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That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

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That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Tue Dec 17, 2013 11:34 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Stretching out lazily on the bed, Sveta smiled to herself as she woke up. Last night had been good. She'd been on call, and yet in the entire night she'd only been paged once. It was the closest thing to a miracle that medical staff were likely to get this Christmas season. Despite this, she was grateful that she worked where she did. Not for the first time Svetlana said a silent thank you to Greg Robbins, for being in the right place at the right time. Without him she'd be stuck slaving away at some public hospital for worse pay and even less gratitude. Running a hand through her hair, she smiled at her good fortunes as she procrastinated getting up. Finally, however, she heaved herself out of bed and threw herself through a shower. She might be the assistant head surgeon, but it was still bad form to show up late.

Half an hour later she was on the wards, a cheerful smile playing on her lips as she headed to her office. "Oscar, g'morning!" she chirped as she caught sight of one of her surgical nurses, giving him a wave. "You lot sure had a quiet night last night. We need more of those more often! Twenty minutes and I'll be starting rounds, yeah?" Grabbing the folder for her first patient of the day, she dashed into her office. She needed a coffee, and not the swill that passed for community coffee. Dropping her phone onto her desk, the brunette set about making herself a coffee, just as a knock came at her door.

"Dr Orlova? There's a package here for you..." Svetlana didn't even look up from her coffee-making, opting instead to pour some milk from her mini-fridge into a metal jug. "Come in, it's open!" she called back, flicking a switch and watching the milk swirl and hiss. She looked as the postman came in, carrying a large box. "Ooh, someone loves me. Looks like Christmas has come early!" Switching the steam off, she nodded towards her desk, indicating that it was there that she wanted the package. "What's in it, d'you know?" she asked curiously, pouring the milk into her coffee and wiping the nozzle.

The man shrugged as he placed the box upon the huge desk and stretched, before checking the papers in his hand. "No idea. All it says is 'perishable'." Giving a slight wave as goodbye he rushed out, leaving Sveta to her coffee and package. She took a sip of coffee as she came up to the desk, placing her coffee on the table and examining the box. No return address. A sense of uneasiness came over her but she ignored it. Cutting through the sellotape, she opened the box, only to find a slightly smaller plastic box inside. It sloshed about as she moved it and the sound instantly made Sveta frown. No way could that be a good thing.

It was the smell that hit her first as she lifted the lid. The stench of alcohol wafted up at her, and as the brunette looked down at the contents a gasp caught in her throat. Crammed into the sea alcohol were various limbs, their skin and muscle still attached. She spotted a hand, foot, leg, arm, skull. In fact, from a preliminary glance, it looked like an entire human body was in there, filleted into its different parts. Well, shit. Biting her lip, Sveta picked up the phone and dialled an all-too-familiar number. "Hey Maria, it's Sveta. Can you send that detective fellow of yours up? Yeah, him. We have a problem..." Rolling up her sleeves and pulling on some gloves, she pulled out a leg to examine, sighing. Rounds were definitely going to have to wait now.

NOTES Nothing like a grisly meat puzzle to bring people closer xD
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Wed Dec 18, 2013 3:30 am

There was nothing like being woken up to a consulting call, asking to rush down to the office as soon as possible without any explanation as to why. Still, he could not complain; he enjoyed doing this sort of thing far too much. Getting himself cleaned up and wrapping his scarf around his neck and buttoning up his coat, he went for the door. Oh, he missed bringing John around with him, but he had a life of his own, too. Getting in the taxi, he went to the office as quickly as he could.

When he had gotten there, he went through the security and what not and made his way to a young lady's office whom another woman by the name of "Maria" had brought him to. It had been a while since he had really worked with S.H.I.E.L.D., and to be honest, he wasn't as familiar with their policies or what kind of things they went through anymore, so this was almost as if it were a new task.

