“Now, I Urinate.”—Elementary: A Giant Gun Filled with Drugs.

Previously on ElementaryThe Deductionist.


When old friends come to visit, that’s usually great. Reminiscences, old jokes, sometimes those are a solid foundation to build a friendship future on.

Less so when your name is Sherlock Holmes and the old friend is your former drug dealer, Rhys, who’s run into some problems.

Since we’re toiling in the cesspool of social media: that awkward moment when the delivery guy you perceive as a threat might have actually saved you from being abducted. Damn.


It is indeed a week of hard work for Joan—for all of them. For the first time, both Joan and Sherlock show more of what’s going on in their heads. Sherlock wants to get clean, he knows he needs to, and he’s appalled at Rhys’ insistence that he’s a better detective when he’s using. Sherlock needs his abilities to be his own, independent from substance abuse, he knows his IQ is his own, he can’t rely on the destructive influence of drugs to do his work, because he knows that that’s not where his deductive genius comes from. The temptation that drugs might really aid the speed of his deductive leaps seems inevitable, but Sherlock knows he needs to do it by himself, and sober. He can’t control his drug use the way the Holmes in the original novels could, not after losing Irene. The need to dull the pain would grow insurmountable, and he knows that. He also knows that it’s not just his own conscience, but Joan’s trust that’s on the line. And he won’t sacrifice that, especially not now. Later, it’s also Joan’s life on the line, and he as good as panics when he hears the gunshots—not least because this is after he’s spoken with his father, and surely has learnt that Joan is no longer employed by Holmes, Sr., but that she’s staying with him on her own time. He refuses to have more blood on his hands, much less that of a friend; the only one he has left.


Joan, in turn, gives Rhys a proper dressing-down for bringing drugs back into Sherlock’s home. Sherlock Holmes is her #1 priority, professionally as well as personally, and she will not see him harmed. She’s the boss; and she asserts her role as a protector both deliberately and almost unwittingly. Rhys has to hold her back as Diaz, the undercover DEA agent, beats Sherlock up in the club—she knows staying out of fist fights is the only way not to get hit; and she knows that she mustn’t expose herself to the scrutiny of the cartel, but all of that means nothing in the first rush of panic at seeing Sherlock get hurt.

Later, however, Joan does not hold back and knocks Diaz unconscious with the help of poor ol’ Angus even after he’s already shot Rhys. She’s shaken, afterwards, but she’s fine; she will be fine. Her not being a soldier means she’s not used to violence the way an army doctor would, so her story of stepping up the plate is kinda more like that of a Doctor Who companion. And Sherlock is already putting into motion his plan of showing Joan that he’s fine, too, so that she can consider moving on. He wants it to be her choice, staying with him, and he won’t accept her still living with him if it’s only because she feels morally obligated. Hence, sharing at the meeting. Properly. No Case of the Blue Carbuncle this time, either.

Also, thank you, Joan; thank you, Elementary, for (figuratively) smacking Sherlock in the face for that idiotic menstrual cycle remark:

“Couching it as a scientific observation totally negates the misogyny.”

Bam, said the lady. News flash: a woman’s thoughts and opinions are not rendered invalid by hormones. Toodles!

Oh, and: they did the thing. They said the thing!

I believe in Sherlock Holmes.

Next: Details.

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