Got Jokes
Lestrade gazed over her shoulder, peering at her clipboard. She checked over her work, tried to ignore Sherlock rifling through the drawers and coolers for whatever interesting thing he thought lurked in her workspace. The body before her was gruesome. Bloodied chunks of flesh needed piecing together, shrapnel sticking from his chest. It had been the best attempt to distract her from the cause of death she'd experienced in weeks.
"So, what happened then?" Lestrade wouldn't look at the body for more than a few seconds. Occasionally he would try to study it before turning a putrid green and turning away.
"Well, the explosion occurred post mortem. What actually killed him was a stab through the optic nerves directly through the oculus sinister. Guess you can say he's not such a looker, now." She chuckled, Greg staring at her with a mixture of confusion and horror.
To her surprise Sherlock laughed, pausing with his hand over a severed hand she'd meant to give him later. He continued laughing as he carried it out the door, glancing at her for a brief second before shaking his head and continuing on.
"God, you two need help." Lestrade's expression had not changed as he had watched Sherlock leave the building.
"It was a joke! The oculus sinister, it's the left eye." She gestured towards the wound, but Lestrade was already shaking his head the door.