"Why does he have to make such a performance out of it? It's not like it's a difficult task."
Sally Donovan kept her mouth firmly shut. Don't engage, she told herself. He'll only end up making you angrier.
She'd have thought that the last thing she needed on a Monday morning was the presence of the Freak. Unfortunately, today she also got the pleasure of spending her work hours sharing space with a big pile of corpses. Great.
To be fair, there were only about four or five corpses in the pile, so she'd seen worse scenes. However, they were all cut into big chunks and stacked up together in the middle of the living room, which not only made it look a great deal worse, it also made it a hell of a lot harder to deal with. There was a lot of forensics work to be done here, and the amount of blood spattered everywhere would make crime scene analysis a nightmare. So of course, Lestrade had called in favourite Consulting Twatbag.
And okay, fair enough, he'd managed to give them a rundown of what had happened and confirm that the resident of the flat was also one of the bodies on the pile, which gave them a head start, even if she was loath to admit it. Anderson was working the scene though, and she was just waiting for it to kick off.
She was also yearning for an excuse to give Holmes a good, hard sock in the mouth. That was all she needed; an excuse. She was just in the mood to hit somebody awful.
Watson was getting to make himself useful for once, actually, which seemed to calm the Freak down just a bit. Before Lestrade left, leaving her to guard the scene, Watson got permission to help Anderson sort out which bits belonged to which corpse, until the rest of the forensics team got there, and the two of them were now tiptoeing about in amongst the dismantled corpses in their little blue onesies, putting together the world's grottiest jigsaw, while she and Holmes stood in the kitchenette and watched. They'd been silent, for the most part, and Sally desperately hoped that, if she didn't respond, he would give up on talking. She wasn't sure if she hoped Lestrade would get back before something set the Freak off or not, actually. Excuse and all. Then, after long, precious, quiet minutes of being able to pretend that the Freak didn't exist, John Watson startled her by speaking.
"That one doesn't go there," he said quietly, pointing at something Anderson had just put down, and Anderson shot bolt upright, glaring at Watson.
"I appreciate your assistance, Watson," Anderson said, all huffy precision, "but please don't think that because you have medical qualifications you are capable of understanding the dynamics of a crime scene. You're getting just as bad as Holmes, presuming to tell me how to do my bloody job, and-"
"I know enough to know that that bloke you're putting together probably didn't have two left hands," Watson interrupted, pointing. Anderson's mouth snapped shut, and he stared at the offending appendage for a few seconds before sheepishly bending down, picking it up, and handing it to Watson.
The Freak sniggered softly, and Donovan turned to glare at him. Poor Anderson. Holmes' presence always put him on edge, it was no surprise he kept cocking up when he was around.
"You don't look happy, Detective Sergeant," the Freak said coolly, smiling at her from one corner of his mouth.
"If you'd give him half a chance-"
"He could render the crime scene useless? Yes, I'm sure he could."
She felt the urge to just let rip and swear at him, but pushed it down. "He's not as bad as you make him out to be, you know. Anybody listening to you would think he was some sort of criminal."
Holmes' lips twitched. "Would they? Well, consider it this way; he often works alone, with nobody to point out when he's got something wrong. What if it isn't that other people give him nerves and make him make mistakes? What if it's more the case that, when he's alone, his mistakes never get spotted, or are left unseen until it's too late? If he's always this bad, think how many criminals may have walked free because of him."
Donovan pursed her lips and looked away from him. "You think you could do better?" she snapped.
"No, or at least not as a forensics tech. Not without putting in lots of ghastly office hours." His eyes cut towards her and a little smirk appeared and then vanished so fast she could have blinked and missed it. "Of course, though, if you were talking about a comparison between you and I, then yes, I can easily do better."
Donovan snorted. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. I have acquired a far better partner."
Fucking nerve! "No you haven't. You've just finally managed to find someone who puts up with you, that's all." She wasn't sure if they were talking work or romance, but either way he had a bloody cheek. Now he was shaking his head at her.
"Not at all. I actually think that, even objectively, John Watson is clearly a better man than your Anderson." He said Anderson's name with a kind of half sneer that made Donovan want to throw sharp things at him.
"Oh yeah?" Donovan responded, and nearly kicked herself for sounding like some dickhead thirteen year old.
The Freak cleared his throat like he was about to launch into song, then drew his skinny body up straight and lifted both hands in order to begin ticking things off on his fingers.
Left thumb. "John has more educational attainments than Anderson, which, along with his clearly superior problem solving abilities and awareness, also indicate a higher intelligence."
Left index finger. "John has worked professionally and successfully in a doctor's surgery, a hospital and as a military soldier and medic, thus giving him a broader range of professional and life experiences, desirable traits in a social partner as well as in a person of scientific backgrounds. Anderson, on the other hand, has been in the same job since he completed his training and has not been promoted or offered any other opportunities for the last twelve years."
Donovan scowled at him; that was a sore spot for Anderson. The Freak went on, unperturbed.
Left middle finger. "John is physically fit and maintains his physique, despite having suffered severe physical injuries only a couple of years ago. Anderson, on the other hand, is becoming jiggly."
