Explaining the Unexplainable. |Open|
”Oxytocin. Dopamine. Serotonin.
”Neurotransmitters, cerebral cortex, frontal lobe.
”Endoplasma, ectoplasma, nucleus construction. What, what, what am I missing!?” Sherlock huffed, pushing the tenth sample from the victim’s brain he had taken that night. He was missing something, something vital. There was absolutely no conceivable way that this person ended up in the state they did, and yet, the remains of Alexander Redblunt said otherwise. He ruffled his hair, trying to think, before burying his face in his hands. He was so consumed in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed the other person standing in the morgue.
After a moment, he sat up and sighed, looking over, taking the other person in. “What? Can’t you see I’m busy?
"Yer don't luk busy. Yer luk frustrated." Sapphire stated bluntly, in her frank manner. The fallen angel wasn't sure how to feel about being here. A mysterious death tied to a mysterious artifact. It could be her Grace! Or it could be magic, or it could be some historical relic. Or it could be nothing. It was probably nothing.
"Oi wus called in de examine de artifact de dead man wus foun' wi'," she gestured to the plastic bag with the relic inside, "It's already been dusted an' examined for any fluids or DNA, roi?" She asked, not wanting to damage any of their evidence.
She hoped if they had done anything with it that they hadn't harmed any of her evidence. These cops never seemed to understand that pouring chemicals on artifacts damaged them and made them hard to identify.  Â











