This has been languishing in my notebook for a while now, and I know that for this to be relevant I should have posted it months ago. Let's just say that timeliness is one of my areas for personal growth and leave it at that.
Robert Downey, Jr. said in an interview recently that he thinks Sherlock Holmes is “a very butch homosexual.” This would explain the lack of on-screen chemistry he had with Rachel McAdams. Predictably, the Conan Doyle estate is not amused, and they've said that if Downey doesn't ix-nay on the ay-gay he won't be doing the sequel. This debate is nothing new, of course. There is a long-lasting divide between those who think the deep affection between Holmes and Watson can only be the product of sexxxy times, and those who take offense at the suggestion that their friendship ever transgressed the bounds of straight-laced Victorian manners.
The are-they-or-aren't-they speculation isn't unique to Holmes and Watson, either. There's another detective whose relationship with his best friend is the subject of much winking and nudging. I'm speaking, of course, about Batman and Superman.
“But wait!” you protest, “Wouldn't Batman and Robin be a more accurate comparison?” Many people would agree with you, but you're wrong. Watson may act as Holmes' trusty sidekick, but he's no one's ward. At the end of the day Watson is Holmes' truest friend and equal partner in anti-crime. And, as with the World's Finest, a binary model of sexual preference is just too limited to contain their super love. There is ample evidence that all four men have genuine attraction and interest in the opposite sex, but those feelings will always be eclipsed by the love they have for each other.
The similarities between Sherlock Holmes and Batman are obvious; after all, you can't call your character the “World's Greatest Detective” without paying homage to the original master. Batman, like Holmes, is a solitary man, sacrificing personal relationships for the sake of fighting evil in his beloved but notoriously crime-ridden city. Thanks to their obsessive natures and extreme intelligence, they are both the best at hunting down criminals – and they both feel disconnected from the ordinary humans they fight so hard to protect. And of course, neither man has much time or patience for romance, with the exception of the women who can outsmart them: Catwoman and Irene Adler.
The Watson-Superman connection takes a little more thought, but since I have recently read every Sherlock Holmes story Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ever wrote, I am (by internet standards) an expert. Watson may not be a superhero, but he is a war veteran and doctor. Despite his self-reported character flaws, he is unquestionably a good guy. Like Superman, he is popular with the ladies; in A Study in Scarlet he mentions conquests in “five continents.” Eventually, he and Superman both settle down with smart-but-safe women, who they no doubt love very dearly. But both Lois Lane and Mary Morstan must be resigned to the fact that their husbands will dash off at the merest word from their detective friends, always ready to abandon spousal duties and their day jobs to help out on a case. And, probably, totally do it off-panel.
So why do most people insist on reducing these complicated relationships to a question of gay or straight? Anything beyond those two options never enters the debate. And our understanding of the world's best crime-fighting duos is forever made less interesting.
