Disclaimer: The following characters used in this story do not belong to
me; they belong to 'Diagnosis Murder' and related companies. I am not
making any profit by using them in this story. I will put them back where
I found them when I'm finished. I also pinched references to Big Brother 4
UK, and Shakespeare's Othello, neither of which I own.
A/N: I haven't seen a Diagnosis Murder fic with Jack in for a while, so I thought I'd go write one. I haven't written a DM fic for a while, and I hope my writing has improved since I last did so. I'm done now - enjoy!
Title: A Shot In The Dark
~~
It was a warm mid-July morning in Los Angeles. The expanse of the sapphire sky above its residents contained only the scorching golden sun, nearing its midday peak, and but a few wisps of cotton cloud. For Community General Hospital, a vital organ in the body of a city, it was business as usual. There was, as could be expected on such a day, a greater number of patients coming in complaining of sunburns, hay fever and heat stroke, but otherwise nothing was out of the ordinary.
In the office of Doctor Mark Sloan, Head of Internal Medicine and consultant to the LAPD, the first stage of many that would ensure life becoming less than ordinary was about to take place.
"Here you are, Mark, the patient file for Kirsten Palmer," Doctor Jack Stewart said, depositing the brown file on top of the mishmash of other documents strewn over the desk before plopping himself down on the leather couch.
Mark briefly spared the young doctor a glance before returning to the problem at hand. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, screwdriver in hand, the doctor carefully dug around the insides of the desk fan.
"Still not got it working again yet, huh," Jack said, watching the scene with some amusement. He'd dropped in an hour and a half ago, and Mark had just started working on the fan at that point. Jack thought about suggesting, as he had done an hour and a half before, for Mark to just go out and buy himself a new fan, but he'd been lectured about younger people wasting money buying replacements of things that could be easily fixed, and after a long, stuffy morning he wasn't particularly in the mood for another earful.
"Not quite," Mark said, pliers in his mouth, "but I'm not beaten yet." He paused for a moment, critically inspecting the mesh of wires, before snapping the back panel over the insides of the fan and plugging it into the electrical socket in the wall. The blades sprung to life and rotated for a few moments before slowing and coming to a complete stop.
"Ah," Mark said, looking slightly embarrassed as he put his hand over his mouth. He decided to abandon the fan for the time being, and so changed the subject. "Right, you were saying about Kirsten Palmer, the diabetic - "
"Good morning, amigo," Norman Briggs, the hospital administrator, greeted as he strolled into Mark's office. He gave Jack a sharp nod of acknowledgement before continuing, "and what a fine morning it is."
What do you want, Mark thought to himself as he bit his tongue. "Morning, Norman, what can I do for you?" There were some days, Mark found, that you found it more difficult to tolerate Norman than other days, and an airless July morning without a working fan in your office was definitely one of those particular days.
"I was wondering if you are free tomorrow night," Norman said, launching straight into the subject at hand. He immediately regretted his choice of words once he saw the grin spread across the face of the cocky doctor lounging about on the sofa to the left of him.
"Hey, Norman," Jack laughed, ignoring the look that Mark shot him, "Where do you plan on taking Mark? The movies, or that quiet little Italian place that just opened on the corner of Mayfield Avenue?"
"Watch your mouth, Doctor Stewart," Norman growled. He tugged at the stiff collar and tie around his neck, feeling suffocated by the heat and embarrassed by Jack. He turned back to Mark and switched the charm on again. "Well, Mark?"
The quicker he answered, the quicker he would leave, Mark thought to himself. "I'm free, why do you ask?" Mark said, going through the papers contained within the folder.
"I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to represent Community General Hospital at the Arlington Charity Ball tomorrow evening, at the Mayfair hotel," Norman said with a smile on his face. "You, as head of Internal Medicine, and a well-respected member of the community," he shot Jack a quick look of contempt, "would be the ideal representative. You wouldn't have to make any speeches, just socialize with the other people there."
Mark rolled his eyes, feeling like he'd just been sentenced to death. He disliked those charity functions immensely - not that he felt the charity side was a bad thing at all, but he felt it a chore to walk around in a rigid suit and talk to people he'd never see again, and would never want to see again. But, he also had a huge desire at that moment to get Norman off his back.
"I'll go," he sighed, seeing no way out of it but to just agree. "Just leave the details with Delores."
