Human Nature (Johnlock Historical)

Chapter 5

"The lecture today should be quite a good one." Sherlock was sitting forward on the hackney seat, his leg bouncing. He reminded John a little of a dog on a leash who was pulling on it, wanting to be set free to run. "Dr. Blundell will be presenting his theories on blood transfusion."

John nodded to be polite and returned to looking out the window. He had slept fitfully, waking late only when Donovan brought him a breakfast tray with tea and toast. Still feeling a bit groggy, he hadn't spoken much to Sherlock today.

He was a bit stuck for words anyways. The images from the night before still repeated in a loop in his mind, and he kept contrasting the Sherlock in his ragged clothing and cap, carrying a body into that flat, with the well-dressed gentleman of today.

The hackney stoped and they got out at Somerset House. Entering the North Wing, Sherlock walked them into the Royal Society rooms, greeting many people with a quick hello or nod of the head in passing.

He stopped before an older man with silvery-white hair and a mustache. "Dr. Clark, I'd like you to meet my friend Mr. Watson. This is his first lecture at the Society."

John exchanged greetings and simple pleasantries with the man, glad for all of Molly's instructions on the topic. His behavior didn't seem to be questioned by the doctor at all.

"Did you hear the sad news, Mr. Holmes? Dr. Blundell was called away to attend a patient, so they made a last-minute substitution." Dr. Clark explained.

The doors to the assembly room opened and the crowd of men shuffled inside, taking their seats.

Sherlock shook his head in reply as he sat beside the doctor, with John on his other side. "Oh, that is too bad. I hope they reschedule him. I wanted to ask him about coagulation."

The crowd settled down, the room almost completely full. A man came out, confirming the news that Dr. Clark had stated, and announced that the member Mr. Anderson had kindly stepped in for the presentation today. Sherlock let out a groan, and shifted in his chair, slumping in disappointment.

"John, please do not judge the Society by what you will witness next. Anderson is a certifiable idiot." Sherlock leaned in to whisper into John's ear.

The message made John more curious as people on stage wheeled out some carts of equipment, all wearing aprons over their clothing, and with their coats removed. Their sleeves were rolled up to their elbows. After a few minutes, a gurney was rolled out, with the unmistakable shape of a body beneath a white sheet.

John was glad he had only had a light breakfast as a suspended large mirror was lowered down over the body, tilted into the best position. His stomach clenched and rolled, as a man walked out, dressed like the others, and pulled back the sheet.

The body was of a naked woman, of about fifty years of age. Her face was covered still with a smaller cloth.

"Good day, Gentlemen. Today, we will be examining the body of this older woman, searching for the cause of her death as well as any other abnormalities." Mr. Anderson spoke quickly, glancing around the hall before picking up a scalpel.

John held his breath as the man made a Y-shaped incision on the woman's chest, describing his process as he went. The woman had not been dead long, from what he could tell from his years on battlefields. Still, the casual way the man cut into the woman's flesh, coldly describing it to the audience, sickened him.

Looking at Sherlock, he could see he was bored and annoyed, but certainly not shocked by what was happening on stage. He gave an occasional tsk noise of disgust, mumbling to Dr. Clark about Anderson's sloppy process, or things he missed.