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"You remember the Lauriston Gardens murder."
"Of course, the pink woman. The first case John ever shared with me. The first one he wrote in his blog."
"Jennifer Wilson."
Sherlock looked at Donovan. "Who? Oh, yes, that was her name."
The former NSY sergeant was wearing a different uniform, a black one with a red beret, with a different badge (a brace of laurel branches embracing the Earth) than the ones with which he was familiar. She'd asked to see him in a public locale before she began her new tour of duty; hence, the park bench.
Donovan nodded. "Well, that's certainly one way of remembering that night. That was also the night where you decided that a crime scene with a dead body was a perfect locale to inform everyone present, including a civilian, about my sexuality."
Sherlock looked taken aback for a moment, his brow furrowed. "No doubt. I notice things and I say things. That's how I work."
"Yes. You're very intelligent, and I'm certainly not the first police officer you've tweaked like that. It's just a pity you're not as observant as you think you are."
His insulted look was almost comical.
Donovan met his eyes with her own frank glare. "Let me see if this gets through to you. There is a difference in discussing an individual white man's sexuality in a venue where he is surrounded by other white men and regarded as a professional, and a black woman's sexuality in a venue of mostly white men who question her professionalism."
"It's the same thing," Sherlock said immediately. "I made the same comments to Anderson, I don't differentiate."
"And there it is, the mating call of the privileged."
"I certainly never had the privilege of being considered police," he snapped.
"No, you just had your white skin and your posh accent and that coat of yours that costs more than most people make in a week, and the unquestioned respect that the stupidest white man gets over the smartest black woman present." Donovan held up a finger before Sherlock could retort. "You also had the privilege of fitting right in with the race and gender of nearly everyone at the site, with no one muttering that you must have slept with someone to get that access to a crime scene."
"That's not – "
"Do you have any idea how many of my 'colleagues'" Donovan practically spat the word "in Scotland Yard joked and whispered that I must have given someone a blowjob to get a sergeant's rank? That I must have slept with Lestrade, or the Commissioner? Because God forbid that a black woman could study her arse off and actually be as good as or better than white men! But here comes the brilliant amateur detective, and the first thing you do at the site is call me a slut in front of white men I had to work with – too many of whom already didn't take me seriously because of my gender and race!"
"You called me a freak!"
Silence between them, like the lull in a boxing match. Both faced forward, breathing hard.
Lieutenant Sally Donovan inclined her head. "Touche. You remember that, too. I'm sorry I hurt you, Sherlock. I suspected your motives, but that was unprofessional as well as cruel of me to say."
The tall white man stared out across the park, his face set.
Donovan smiled a little. "I'm not a nice person, Sherlock Holmes. Big surprise there, I know. Part of that is always, always having to fight to be taken seriously. You have your own reasons for being the same way, but that part is something you don't have to worry about. Do you understand that? That some differences may be social or societal in nature even when there are no biological differences? Are you truly observant as well as intelligent?"
After a long silence between them, Sherlock looked at her uniform. "This new branch will be less of a battleground for you than the police. You have been accepted with the rank of Lieutenant, judging by the insignia, which either means that they have lower standards or are not bound by financial and social blocks that hindered you at New Scotland Yard. You would not join an inferior division merely to get an inflated rank."
Sally blinked slowly. "Bravo. And correct." Had he just complimented her integrity? "I can't talk about the work to outsiders. If you want more information, ask Mycroft Holmes what he knows about UNIT."
Sherlock made a face.
Donovan stood. "I don't expect us to part as friends, Holmes. But I wanted to clear the air. That memory has hurt for a long time."
Sherlock looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Lieutenant Donovan."
She smiled. "Accepted."