"Already done," Norman said, rubbing his hands together in a pleased way. "See you, and remember to wear a tuxedo," he said, hurrying out of the room before Mark could change his mind.
After waiting a beat, Mark turned his pleading eyes towards his friend, who was still reclining on the sofa, having watched this act of the show with the same amusement as the previous one, involving the fan. Jack saw those eyes, and had anticipated what was coming. "Oh, no, uh-uh, no way," he said, shaking his head. "Norman wants you to go, because you're a respected member of the community or something. He'd have a fit if I went. Besides, there is no way you're getting me to mingle with a load of doctors whose heads are shoved too far - "
"Free food," Mark said, hoping to try and tempt the doctor to go to the function.
Jack grinned. "You'll have to do better than that, Mark."
"I'll give you the weekend off," Mark said, ready to go to great lengths to get Jack to go instead of him. Usually, he wouldn't be so persistent and would just give in and go, but he had been to too many of those occasions, and they were becoming tiresome. Besides, it would be murder to spend hours of the hot summer evening stuck in a stuffy hall with a suit on.
"Couldn't Amanda go?" Jack asked, suggesting that there was someone else apart from himself who could fill in. He couldn't have been the only doctor in the hospital who could go!
"She's working," Mark said. At least, he hoped she was.
"I haven't got a tux," Jack pointed out, feeling he might have won the argument with that one. He didn't really want to have to wear a starchy suit, but he was running out of ploys to try and evade the event.
"You can borrow Steve's," Mark said, thinking that the two weren't so different in size.
Mark gave up trying to think of tactical means to get Jack to go, and resorted to practically begging. "Please, Jack."
To Mark's surprise, it worked. Sighing, the younger doctor said, "Ah, how can I resist those puppy-dog eyes?" Jack consoled himself with the fact that he had nothing else to do on his night off, and there might be young, female doctors there, but he wasn't going to let Mark in on that particular thought.
"Thanks, Jack, I owe you one," Mark said with a smile, handing Jack the file. He felt bad for letting Jack be the one to take the rap for something he should have really been going to, but he felt he could have been doing far more useful tasks at the hospital than at some charity event.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jack said, leaving the room to collect the details of the evening from Delores. "You owe me," he called, and Mark chuckled to himself.
~~
A/N: I haven't seen a Diagnosis Murder fic with Jack in for a while, so I thought I'd go write one. I haven't written a DM fic for a while, and I hope my writing has improved since I last did so. I'm done now - enjoy!
Title: A Shot In The Dark
~~
It was a warm mid-July morning in Los Angeles. The expanse of the sapphire sky above its residents contained only the scorching golden sun, nearing its midday peak, and but a few wisps of cotton cloud. For Community General Hospital, a vital organ in the body of a city, it was business as usual. There was, as could be expected on such a day, a greater number of patients coming in complaining of sunburns, hay fever and heat stroke, but otherwise nothing was out of the ordinary.
In the office of Doctor Mark Sloan, Head of Internal Medicine and consultant to the LAPD, the first stage of many that would ensure life becoming less than ordinary was about to take place.
"Here you are, Mark, the patient file for Kirsten Palmer," Doctor Jack Stewart said, depositing the brown file on top of the mishmash of other documents strewn over the desk before plopping himself down on the leather couch.
Mark briefly spared the young doctor a glance before returning to the problem at hand. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, screwdriver in hand, the doctor carefully dug around the insides of the desk fan.
"Still not got it working again yet, huh," Jack said, watching the scene with some amusement. He'd dropped in an hour and a half ago, and Mark had just started working on the fan at that point. Jack thought about suggesting, as he had done an hour and a half before, for Mark to just go out and buy himself a new fan, but he'd been lectured about younger people wasting money buying replacements of things that could be easily fixed, and after a long, stuffy morning he wasn't particularly in the mood for another earful.
"Not quite," Mark said, pliers in his mouth, "but I'm not beaten yet." He paused for a moment, critically inspecting the mesh of wires, before snapping the back panel over the insides of the fan and plugging it into the electrical socket in the wall. The blades sprung to life and rotated for a few moments before slowing and coming to a complete stop.
