Complementary centers of gravity

I think one of the reasons John gets on so well with Sherlock is that he does not feel intimidated or threatened by him, and by his brilliance, in any way.


In their conversation on their way to the first crime scene, Sherlock explains his deductions and is, very clearly, prepared for the reaction he usually gets: anger or fear. Instead, John is delighted. Sherlock is completely caught off-guard by this.

Donovan and Anderson deeply dislike and clearly fear Sherlock. They think he's dangerous, and it's not just because of his brilliance, full stop, but because of his particular genius at observation and deduction.
(And of course his glee at crime scenes and his apparent indifference to the human toll.)

Lestrade likes but is not entirely easy around Sherlock, and although he clearly admits that Sherlock is necessary, and generally to be trusted, his impulse is still always to be "what, really? Come on, be serious, you can't really know that." There's a niggling voice in the back of his mind, I think, that says Sherlock is just guessing - that what he is doing, what Lestrade sees him doing, is not humanly possible, and therefore can't completely be trusted.

Victor calls it "his tricks" and dismisses it as a parlor trick and a sham, but in a way that, again, makes it clear he is deeply uncomfortable around it. He is degrading it to make it less threatening.

I think it's safe to say that these are fairly indicative of what Sherlock has dealt with, from everyone, his whole life. Mycroft is an exception but still treats Sherlock patronizingly, and there's an unsubtle competition between them that only results in negative feedback for Sherlock. Never praise.

And then John comes along, and he thinks it's brilliant, and fascinating, and good. That it is something to be prized, and praised, and respected, not feared or hated or dismissed.

This is clearly the basis of their friendship from the start, but it is able to continue because John isn't threatened by Sherlock. Sherlock's brilliance, and his seeming ability to know everything, doesn't really faze him.

Consider the absolute self-confidence John must have, his own calm assurance of self, in order not to feel intimidated by this. He doesn't try to compete with Sherlock. He gets a little frustrated occasionally that he misses so much (e.g. the sneaker analysis in S2), but it's okay. He knows who he is, he knows what he's good at, and he knows that he's damn good at it. He's a doctor and surgeon, he's a soldier, he's a crack shot, he's good with people. His nearly unflappable calm, whether in a surgery, on a battlefield, at a crime scene, or at home with Sherlock, is so deeply centered that he is able to balance Sherlock's outsized presence and gravity.

Everyone else stumbles and falls. John and Sherlock settle into a balanced mutual orbit.

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