Fanfiction Request: Diagnosis Murder
Title: Diagnosis Murder
Requested By: cant_have_any
Prompt: Inquisitive!Murphy
Rating: G
Author's Note: So while I'm entirely too vague on the medical details in this, the criminal bits, about drugs and stuff, is all actually true. I did research and stuff. Also, I love writing Inquisitive!Murphy, it just leads right into her cop side and I love playing with how good a cop she is. Totally ripped off the title too, lol. Fic requested from this meme. Still time to ask for something!
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“What if the murder’s a symptom?”
Everyone looked at her, House and his team, with identical expressions of confusion. She had expected that with her dramatic entrance but she hadn’t expected it to last so long. Everyone was just staring at her like she’d spoken Japanese or something.
“What murder?” Dr. Taub looked at House, “Who is she?”
“She isn’t a doctor, so don’t listen to her,” House said, glaring at her. “Go home, Murphy.”
“Murphy?” Now Dr. Kutner looked interested as well as surprised. “Isn’t that the woman all the nurses are talking about?”
House rolled his eyes and turned his glare on his team, “What have I told you about nurses? They’re not to be trusted. They didn’t have the brains to get through medical school.”
“You didn’t tell them about the murder?” Murphy asked, focusing her attention on House. He was the one she had to convince after all. His team was just an unfortunate peanut gallery.
“They already didn’t want to treat a drug addict. I didn’t want them to also not want to treat a murderer. Thank you for ruining that.”
“This guy murdered someone?” Taub broke in again. “You didn’t even put a guard on his room.”
“He’s not going to kill anyone while he’s busy having seizures.”
“Why do you think the murder’s a symptom?” Foreman spoke up.
Murphy was relieved. Finally, someone willing to listen. She didn’t look towards the other doctor though. Her attention was solely on House.
“It’s not a symptom. Junkies kill for drug money all the time.” It was Taub again, “The murder’s a symptom of his drug use. Not a symptom of whatever’s killing him.”
“Thank you for that upper class stereotypical white opinion,” House said graciously. “Does that make you feel better, Murphy? He’s just another junkie.”
“All of you, shut up,” she snapped. She’d come here with a nagging question and they were going to answer it to her satisfaction whether they liked it or not. “Nothing valuable was taken from the victim’s apartment. Wallet, credit cards, money, it was all left behind.”
“So this guy really killed someone?” Kutner sounded nervous. “I’ll call security.”
“Don’t do that,” House groaned, “Sit down and diagnose! That’s what you’re paid to do. And you,” he shoved his cane at her chest, “You’re supposed to go solve crime.”
She grabbed the end of his cane and tugged hard to pull him closer to her, to make him listen. “Your patient killed my victim, a woman he’d never met, in her apartment, in a building he’d never been to before. Despite what the media has made you all think, junkies don’t rob random people. They steal from family and friends and they rarely murder strangers. The murder makes no sense.”
“And you think it’s somehow medically related?” House pulled on his cane, trying to shake her off but she had a firm hold and wasn’t letting go until she got through her whole theory. His team had gone silent, but she could feel them watching the exchange with interest.
“Why not? Prolonged drug use screws with the body. You tested him and nothing came up on the tox right? Withdrawal causes him to go nuts and kill someone.”
"It’s still not medically relevant. If he was going through withdrawal his heart rate would be unstable, he’d be vomiting, and going through sweats. Even a cop like you should know those signs.”
She rolled her eyes. He was right, but she wasn’t about to stop now. “His drug of choice is heroine. Maybe the drug use was to cover something up. Schizophrenics self medicate with drugs all the time. If he’s already gone through withdrawal and his system’s clean, the voices in his head that were always there are now loud as hell.”
“There’s no history of mental illness,” Taub said, looking over a file.
“He’s the right age of late onset schizophrenia,” Foreman countered. “It’s possible.”
“But that still doesn’t explain what’s killing him now.” There was just a bit of grudging respect in House’s voice and Murphy flashed a triumphant smile for a second. “It doesn’t explain anything.”
She let go of his cane. He was right about that.
“So, the murder’s not a symptom.”
“This is why doctor’s should do the doctoring and cops should do the arresting.”
“The murder’s connected,” she muttered, turning to the white board. Half the things written down she didn’t understand, but one thing caught her attention. “Why are his potassium levels so high?”
“Murphy, you’re not a doctor and Goggle doesn’t make you one,” House stepped in front of her, “You’re not going to magically come up with a diagnosis.”
She took a step forward, crowding into his space, “You know what one form of heroin is called? Black tar heroin. It’s the most common type of heroin on the streets. It’s not very pure, but it packs one hell of a punch.”
“There was no heroin in his system. Your whole schizophrenia idea relied on that.” House leaned in, glaring. “Go home.”
“No,” she said and continued on like he’d never interrupted her. “Since they closed the ports in New York, New Jersey has become the biggest port for smuggling cocaine. You know how they hide cocaine these days? They add potassium thiocyanate, and other chemicals, which turns the cocaine black and renders it undetectable to drug dogs and regular testing methods.”
“Thank you for this fascinating drug lesson, but we have a patient to save.”
“Do you know that black tar heroin can be sold in a powdered form and that it was your patient’s favorite form of heroin?”
He opened his mouth to say something flippant, but then stopped. She could see the wheels starting to turn. He was catching up with her logic. She grinned again.
“I still don’t see the point to this,” Taub broke in.
“The cop thinks our patient was stupid enough to confuse black cocaine with powdered black tar heroin. Which means he could have inhaled any number of unknown chemicals and could have led to his elevated potassium levels,” House explained, still watching her, almost sizing her up.
