In order to decide if I wanted to watch the movie "Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows", I rent Guy Ritchie's "Sherlock Holmes" at a DVD rental store.
I enjoyed it very much. The images in the movie were stylish and I laughed at the cynical English jokes.
I love "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" and "Snatch". After he got married with Madonna, well, I don't want to talk about it. And then after he got divorced, he began to make cool movies again.
There are the people called Sherlockian, who study very small details of Sherlock Holmes stories. One of their biggest study subjects is the relationship between Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Some Sherlockian insists that Dr. Watson is female. I've read the theory that Holmes was female.
But I think that Holmes was gay and loved Dr. Watson, and Dr. Watson was so obtuse that he didn't notice Holmes' love for him. I'd like to prove my theory by analyzing quotes from "the sign of four."
Dr. Watson fell in love with Miss Mary Morstan, and at the end of the story, they were engaged. I'll quote the scene, where Miss Morstan, Dr. Watson, and Holmes rode a carriage by invitation of some unknown person.
He leaned back in the cab, and I could see by his drawn brow and his vacant eye that he was thinking intently. Miss Morstan and I chatted in an undertone about our present expedition and its possible outcome, but our companion maintained his impenetrable reserve until the end of journey.
Dr. Watson fell in love with Miss Morstan at first sight. Holmes must have noticed it, because he was quite sharp. Dr. Watson and Miss Morstan were talking with each other with a pleasant atmosphere, while Holmes was just silently fuming.
You might think that this passage wouldn't be enough evidence that Holmes was angry. How about the next scene?
"Look here, Watson; you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa, and see if I can put you to sleep."
He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air, ― his own, no doubt for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face, and the rise and fall of his bow. Then I seemed to be floated peacefully away upon a soft sea of sound, until I found myself in dream-land, with the sweet face of Mary Morstan looking down upon me.
Holmes played the violin with heart in order to make Dr. Watson sleep well, but Dr. Watson went to "dream-land" with Miss Morstan. How poor Holmes was!
The next morning, Dr. Watson said to Holmes that he wanted to visit to Miss Morstan!
"Well, of course Miss Morstan too. They were anxious to hear what happened."
"I would not tell them too much," said Holmes. "Women are never to be entirely trusted, ― not the best of them."
I did not pause to argue over this atrocious sentiment. "I shall be back in an hour or two," I remarked.
"All right" Good luck! "
How obtuse Dr. Watson was! Last night, he fell asleep hearing Holmes' playing the violin, but he had never noticed Holmes love for him at all. If he noticed it and ignored it, he must have been so cold blooded.
Although he would say, "I shall be back in an hour or two," he would never come back so soon when he met with Miss Morstan.
It was evening before I left Camberwell, and quite dark by the time I reached home. My companion's book and pipe lay by his chair, but he had disappeared. I looked about in the hope of seeing a note, but there was none.
"I suppose that Mr. Sherlock Holmes has gone out," I said to Mrs. Hudson as she came up to lower the blinds.
"No, sir. He has gone to his room, sir. Do you know, sir,"" sinking her voice into an impressive whisper, "I am afraid for his health?"
"Why so, Mrs. Hudson?"
"Well, he's that strange, sir. After you was gone he walked and he walked, up and down, until I was weary of the sound of his footstep. Then I heard him talking to himself and muttering, and every time the bell rang out he came on the stairhead, with 'what is that, Mrs. Hudson?' And now he has slammed off to his room, but I can hear him walking away the same as ever. I ventured to say something to him about cooling medicine, but he turned on me, sir, with such a look that I don't know how ever I got out of the room."
"I don't think that you have any cause to be uneasy, Mrs. Hudson," I answered. "I have seen him like this before. He has some small matter upon his mind which makes him restless."
He said, "some small matter"! Your obtuseness was guilt, Dr. Watson.
And then I'll quote the very tragic last scene.
"Well, and there is the end of our little drama," I remarked, after we had set some time smoking in silence. "I fear that it may be the last investigation in which I shall have the chance of studying your method. Miss Morstan has done me the honor to accept me as a husband in perspective."
He gave a most dismal groan. "I feared as much," said he. "I really cannot congratulate you."
I was a little hurt. "Have you any reason to be dissatisfied with my choice?" I asked.
"Not at all. I think she is one of the most charming young ladies I ever met, … But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest bias my judgment."
...
"The division seems rather unfair," I remarked. "You have done all the work in this business. I get a wife out of it, Jones gets the credit, pray what remains for you?"
"For me," said Sherlock Holmes, "there still remains the cocaine bottle." And he stretched his long white hand up for it.
What a tragedy! Holmes knew the end from the beginning, but he couldn't do anything but just saying, "I really cannot congratulate you." And Dr. Watson was happy in an innocent way.
At the end of story, only cocaine was left for Sherlock.