"Ah," Mark said, looking slightly embarrassed as he put his hand over his mouth. He decided to abandon the fan for the time being, and so changed the subject. "Right, you were saying about Kirsten Palmer, the diabetic - "
"Good morning, amigo," Norman Briggs, the hospital administrator, greeted as he strolled into Mark's office. He gave Jack a sharp nod of acknowledgement before continuing, "and what a fine morning it is."
What do you want, Mark thought to himself as he bit his tongue. "Morning, Norman, what can I do for you?" There were some days, Mark found, that you found it more difficult to tolerate Norman than other days, and an airless July morning without a working fan in your office was definitely one of those particular days.
"I was wondering if you are free tomorrow night," Norman said, launching straight into the subject at hand. He immediately regretted his choice of words once he saw the grin spread across the face of the cocky doctor lounging about on the sofa to the left of him.
"Hey, Norman," Jack laughed, ignoring the look that Mark shot him, "Where do you plan on taking Mark? The movies, or that quiet little Italian place that just opened on the corner of Mayfield Avenue?"
"Watch your mouth, Doctor Stewart," Norman growled. He tugged at the stiff collar and tie around his neck, feeling suffocated by the heat and embarrassed by Jack. He turned back to Mark and switched the charm on again. "Well, Mark?"
The quicker he answered, the quicker he would leave, Mark thought to himself. "I'm free, why do you ask?" Mark said, going through the papers contained within the folder.
"I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to represent Community General Hospital at the Arlington Charity Ball tomorrow evening, at the Mayfair hotel," Norman said with a smile on his face. "You, as head of Internal Medicine, and a well-respected member of the community," he shot Jack a quick look of contempt, "would be the ideal representative. You wouldn't have to make any speeches, just socialize with the other people there."
Mark rolled his eyes, feeling like he'd just been sentenced to death. He disliked those charity functions immensely - not that he felt the charity side was a bad thing at all, but he felt it a chore to walk around in a rigid suit and talk to people he'd never see again, and would never want to see again. But, he also had a huge desire at that moment to get Norman off his back.
"I'll go," he sighed, seeing no way out of it but to just agree. "Just leave the details with Delores."
"Already done," Norman said, rubbing his hands together in a pleased way. "See you, and remember to wear a tuxedo," he said, hurrying out of the room before Mark could change his mind.
After waiting a beat, Mark turned his pleading eyes towards his friend, who was still reclining on the sofa, having watched this act of the show with the same amusement as the previous one, involving the fan. Jack saw those eyes, and had anticipated what was coming. "Oh, no, uh-uh, no way," he said, shaking his head. "Norman wants you to go, because you're a respected member of the community or something. He'd have a fit if I went. Besides, there is no way you're getting me to mingle with a load of doctors whose heads are shoved too far - "
"Free food," Mark said, hoping to try and tempt the doctor to go to the function.
Jack grinned. "You'll have to do better than that, Mark."
"I'll give you the weekend off," Mark said, ready to go to great lengths to get Jack to go instead of him. Usually, he wouldn't be so persistent and would just give in and go, but he had been to too many of those occasions, and they were becoming tiresome. Besides, it would be murder to spend hours of the hot summer evening stuck in a stuffy hall with a suit on.
"Couldn't Amanda go?" Jack asked, suggesting that there was someone else apart from himself who could fill in. He couldn't have been the only doctor in the hospital who could go!
"She's working," Mark said. At least, he hoped she was.
"I haven't got a tux," Jack pointed out, feeling he might have won the argument with that one. He didn't really want to have to wear a starchy suit, but he was running out of ploys to try and evade the event.
"You can borrow Steve's," Mark said, thinking that the two weren't so different in size.
Mark gave up trying to think of tactical means to get Jack to go, and resorted to practically begging. "Please, Jack."
To Mark's surprise, it worked. Sighing, the younger doctor said, "Ah, how can I resist those puppy-dog eyes?" Jack consoled himself with the fact that he had nothing else to do on his night off, and there might be young, female doctors there, but he wasn't going to let Mark in on that particular thought.
"Thanks, Jack, I owe you one," Mark said with a smile, handing Jack the file. He felt bad for letting Jack be the one to take the rap for something he should have really been going to, but he felt he could have been doing far more useful tasks at the hospital than at some charity event.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jack said, leaving the room to collect the details of the evening from Delores. "You owe me," he called, and Mark chuckled to himself.
~~