A little box sat on top of his notes. A little note tied into the bow read "Happy Father's Day, Doctor!" in slightly messy, slanted cursive. Inside, there was a little tie pin made to look like a carbon atom.
James examines the box carefully, lifting fingerprints where he could to better get an idea of who had sent him such a thing.
Happy Father’s Day. When was Father’s Day? A quick glance at the calender answers that question easily enough, and he’s free to continue his investigation.
Who had sent this? He was no one’s father, that was certain. And the concept of celebrating fathers made him laugh - bitterly, in fact. Nikola Bradley was certainly no man worth celebrating, in his mind.
Who could have sent it, though?
A precise cut with a scapel along the box’s seams to cut it loose made opening it clean and fast. The tie pin sat at the bottom, small yet thoughtful.
Carbon atom. He knew it well. Like a faithful friend… A smile crosses his pale features for a second before he plucks the pin up and secures the pin on his tie. The box is disposed of neatly, the note slipped into the satin ribbon circling his Stratoliner before it goes back on his head.
Work resumes.
