Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. And if you think that I do, you clearly need to brush up your inductive and deductive reasoning skills.
A/N: Because as much as I love Sherlock as a fictional character, let's face it: most of us wouldn't like him nearly as much in real life. Also, Sgt. Sally Donovan deserves more depth in fanfic and on the show than she typically gets. She's deeply flawed, yes, but so are all of the other characters; that's what makes them interesting.
Set circa Series One. I'm still relatively new to the Sherlock fandom, so any and all constructive criticism would be appreciated.
Oh how she hates him. Hates him hates him hates him.
Entitled, that's what he is. All public school accent and thousand-pound suits and sneers at the "common" folk. Entitled in almost all the ways that one can be entitled: male, white, wealthy, attractive, clever, and connected.
She doesn't hate him because he's entitled, though. Or at least, not entirely.
No, she hates him because he's got the bloody gall to sneer at those people who have to work to get anywhere in the world. Because he makes cracks about her spending the night at Anderson's "scrubbing the floor, going by the state of your knees" – either unaware or uncaring about their deeper misogynistic and racist implications – and then bloody well smirks like the entitled arse he is. And in smirking, invites everyone else to share in on the laugh, because isn't it funny and it's not like Sally has had to grit her teeth and smile along at this sort of thing before or anything. Don't want to seem oversensitive, after all. You don't get anywhere that way.
He's never had to claw his way out of poverty, never had to struggle to hold three part-time jobs whilst attending Uni on a scholarship, never had to ignore snide remarks about how he'd only got his position on his back or to fill a positive discrimination quota; he's never had to act twice as tough as the boys to be accepted and then get called a cold bitch for being that tough.
Oh, he's clever, she grants him that much. Even an idiot would realise that he's ridiculously clever. (And despite what The Great Sherlock Holmes thinks, Sally isn't an idiot.)
She doesn't hate him because he's clever, though. She hates him for what he does with that cleverness.
And it isn't just because he always breezes in and brushes aside everyone else's hard work and contributions and is still almost always right in his deductions. (No, she can put aside her pride, thank you very much, even though she does hate being made to feel small and stupid. The victims matter more than she does, and if Sherlock bleedin' Holmes is what's necessary, she'll grudgingly put up with him every now and then. (Not too often, mind.))
It isn't even because his presence at crime scenes is illegal, threatening to overturn their previous criminal convictions and cost them their hard-earned jobs.
No, she hates him because he only uses that intelligence to amuse himself – always at the cost of other people and frequently for no reason beyond his own amusement. He's a bully. Reminds her a bit of a kid frying ants on the pavement with a magnifying glass, watching them burn just because he can.
And yes, she knows that he was probably bullied a bit growing up – between his freakish intelligence, psychopathic tendencies, and utter lack of mind-to-mouth filter, she'd be surprised if he wasn't – but that's no excuse.
He's a bully and almost no one has the spine to stand up to him, so Sally makes a point of doing so. She calls him 'freak' to remind him that being bullied isn't pleasant; to remind him that not everyone is part of his little fan club, so easily placated by the occasional well-placed smile and insincere compliment. To remind him that not everyone is so easily blinded by the glamour of his genius.
She hates the way he manipulates people into doing what he wants and then leaves them holding the bag. (Gets away with everything, that one.)
She hates the way he's enthralled her boss, because she knows in her bones that that association isn't going to end well.
She hates the way he can read her past on her skin, his gaze stripping her bare; dissecting her like one of his corpses. She hates waiting – constantly on edge – for him to expose her secrets to the rest of the world, ruining the respect that she's worked so hard to build.
She hates him most, though, because he doesn't care. He looks at victims and sees – well, she's not entirely sure what he sees, to be frank, but she's damn sure he doesn't see the real people that they were; real people with emotions and dreams and loved ones; real people who were worth every bit as much as he is, for all that they weren't as clever. (Then again, he doesn't care about the living either. Seems to think that everyone exists for his amusement. Takes it for granted that it's an – an honour or something to assist him, to die for him. (And God knows she's seen enough deaths thanks to his stupidity.))
She'd give anything to have his skills and it kills her to see how little he really values what he has; how little he actually uses them to help others. If she were him, she'd be working even longer hours at the Yard than she is now, and that's saying something.
And the man has the temerity to sit around and whine about being bored!
It infuriates her that he seems to think that the 'less interesting' deaths are somehow unworthy of his attention, unworthy of receiving justice and respect. That he actually admires the criminal masterminds he chases.
Sally became a detective because she believes in the sanctity of human life, because she believes that everyone deserves justice.
Sherlock Holmes doesn't care about any of that, not even on an abstract level. He's rude and a bully and a thoroughly entitled arse.
(She hates him because he could be so much more, but refuses to try.)
So yes, she fucking hates Sherlock Holmes. Wouldn't you?