"Why's the Freak here?"

"Because you need me, Anderson."

"Pft. As if anyone needs you. Go to hell, Freak."

Sherlock blinked a few times, then turned away and walked towards to crime scene.

John growled in the back of his throat. He'd talked a teen down from suicide this week at the clinic, and when he asked why she wanted to die, she had said that no one needs her, and that she was a freak. To hear Anderson use an insult other than 'Freak' - which he could barely stand in the first place - made his blood boil. That he used nearly the same words as the girl was subjected to just made it that much worse. His usually unlimited patience was frayed. One more word and-

"Just gonna ignore me? Ha! You're so cowardly! No wonder you have no friends!" Anderson shouted, thinking he'd won.

He started laughing, oblivious to the other officers looking at him in varying levels of disbelief, only to be cut off by a fist colliding with the right side of his face. Hard.

Anderson hit the ground fast Blood dripped from his mouth as he shrieked in pain.

Sherlock spun around, expecting to see a menacing attacker above Anderson. He only saw John breathing heavily, eyes narrowed. What he could see of his eyes, however, simply terrified him. There was rage, simple rage shining in those normally kind eyes. Why…?

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare say that to him."

Feeling brave, or perhaps acting exceeding stupid, Anderson slurred, trying not to move his aching jaw, "So wha'? I's no' a' if 'e cares!"

"Oh, I'm not asking for him. I'm asking for me. You will not say anything that could be interpreted as an insult to Sherlock when I could catch wind of it, or else."

"O' else wha'?

"Or else I happen to file a claim of harassment. To your commanding officer."

"Lestrade? Hah-"

"Oh no… I was thinking my old acquaintance General Kirkwood? Hmm. Sherlock?" Sherlock looked up questioningly, away from Anderson's pale face. "What do you think? Should we keep this… official? I'm thinking we might want to involve your… Archenemy." John smirked maliciously.

Catching onto the intimidation game John was playing, Sherlock schooled his features into a look of indifference.

"Well, I see no need to involve… big brother. This was a simple case of an imbecile trying to intimidate his better." The mention of 'big brother' seemed to make Anderson pale further. So he had met Mycroft. Interesting.

"What do you say, Anderson? Should I give big brother a call? Or are you willing to behave like a professional adult for once?"

"'O 'eed!" Anderson slurred urgently.

"Well then, you'd better get your arse to the medics."

Anderson blinked, then scurried away, both his ego and jaw bruised after the jumper-wearing doctor punched him.

"Why didn't you break his jaw?" Sherlock asked curiously, ignoring the incredulous looks he got from the surrounding officers.

"Well, I wanted him to be able to actually understand what I was saying with a little bit of pain added in. Too much pain and your brain will try to block out your surroundings." The good doctor's plain voice reminded the onlookers that he was not just a simple doctor. He was a soldier too.

They walked away from the stunned crowd.

"That was- Thank you, John." Sherlock forced himself to say.

"No problem. Now it's time for you to do your thing, Sherlock." He gestured at the mangled bodies laying before them.

"Well, it's quite obvious. Really, if anyone had cared to notice…"

John smiled. This was what home felt like.

OoOoO

A/N- Well, this has been sitting in my phone for who knows how long, so I decided that I would post it on here. I figured that maybe it'll inspire someone. Whatever. Either way, here you go. I hope you enjoyed it! Dftba! :)