to-meltdown scenes (I’m especially thinking about the restaurant scene in the first movie), this Sherlock is a very relatable character and makes for an entertaining hero to follow.

I typed down “autistic Sherlock Holmes” on Youtube and found this interesting video, supporting my theory :

The camera work is really amazing in illustrating what being overwhelmed by little details can mean. The sound design is also really close to reality. I experienced something very close to that recently, while going to a dinner with my boyfriend. I was relieved to get out, although my tangle helped me to deal with the whole situation.

Anyway, I’ll probably watch these movies again quite soon, it revived my special interest in Sherlock Holmes, notably “old” Sherlock Holmes (I still love “modern take” on Sherlock Holmes, though. I’m waiting for english subtitles for “Miss Sherlock”, a japanese drama with Watson and Holmes as women).

Autistic Sherlock Holmes is the best !

[gif of Sherlock Holmes. Sitting on a table, he’s dancing, snapping his fingers, moving his arms around him like he’s stimming, with an unfocused expression on his face]

[nauticus]

you don’t get to tell me that sherlock isn’t autisticccccccccccccccccc lalalalalalalaallaallalallaallaal

because he is

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Autistic Sherlock - The Hounds of Baskerville

Jumping right in with another cluster of autistic moments. Sherlock has seen the Hound and is truly freaked out by the level of fear and doubt in his own perceptions. He’s pushed John away by insisting that he is fine and claiming that he doesn’t have friends. Allistics and their jumbly emotions are always stressful, and he worries that he’s soaked up too much of John’s example, that he’s losing his Sherlockness, that he’s becoming lesser. But he realizes later, when he’s not in the grip of his unfamiliar emotions, that his words were hurtful. He’s hurt his only friend, the friend he relies on to be his allistic example and mentor. He realizes he’s still his analytical self, but he still needs John in many ways, and he feels bad for having hurt him, all the more so for doing so in an uncharacteristically weak moment. 

First, he tries to engage John back into the investigative process by asking (not demanding as usual) him to interview a pretty therapist. He takes a picture, and asks with a polite question mark at the end of his text. John obliges, ready for some human contact that will give him a break from Sherlock’s intensity. Sherlock knew that would appeal to John, too. The pretty therapist is a palate cleanser.

Second, he catches up with John in the cemetery and attempts to connect by asking him questions about UMQRA, the Morse code light signal John had seen the night before on the moor. Sherlock is clearly unfamiliar with how to ask after someone else’s interests, but he muddles through because he’s trying to make up for his unkind behavior. He confesses the painful truth to John: he is afraid of not being able to trust himself. By sharing that fact, he shows that he does trust John. He offers this secret as a peace offering. John is still not convinced, so Sherlock tells him, “I don’t have friends. I just have one.” It might look like bribery on Sherlock’s part--See, you’re a friend now, super privileged and all, so get back here and help me--but Sherlock is just trying another tack to get John to understand how much he values John’s presence. 

Third, after they meet up with Lestrade in the inn, Sherlock makes John some coffee. Sherlock doesn’t know how to make coffee. But John makes him coffee all the time. He knows John is a kind person. John makes Sherlock coffee. Therefore, making coffee is a kind thing to do for someone. He attempts the gesture in order to convey the meaning he always interpreted from it. John knows its significance, interprets its message and what Sherlock is trying to say. He has three clues. He accepts the coffee from Sherlock.

“What’s this?” (What does this gesture mean?)

“Coffee, I made coffee.” (I did the thing you always do for me, see?)

“You never make coffee.” (This gesture isn’t in your repertoire, Sherlock.)

“I just did, don’t you want it?” (I know what it means to me when you make me coffee, John. I want you to feel like this gesture makes me feel when you do it. Don’t you want to feel like I like you and notice when you need encouragement?)

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” (Look at you with your emotional awareness deep, deep, deep down. That was a lot of effort for you. I see it and I acknowledge it. And I”m letting you off the hook, because I like you too.)

Followed by John trying the coffee, realizing it tastes terrible because Sherlock doesn’t know how to make coffee, and drinking it anyway. True acceptance of Sherlock’s nonverbal apology. Sherlock knows John doesn’t like the coffee. Seeing his friend drink his bad coffee tells Sherlock that John is making an effort for him. Which Sherlock feels he has been doing for John all morning. That’s the final knot that ties them back together as a team and as friends.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Autistic Sherlock is also Ace

I just rewatched “A Scandal in Belgravia” which is possibly my favorite Sherlock episode, because brainy is indeed the new sexy and I love me a strong, confident female character. I’m rewatching the series because I feel that Sherlock is actually autistic, despite his claims of sociopathy. But this episode deals specifically with sex and relationships, and I was always torn regarding Sherlock’s behavior when I blithely assumed he was in fact sociopathic as he claimed. Silly me, I gotta stop taking characters’ words for things. #unreliablenarratormuch

Let me preface my observations by saying that, as an ace person myself, it’s embarrassing that I didn’t pick up on Sherlock’s acery before now. However, that’s likely due to the fact that ace folks of any stripe just do not get portrayed in mainstream media and storytelling. Sex sells, and we don’t want any. Alas, a lament for another time. Because Sherlock is, in fact, ace. The Virgin, by choice.

