Thomgelica One-shots because not enough people write about them.

Bloody Prints

A/N: Just a lil murder, snarky Angelica, and cocky Thomas for the holidays. Happy Halloween or whateva.

"NYPD," Thomas flashed his badge, pushing past the eager crowd and uniformed officers. He saw his partner talking to what he assumed was a very distraught witness.

Thomas waited until his partner finished up with the witness, furrowing his eyebrows when the man walked past him mumbling a incoherent mess.

"So what do we have, Madison?" He asked, looping his fingers into his belt loops.

"Follow me," he said and Thomas did what he was told. A shiver ran through his body as they got closer to the crime scene, the temperature in the building had dropped dramatically in such a short time.

"The guy I was talking to is the janitor of the building," James started as they walked through a door. Thomas clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from shivering, looking at his partner expectantly. "He came in for work and that's when he saw the body."

Thomas shrugged, looking around the place. "It's a morgue, there's bodies everywhere."

James rolled his eyes. "You do see the bloody footprints, right?"

He ran his eyes over the dirty tile floor. "I do see the bloody footprints." He walked closer to the body, kneeling down next to it.

"So what do you think killed him?" Thomas joked, eying the object lodged into the poor guy's heart.

"Presumably the knife sticking out of his chest."

Thomas snapped his head up, squeezing his eyes shut to will away the dizziness at the sudden and fast movement. He found a woman with her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

He stood up from his squatting position, making his way to the lady. "I was joking, it was a joke." He told her, trying to ease the hard glare she was giving him.

"What, may I ask, do you find funny about a man being brutally murdered?" She hissed and something told Thomas she wasn't actually expecting an answer.

Shooting a glare James' way for the snort of laughter he'd heard, Thomas held out his hand for her to shake, a poor attempt at changing the subject. "I'm detective Jefferson."

She looked down at his hand and it looked as though she was considering not shaking it. He pulled it away before she could decide.

"Dr. Schuyler, I'm the medical examiner on this case." She sidestepped him, kneeling next to the body. "And I ask that you stay away from my body unless you have gloves on." She said and that seemed to be the end of their conversation.

"She doesn't like you very much."

Thomas nudged his friend in the stomach as he watched Dr. Schuyler worked. "Thank you, James, for that very astute observation."

"Just wanted to make sure you knew it."

Thomas scoffed, smirking a little at the way the Dr. was ordering around the uniforms. "Not a big deal, she can't hate me forever. Nobody can."

Thomas was confident that by the end of this case he'd have won over Dr. Schuyler. And, well, he was never wrong.