who sherlock & liv what first meeting where the morgue when before she's started dreaming warnings dead body, autopsies, murder status complete on posting!
A new victim came in. Upon inspecting in Liv was able to determine the cause of death was suffocation. She had only been on the job for a little over a week, but it didn’t take her long to figure out the cause of death. Her medical training probably helped with that a lot. Of course a part of Liv still longed to be a heart surgeon, that had always been her dream. But she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. She had moved here to move on with her life, get past all that and stop pitying herself. She couldn’t change the past.
She was just about to open the guy up for further inspection when she heard someone enter the morgue. She didn’t think it was her boss, he was off at some crime scene. Looking up Liv’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She didn’t recognize this guy at all. “Can I help you?”
Letting himself into the lab as per his usual conduct, Sherlock looked around for the examiner he was previously gaining a rapport with. Stopped at the threshold, he quirked a brow at the new face in his midst, he looked a bit at a loss. Intending to ignore her at first, a swift visual sweep of her person told him that she was capable, albeit rather new to the work based on the confusion on her face, and examining a victim of interest.
Making his way to her, his eyes on the victim’s upper body, he reached for the box of latex gloves to pluck a pair for himself. “That remains to be seen,” he responded, squinting as he leaned down to get a closer look of the victim’s face and neck. “My name is Sherlock Holmes, I’m a consultant for the police department. I’ve come to have a look at your vic. COD? Suffocation, I’d wager, given the cyanosis here,” he pointed out. “I’d like to observe your work, if I may.”
“Excuse me?” Who exactly did this guy think he was. Just marching right in and acting like she couldn’t help him. It was her job to examine bodies thank you very much. But then he said his name and it clicked. Her boss had mentioned him. He was a consultant with the police. Great at solving crimes apparently. He did have a superior attitude with Liv wasn’t so sure how she felt about yet.
“You’re correct, Mr. Holmes,” Liv confirmed when he mentioned the cause of death. “I don’t think I have a choice in the matter,” she said in reference to him watching her work. “So go ahead,” she grabbed a syringe sticking it in the victim’s vein for the blood sample. It was important to get that as early on as possible. “Any theories about this case so far?” if he was going to watch her work she might as well question his. Plus she was always curious about the victims that came through the morgue.
“For what?” He questioned, not picking up on her general displeasure, not just yet. Once his focus was set on a case at hand, he didn’t bother with individuals he barely knew. When Sherlock lifted his gaze to observe here visual agitation, he straightened his posture and clasped his now gloved hands behind his back. “You are displeased.”
Displeased, but allowing him to witness the full autopsy. He hadn’t intended to arrive early, generally Sherlock preferred to see the body after it had been thoroughly examined once he’d done an initial view himself. This time, he had been delayed at the crime scene and the body taken before he could get to it. He was still working on his relationship with the precinct. They would learn.
“Several theories,” he stated, eyes back on the body. Pointing at the discoloration in question, he drew a circle around the victim’s face. “There are no observable signs of violence, which is typical in cases of asphyxiation. Either it is an accidental homicide or this man was murdered, no doubt by a pillow. I expect the lab will discern enough within the week, I suggested they take his pillowcases in as evidence. I say pillowcase due to the obvious lack of bruising, the chipped nail on his left index finger which matches a mark on his bedpost, and simply because a crime of passion often prompts one to utilize whatever is in your midst.”
Tapping on the man’s chest, he nodded at Liv. “Whatever you may find in his system, however, will make or break my strongest suspicion. Let’s get cracking, Doctor…” He glanced at her nametag. “Moore.”
Liv nodded as Sherlock spoke. His observations were accurate and the assumptions made sense. It just wasn’t her place to guess whether it was a murder or an accidental death. At least not until she further inspected the body. First thing was first though, she put the blood in the fridge keeping it cool until someone picked it up for testing. “Do you do this a lot?” she asked grabbing her scalpel. By this she meant observe the autopsies. When her boss had mentioned him it didn’t seem like this was his usual thing. But she couldn’t tell upon a first encounter. He seemed plenty at home in the morgue.
She made a Y incision on the man’s chest, opening up the body cavity so she could examine the organs. Heart first where she took another blood sample. Then onto the lungs. It looked as though there was some type of substance in them. Her best guess would be chloroform. She took another syringe to get a sample.
Sherlock observed her methods and mentally began comparing them to the usual examiner, then to Joan. Watson was a gifted surgeon, he had watched her administer secondary autopsies at his behest. Liv appeared to be capable, so having an unexpected change in face began to rile him less. Sherlock abhorred change as a rule.
“Observe autopsies or consult for the police?” Sherlock gave a bit of a sniff, leaning in slightly closer without obstructing the light. “The answer either way is: yes.”
“Splendid eye,” he remarked out, also spying the residue. “There is fluid already in the lungs, but this has sunk to the bottom. Upon testing it, no doubt you’ll discover that it is, indeed, chloroform per your suspicions. Difficult to smell it with the exposed extremities and postmortem wafting in the air, but it is further proof that this person was murdered. That will be less damning to his reputation, though given his circumstances, I do not believe he has the capacity to care.”
“Observe autopsies,” she had kind of figured he consulted for the police often. Both from the things her boss had said and from how he seemed to make himself right at home in the morgue. Though she supposed that would mean he observed autopsies often as well. There was also the way he spoke, with such confidence. Not to mention the knowledge he seemed to have.
“Unless you believe in spirits,” she replied. Then he would certainly care. But judging by Sherlock’s comment she had a feeling he didn’t. Liv wasn’t sure who believed what since moving here. There were lots of strange postings on that network. But who even knew if he was on it.
