As promised (in damaged detective) Last Laugh straight out of my notebook – ie. without my usual excessive editing. If something doesn't flow right (or whole words are missing – trust me it's happened before) tell me and I'll fix it.
Librophile wanted Anderson's POV (and remorseful Anderson because it was hard to find) way back in July before all this mini-episode mess so I'd obliged and written it but promised another that I'd post 'Law' next and that piece, as you know, took ages to finish writing. I never thought I'd stick myself in the middle of such a fandom upheaval by doing so but here it is. Librophile, this is for you. I'm sorry it's so short and for taking so long to post but here it is now for christmas and likely in light of new events you'll be able to find a lot of Anderson fics in the near future
Merry Christmas everyone!
The Last Laugh
Anderson never meant for it to go as far as it did. He just wanted Sherlock to be the one they laughed and mocked for once. He never expected that the laugh he'd finally have at Sherlock's expense would be the last laugh. Remorseful!Anderson post-RF
He spent most of his time down in the labs now-a-days. Not that he'd been terribly popular before but as little as he'd appreciated the sneering glances and the open mockery of his peers for being shown up each time the Fre-... Sherlock that is, had taken his ideas apart, he liked the idea of grins, congratulations and pats on the back for driving a man off a building even less. Yes, he'd admit it galled him to play second string to an arrogant, self-absorbed psycho-... sociopath, but despite his high-handed methods Sherlock had been a person. He would never, could never justify or condone driving a man to suicide even one as infuriating as Sherlock had been. It wasn't something to be proud of.
Never would he have guessed that the events would play out as they had. All he'd wanted was for Sherlock to be the laughing stock of the yard. For him to feel the humiliation of being thought wrong. He knew, despite hating being constantly shown up, that Sherlock truly did know what he was talking about in matters of deductions even if he had had the emotional awareness of a paving brick. All Sherlock would have had to do was wait and eventually the truth would win out, or maybe that creepy brother of his would handle things if it went on too long. It didn't make any sense. If he knew Sherlock could have waited it out then why the hell hadn't that damn annoying, know-it-all git done just that? Sherlock was always calling him an idiot, telling him his deductions were wrong but suicide was a bit far to prove a point. Just once he'd been sure his idea would pan out when that man was involved. He'd wanted a laugh; he'd never expected it to be the last laugh.
