coerulescens:

etosaurus:

This scene is really important and makes me really emotional.

Sherlock is a show-off. There is a thrill associated with knowing things other do not, deducing impossible amounts of information from the most invisible clues, knowing that everyone completely relies on you and your brilliance to carry them through. Every time he rattles off a deduction there is this swelling sense of pride, a “look at me, look how great I am” feeling coming off of him, because Sherlock loves to be praised and feel important. 

Unfortunately, this kind of show-offery is a huge display of power over those around him, putting him on this untouchable, grandiose pedestal and leaving everyone else unable to reach him, and instead often resent him. They need him, of course, and probably admire him, but the constant showing off and boasting gets incredibly tiresome. We can see it in an earlier episode with Bell, getting frustrated at Sherlock’s absurd knowledge and power displays, and attempting to exert power back over him by coming to his own deductive conclusion (but, if you remember, Sherlock denies him that power and respect by not falling into the scripted “how could you have known that” response that Bell was hoping for). 

Sherlock has told Joan that they are to be partners, equally important workers for these cases, even though Sherlock has more experience and is acting as a sort of mentoring figure. The goal, however, is to hone Joan’s detective skills and bring out her potential so that she, too, can be great. 

So when Sherlock rattles off another seemingly impossible deduction, without going into detail how he did it in an attempt to show off, Joan is understandably hurt by this backhanded putdown of her intelligence and worth. It screams “I, Sherlock, am the genius here, don’t forget that.” It knocks her down several pegs to the lowly position of a mere admirer rather than an intelligent partner in her own right. 

That is why Joan, in her frustration, rattles off her own (fabricated) impossible deduction, causing Sherlock to completely stop in his tracks and stare at her in confusion and astonishment before she says, defeated, “See how it feels? Just tell me how you know.” She turns his power display back on him. This is how you are making me feel. My job is not to follow you around and fawn over you. My job is to learn.

Sherlock (who I think wanted to believe Joan had shown him up, had believed it for a second, was completely astonished and in admiration of her) immediately sympathizes with Joan, recognizes what he’s been doing, and races forward to grab her arm and guide her, at his side, to the evidence. He doesn’t just sigh and explain, he doesn’t walk ahead of her, doesn’t react to her power shift by putting her “back in her place” like he did with Bell, he actually takes her with him side by side, holding on to her arm so she doesn’t fall behind, and explains himself so that she can learn (and congratulates her on her following deduction). Because they are partners.

I don’t think (this) Sherlock is a ‘show-off’ (demonstrating knowledge in an attempt to actively garner envy, praise, and admiration from others) as much as he’s a 5 whose sense of security comes from knowing things others do not and being valued by others for that knowledge (demonstrating knowledge as a reinforcement of social status/value to himself as much as others).  Which might seem like the same thing from the outside, especially when it’s being used as a power play, but comes from a different motive?  

And also I think sometimes (as in this case) he just genuinely forgets that other people don’t see things he does, because he gets so caught up in what he’s doing that he doesn’t stop to think that he’s coming off as a condescending asshole, but once it’s brought to his attention he does feel bad about it.

BUT YES OTHERWISE ALL OF THIS BLESS YOU ETO.

Ah that’s a good point, I think I can see that too. I’d read a thing about Sherlock Holmes in general being show-offy and impressive and I could see it in our Sherlock here, but it being a by-product of his own values and occasionally being socially unaware makes a lot of sense too.

Even though I’m a 4 I do think I have a pretty strong 5 wing and I kind of experience both, where I do value hoarding facts and feel secure and valued when I can infodump at people, buuut it was also an unconscious way for me to be a show-off and feel better than other people (which I’ve also had to have pointed out to me by someone I care about and have to actively keep in check). So perhaps we are both projecting a bit. ;) 

(Source: acciojoanwatson)

This scene is really important and makes me really emotional.

Sherlock is a show-off. There is a thrill associated with knowing things other do not, deducing impossible amounts of information from the most invisible clues, knowing that everyone completely relies on you and your brilliance to carry them through. Every time he rattles off a deduction there is this swelling sense of pride, a “look at me, look how great I am” feeling coming off of him, because Sherlock loves to be praised and feel important. 

Unfortunately, this kind of show-offery is a huge display of power over those around him, putting him on this untouchable, grandiose pedestal and leaving everyone else unable to reach him, and instead often resent him. They need him, of course, and probably admire him, but the constant showing off and boasting gets incredibly tiresome. We can see it in an earlier episode with Bell, getting frustrated at Sherlock’s absurd knowledge and power displays, and attempting to exert power back over him by coming to his own deductive conclusion (but, if you remember, Sherlock denies him that power and respect by not falling into the scripted “how could you have known that” response that Bell was hoping for). 

Sherlock has told Joan that they are to be partners, equally important workers for these cases, even though Sherlock has more experience and is acting as a sort of mentoring figure. The goal, however, is to hone Joan’s detective skills and bring out her potential so that she, too, can be great. 

So when Sherlock rattles off another seemingly impossible deduction, without going into detail how he did it in an attempt to show off, Joan is understandably hurt by this backhanded putdown of her intelligence and worth. It screams “I, Sherlock, am the genius here, don’t forget that.” It knocks her down several pegs to the lowly position of a mere admirer rather than an intelligent partner in her own right. 

That is why Joan, in her frustration, rattles off her own (fabricated) impossible deduction, causing Sherlock to completely stop in his tracks and stare at her in confusion and astonishment before she says, defeated, “See how it feels? Just tell me how you know.” She turns his power display back on him. This is how you are making me feel. My job is not to follow you around and fawn over you. My job is to learn.

Sherlock (who I think wanted to believe Joan had shown him up, had believed it for a second, was completely astonished and in admiration of her) immediately sympathizes with Joan, recognizes what he’s been doing, and races forward to grab her arm and guide her, at his side, to the evidence. He doesn’t just sigh and explain, he doesn’t walk ahead of her, doesn’t react to her power shift by putting her “back in her place” like he did with Bell, he actually takes her with him side by side, holding on to her arm so she doesn’t fall behind, and explains himself so that she can learn (and congratulates her on her following deduction). Because they are partners.

(Source: acciojoanwatson)