I hate working on weeknights. Perhaps it's just old childhood qualms, but somehow, in my line of work, the long stretches of silence at night seem a lot more eerie- something about the empty building, its squeaky clean halls and lime green walls just added to the uncomfortable atmosphere of the entire place. Oh, and the dead bodies, too, I suppose.
Don't get me wrong, I love my line of work- nothing as mentally stimulating as putting together a puzzle of how someone came to be lying lifeless on a cold, stainless steel table in front of you - but some nights, the morbidity of my job gets to me just the same.
Last Tuesday night was one of those nights.
It started out being rather quiet, like most weeknights are. I was alone in the office finishing up some paperwork on a recent suicide case. Just the normal Tuesday night, I figured. If I hurried, I might be able to get back to my apartment in time to watch the fourth quarter of Laker-Jazz game, I thought. Finally, some "me time."
And then my pager went off. I sighed, realizing that I was on call tonight. Putting down the packet of death certificate paperwork, I picked up my pager and called the seemingly familiar number.
A gruff, hurried voice answered. "Lestrade."
I grinned. Ah, just his luck for me to be on duty tonight. "Hey Lestrade, you paged?"
I could sense his inward groan. "You're on duty tonight?"
Before I could think of a reply, he continued. "Well, I'll be bringing one in tonight, so you guys'll have to take a look at it. Though you might want Anderson to come down and take a look at it."
There went my plans of watching John Stockton trump Derek Fisher. I was the one on "receiving" duty tonight. "Anderson and his wife have their anniversary dinner tonight. Should I get the paperwork started? Or do you need me to come down to the scene?"
Lestrade's usual booming voice seemed to fade. "I think you might want to page another M.E. to help you with this one. Do you want me to call dispatch and ask for Walnut Grove's M.E. to come down? I know him personally and-"
"Hold it!" I barked into the phone. "Detective, are you questioning my professional abilities as a medical examiner?" I asked testily. I knew this guy disliked me personally, but I didn't know it extended to my work.
Lestrade took a deep breath. "All right. We'll do it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you- it's a difficult one."
I ignored his comment. "What's the ETA?"
"We'll be there in an hour. Oh, and I'm bringing someone with me." With that, he hung up.
That aroused my curiosity. It wasn't every day that Lestrade, one of the known "loners" on the force, tolerated working with someone. Must be a newbie rookie who was paired with him, I figured.
I set the phone in its cradle and began prepping to receive.
This was going to be a long night.
AN: Don't worry, "Sherlock" (and the mystery) will be introduced in the next chapter-
there is a point to this!
Please read and review, as this is my first attempt at fan fiction! Thanks!