Upon entering, he took it upon himself to look around. Normal room, with normal office things, but then his attention was directed upon the young lady whom was sitting at the desk. She was young, but not too young. Perhaps a few years younger than he was and she had a lot of ink upon her skin. But something about her expression was gentile, and he immediately knew she wasn't one of those "punk kids" that get such a bad reputation, such as crime. Sure, she may act rebellious, as he could tell in the way she made eye contact with him, but it wasn't anything harmful.

His next action was to look at what she was examining. A box of sorts, with a foul smell that he could smell upon entering, and it caused him to lightly hover his hand over his nostrils, pursing his lips for a moment before he could say a word. In it, she was holding... wait was that a limb? A human one, indefinitely. He narrowed his eyes, taking a few steps forward before finally sitting down across from her in one of the seats.

"From what I'm told, you called me in for what I assume to be deduction purposes?" he looked at the box again. "I can tell already, this is going to be an interesting case," he nodded. He unbuttoned his coat and lifted his coat off, revealing that he was wearing a white, button up shirt that wasn't buttoned around his collar, with a pair of black slacks and a black dress jacket over it. His piercing blue eyes watched her for a moment, before nodding. "I am Sherlock Holmes, consultive detective."
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Wed Dec 18, 2013 1:01 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Brushing a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes away with the back of her arm, Sveta sat down before bringing the leg closer to examine. It was outside her purview, of course, but Dr Robbins had given her enough experience in forensic pathology to be able to perform a very basic autopsy, and a quick investigation now to try and figure out what she was dealing with could do no harm. Eventually she'd take the grisly 'present' down to him; he'd be able to do more with it than her.

Gingerly Sveta put down the leg and picked up an arm to examine. The dismemberment was neat, spookily so. The cuts were clean, not cutting through any bones, only tissue. Not a single bone nick could be found. The patella, for instance, had been removed so the cut separating the tibia from the femur was a precise one, nicking neither bone. The face had been carefully cut off, leaving only a skull and muscle tissue. So much for identifying the corpse the easy way. Frowning, Sveta picked up the forearm to investigate. The same clean cuts featured, separating the radius and ulna from the humerus, and subsequently the radius and ulna from the hand. With each limb that she looked at, it became clearer and clearer that the killer had a very intimate knowledge of anatomy, which was an extremely unsettling thought. Mainly because it instantly pointed towards someone in the medical field and that just didn't sit right with Sveta. What happened to primum non nocere, first do no harm, and all the other maxims they were supposed to all live by? What about the Hippocratic oath? They were supposed to use their powers to help and heal, not to kill and fillet humans. That was just wrong, on so many levels.

So absorbed was she in the examination and thoughts that it wasn't until a male voice spoke to her that Sveta even knew that someone had entered the room. "Quick on the uptake you are," she teased with a grin, looking up briefly. "Someone sent me an entire meat puzzle. Nothing like receiving dismembered body parts to start the day." Finally, putting the arm carefully back into the box, she gave the detective a once over. Well he was a fine bit of eye-candy. Maybe the investigation could prove to be a little fun after all. "I'm Svetlana Orlova. You can call me Sveta. Assistant head surgeon. Since we're giving titles and everything," she added, with a slight smirk. "I'd shake your hand but," here she lifted her hands to indicate all the alcohol and bodily fluids all over her gloves, "I doubt you want to get human juices all over you this early in the morning."

NOTES This is the most perfect preparation for next year's health science papers xD Here's a translation of the medical terms: patella - knee bone, femur - top leg bone, tibia - lower leg bone, radius and ulna - bones of the forearm, humerus - bone of the upper arm. Sorry for all the jargon, but I'm kinda OCD with medical terms xD
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Wed Dec 18, 2013 4:50 pm

Well that is certainly a very Russian name, Sherlock thought to himself as he watched her continue to look through the limbs. "I can tell already that whomever it was that did this, obviously knew what he was doing in terms of separating the joints..." he leaned in, taking another look, holding his breath as he did so, in case he were to gag. This smell was definitely not something he was used to. Sure, he had been around dead bodies, but nothing quite as repulsive as this. Whomever did this was smart.

