Sherlock's Top 5 Most Controversial Story Choices

Get ready, because this ranking is guaranteed to start arguments in every corner of the Whovian universe: today I’m counting down the top five most controversial story choices in the history of "Sherlock," the BBC’s modern-day adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle’s legendary detective. No other detective show in recent memory has sparked as many furious debates, wild fan theories, or heated online shout-fests as "Sherlock." From mind-bending mysteries to polarizing character arcs, these are the moments that divided the fandom right down the middle.

Number five: the faked death of Sherlock Holmes at the end of "The Reichenbach Fall." In the third series, Sherlock is forced into a deadly game with Jim Moriarty, which leads to Sherlock apparently leaping to his death from the roof of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. The show’s creators, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, left viewers with no immediate explanation for how Sherlock could have survived the fall. This single act sparked countless online theories, detailed video breakdowns, and intense speculation that lasted for nearly two years. Fans argued about everything from strategic placement of a squash ball under Sherlock’s armpit to the involvement of homeless network operatives. The lack of a satisfying, watertight solution in the eventual reveal—where multiple contradictory explanations are floated—left many feeling cheated, while others enjoyed the playful meta-commentary on fan obsession itself.

Coming in at number four: the romantic tension between Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler, as portrayed in "A Scandal in Belgravia." In Conan Doyle’s original stories, Irene Adler appears only once and is admired for outsmarting Sherlock, but the television series turns this single encounter into an ongoing flirtation with overt sexual undertones. Many fans loved this bold reinterpretation, seeing it as a fresh take that gave Sherlock emotional complexity. Others felt it betrayed the core of Sherlock’s character as “a high-functioning sociopath” who scorns romance. The use of Adler as a dominatrix and the “I Am SHERlocked” phone passcode became instant pop-culture touchstones, but also drew criticism for reducing Adler’s legendary cleverness to mere infatuation. The debate continues, with some calling it a modern update, others calling it fan-service, and still others lamenting the missed opportunity for a true intellectual equal.

Number three: the decision to make Mary Morstan, John Watson’s wife, a former secret agent with a deadly past. In the original canon, Mary is a relatively minor character, a kind and supportive spouse who dies off-page. The BBC series, however, transforms her into a master assassin with a history of espionage and a false identity. Her revelation as “AGRA” shocked viewers in the episode "His Last Vow." Some fans praised the twist, saying it gave Mary agency and depth, and allowed actress Amanda Abbington to shine. Others argued it unnecessarily complicated the relationship between John and Sherlock, and overshadowed Watson’s own development. The later decision to kill Mary off in "The Six Thatchers" reignited fierce debates over whether her expanded role was justified, and whether her death was meaningful or simply manipulative melodrama. The Mary arc remains a flashpoint for fans who disagree about whether the show should have stuck closer to its source material.

At number two: the entire plot and execution of "The Final Problem," the climactic episode of series four. In this episode, Sherlock and John discover that Sherlock has a secret sister, Eurus Holmes, whose extreme intelligence and emotional detachment have made her a threat to everyone around her. Locked away on the island prison of Sherrinford, Eurus orchestrates a sadistic series of psychological games, forcing Sherlock to make impossible choices and confront his own past. Many fans called this a bold, gothic thriller that pushed the boundaries of what a detective story could be. Others, however, accused the show of abandoning logical deduction entirely in favor of overwrought melodrama and plot twists for their own sake. The introduction of a previously unmentioned Holmes sibling was seen by some as an exciting expansion, but by others as a shark-jump worthy of criticism. The plot’s reliance on childhood trauma and psychological torture made for some of the series’ most divisive discourse, with debates raging over whether “The Final Problem” was genius television or an incoherent mess.

Finally, at number one: the ambiguous, often-criticized resolution to the “Johnlock” question—the theory and hope among many fans that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson would eventually acknowledge a romantic relationship. While some viewers saw undeniable chemistry and subtext throughout the series, the creators consistently played coy, teasing possibilities but never delivering an explicit romance. In interviews, Moffat and Gatiss insisted that Sherlock and John’s bond was deep friendship, not love. However, numerous winks to fan theories, jokes about “not being a couple,” and scenes laden with emotional intensity fueled shipping wars for years. The show’s refusal to definitively confirm or deny romantic feelings became a central debate in the fandom. Fanfiction exploded, petitions were circulated, and social media campaigns demanded answers. The “Johnlock” debate is still referenced as one of the most passionate and contentious in modern television. For some, the creators’ approach was respectful of canon and true to the characters. For others, it was queerbaiting—an exploitative ploy to court LGBTQ fans without genuine representation. No other story choice in "Sherlock" has generated as many think pieces, social media storms, or fractured as many friendships.

So there’s my list, but I know you’ve got opinions. Did I leave off your most controversial moment? Should the Reichenbach fake-out be higher, or does “The Final Problem” deserve the top spot? Maybe you think the handling of Irene Adler was the real betrayal. I want to hear your takes—drop your own top five, and let’s keep this debate as lively as a deduction at 221B Baker Street.