Genderbent Sherlock Holmes Adaptations, Part I

I can’t speak for every writer, but for me, at least, when I’m working on a manuscript, the mention of another work that shares some of the key elements of my story gives me super mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m writing this story because, damn, I love those elements! I want to read something like this! On the other, there’s this semi-jealous anxious feeling of “Oh no, what if somebody else wrote the story I’ve been working on, except BETTER because I’m terrible???”

For that reason, I’ve shied away from reading a lot of genderbent Sherlock Holmes-ish novels in the past. Sometimes, I’d make the excuse to myself that I didn’t want other authors’ work to influence my own take on the characters. Other times, I’d be honest and acknowledge that I didn’t want to feel like my own work was awful in comparison.

But… as you may have noticed, I really like Sherlock Holmes adaptations, especially ones that deconstruct the original! And I seem to be at the stage in my own writing where I have the confidence that no one is telling quite the same story as me, even if one or two key points of the conceit are similar. So, during our second pandemic stay-at-home lockdown, I’ve been reading and enjoying a bunch of gender-bent Sherlock Holmses!

Here are my thoughts on the first few:

The Lady Sherlock series (Sherry Thomas, 2016, 2017 and onward)

In this series, starting with A Study in Scarlet Women, Sherlock Holmes is the alternate identity of Charlotte Holmes, a female deductive genius in a world that wants her to be docile and conventional. Sherlock is basically the Victorian equivalent of the imaginary male colleague invented by female professionals to get better responses from sexist correspondents.

I like how this series shows several different women, both “good guys” and “bad guys,” who challenge the dominant culture to pursue a variety of unique goals based on their individual dispositions and situations. Not every female character we encounter has career aspirations; not every female character we encounter has romantic woes. Some have both, some have neither, but the misogyny of their culture makes things difficult even for those with more traditionally feminine desires because, in the end, it treats them as objects and ornamentation rather than people.

I also like how the author takes care to code this Holmes’s interests and worldview as conventionally feminine. Just because she’s extremely logical and unconcerned with social mores doesn’t mean she embraces only the conventionally masculine. She loves indulging in tea-time treats, has a taste for the frilliest of dresses and decor, and harbours an undignified crush on an attractive man (but not, however, on what actually being with that man might mean for her lifestyle). I like how the author uses the characters’ narratives around made-up “Sherlock” to point out that the expectations around “genius” behaviour are unnecessarily gendered.

Overall, this series is interesting, but the characters/cases don’t particularly grab me. I like it mainly for its deconstruction of the gendered-ness of the Sherlock Holmes archetype and how it explores the way gendered social constraints limit and/or affect all the characters, not just Holmes, in a way more complex and entertaining than “good Victorian people have 21st-century gender politics.”

The Angel of the Crows (Katherine Addison, 2020)

This one is basically: Holmes canon, but what if angels were a thing and Holmes was one of them and his* name was “Crow,” and also these stories were generally less sexist/racist/heteronormative etc.?

The author’s note states that this story began as wingfic, and that pretty much covers it. There’s a lot of cool worldbuilding with angels and werewolves and other supernatural creatures integrated into Holmes-era London, but there’s only one original-to-this-work mystery plotline (Holmes vs. Jack the Ripper). As Holmes and Watson tackle this case over the course of the book, they encounter and solve self-contained creative retellings of Holmes classics, such as “The Speckled Band,” The Hound of the Baskervilles, etc.

ymmv, but I loved this because it hit a bunch of my favourite notes. I have a thing for stories with otherworldly, numinous angels. I enjoyed how well the supernatural was built into the setting in such a way that Sherlock-Holmes style deductive/inductive logic still applied. And I love seeing canon reimagined and explored from new perspectives/with new narrative goals, so the reliance on the Conan Doyle originals enchanted me.

On the protagonist front, I really like the unique but still recognizably Holmes-and-Watson characterization here. This is the first Holmes character, ever, who actually does strike me as “the best and wisest [person]” someone might know, without losing Holmes’s eccentricity or occasional misplaced priorities. I really like how this Holmes is kind and caring but also socially awkward and unconventional in the ways we’ve come to expect from Holmes characters. Of the two of them, Watson is the crankier, more misanthropic one, but still the more relatable and better at navigating social norms. Sometimes, Holmes feels like less of a genius than in other versions of the character, but, overall, it’s a delight to see how this version of this dynamic works in new and intriguing ways.

A Study in Honor (Claire O’Dell, 2018)

In this alternate-universe adaptation, Holmes and Watson are both Black queer women. I love that, and I like the near-future setting: a United States in the throes of a second Civil War that grew out of the racism and inequality of contemporary American life.

Because of those premises, I really wanted to like everything about this book. However, like many of the reviewers on Goodreads, I came away confused as to why these characters had to be Holmes and Watson. The minor connections to the Sherlock Holmes canon (Watson being a wounded veteran and a doctor, Holmes and Watson being roommates) seemed to restrict the story and characters rather than giving them interesting new dimensions. The espionage-thriller plot felt better suited to original characters whose friendship wouldn’t feel like a foregone conclusion and whose survival to the end of the book wouldn’t feel like a given.

I also didn’t particularly care for the way this Holmes character treated Watson; for example, she insists on calling Watson “my love” despite Watson clearly stating that she dislikes that form of address and asking Holmes directly to stop. Holmes characters often run rampant over their allies’ personal boundaries, and I can tolerate it as long as we’re not asked to consider it reasonable behaviour for a genius. But the issue seems to fizzle out by itself in this book–Watson eventually decides that calling her “my love” is the way Holmes expresses her love of her as a friend, so it’s fine. To me, that forgiveness/acceptance felt unearned, but, of course, different readers may have different reactions.

Caveat emptor: I am white, and, as far as I can tell, so is the author of this book. You might be wise to check Black readers’ reviews (especially queer, female Black readers’ reviews).

Stay tuned for part II with:

Enola Holmes (Nancy Springer, 2007)
The Daughter of Sherlock Holmes (Leonard Goldberg, 2017)
A Study in Charlotte (Brittany Cavallaro, 2016)

* Why does this book belong on my list of genderbent Holmeses? Well, although human characters interpret this Holmes’s gender presentation as masculine and although he accepts the use of “he/him” pronouns, he states clearly that he is not male.