"Of course they would use alcohol..." he muttered to himself. "It's the perfect crime's tonic. Able to preserve everything but the evidence," he sighed. This was going to be a tough one. However, maybe the box still had some fingerprints on it. He'd worry about that later though. First he had to figure out the identification of whomever these limbs belonged to. "Any idea of gender or race?" he asked, taking a quick look at the femur bone. Judging by the length, he would be able to tell just how tall the person was, or how old, based on the epiphyseal ossification.

"Well, look here," he pointed to the where usual softness in a femur would occur. "The ossification is pretty much complete, but it looks new. I'd say the person is between 25 and 30," he nodded. He then looked over to the humerus bone. "You can see the same thing on those bones too. So this person is a grown adult... we just need to figure out if it's a he or a she now," he nodded, looking up at Sveta with a smirk. Stuff like this always got him off to a good mood. He loved being able to figure things out.
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Wed Dec 18, 2013 7:57 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"There's a perverse elegance to this butchery. The killer knew exactly what they were doing. The cuts are precise and clean, with no nicks to any of the bones. With this amount of precision and with a body this size, it would have taken at least 12 hours to dismember the body. There's patience for you." She grinned slightly as she noticed him holding his breath. "You gotta breathe through your ears, Holmes," she joked. "First thing my mentor said at my first autopsy. Now that was a nasty corpse for a first-timer. Agent got killed and stuffed into the trunk of his car during a mission. By the time we got him back he was bloated to about three times his size." She wrinkled her nose at the memory; the stench had been so horrendous she could still remember it.

"As for gender or race, we won't know until we clean the bones. All this muscle is useless for determining anything insightful. Boiling's my favourite method, though it's a bit time-consuming. Or we've got dermistid beetles and they're brilliant for cleaning bones, though they take longer. They're wicked fun to watch. Brutal little creatures. Strip the bone to nothing within a day," she replied, picking up and moving the featureless skull about in her hands as she looked at it from every angle. "Ooh, I think I can see its brain through the nasal cavity - that's cool..!"

The brunette couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as Sherlock went off talking about bone ossification and how old he thought the victim was. "My thoughts exactly. Since when did detectives know anything about bone ossification?" she asked with a chuckle. "Most of the ones I've met wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a rib and a metacarpal bone. Impressed."

NOTES Holy crap, I didn't actually realise she was talking this much o.o Let's see if he gets the "breath through your ears" joke. Stole it off Grissom, but it seemed to fit so *shrug*
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Thu Dec 19, 2013 3:53 am

"I'm not like other detectives," Sherlock's monotonous tone had a rather indigent vibe to it. He listened to everything that Sveta was saying, actually finding himself impressed with her knowledge simply by memory recall. Most people he dealt with pretended they were as smart as they gave off, but always had to look through books. So far this girl was proving to be quite the interest, and Sherlock founding himself staring a bit too long than he normally would at another woman.

Shaking it off quickly, he continued to look through the bones as the disgusting smell began to dissipate, his nose adjusting and letting it settle in. Taking a deep, quiet breath, he began looking through everything with his eyes. He didn't have a pair of gloves to wear, so he didn't feel it'd be a good idea to touch anything and get his fingerprints all over it. "Stripping the bones is just the fun part, it's where all the evidence comes together," he looked back up at her with a smirk.

Again, he was looking at her. He looked back down, feeling an awkward tension come over him. Most times, he didn't give a second thought about a woman, but he was so enticed by her intelligence, he couldn't help himself. He always said that if he were to ever like a woman, she'd have to be like him in terms of interests. Oh, shut up, he quickly snapped at himself in his mind. He was thinking too much about it. The one thing he was always terrible at analyzing was his feelings, especially of girls. He'd probably never see her again anyways.
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Thu Dec 19, 2013 12:07 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Carefully putting the lid back on the box, Svetlana pulled her gloves off and tossed them into the bin. "I'm beginning to see that," she remarked, smirking slightly at the hint of indignation in his tone. "Well, for the record, I like the fact that I'll be working with someone who actually knows anatomy. I do so hate translating. Get enough of that with my patients." Leaning back in her chair, she reached out to flick the air conditioning switch on, wanting to get rid of the stench that now permeated her room. This was why she was in surgery as opposed to medical examining - she couldn't stand working with such smells day in, day out.

