"That’s it. I’m done! I’m embarrassed to be in the same room with you people!" The latex gloves came off. She flung them into the garbage.
Silence smothered the morgue. The laughter that had erupted among the uniforms, Bell and Gregson evaporated. Joan Watson raised her voice - at them - not Sherlock - but at them.
Joan was incensed. These men stood over the corpse of a homeless man who had been brutally beaten and they cracked jokes about the old man’s clothing, about his hair, about his hygiene.
"New York’s finest! And you Marcus, I expected better of you." The look of hurt and disappointment on Joan’s face pierced Bell.
He looked at her and fumbled for words, “Joan, we didn’t mean any disrespect…”
"No, I’m sure you all meant no disrespect by standing over the body of this dead man and laughing at him."
Gregson looked embarrassed, “You’re right Joan, we were out of line but in our defense it’s been a rough week and the boys weren’t …”
"The boys?" Joan cut him off. "Boys," she repeated with disgust. "You’re adults; try pretending that you have some semblance of empathy for those you are sworn to serve and protect." Her voice got louder. "If this had been one of your men, you would be scouring the streets looking for his killer. What makes any one of your lives any more valuable than this poor soul’s?" She stared them down waiting for the next one to even attempt to open his mouth.
Shuffling of feet and bent heads were the only responses they had for her.
Joan turned away in disgust only to find Sherlock standing behind her.
"And how long have you been there?" she said coldly, ready to take him on too.
"I just …" He took a look a the body of the deceased homeless man and shock registered fleetingly on his face. Sherlock looked quickly up at her with the question in his eyes. Joan barely moved her head but he understood - this, thank goodness, was not her father.
He took a step toward her and in a matter of fact tone asked. “Do you think you could get me a coffee?” The police officers behind her waited for Joan to tear into Sherlock but she merely nodded her head. Relieved at the excuse to leave, she quickly walked past Sherlock towards the exit.
Sherlock turned his attention to the officers who stood staring at him. “Gentleman, what can you tell me about the deceased?”