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Basically I got bored and wasn't fully satisfied with how I write this :)
It's literally the same story, but I wrote it a bit better, however I didn't have the heart to delete the previous version so I'm just adding another chapter lol
TW/CW: mention of dead bodies, specifically of children, so don't read if it's triggering to you pls

Enjoy!
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Seething. Rage.
That was all he could feel. Like boiling lava flowing through his veins, John watched with suppressed rage as Donovan screamed at Sherlock.

She'd been there when the kids were found dead; she was one of the main officers on the case, in fact. Three kids, all between the ages of 7 and 11, were already found dead when we'd arrived.

The fact that he had failed to save three lives, especially those of children, already struck a chord with Sherlock, John could tell. The detective looked confused, silently wondering how this could have happened and where he'd gone wrong. His eyebrows were scrunched together and he looked utterly lost.

But somehow Donovan had decided that his own self-torment just wasn't enough.
Maybe she'd had a bad day and needed a reason to snap at someone; Sherlock was normally a good enough go-to for that.
Maybe she'd gotten too comfortable with letting Sherlock do all the work, and always expected him to get it right without a hitch.
Or maybe it was something else, but either way, seeing those kids set her off big time.

She'd had the good grace to wait until they were outside the building, leaving the crime scene with eyes as wild as her hair. She had immediately sought Sherlock out, storming over to him with a look that would scare any ordinary person. Well, maybe it scared Sherlock too, but if it did he certainly didn't show it. He probably expected this, fully believing he deserved it for letting everyone down.

She marched over to him with her fists clenched and didn't hesitate to raise her voice as soon as she got close enough.

She accused him of all sorts; not doing his job, failing as both a detective and a person, being completely useless to the police, being the cause for the kids' deaths. It was awful.

Rather than fighting back, Sherlock simply took it, standing there quietly while she screamed obscenities at him. And, while he may have been able to stand there and let that happen, John most definitely wasn't.
Most people describe it as 'seeing red'. If that's the case, red was practically flooding his vision, clouding any sense of reason and blocking out any reproachful thoughts whatsoever.

John forcefully inserted himself between Sherlock and Donovan, glaring down the latter. The former didn't protest, instead just staring at the back of John's head and not saying a word.

"How dare you," John started, his eyes gleaming with rage, "How dare you think it's alright to speak to him like that? What gives you the right? Huh? What the hell makes you think you're allowed to say such bloody horrible things to him?" Donovan frowned and opened her mouth, only able to get a few words out.

"He can take it; it's his fault anyway-"

"No, it's not! That's the point! You're reprimanding him for something he had absolutely no involvement in! You are the police! I could ask why you didn't catch the bastard, but I already know the answer; you think- no, you expect him to do all your work for you! You've gotten cosy, knowing that all you have to do is call up the 'weirdo' for the case and he'll solve it in a few minutes, another job well done for you, right?

"You were out of your depth on this case, you called for Sherlock and for once, for once, he happened to be wrong. Yes, three kids died. It was tragic, horrific even. No one would want to see that and no one should ever have to, but you need to understand that he is not the one who killed them and you're acting as though he's as bad as the bloke who did, and that's just not on! Considering that you didn't find the right guy either, I don't think it's your bloody place to tell him off. He didn't find the right guy, but at least he tried and gave it all he had. So please, SHUT UP!"

Finally satisfied, John crosses his arms firmly over his chest and glowered at Donovan. Trying to maintain some of her crushed dignity, she scoffed and glared back, but there wasn't much she could say in response; even she knew when she'd been bested.

Lestrade, John could see, was rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and looking rather awkward, though he did shoot John a brief thankful look. It was clear that he had wanted to say all of that to Donovan as well, however he didn't necessarily want to be the only one to.

Nodding at Greg and throwing another angry sideways glare at Donovan, John gently but firmly grabbed Sherlock's shoulder, who still hadn't said anything and was standing unmovingly, and steered him away from the others and began walking away from the crime scene.

John knew that Sherlock would still be feeling bad about the verbal abuse he'd received; he internalises a lot of stuff, much more than what's considered healthy, in the name of appearing emotionless. But there was no chance in hell that John would let him suffer like that alone.

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Approx. 928 words
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