#I love a lot of things about the way this show turned out but maybe the very best one is how joan is a watson with limits #I don’t think I’ve ever seen an adaptation where watson doesn’t sigh in exasperation and then put up with the abuse #from day zero she’s laying down rules #and she’s patient and forgiving and remarkably low-key #(anyone who wakes me up before my alarm clock on the regular is getting a knife to the face) #but she absolutely knows the difference between eccentricity and unreasonable behavior #and is utterly able and willing to enforce boundaries #and to call holmes out #repeatedly. #now that I think of it I don’t particularly find watson interesting or likeable in… any adaptation I’ve seen? #and suddenly you have a holmes/watson dynamic that’s actually played as equal #where 2/3rds of their interaction is negotiation #(the other 1/3rd is mutual appreciation society and it’s so much better because of the negotiations) #real friends don’t just love you #they also challenge you to become a better version of yourself #that’s the show. (via smokeandsong)
Tag: joan watson
It’s been a long day in the tag. Someone please write me a story where Sherlock and Joan play scrabble.
“Language is evolving, Watson.”
– – –
“No.”
“Why must you persist in being limited by convention?”
Joan eyed him silently over the top of her glasses as they sat in the elevator she’d suggested they halt mid-floor while they waited for the return of the suspect.
“You can’t expect me to abide by arbitrary rules determined before I was born.”
“I’m pretty sure the publication date doesn’t matter in this case.”
“Text shorthand wasn’t even a gleam in the creator’s eye then.”
“Too bad. No acronyms — or initialisms, I know. Besides, I bet that one predates cell phones anyway. IMLTHO can’t be used in Scrabble.”
Watson plunked a large, rattling box on the floor next to Sherlock. He peered inside; it appeared to contain the entire contents of the game closet.
“Monopoly, Watson? I assure you, I do not need an object lesson in the crushing evils of capitalism. If I wish to feel despair, I can take a case on Wall Street.”
Watson removed the Scrabble board and bag from the box, and placed them in front of Sherlock. “Calvin-scrabble.”
His eyes narrowed. “As in John Calvin?”
She shook out the Scrabble tiles between them. “Box rules plus two meta-level rules. One: each turn, you may initiate any new rule you wish. Two: while new rules may abrogate any given box rule, the Calvin-added rules are unrepealable. If a rule gets made during play, it stays.”
“This seems oddly contrary to the doctrine of predestination, Watson.”
“Not when it’s predestined that I’m gonna win. Are you in?“
He grinned back at her. “I’m in.”
Watson drew the first turn. “Initialisms count. You want to play your beloved ‘IMLTHO,’ Sherlock? Be my guest.”
…
“Mandarin is permissible,” Sherlock said. “Hanyu pinyin romanization.”
Watson looked up from her phone. “Urban Dictionary is permissible.” She laid down her tiles, and showed him the screen.
“You just added that! I watched you!”
“I’m sorry, Sherlock, am I hearing you arguing for a conventional and limited interpretation of the rules?”
Sherlock scowled at his tiles. “Every ‘U’ tile has an umlaut.”
…
“Vertical play is permissible.” She stacked a word on the double-letter box.
He dug in the box for the chess clock. “Damnit. Speed Scrabble.”
…
“Palindromes only.” She turned over the miniature sandglass, which had replaced the chess clock several turns ago, and sat back in satisfaction.
“And you have a palindrome, obviously,” he said. She had given him very little sand to work with.
“And you don’t,” she smiled. “Sand’s running.”
He had seconds. “Pick a lock before play! And pass.” He turned the sandglass.
She laughed. “That’s your Hail Mary, Sherlock?” She cast her eye over the rack of padlocks, selecting one of her favorites. She snapped it shut. “I’m insulted.” Twenty seconds later, it popped open again.
“Racecar,” she pronounced, laying down two tiles and a monopoly token, thereby clearing her rack. “And I’m feeling magnanimous: people who have tiles remaining get a fifty point bonus. Oh, and what do you know, I still win!”
Sherlock cast his eye over the board, nearly uninterpretable with its lopsided stacks, missing tiles, diagonal words, and random objects. “That was utterly depraved, Watson. And there lies the Calvin connection, I presume.” He looked up at her. “Genius.”
“And you are an excellent conductor of light.”
He laughed and snapped a photo of the board. “Best two of three?”
shealwaysreads 