Donovan couldn't help but glance over at Anderson then. She hated to admit it, but a bit of jogging or something wouldn't hurt him.
Left ring finger. "John is physically strong and very capable in combat situations. A desirable trait in a mate."
"Bit primitive," Donovan commented.
"Yet still valid," the Freak replied. "What would your Anderson do if a mugger attacked you both?"
"I could deal with it!" Donovan snapped, and she bloody well could too. She'd deal with Holmes if he didn't shut his trap soon.
"It would be nice if he could pull his weight though, wouldn't it? Besides, I'm sure everyone has a few...fantasies they need a strong partner to fulfil."
She wasn't blushing. She absolutely wasn't blushing and thinking about her favourite diagram in The Joy of Sex. Absolutely not.
The Freak smirked. Then; left little finger. "John has strong protective instincts towards his partners and those close to him. Even when he doesn't approve of my methods, he will defend the ends I am trying to achieve, and keep others off my back while I work. When did your Anderson last stick up for you? As I recall, he doesn't even acknowledge our arguments unless I draw him into them."
Donovan folded her arms and fixed her eyes on a severed...something on the floor by the sofa.
The Freak didn't stop. Right thumb. "John is both interested in and appreciative of my work, and encourages my development of my professional skills"
Donovan waited for him to say more on that one, but he didn't. It still cut though. Not that long ago, Anderson had told her that he didn't think female DIs were attractive, when she'd asked his opinion about her working towards a promotion. She'd felt like slapping him at the time.
Right index finger. "John has considerable domestic skills and willingly does the lion's share of our household tasks, without ever experiencing any stupid pangs of emasculation."
Anderson's wife did all their housework. Donovan just rolled her eyes.
Right middle finger. "John is a skilful and creative lover, and-"
"Oh that's just too fucking much! Do you think he wants you telling me about what you two get up to in bed? Do you think I want to know?"
The Freak fixed his eyes on her, hands poised in mid tick in front of him, and gave her a slow, dirty smile.
"He's really very good," he said in a low rumble. "Can you say the same for yours."
"Fuck you! That's none of your business!"
"That answers my question quite sufficiently, thank you." And before she could swear at him any more, he moved on to;
Right ring finger. "John is generously proportioned. Not excessively large, but comfortably above average, which really can make a difference when the person knows what they're doing with it."
"I don't want to hear this," Donovan said.
"Well, jealousy is never pleasant," the Freak replied lightly. "And finally," right little finger, "John is fiercely loyal and unwaveringly faithful. I don't believe he's even glanced at a woman's cleavage since we began our romantic relationship, even though that used to be one of his favourite pastimes when in pubs. He even got rid of most of his porn."
And that was the one, really the one, that hurt. Because for all Anderson told her she was the most important woman in his life, he always evaded her when she asked about him leaving his wife, or when she tried to convince him to spend the whole night at her flat, or even when she just wanted to go out, just go out on a date. And she knew he'd never marry her, because she wanted to be a DI, and because he'd probably never get promoted again, and because a DI wouldn't have time to come home and do all the housework and ironing and cook dinner for a lazy-ass husband, unlike fucking Nadine who worked full time too, but at least had regular hours, and-
"And Anderson, on the other hand, has been seeing that woman in the records department. You know, the one with the badly dyed hair and the World of Warcraft addiction."
"What?" Donovan heard herself say.
The Freak looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then said quietly; "You heard me."
Anderson was snapping at Watson again, while Watson calmly got on with smoothing a scalp back onto a sticky skull. Cool as a cucumber, Donovan stepped around the kitchen counter, trod stepping-stone fashion across the dry patches on the living room carpet, tapped Anderson on the shoulder and, when he turned towards her, socked him in the jaw with all her might.
John watched Anderson hit the floor with a thump, rose from his crouch, took one look at Donovan's livid face, and retreated to join Sherlock in the relative safety of the kitchenette.
"What was all that about?" he asked.
"Even though she hates me, she recognises that I'm right. It's quite an interesting dilemma," Sherlock mused, staring avidly at the unfolding chaos.
"She-...what-...Sherlock, what did you do?"
"Oh, we just had a chat. Let's wait outside for Lestrade, shall we? I've a feeling some of your hard work might get undone, I'm afraid, John. Donovan strikes me as a thrower."
::
Oh this one was fun to write. What with Sherlock's thoughts on John's many qualities in the last chapter, and his lovely chat with Mycroft in the first, it does feel like I've repeated a couple of motifs here, but you know what? I think they can stand repeating. We only ever scratch the surface of John, but it's clear that there's so much more to him than meets the average eye. It pleases me to let Sherlock make everyone else aware of this fact.
I actually really like Donovan as a character, and her dilemma is kind of interesting. I always wonder, when watching The Reichenbach Fall, how long she had had her suspicions about Sherlock before she spoke up. Because she isn't stupid, and she isn't a bitch, she's just a hot tempered woman who doesn't appreciate a rude show-off getting in her face at every opportunity, and who isn't afraid to bring up sore points with her boss. And I kind of feel that, in this chapter, in a subtle, not-quite-admitting-it way, Sherlock is showing a little bit of respect for her, as an opponent.
And for those of you who enjoy being mean to Anderson...stay tuned ;D