But I’ll tell you, as an ace, I have gotten my share of squishes. Squishes are basically aesthetic crushes, where a person’s style, personality, etc, just clicks with you, like love at first sight sometimes, but you don’t wanna bed them or even date them. You just wanna hang out and bask in their presence, where snuggling or dramatic pulse-taking are optional. That’s a squish. IMHO it stems from the same place as other people’s crushes and lust. It’s an expression of our desire to be social, to be with someone who is like us in some way. It’s an impulse driven by our drive to connect as a social animal. We just wanna be with someone in a way that makes us feel not alone.

Sherlock, being autistic, has possibly never in his life felt a squish before. He’s very different and he knows it. What connection could he possibly have, especially with a non-autistic, non-genius human being? But don’t despair, Sherlock. You don’t actually know everything. 

See, Irene Adler gets a squish on him, too. She’s gay. She doesn’t want to topple Sherlock into bed for her own personal pleasure. That’s just her job talking. That’s how she usually expresses connection. Sex is her most common connection to other people because of her work. But she’s really clever, and that cleverness doesn’t really fit into her day job--it just keeps her alive. She prepares carefully for her first meeting with Sherlock, because she wants to connect with him on a level she rarely gets to share with anyone.

An asexual autistic genius and a lesbian dominatrix. Most people might think that’s a romance doomed from the start. But they’re not looking at all the clues. It’s a relationship of appreciation and connection and respect. They see each other as they truly are, and they accept each other, flaws and all. 

You won’t find a relationship better than that, sex or no. It’s not doomed. It’s complete.

All the parts where Sherlock and Irene lean close Do Things To Me™, because seeing them revel in their shared squish is the happiest thing I can imagine. Sherlock literally doesn’t know what to do with a gorgeous, interested female, though. He sounds like he’s honestly piecing his sentences together one word at a time because he’s calculating them and judging her reaction at every step. 

“She’s awfully close to my face right now. But she said she’s gay. Was that a lie? I’d better check her pulse to find out. Solid information will help me make better decisions here, because I’m entirely out of my depth. And I’d better slide my hand onto her wrist softly because she’s used to being the one in charge and I don’t want to get smacked with a riding crop a second time. That hurt.”

At the end, when Sherlock practically begs John for Irene’s phone, just as a souvenir, and he stretches his hand out, all long fingers and open palm and slender wrist, God. She’s climbed inside his soul. He needs to keep her there. Her phone is a talisman, protecting and reinforcing all his memories and impressions, his recollection of her every word. She is The Woman™ because she’s the only person he’s ever squished on in his life. She is special. She saw him for who he was and never judged him harshly, never disappointed him, never struggled to keep up. Even John, bless his good soul, hasn’t been that accommodating. 

It literally does not matter to Sherlock that Irene betrayed him and partnered up with Moriarty the whole time. She acted to save his life by contacting Moriarty just before he was going to shoot Sherlock at the pool. She never put on a mask to hide her true self out of fear or for the benefit of those around her. She lived truly, embracing all of herself. Sherlock does the same. In his mind, they are cut from the same cloth. A stylish coat and its flamboyant scarf. They match.

Sherlock’s experiencing the ace version of falling in love. He’s connected with her on every level that matters to him. No one could ask for more.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Autistic Sherlock - Molly

The relationship of autistic!Sherlock and Molly has been building for two seasons, and the scene in “The Reichenbach Fall” where Sherlock talks to Molly the night before he jumps off the roof means something entirely different to me now. I used to be confused by it, hate it even. Now, I love it.

I LOVE IT.

Sherlock is an asexual autistic. He’s not good with humans, but he’s especially not good with female humans. Molly is educated, though, and he understands the same thought processes she uses to do her work at St. Bart’s. He trusts her as someone with similar forensic skills to his own. He trusts her work. He doesn’t just bully her around when he wants something. He likes her. He tries to tell her the things he believes she wants to hear from him. As an ace and an autistic person, he doesn’t really know what those things are, so he takes guesses. Sometimes he gets close. Sometimes he misses terribly and hurts her feelings. But he keeps at it. He doesn’t find another coroner to help him out. He likes her.

