𝟬𝟭 • 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦
tw: beating up a dead corpse(?)
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it didn’t take ms. hudson 20 minutes to prepare the tea kettle and serve the beverage to [y/n]. however, in the meantime, the detective’s brain ran a bullet-train of thought, going from mundane to utmost bizarre things. one could definitely affirm they had their marvelous mind set to always think, for thinking was humanity’s gift, and a person who could think properly was one to admire.
“here is your tea, [y/n]. but be careful, dear, it is very hot.” ms. hudson approached the sitting detective cautiously. tea and biscuits laid on a flower print tray, waiting patiently for [y/n] to hop out their thinking stance — prayer hands right under the chin, eyes closed — and finally eat something. much to the landlady’s dismay, [y/n] did not move a muscle. they sat firmly in their chair, as stiff as ever, while ms. hudson took it as her responsibility to wake them up from their transe.
“darling, won’t you have some tea? i made it just now-”
“there was someone there,” the detective finally said.
“excuse me?” ms. hudson did not seem to understand a word they had just said. “what do you mean?”
giving her the look, — in which they squint their eyes a tad bit, just enough to say “that’s obvious!” — [y/n] took one single biscuit from the tray. the chair in which they sat stood as unmoved as them, its black leather cushions almost forming a crease from frequent sitting. ms. hudson had tried fluffing the pillow up, rearranging it so maybe the crease would go away. there was no such luck: the crease stayed as proudly as its owner.
“yesterday, when i sat on that bench. there was someone out there, someone watching me.” standing up abruptly, they stabbed a paper on top of the table beside the chair, in which resided a barely lit fireplace. “right there, on the corner,” they pointed to the left as they made their way to stand in front of the fireplace. “who was it?” the under-the-breath tone and furrowed brows indicated [y/n] said that to themself. that and the fact that they believed ms. hudson to be too incomprehensive of the world to be able to answer such a question.
“i don’t know, dear. i just went there to call you upstairs, i didn’t see anyone on the corner...”
“of course you didn’t.”
“e-excuse...?” the landlady looked baffled. [y/n] is a genius, indeed. yet again, a terribly rude one, she thought. meanwhile, [y/n] took determined steps out the flat, leaving ms. hudson and the tray behind, the tea still untouched. “where are you going?” the lady inquired, still stunned from the last blow she took from the detective. “at least drink some tea-”
“i’ve got no time for tea, ms. hudson. i must hurry. if you’ll excuse me.” walking as fast as they could, [y/n] left the building despite ms. hudson’s calls. grabbing their coat on their way out, the detective fell at mercy of the cold british weather, being suddenly hit by the breeze. with a gesture, they called for the nearest cab, and asked for the cabbie to take them to the morgue.
in about 19 minutes, they had arrived. it just so happens that [y/n] needed to test something on the bodies. nothing too harsh, of course. “hello, molly. fancy seeing you here.”
the morgue’s pathologist, molly hooper, blushed slightly at [y/n]’s choice of words. “y-yeah, i work here.”
in a swift motion, the smile across [y/n]’s face quickly dissolved into their usual expression: nothing. either that or a state of constant, profound thought. the former was the most picked one for daily insults, however. “no point in stating the obvious. now, i need to examine some bodies.”
molly showed a soft smile, a bit taken aback from the request, yet complying nonetheless. the paperwork has already been filed, so there is no harm in examining some bodies, she thought. what didn’t cross her mind, however, was the fact she was making a clear exception for a witty detective with an odd solicitation. nevertheless, she took [y/n] to where the bodies where being held, putting them on top of a flat surface for the detective to do whatever detective-like things they intended on doing.
grabbing their riding crop from the pocket on their dark blue coat, [y/n] starting beating the bodies that were displayed in front of her. molly had brought them here, no questions asked, which didn’t exactly surprise them, yet made one of their assumptions a bit closer to being clear. what went on inside [y/n]’s mind was a wonder for itself. with not a single sound except for grunts coming out their mouth, they took their time with the spanking. for a few minutes, nothing was heard from that room except for whipping noises. when the detective was finally finished, they left the room and the bodies behind.
