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"Where on earth is he?" Lestrade exclaimed, perplexed and maybe a bit worried over Sherlock's tardiness. Though Sherlock was known to disappear at random times, and even not be heard from for weeks if there was a break in cases, he was always at a crime scene as fast as possible. It was too much fun for him to miss it.
"He probably with is boyfriend" Anderson replied sarcastically. Everyone at the Yard knew of Sherlock's mysterious 'John', a soldier away at war, and most doubted his existence. Early on, Donavan and Anderson had discovered that the only way to get the detective even a little riled up was to comment on his boyfriend. They had used this knowledge relentlessly, to the point that Greg had to ban them from ever making a comment about the supposed man again. Of course, that didn't stop Sherlock from going on and on about him. Despite the Yarder's insults, he never once stopped mentioning John. Often, when Anderson made a particularly idiotic comment, or when Donavan called him a freak one too many times, Sherlock would mention how, "John would have understood in an instant!" or, "God, John would be able to do your jobs twice as well!" This, to say the least, did nothing to make the police like him more.
"Anderson," Lestrade berated, "what have I said about mentioning him?"
"Sorry, sir" he mumbled. At that moment, Sherlock burst into the building, passed right by the sanitation station, and ignored everyone there as he rushed over to the woman lying dead on the floor. He examined her pink coat, ring, hair, even the back of her stockings. the Yarders were used to this at that point, so they simply gave the detective his space, going back to their jobs. Greg greeted Sherlock, to no reply, then headed outside with Anderson to where Donavan was watching the edge of the crime scene for anyone trying to sneak in. Just as they reached her, a short man approached the scene, grumbling, "stupid idiot with his big coat and cheekbones and two good legs" under his breath. He had close-cropped blond hair, with blue eyes, wore a lumpy jumper, and walked with a cane that showed off his significant limp.
"Hello," he said to the trio, "May I get through please?" Anderson just stared for a second.
"And who are you?" asked Donavan, sounding pissed. Lestrade thought he had heard a rumor about a recent break up, or something of the sort.
"Doctor Watson, Sherlock invited me," he replied kindly, and easy smile on his lips. It seemed that this 'Doctor Watson' was used to dealing with temperamental people.
"What, now the freak's inviting random people to our crime scenes?" Anderson exclaimed, looking to Lestrade in anger and surprise.
"I'm not someone random from the street, Anderson. I've known Sherlock for years," the smile was gone.
"How do you- he- what are you- how do you know my name?" Anderson cried, at the same time as Sally said, "How would you even know Sherlock? The only person he ever talks about is his fake soldier boyfriend," Watson glared at her, completely ignoring Anderson.
"Well, I hadn't actually seen him in person for a year until Yesterday, seeing as I was away in Afghanistan," Donavan and Anderson looked at him blankly while Greg banged his head against his fist, having actually figured it out.
"So? Why would the freak want you here? He doesn't even have friends!" Anderson said, rather idiotically in Lestrade's opinion.
"God, you two really are as stupid as he said!" Watson exclaimed, "Hello. I am Captain John Watson of the fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. My boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes, invited me to this crime scene, because I was an army doctor, and have helped him on several private cases before." Anderson and Donavan stared at him, shocked, while Lestrade coughed to cover up a laugh. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a woman dead and you are obviously not doing your jobs" He strode as best he could towards the door, right as Sherlock burst through screaming something about a case and "PINK!" The consulting detective fell silent as he heard Donavan call after John.
"How much did he pay you?" John stopped, and his shoulders visibly tensed. He had the look of a man with a short temper, who did his best to keep it in check. Sherlock stood there, a blank look on his face to most, but John could see differently. He saw the detective's eyes flash painfully for just a second, but it was enough to push him past the breaking point. The doctor, no, the captain whirled around, and stalked towards the police officers.
"And what exactly do you mean by that, officer?" Fear crossed Donavan's visage for a moment, but she didn't back down.
"I mean, who in their right mind would date Sherlock Holmes? You're probably just some actor off the street he hired to pretend to be his boyfriend, so we would believe his obvious lies!" Lestrade would not have been surprised if smoke started to billow out of John's ears.
"Unfortunately for you, Donavan, I am no actor. I just got back from three years of bombs and shooting at people, with a bullet in my leg, and all I wanted was to see my boyfriend doing what he loves. I do not want to hear you spout any more of that fucking bullshit around me or him, am I understood?" John practically growled.
Donavan just kept going, "Even if he didn't hire you, you must be nuts to want to date him. He's a bloody psychopath! He doesn't get paid to come to these murders you know, he gets off on it."
"Sherlock helps people! You wanna know why he does this? Because he sees people in this world suffering, and he wants it to stop! He saves lives! And, for the record, Sherlock is not at psychopath! He's a high-functioning sociopath, do your research!" This actually made Greg snort, he had heard Sherlock proclaim those same words on more than one occasion. "He's also, for your information, the most wonderful man I have ever met. He's smart, funny, beautiful, amazingly blunt, and the love of my life. Sherlock has saved all of your asses more times than I can count, and stopped a number of the world's most dangerous criminals!" Donavan scoffed. John kept going.
"Actually, from what Sherlock has told me about you, and from our current interaction, I have this theory. I think the reason you are on such a high horse, telling everyone how awful Sherlock Holmes is, is because you know the truth. You know that you are so dismal at your job that you could never hope to measure up to the incredible man right there. You know that you will never make a difference in this world, and he may just save it. So, for you own good, I think it would be best if you just piss off!"
Donavan stood there, shocked, as Doctor John Watson, Captain in the fifth Northumberland fusiliers, strode over to the consulting detective, grabbed his face his hands, and proceeded to give him a very long, very heated kiss with lots and lots of tongue. He then took a still stunned Sherlock's hand and led them out of the crime scene, nodding to Lestrade. Sherlock stumbled after his boyfriend, staring with practical heart at the man holding his hand. They hailed a cab, and drove off, leaving a frozen trio and several giggling officers behind.
Very few people called Sherlock Holmes a freak ever again.