Picking her coffee up, she brought the cup to her lips as she took another proper look at Sherlock. He was attractive, but more than that, he was smart! When she'd supervised Dr Robbins on cases, she was used to dealing with agents who looked at you like you were from Pluto and spoke Klingon. Asphyxiation? Is that a disease? But here was someone who actually could understand what she was talking about, for who she wouldn't have to dumb it down. It was brilliant. Drinking the coffee, however, was less brilliant. The liquid had taken on the smell of the room and it was rancid. Big mistake.

The brunette checked her watch as she scrabbled about in her drawers for a mint. She was so late. Well, nothing she could do. Her patients were in good hands anyway until she could get there. Picking up her phone, she hit a speed-dial button and brought the phone to her ear. "Yo, Warrick, Sveta here. You're not prepping for surgery, are you? Brilliant. Listen, something's come up and rounds are going to be late. Can you cover me with Oscar until I get there? No. No! Warrick!" She gave a disbelieving laugh, rolling her eyes. "Look, if you really must know, I got sent a human corpse in the post, ok? Yeah, I'm sitting with one now. He knows what ossification is. He's cool. I'll see you later. Bye."

Hanging up the phone, she couldn't help but shake her head to herself. Males. Picking up the box, she turned to Sherlock. "I'm all yours. At least for the next hour or so. Then I simply must do rounds, but you're welcome to follow. I have the most impressive shooting victim that you're ever going to see this side of the globe. C'mon, grab your coat. We're going to the morgue...!"

NOTES Sherlock, you're so adorbes <3
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Thu Dec 19, 2013 12:50 pm

Well, this certainly was very unprofessional, but Sherlock found himself in a bit of a confused trance, unsure of how to react at first. All so quickly, she had suddenly changed the topic and was making him follow her to a morgue? "Shouldn't we solve one case at a time," he said quickly as he turned to face her. He had his blank expression watch hers for a moment and something was strange in her tone.

Wait, was she taking him on a date? ...To a morgue? Is that how intelligent people go on first dates? he wondered. Did smart girls simply take smart men on field trips to go look at dead bodies as a way to bond? You're doing it again! Shut up! Sherlock shook off the voice in his head again. He got up quickly, wrapping the scarf around his neck once more as he then went to button up his coat.

Following her, he found himself stammering a bit when he tried to speak and honestly didn't know what to say. Sherlock was smart about a lot of things, but when it came to speaking to girls who impressed him on an illogical subject, he found himself baffled and at a loss of words. "Sveta, is this really necessary? Why are we going to a morgue?" he said quickly.
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Thu Dec 19, 2013 1:24 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As she turned to lock the door to her office, Sveta looked to Sherlock as he spoke of solving one case at a time. His expression was blank, as if he was actually lost upon the reason as to why they were going there. "Uh, we will and we are. Why else do you think I'm putting off my rounds?" she asked, mystified. Her eyebrows rose as she continued to look at him, disbelief written on her pretty features. Did he really not know why she was heading to the morgue? Really? Wow. For someone who was supposed to be super smart, he sure didn't sound it right now.

"How else are we gonna clean the bones?" she asked slowly, as if talking to a child. "I don't just go around with dermistid beetles in my bag, y'know. I'm a surgeon - I cut people open, make them healthy and sew them up again. I'm not a medical examiner. Two completely different jobs. I don't keep colonies of flesh-eating beetles in my office and I don't have bone-boiling equipment. So where else are we properly supposed to examine and clean the body?" What was wrong with him? Even a child could piece two and two together. They had a dead body, they needed a morgue. It wasn't rocket science.