“molly, tell me what bruises on those bodies in 20 minutes.” the doctor nodded in agreement, still bewildered from the strange event that had just taken place in her morgue. quickly, the detective took into their notice small details about the doctor’s appearance, ones that would out her attraction to [y/n] lest they went unnoticed. the lipstick, the new hair — she usually parted it in the middle, now it stood to the side — were all signs she had gone to the bathroom and changed.
“what did you do to your lips?” [y/n] asked.
“the lipstick?” she asked, pointing to her now bright-pink lips. “oh, nothing, i just refreshed a bit...”
“it looks good on you.” molly looked as if she’d been hit with a bullet. a few seconds set apart [y/n]’s remark and her answer while the doctor tried to process what had just been said to her. “thank you,” she finally managed to utter some words. thank god, a response, [y/n] thought.
leaving with no other remarks to make, the detective went upstairs to check on their progress with the chemicals they had left there the day before: [y/n] was trying to discover how long it takes for a certain bacteria to multiply in a freezingly cold ambient. when they were about to examine the sample, however, two men arrived at the morgue.
they were dull. incredibly, monstrously, utterly dull. one of them the detective had an acquaintance with. reserved and small, mike stamford was one to blend with the crowd. a very charismatic chap, people would say. some days prior, stamford and [y/n] had met, and the detective had expressed their need for a flatmate: the rent had started to become too much of a nuisance. after all, one can only earn so much with a consulting detective job. a job which, [y/n] would affirm very proudly, they had invented themself.
the other one was a stranger. also rather small, and even more reserved than his companion. just from his conservative haircut and sharp posture, [y/n] could say he had been in the military. next to his right leg and held firmly in his hand was a walking cane, which the detective assumed was due to an injury during the war. afghanistan, it must have been. with all those pieces together, [y/n] was able to understand why their colleague had brought this stranger to see them.
“the address’s 221b, baker street,” [y/n] said, without taking their eyes off the microscope.
mike stamford chuckled. “and that is [y/n] for you.” he turned to the detective. “good morning, [y/n]. this is akaashi keiji, a friend of mine from when we went to medical school together. he’s looking for a-”
“potential flatmate,” [y/n] said, still not looking away from the lens. “thank you, mike.”
the stranger finally spoke. “h-how did you know?”
[y/n] sighed. it must be so funny to live inside those brains of yours. “a few days earlier, i had talked to mike about my search for a flatmate. and now he comes to me with someone who most definitely is looking for one, judging by your military status and leg injury. i can tell you haven’t been earning much from your job, since you stay at home wallowing in self-pity. thus, here we are, and we better make it as quick as we can to avoid unnecessary conversation. can you lend me your phone?”
akaashi looked startled. “uh, yeah, sure.” he threw his phone at [y/n], who catched it with one hand. “but we barely know each other, how can you know all this?”
with a much more suffering-filled sigh, the detective finished looking for the bacteria’s name on the internet and looked back at the ex-army doctor. “your haircut and posture absolutely screams military, and so does your injury. further, i also now know your brother’s just got away from an unhappy marriage and has a drinking problem, hence why you don’t talk to him. is that good enough for you?”
keiji was in awe. “brilliant. amazing.” he looked at mike. “w-why didn’t you tell me this?” stamford simply laughed it off in a that’s-just-how-they-are manner, while akaashi still had his mouth agape.
[y/n] had enough with the bacteria. as they got up from the bench in which they sat, put the microscope away and took one last look at the bodies next door through the glass in the wall, they grabbed their coat and went on to the door, passing by stamford and their newfound flatmate. potential flatmate, that is.
“again, the address is 221b, baker street. meet me there at 1pm.”
and so they left.
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