Sherlock S. Holmes (sherlockholmes) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-06-25 12:18:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !log, jefferson / mad hatter, sherlock holmes (elementary) |
Who: Sherlock & Jefferson
When: Wednesday, June 25th
Where: Sherlock’s flat
What: After the rush of removing trackers, Sherlock convinces Jefferson so let him operate and cut out his. Because that’s intelligent.
Rating: PG-13, obviously some TWs for blood, drug-use and slapdash surgery.
(In progress)
It was perhaps only Sherlock Holmes who would take a man’s shirt and deposit it on a hanger before reforming unlicensed surgery upon him on his kitchen table, but there it was. Shirt away in the hall closet, he returned to Jefferson and have him a tight smile. “There we are.” Holmes hadn’t had the opportunity to take a close look at the scar that ran around Jefferson’s neck and it was difficult not to want to examine it now. Whenever a person was more exposed than usual, Sherlock found it nearly impossible not to take the opportunity to have a closer look. But he knew that poking at a scar on a man’s neck was not what he’d been invited to do nor had he been given the invitation to do so. So he turned his eyes instead to the various tools he’d laid out in front of him to perform the surgery. “Topical anesthetics such as benzocaine, butamben, dibucaine, lidocaine, and oxybuprocaine -- just to name a few can be used to numb the skin and the surface of the eyeball in naturally moist areas such as the mouth, the inside of the nose and -- “ Sherlock waved his arm towards Jefferson’s stomach “that kind of thing. They are all derivatives of cocaine, so I can’t use them, and they’re not actually effective on the rest of the skin. Instead, I will be giving you a small injection of lidocaine to temporarily block the nerve sensation in your arm and numb you against the small operation to retrieve the device.” He was speaking, really, in an effort to distract himself from the mark on Jefferson’s neck, but he he still couldn’t quite manage not to look at it. There was just something about a magical scar that intrigued him. Holmes was sure Jefferson must understand that to some degree. It wasn’t as though he was put off by the mark or looking at it because it was so grotesque or ugly that he couldn’t avoid it, he was just genuinely interested in what had happened. The fact he didn’t request or demand the story in detail was, if nothing else, a sign that he did have some respect for both the man and his privacy. This didn’t add up to much as far measuring common sense. For one: the operating table was the kitchen table, and that was one of the lesser points that any sane person would question. Then, there was the part where there were available doctors -- Jefferson lived with one, but he had to confess himself untrusting of Dr. Frankenstein’s ability to keep the scalpel from wandering. Besides, why make for awkward roommates by asking the man who was responsible for this week’s grocery run to cut a chip out of your shoulder? Then it came down to who owed who a favor, and somehow… Somehow this was the answer that presented. Kitchen table. Sherlock Holmes. And, apparently, lidocaine. With any luck the drug would help block this moment out of memory, as well, because Sherlock’s focus kept drifting. It wasn’t hard to put an answer to where. “Do what you have to,” Jefferson replied, not exactly stiffly, but with a slightly-forced tone that suggested he wasn’t all that thrilled with the whole situation. That wasn’t Sherlock’s fault, however; the chip was SHIELD’s and the aversion to baring his scarred neck was a habit forged over the last three decades. “I’d tell you to not accidentally cut a jugular, but…” But clearly the other man could tell that had already happened without any fatal effects. “That joke can stay where it fell flat.” |