She turned around and stalked off down the corridor, not bothering to check if he was keeping up. If he was, good. If not, she was just going to foist the victim off on Robbins and go attend to her own breathing patients. Suddenly a thought hit her and she whirled around, looking him in the eye and raising an eyebrow. "Hold the phone. Did you think I was taking you down to the morgue to seduce you?" she asked, a hint of incredulity sneaking into her tone. "It's either that or you're afraid of morgues, which given that you're a detective is highly unlikely." It was the only explanation she could think of as to why he was so quick to shoot down the morgue visit. Why else would a detective, and one who earlier had no problem examining rotting remains, be so nervous about going down to the morgue with her?
NOTES Sherlock, you're adorable, but you're also an idiot. Well done xD
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Thu Dec 19, 2013 4:33 pm

Upon hearing the rants that Sveta had then given Sherlock, he felt utterly stupid for assuming they were going to the morgue for any other reason than to strip the bones. He lightly placed his hand upon his forehead, just watching her with wide eyes and unable to speak for a moment as he simply stared at her without any idea of how to react. Suddenly though, she changed her tone, and was accusing him of thinking she would seduce him.

"No, no!" he protested. "Goodness no, I wasn't saying you were that kind of person! I was just thrown off for a moment," he wasn't thinking before he was speaking. "Your voice said one thing, and your eyes said another. I was just confused," he openly admitted. He was really just bad at talking to girls. His heart was quickening in its pace, which made him a bit more anxious than normal. Damn, I could use a nicotine patch, he sighed.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, his cheeks went bright red as he sighed in defeat, shrugging past Sveta as he walked down the hall, assuming she'd follow. "Let's just go," he uttered in annoyance. He felt so embarrassed, he had no idea what to think. He just hoped to god that Watson wouldn't find out about it. He wouldn't hear the end of it.
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Fri Dec 20, 2013 1:52 am

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Had he given her a simple no as an answer, Svetlana would have dropped it. Put it down to her misreading the situation (though that was highly unlikely it had been known to happen once or twice in a blue moon), misreading him (even more unlikely given that her job was based on reading people to try and figure out what was wrong with them, but even professionals made mistakes) or some other similar reason and never mention it again. But no. The detective doth protest too much.

And then he went and made it worse. "My eyes said another?" Sveta repeated, her eyebrow rising higher. Dig yourself into a deeper hole, why don't you.  "And pray do tell, what exactly were my eyes saying?" Sure she might have been chirpy and maybe a tad flirty with him, but that was just who she was. There was no way she was sending him come-hither eyes. She was at work, after all.

She watched as Sherlock brushed past her and strode off down the hall, turning right down a corridor. A grudging smile curled up the corners of her lips at the fact that he'd blushed. It was almost sweet. Almost. "Wrong way, genius!" she called out to him, though her tone was lighter than it had been moments ago. "That way's to Radiology," she explained as she came up to him, leaning the box against her hip. SHIELD buildings were like a maze inside a maze. It was all probably just a clever ploy to mess with intruders, if ever any got in. "The place you want is thataway, and then an elevator ride down to the basement," she told him, with a nod in the opposite direction to where Sherlock had been going. "Lucky you have me as a GPS. Dunno where you'd even end up if left on your own. Coming?"

NOTES She's still a bit grumpy at him
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Fri Dec 20, 2013 3:57 am

Oh, brilliant. Sherlock grumbled under his breath when she had started to tell him off for accusing her of making a sultry stare. He shook his head quickly to protest once more, but immediately stopped himself when he had shoved past her. Then she called him out on going the wrong way, to which now he just wanted to leave. Ugh, he hated dealing with women and making a fool of himself. He almost lost his composure, just this once, but he held his tongue as he pressed his lips together very tightly, nodding, gesturing his arms in an 'after you' manner.

He started to follow her, continuing to try and keep his act together. He found himself way to distracted by now and was having a hard time focus. He just had to forgive and forget. Come on, Sherlock. Sociopath. Don't give in to liking her. he could hear the voices in his head race. Suddenly, it was an all out battle in his head - logic vs. feelings, and it was making him feel dizzy almost, since his brain seemed to be way more energetic than most.

