"Oh, please save it Lestrade," the cold voice of Chief Inspector Holland droned.
"Sir, these are murders. And there will be more of them if you don't allow me to operate properly," Lestrade argued through clenched teeth.
John carefully put his arm in front of his visibly annoyed friend. They were seated in the extra chairs placed stragetically against the wall of the police HQ. He was trying to communicate to Sherlock that him interferring at this point would probably do more harm then good. So far, the Chief Inspector hasn't even looked in their direction.
"Oh? And what makes you say that?" Mr. Holland asks, obviously baiting Lestrade.
"Sir, we have solved many cases with the help of Mr. Holmes, and it wouldn't do to suddenly put less weight on his words now," Lestrade was about to start listing evidence as to why the supposed suicides were actually murders (that Sherlock had pointed out earlier) but was interrupted by his superior.
"So it's true, then. You've been going to an orphaned, autistic crack-head for help," Holland's sneer was John's breaking point.
There was a moment of pause where everyone registered his words. John wanted to think that Holland was simply spewing rumors, but the way that Sherlock looked at the ground; the way that he shoved his fists into his coat pocket, and looked about ready to cry, told a different story.
Both Lestrade and Holland looked up when John stood up from where he was seated. He carefully brushed the invisible dust from his sweater, and straightened it. He walked up to them, and flashed them both a small, pleasant smile. He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he turned to Mr. Holland, and gave him another smile.
"And who are-" the Chief Inspector's question was cut off by John's fist colliding with his cheek.
He stumbled and was knocked to the floor by another blow to the face.
"John!" matching voices exclaimed in shock.
"That happens to be my friend your talking about," John punctuated his statement with a kick to the gut.
"And if you don't want me to beat your face in," John took a hold of Mr. Holland's hair, and pulled it to force him to make eye contact, "Some more," he twisted his fist painfully into the head of hair, "Then I suggest you start taking Sherlock's word as Gospel-as you should-and allow Lestrade to operate however he pleases."
He pulled his head painfully backwards and ground out in a deadly voice, "Am I clear?"
When Holland let out a cry and shouted a desperate, "YES!" John immediatley let go, stood up straight, and smiled pleasantly again.
"Good!" he said cheerfully.
He turned back to his two shocked friends and his smile widened.
"Up for some tea, Sherlock?" he asked brightly. All Sherlock could manage was a numb nod.
John practically strutted to the door, with Sherlock jumping up to join him. Lestrade took a moment before asking if he could come, saying that he could use a cup of tea at the moment. John agreed, of course, and they were all cheerfully making their way out the door, when John's voice sang back to the battered Cheif Inspector still on the floor:
"Oh, and if you try and report me, I'll make sure you never see your daughter again. Bye!"
Mr. Holland let a shudder run through his bruised body, curling up on himself, and quietly sobbing in the privacy of the floor in Lestrade's office.
Ok, so I only recently got into Sherlock, and haven't seen the sixth one (the one where he falls) yet. I heard, however, that John punches someone in the face, because he was talking smack bout our favourite detective. So, this is my interpretation! I'm sure the John in this story was uncharacteristically aggressive, and Sherlock was rather out of character, as well, but it's my story so, whatever. :P
I don't own dearest Sherlock, by the way.
How'd you like it?