Sherlock 100: The Mystery of the Medic's Man
More in my J/L verse, which I cannot seem to stay out of. Fill for 76) Who? of my sherlock100 prompt table.
Follows Traditional Roles and takes place before Broken & Fixed
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sally Donovan was sick of Sherlock Holmes. Absolutely sick of the way he kept announcing her private life at the top of his lungs. Add Lestrade's continued refusal to tell her who he has been seeing for the past three weeks, and the Sargent was in a mood to pass on her humiliation. So when she happened to notice that the knees of John Watson's trousers were a bit damp and definitely dirtier than the rest of his clothes, she didn't hesitate at all before speaking up.
"Did you give The Freak a quickie in the gents, then?" Sally asked, taking vindictive satisfaction in the shade of red John Watson turned and the choking noise he made.
Sherlock, however, looked mildly amused. "What gave you that impression?"
"When you came into the station an hour ago to give your statements, Watson's trousers were clean and his hair was neatly combed. Now, not so much."
"Excellent observations, Sgt. Donovan, but your conclusion is false. You're manipulating facts to suit theories instead of the other way around. You missed several key pieces of data. For example, judging by the width and pattern of the damp patches, the encounter John was engaged in concluded almost immediately preceding our arrival here, perhaps brought to a hasty conclusion by our summons. Had I been his partner, my clothes would have in a greater state of disarray. Also, note the red. irritated areas around his mouth and neck, commonly referred to as 'beard burn'. As I am currently clean shaven, clearly our culprit lies elsewhere," he said, eyes sparkling mischievously.
"Right," Lestrade interrupted suddenly. "Can we move on to the actual crime scene please?"
Noting the tension in her DI's voice, Sally turned and examined him with a critical eye, convinced he was overworking himself again. His ears were slightly pink, his clothes were an absolute mess, and it looked like he hadn't had a chance to shave yet today...
"Oh. My. God. Watson, when I told you to get a hobby..."
"Donovan..." Lestrade growled, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Yes sir?" she asked, trying not to laugh.
"Shut it."
"Shutting it, sir."
Follows Traditional Roles and takes place before Broken & Fixed
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sally Donovan was sick of Sherlock Holmes. Absolutely sick of the way he kept announcing her private life at the top of his lungs. Add Lestrade's continued refusal to tell her who he has been seeing for the past three weeks, and the Sargent was in a mood to pass on her humiliation. So when she happened to notice that the knees of John Watson's trousers were a bit damp and definitely dirtier than the rest of his clothes, she didn't hesitate at all before speaking up.
"Did you give The Freak a quickie in the gents, then?" Sally asked, taking vindictive satisfaction in the shade of red John Watson turned and the choking noise he made.
Sherlock, however, looked mildly amused. "What gave you that impression?"
"When you came into the station an hour ago to give your statements, Watson's trousers were clean and his hair was neatly combed. Now, not so much."
"Excellent observations, Sgt. Donovan, but your conclusion is false. You're manipulating facts to suit theories instead of the other way around. You missed several key pieces of data. For example, judging by the width and pattern of the damp patches, the encounter John was engaged in concluded almost immediately preceding our arrival here, perhaps brought to a hasty conclusion by our summons. Had I been his partner, my clothes would have in a greater state of disarray. Also, note the red. irritated areas around his mouth and neck, commonly referred to as 'beard burn'. As I am currently clean shaven, clearly our culprit lies elsewhere," he said, eyes sparkling mischievously.
"Right," Lestrade interrupted suddenly. "Can we move on to the actual crime scene please?"
Noting the tension in her DI's voice, Sally turned and examined him with a critical eye, convinced he was overworking himself again. His ears were slightly pink, his clothes were an absolute mess, and it looked like he hadn't had a chance to shave yet today...
"Oh. My. God. Watson, when I told you to get a hobby..."
"Donovan..." Lestrade growled, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Yes sir?" she asked, trying not to laugh.
"Shut it."
"Shutting it, sir."