After he embarrasses her and frankly makes a fool of himself at the Christmas party in his flat in “A Scandal in Belgravia,” he reads the room, sees how he’s hurt her feelings, how others are responding. He feels terrible. He was trying to be funny, to impress everyone, because he doesn’t know how to be cool around women. It bombed terribly. He was nervous. How often does Sherlock Holmes have a party at his flat? (Whose idea was that, anyway?) His fortress of solitude was invaded by a bunch of allistics all at once. It threw him, he made a miscalculation, and as a result, he hurt his friend’s feelings.

But he apologized, immediately and directly. Sherlock never apologizes. Even when he pushed John away in “The Hounds of Baskerville,” he never directly apologized. He just made sugary coffee. But to Molly, whom he values but never knows how to connect with? He was off-balance so much that the only fix was a direct statement. He apologized to her, wished her Merry Christmas, and gave her a peck on the cheek, a traditional English Christmas greeting. He owed her that much. 

Molly Hooper is the only person Sherlock had ever kissed up to that point. He knows she likes him as more than a friend. He doesn’t speak that language, being ace, and he figures he’s probably sending fifteen wrong signals to her by kissing her on the cheek, but nothing else will do, and he can’t do nothing. Not for Molly. He likes her. He can’t have her being sad and upset, in his flat, on Christmas.

In “The Reichenbach Fall,” Molly tells Sherlock that he looks sad when he thinks John can’t see him. Sherlock tells her, “You can see me.” She replies, “I don’t count.” The rest of that conversation, where she repeatedly describes her position in their relationship as far further down than Sherlock ever intended, and where she will not let him correct her, informs him that he has been friending wrong all this time. She tells him that if he needs anything, he can have her. Her help. But she assumes he won’t want it.

He is taken aback, flustered, confused. Molly doesn’t feel valued, and that’s his mistake. He does value her, her helpfulness, her organization, her skills. He values how she doesn’t give up on him, like so many have. She’s one of his very few friends. He never berates her, like he does Anderson. He never belittles her, like he does Donovan. They don’t respect him, and he judges them for it. But Molly. Molly adores him. Molly believes him. Molly is impressed by him. Not only is all that rather flattering, but it’s a far cry from the usual prejudice, revulsion, and defensive anger he gets from most people.

Yes, he’s weighed her affection for him and found it relatively constant no matter what he does. He’s taken her for granted, assuming correctly that she will be there for him no matter what. But he’s missed how his brusque manner makes her feel along the way. Until she tries to excuse herself for existing.

Sherlock knows what it’s like to have people wish he didn’t exist. He’d never wish that on anyone, let alone someone precise and caring like Molly. He needs to remedy the situation.

When Moriarty’s Final Problem becomes clear, and Sherlock realizes that his rival intends for him to die in disgrace, Sherlock hatches a great plan, and he does so by utilizing Molly’s expertise. It’s the perfect storm of opportunity and necessity, bringing in the coroner he’s indebted to at precisely the moment when he needs a corpse identical to himself. Molly, faithful Molly, helps Sherlock out. She does everything he asks of her. And she keeps his secret afterward. She is a true friend. He doesn’t really deserve her. But he does need her.

There’s a shit ton of pseudo-sexual overtones to their quick conversation in the St. Bart’s lab. He steps close, tests her resolve by asking if he were less of a man than they both think he is, would she still help him? “What do you need?” is her immediate response. And Sherlock, hearkening back to her previous offer, simply says, “You.” Yeah, it looks like he’s gonna get laid the night before he dies. But that’s just the shallow veneer on the top. Underneath, he’s simply speaking her language. She said, “You can have me.” So he says he needs her. All of her. Her friendship, her expertise, her loyalty, her trust. What else would he possibly want? He’s had all those things all along. He just needs them one last time. 

It’s the sweetest thing ever. An ace autistic guy asking his female friend for help in a desperate hour of need when everything is on the line. And she listens, believes him, and drops everything to help him. It’s the epitome of friendship.

Oh, there’s calculation going on. Sherlock knows Moriarty has been watching him. So if he’s been neglecting Molly, Moriarty won’t think she’s important. Moriarty never has his goons point a gun at her in order to force Sherlock to jump. He’s not watching her. Sherlock knew she’d fly under Moriarty’s radar. But he doesn’t lie to her, try to flatter her. He’s honest. All his risks, all those calculations, are between him and Moriarty. Molly is safe, and Sherlock intends that she stay that way.

After he comes back from the dead, he asks her to solve crime with him. That’s how much he trusts her. And she does. That’s how much she trusts him.