She set the syringe aside for later testing and moved onto the stomach, examining it’s contents. “Looks like his last meal was spaghetti and garlic bread. Judging by the digestion as well as the rigor mortis I’d say the time of death was around 10 pm last night. Does that fit your timeline?” Not that it really mattered what he had already assumed because given the evidence that was the time of death give or take a few minutes.
If the OC had taught him anything, it was that he had to suspend the beliefs he once thought concrete and make room for fantasy. Had it not been for the presence of the chloroform at all, the possibility existed that a ghost committed the crime. Ghost or not, it would be murder, and he’d find a way to sort it out accordingly. For now, he was going to believe a real, living monster killed the man under Liv’s knife.
“I believe impossible things occur here,” he noted, attention still on the corpse. “I do not believe a spirit plucked chloroform, doused a handkerchief, knocked out the victim while they were in bed to prevent screams from occurring, and subsequently smothered them to death, however.”
Abruptly removing his gloves, he took a fair step back from the body so as to give her more space to finish her work. He had most of the information he needed, if forensics offered nothing further, he would return in search of her autopsy report. Shucking the latex, he contemplated the time a moment before giving her a response.
“It would make sense that he was found in bed given the hour. This man was quite clearly a workaholic. I observed his laptop, the keys are thoroughly worn suggesting overuse despite the computer being relatively new. He was unhappy in his work, many emails were of the belligerent nature. Determining who killed him will be fairly simple, his murderer did not tidy up very well. I have my suspicions it was a paramour with whom he also worked.”
No, Liv didn’t think that a spirit had murdered this guy either. She was more referring to his reference that the victim wouldn’t care. If Sherlock believed in ghosts and all that, the ghost just might. Liv wasn’t sure what to make of the network just yet but now was not the time to think about it
Once he got the answer about the time of death he seemed to be done, judging by the fact that he took his gloves off. She did appreciate that he took the time to explain his thoughts though. Yes Liv had become a ME by default since a career as a surgeon no longer seemed likely. But she honestly was interested in the cases, solving the puzzle, learning who the killer was. So Sherlock actually taking her through his observations, was more than welcomed. And it just might speed up the process for him as well.
“I’ll contact you when the reports done,” she still had to test a few tissues samples. “Your number is on file?” she asked pausing to contemplate how to phrase what she wanted to say next. “Let me know when you catch the killer? I don’t always get to find out the ending.”
While his thoughts weighed heavily on the murder victim, her curiosity slightly distracted him. Sherlock leveled her with his gaze, something about her reminded him of Joan. He wondered if she had the same sort of potential that his former partner and present protege possessed. Her hand wasn’t as steady as Watson’s (though he was admittedly thoroughly biased), but it was solid enough. She understood procedure clearly and displayed above average competence in her work.
“It is,” he nodded, seeming to size her up now. “I can do that. But, first: what brought on your change in profession? This isn’t your first choice, clearly, though you don’t appear to be averse to it. Given your skill, you were in the medical profession, perhaps as a highly skilled surgeon. I’d guess heart, that can be a high stress environment with an equally high turnover rate.”
Liv had assumed the guy was about to leave and got back to work collecting the tissue samples for testing when he spoke again. She froze. How the hell did he guess that? It was so accurate. “What do you have a file on me or something?” Liv asked once she had recovered from the initial shock. She didn’t particularly like talking or thinking about her career and full on life change but if she was going to be kept in the loop on the case maybe it was worth it. “I was still in my residency,” she shrugged trying to act as casual about the whole thing as possible. Like it wasn’t a big deal, didn’t bother her. “Lost a patient, now I’m here.”
“A file? No, that would be ridiculous,” he shook his head. “I didn’t know it, but now I do. Your hands gave you away, your work is reminiscent of a surgeon I once knew.” Having heard her subsequent tale, brief though it was, she tugged at what little heart strings he claimed to have left. Sherlock stood, half-turned from her, and debated as to whether he wanted to outright leave or offer her something more as he once had with Watson.
“It is never easy to lose someone,” offered Sherlock quietly, inwardly cursing his empathy. He’d be rid of it one day. “That you are able to focus on the dead rather than the living is itself a rather curious choice of career, particularly given your curiosity in the outcome of this case. It is, however, not my place to comment further, thus I offer my apologies for overstepping.”
Now Liv was curios. A surgeon he once knew? She couldn’t help but wonder if that was a good or bad thing. And what happened to them. Judging by the tone in his voice and his comment about losing someone. “It’s fine.” There was no need for him to apologize for stating his observation or opinion or whatever the hell that was. “If I can’t help the living I might as well help the dead,” she shrugged, that was the easiest way for her to rationalize it. Plus she was still putting her skills to use. “Anyway, I should get to this so you can solve the case. I look forward to hearing from you and maybe you’ll even tell me about your surgeon friend.”
For a brief moment, there was a tiny hint of sadness in his eyes at her sentiment. Sherlock didn’t talk about Watson unless it was to put others in their place, to elevate her above all else. Much like Irene, he placed his dearest friend on the grandest of pedestals, but left room for flaws contrary to what he’d done with his lost lover. Since parting ways with her, he hadn’t felt the same, not until he met Kitty.
“I’ll be in touch about the case, yes,” he nodded, a hint of his own social awkwardness shining through. “Perhaps about other things as well. My thanks.”
He stared at her a moment, seeming to analyze something about Liv for a moment before abruptly turning and taking his leave. Perhaps he really would follow through on those words. Time would tell.