Evil Sherlock Holmes: The World's Greatest Killer

Chapter 2

The morgue was a rather modest affair located at the far end of the building. Watson could smell the faint taint of chemicals in the air around the door which led to the narrow flight of stairs leading to the basement. The examination room was actually a large open alcove with white tile walls, two heavy wooden blocks which served as tables upon which to lay the bodies, as well as shelves housing all manner of chemicals and tools. There was a small window high up in the examination room which opened to the surface facing the Thames, providing enough ventilation to keep the smell of bodies and chemicals to a minimum.

There was a nearby door which led to some of the offices Mapleton had mentioned, and beyond that, holding cells where all manner of drunks, thieves, and others of ill-repute were housed. Watson looked around and quickly came to the conclusion that the Yard had yet to provide him with an assistant, so he went about changing out of his coat, rolling up his sleeves, and putting on a leather apron in preparation for his duties. He scanned the shelves to familiarize himself with their contents, taking the time to set up a neat tray of tools he'd need for his work.

He was in the middle of checking the sink to ensure there was running water handy when he heard someone clear their throat. He turned and saw a sharply dressed man beside two uniformed bobbies carrying a body wrapped in a sheet. He was a lean, sly-looking man with a little sallow rat-face and dark eyes. He also seemed to be an impeccable dresser, judging from the sharp grey suit and silk tie he wore. "Right," the man muttered. "Where you want him?"

"Right there will do nicely," Watson replied, gesturing to the nearest wooden slab. The bobbies lugged the body to the table and promptly took their leave as Watson approached the man, extending his hand. "Dr. John Watson," he said.

"Inspector Lestrade," the man replied, shaking his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Inspector," Watson said. "Apologies if things seem a bit out of sort around here. I've yet to be assigned an assistant and I only started the position about an hour ago."

"Mm-hmmm," muttered Lestrade, seemingly not the least bit interested in chit-chat. He pulled a silver watch from his pocket and checked it. "Let's make this quick. I have real crimes that need solving."

"Very well," replied Watson. "Let's see what we've got, shall we?"

Watson removed the sheet to reveal the body of a man. It certainly appeared to be a suicide all right. Ligature marks around the neck – rope from the look of it. Watson opened the eyes to see evidence of petechial hemorrhaging, common with asphyxiation. He opened the mouth to check and see if there were any gingival petechiae on the gums as well.

Hmmmm, he thought. That's interesting. "Inspector," Watson said. "When you found the body, was there any congestion about the face?"

"Was there what now?" Lestrade asked.

"In typical cases of hanging you'd see a swelling of the face and tongue due to venous congestion as blood fails to return to the heart," Watson explained. "Was the face swollen when you arrived at the scene?"

"Not that I recall," Lestrade muttered.

"No bulging eyes? No protruding tongue?"

"The bloke looked just as he does now," grumbled Lestrade. "Why do you ask?"

"I saw men hanged when I was in the army," Watson said. "Your victim does not have a broken neck, which means he would have died from a slow asphyxiation. When swinging from a noose in this case, I'd expect to see signs of congestion, though it's common for those signs to go away once the victim is released from the noose and the blood in the head is free to escape, which is why I ask."