"Christ," he said as if he was out of breath while in the elevator. Out of his pockets, he immediately pulled out three nicotine patches and unbuttoned his shirt, sticking them all over his chest. He then went back to buttoning his shirt up, leaning against the wall and taking a deep sigh in relief. Now he could concentrate. He just had to kick those other thoughts out of his head once they settle down.
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Fri Dec 20, 2013 7:30 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As the elevator pinged and opened, Sveta stepped inside, dropping the box at her feet and pressing the button. She rolled her shoulders forwards and back for a minute, before stretching. The thing was heavy; just because the corpse was in bits didn't mean it weighed any less. But Sveta was used to heavy weights, since she regularly managed to pull off spins on the pole which required her to support all of her own bodyweight on one hand while three metres up in the air. If that didn't give her strength to cart around dead human bodies, nothing would.

"Look, I wanna apologise, for that back there. I guess I over-reacted," she said suddenly, breaking through the awkward silence that had descended upon them. She looked over to Sherlock for a second before turning her attention, before focusing her attention on the elevator doors. "I just...well, never mind." She ran a hand through her hair as she watched the level numbers light up every time they passed a floor. "It was bitchy and I'm sorry." Sherlock was throwing her off her game, and she wasn't in the least bit happy with herself for it. She was all over the place. She'd started off fine, but obviously Sherlock's awkwardness was contagious. She wasn't the type to over-think things or snap at people, but with him being awkward around her, she was beginning to become more awkward herself. Pull yourself together, woman, she scolded herself. Just stop it right now!

She snuck a peek at him as he started unbuttoning his shirt and her brow furrowed momentarily. What was he doing? She couldn't fathom one logical reason for him doing this here, but the next minute he was sticking nicotine patches all over him and it all made a hell of a lot more sense. "Congrats on quitting, by the way," she added with a nod to the patches.

NOTES ---
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Tue Dec 24, 2013 12:11 pm

Hearing Sveta's apology put a large ease upon him as he took a deep sigh and leaned against the wall. The nicotine patches were definitely helping him as well. He looked around for a moment before then looking at Sveta when she had mentioned the congratulations. "I never really smoked to begin with, nicotine patches just help me think better," he spoke quickly. "It's better than cocaine though, and that, I'm thankful to say is out of my life."

There was another silence between them and he took a deep sigh once more. When the elevator had finally stopped, he exited and followed Sveta toward the morgue. The area was getting more smelly the closer he got to it. He looked around for a moment, making mental notes of everything and was quite surprised how well funded this place was, despite him barely hearing word of it.

"So how often does SHIELD see action then?" Sherlock decided to ask. He wondered how often they actually got out to do exciting cases. Sherlock himself had been invited to the EMH group, to which he only actually agreed to because John was in it as well... plus he was tracking down someone whom was quite interesting to him.
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Tue Dec 24, 2013 1:29 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
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She turned and looked at him for a long moment. He really didn't seem like the type to get into cocaine or other such drugs, but that really just proved the old adage that you couldn't judge a book by their cover. She'd known SHIELD agents who looked as straight-edge as you can get, and yet they'd ended up hooked on the hard stuff. "Congratulations," she told him genuinely, smiling as she said it. "Takes a strong person to ditch the stuff. Been in that boat before. Not with drugs but, like, I know the struggle," she added with a slight shrug. She wasn't about to talk about her particular addiction unless he actually asked. Humans were a judgemental lot and she really didn't want him of all people to judge her for it.

As they arrived on their floor, Sveta picked up the box and started hauling it down the corridor once again. She was looking forward to this morgue visit, simply because she hadn't seen her dear mentor in days and she rather missed him. She was dying for one of the intellectual talks that he regularly held with her when she came to visit. When Sherlock asked her how much action SHIELD saw, she thought about it for a moment. "Well, that really depends on which department you're working. The field agents see plenty of action. Like, a lot. Us medics see our fair share too, unfortunately or fortunately I can't really decide. The Avengers saw quite a bit, so you, being with the EMHers are going to see plenty of action. There's hardly ever a dull moment with SHIELD, they make sure of it. They rather dislike it when there's nothing to do."

