This is a mini-fill for the following prompt on the Sherlock kink meme:

It turns out Anderson is secretly the biggest Johnlock shipper of them all.

As much as I dislike Anderson, there's a small part of me that still wants to like him. So that was my goal for this fic-yes, he's still kind of a dick, but he's still got a heart.

Unbeta'd and un-Brit-picked. All errors and Americanisms are my own fault entirely.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I just spend way too much of my life writing about it.

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Anderson hated Sherlock Holmes.

The pompous git was often more trouble than he was worth. Never mind that he could solve crimes in half the time, maybe even faster, than the entire payroll of Scotland Yard. He still set Anderson on edge with all his biting insults and general lack of tact or diplomacy. The forensics head always dreaded the days when he'd come to work only to have The Freak show up and contaminate his crime scenes-something he'd complained to Lestrade about many times, whether in the office or over a pint, only to be told the same thing every time. "We need him," the DI often reminded him.

That didn't mean Anderson had to like him.

But then one Doctor John Watson showed up, and even Anderson, as incompetent and unobservant as Sherlock always told him he was, could see just how smitten the consulting detective was. He hovered around the doctor, way too close than "just a friend" would, and John had this amazing ability to completely capture Sherlock's full attention. Anderson had never seen anything like it.

At first, John's presence was more of a convenience than anything-Sherlock was more tolerable with John around. His comments weren't near as cruel as they used to be, and it was helpful to hear Sherlock actually walk through his deductions instead of spouting off random bits of information that seemingly made no sense when put together. But at some point, and Anderson couldn't tell you when, he actually found the notion of them being together, well...rather adorable. In a strange, unusual way.

Which was why, one day, Anderson found himself actually saying something to Sherlock.

It was obvious as soon as the pair arrived that John wasn't feeling well that day; he was pale, dark circles and a tinge of redness around his eyes, and a near-limp in his gait. Yet he still kept up with Sherlock, at least for a little while. About twenty minutes into the investigation, John excused himself and stepped just beyond the barrier of the police cordon. The way he leaned against the wall of the building made it seem like the old bricks were the only thing keeping him on his feet.

The worried, withered looks Sherlock kept shooting the doctor's way tugged at Anderson's heartstrings, though he was reluctant to admit it. It was rare to see Sherlock exhibit concern for anyone, but unsurprising that John was the recipient of said concern.

After about ten more minutes of distracted deductions, fleeting glances, and quiet mutterings that had absolutely nothing to do with the crime at all, Anderson decided to take matters into his own hands. He made his way over to where Sherlock stood, still casting John a weary look. When Anderson cleared his throat to announce his presence, Sherlock's attention whipped to him in an instant, and his eyes darkened and tightened around the corners.

"What do you want?" he spat, but it lacked the vitriol that Anderson had grown used to over the years.

He had half a mind to just smack Sherlock, or sneer at him for being so rude, but Anderson swallowed down his irritation and instead kept his eyes locked on Sherlock's. He wasn't backing down.

"You should go to him," Anderson said, the softness of his own voice surprising him. When Sherlock looked a bit confused, Anderson nodded his head towards John. "It's obvious you're worried about him. Just go. We can take it from here."

Sherlock regarded Anderson for a few long moments, as if he was seeing someone completely new. Completely unexpected.

Finally, the consulting detective gave a small nod before stalking over to Lestrade. Probably to inform him that he and John were leaving. Anderson watched the brief exchange, and kept watching as Sherlock made his way to John. He couldn't help but notice the gentleness with which Sherlock touched John-guiding the doctor with a hand to the small of his back, allowing that blond head to rest on his shoulder. And don't think Anderson didn't notice that small kiss Sherlock planted atop John's head as they left the scene altogether. The gesture made Anderson smile a little.

Don't get him wrong, Anderson still hated Sherlock.

But everyone deserved happiness, right?

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I kind of want to write more fics with notadick!Anderson.

Until next time,
Chibi