A.N. Prompt is 'The competitive spirit'.
Disclaimer: not mine, and it's tedious to repeat.
The Freak is around – again, on their case – and Sally snarls. It's Pavlovian reflex by now. She doesn't hate him, honestly. She admires what he can do, even if she's far from vocal about it. Then again, John is quite enough as claque. Sherlock would become surely even more unbearable if she was friendly, God forbid. She's not even so very disturbed by his glee at crime scenes – a bit weirded out by his child-on-Christmas-morning attitude, but it kind of grows on you. It's like babysitting an extremely tall toddler, and while that's decidedly not her calling, she's done it often enough for her nephews that she can bear him for a hour.
Still Sally finds Sherlock's very presence an annoyance, and makes sure to let it be known. She's a policewoman, for God's sake. She loves her job. And she'd like to solve a difficult case once in a while. She might need a week or ten days, instead of half a hour, but she's sure that she could do it. Maybe not a nine, but a four or five,why not? It's not like Sherlock is grateful for those. Yes, he's better than ¾ of Scotland Yard put together (¾ only, she hopes), but she's a certified detective too and if only Lestrade trusted his squad a bit more she could even prove it. To Sherlock and to herself, because she's starting to need the validation, sad as it is.