"Doctor Robbins!" Sveta sing-songed as she pushed the morgue door open with her him and waltzed in, only to be met with silence and an empty room. She frowned and checked her watch. Usually he'd be here by now. "Huh. Wonder where he is," she murmured to herself. Well, nothing to do but start it and wait for him to show up then... Pulling on a pair of gloves, Sveta plonked the box onto the metal table and opened it again. She threw a second pair to Sherlock and began taking limb after limb out and arranging it on the table. "Give me a hand, will you? I need to lay it all out before he gets back." She grinned up at him, placing down the skull. "Let's see how good your anatomy knowledge is..."

NOTES ---
TAGGED Sherlock
OUTFIT Shirt, black trousers, boots.
CREDITS  You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi ~ Template by Doe-Eyed Harlot of Caution.

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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Sherlock Holmes on Mon Jan 06, 2014 8:26 pm

Smiling lightly when she had given him the congratulations, he sighed in relief to see that the tension had been lifted. Straightening the collar of his shirt, he listened to everything that Sveta had mentioned about the SHIELD Team. So they did get a lot of action? He had not heard a lot about them lately, only that Nick Fury had been trying to gather up a larger force, with the EMH. Something he was putting off for the longest of times now. He rolled his eyes at the thought of it as he continued to walk with her.

When they got to the area, she had called out a doctor's name, but to no answer. She shrugged it off quickly and then began putting on a set of gloves, asking for his assistance. Nodding, he took his jacket off quickly and then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he then grabbed a pair of gloves himself, looking down at the limbs with a nod. They had to strip the bones then, and figure out exactly what was going on. He observed them for a moment, pressing his hand down on one of the limbs, thinking to himself.

"So then, what exactly do you want me to do first?" he asked her, looking at her for a moment. Did he need to go grab any equipment, or did she want him to do something specifically with the pieces? He continued to take a closer look at them, now that hew as able to touch them unlike before. Taking a deep breath, words appeared in his head as he continued to watch them, looking to the skull. "Let me see if I can fine any obvious signs of how they were killed..."
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Re: That's A Tibia, Not a Femur // Sherlock

Post by Svetlana Orlova on Fri Jan 10, 2014 11:51 pm

shot through the heart & you're to blame
DARLING YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Well, pick a limb and re-create a skeleton for me. Once that's done, we'll see if we get anything useful before stripping the bones." She watched his eyes go to the skull but that particular thing and gave him a cheeky grin. "But I want the prized severed head," she told him, picking up the skull and looking at it. "It was, after all, my Christmas present from a psychotic admirer..."

She twisted the head this way and that, peering at it from every angle. The empty eye-sockets unnerved her and though she hated looking at dead eyes, she almost wished there were some instead of just empty orbital cavities. Her fingers carefully snaked over the smooth muscles, feeling for any fractures or weird bone growths, humming to herself all the while. The silence of morgues unnerved her; she was far more at home when heart monitors and other such machinery was beeping away keeping her company, or music was playing. Some Linkin Park would have done wonders right about now.

She frowned as her fingers felt over the occipital bone. "There feels to be a depressed fracture on the occipital bone. I'd say cause of death was blunt force trauma, though it's hard to tell when the body's in bits. You haven't chanced upon any bullet entry wounds or anything, have you?" she asked, looking up at Sherlock before looking back down at the head in her hands. "Y'know, I think she's female," Sveta announced softly after a long moment's silence. "Her frontal bone is rounded and her supraorbital ridge is less pronounced than it usually is in males. But y'know, it'll be easier to tell when the beetles have finished their job...

NOTES Ok, so, because I'm so freaking confused about this damn corpse, here's what I've decided: the skin on the skull would be completely peeled off, leaving only muscle. They eyes have been gouged out. Because a female still looks like a female with skin on. The skin on the rest of the body can be either on or off, I don't care.
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CREDITS  You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi ~ Template by Doe-Eyed Harlot of Caution.

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