“So, he took the wrong drug, his schizophrenia led him to kill someone, and the wrong drug landed him in here with his symptoms,” Foreman mused. “It could work, but how do we find out what was in what he took?”
“I’ll get you a sample of what Narcotics has, see how he could have gotten his hands on uncut black cocaine and get back to you. In the meantime, do that charcoal thing you usually do when someone has an OD and see if you can’t suck the chemicals out of him,” Murphy stepped away from House, heading for the door. “I’ll call you when I find something.”
There was quiet in the office for a few seconds after her exit before Foreman spoke up again.
“She just beat us all to a diagnosis, didn’t she?”
“Go clean out the patient’s veins and test his blood for every chemical you can think of,” House muttered, but he was still looking at the exit, and the wheels were still turning.
Requested By: cant_have_any
Prompt: Inquisitive!Murphy
Rating: G
Author's Note: So while I'm entirely too vague on the medical details in this, the criminal bits, about drugs and stuff, is all actually true. I did research and stuff. Also, I love writing Inquisitive!Murphy, it just leads right into her cop side and I love playing with how good a cop she is. Totally ripped off the title too, lol. Fic requested from this meme. Still time to ask for something!
---
“What if the murder’s a symptom?”
Everyone looked at her, House and his team, with identical expressions of confusion. She had expected that with her dramatic entrance but she hadn’t expected it to last so long. Everyone was just staring at her like she’d spoken Japanese or something.
“What murder?” Dr. Taub looked at House, “Who is she?”
“She isn’t a doctor, so don’t listen to her,” House said, glaring at her. “Go home, Murphy.”
“Murphy?” Now Dr. Kutner looked interested as well as surprised. “Isn’t that the woman all the nurses are talking about?”
House rolled his eyes and turned his glare on his team, “What have I told you about nurses? They’re not to be trusted. They didn’t have the brains to get through medical school.”
“You didn’t tell them about the murder?” Murphy asked, focusing her attention on House. He was the one she had to convince after all. His team was just an unfortunate peanut gallery.
“They already didn’t want to treat a drug addict. I didn’t want them to also not want to treat a murderer. Thank you for ruining that.”
“This guy murdered someone?” Taub broke in again. “You didn’t even put a guard on his room.”
“He’s not going to kill anyone while he’s busy having seizures.”
“Why do you think the murder’s a symptom?” Foreman spoke up.
Murphy was relieved. Finally, someone willing to listen. She didn’t look towards the other doctor though. Her attention was solely on House.
“It’s not a symptom. Junkies kill for drug money all the time.” It was Taub again, “The murder’s a symptom of his drug use. Not a symptom of whatever’s killing him.”
“Thank you for that upper class stereotypical white opinion,” House said graciously. “Does that make you feel better, Murphy? He’s just another junkie.”
“All of you, shut up,” she snapped. She’d come here with a nagging question and they were going to answer it to her satisfaction whether they liked it or not. “Nothing valuable was taken from the victim’s apartment. Wallet, credit cards, money, it was all left behind.”
“So this guy really killed someone?” Kutner sounded nervous. “I’ll call security.”
“Don’t do that,” House groaned, “Sit down and diagnose! That’s what you’re paid to do. And you,” he shoved his cane at her chest, “You’re supposed to go solve crime.”
She grabbed the end of his cane and tugged hard to pull him closer to her, to make him listen. “Your patient killed my victim, a woman he’d never met, in her apartment, in a building he’d never been to before. Despite what the media has made you all think, junkies don’t rob random people. They steal from family and friends and they rarely murder strangers. The murder makes no sense.”
“And you think it’s somehow medically related?” House pulled on his cane, trying to shake her off but she had a firm hold and wasn’t letting go until she got through her whole theory. His team had gone silent, but she could feel them watching the exchange with interest.
“Why not? Prolonged drug use screws with the body. You tested him and nothing came up on the tox right? Withdrawal causes him to go nuts and kill someone.”
"It’s still not medically relevant. If he was going through withdrawal his heart rate would be unstable, he’d be vomiting, and going through sweats. Even a cop like you should know those signs.”
She rolled her eyes. He was right, but she wasn’t about to stop now. “His drug of choice is heroine. Maybe the drug use was to cover something up. Schizophrenics self medicate with drugs all the time. If he’s already gone through withdrawal and his system’s clean, the voices in his head that were always there are now loud as hell.”
“There’s no history of mental illness,” Taub said, looking over a file.
“He’s the right age of late onset schizophrenia,” Foreman countered. “It’s possible.”
“But that still doesn’t explain what’s killing him now.” There was just a bit of grudging respect in House’s voice and Murphy flashed a triumphant smile for a second. “It doesn’t explain anything.”
She let go of his cane. He was right about that.
“So, the murder’s not a symptom.”
“This is why doctor’s should do the doctoring and cops should do the arresting.”
“The murder’s connected,” she muttered, turning to the white board. Half the things written down she didn’t understand, but one thing caught her attention. “Why are his potassium levels so high?”
“Murphy, you’re not a doctor and Goggle doesn’t make you one,” House stepped in front of her, “You’re not going to magically come up with a diagnosis.”
She took a step forward, crowding into his space, “You know what one form of heroin is called? Black tar heroin. It’s the most common type of heroin on the streets. It’s not very pure, but it packs one hell of a punch.”
“There was no heroin in his system. Your whole schizophrenia idea relied on that.” House leaned in, glaring. “Go home.”
“No,” she said and continued on like he’d never interrupted her. “Since they closed the ports in New York, New Jersey has become the biggest port for smuggling cocaine. You know how they hide cocaine these days? They add potassium thiocyanate, and other chemicals, which turns the cocaine black and renders it undetectable to drug dogs and regular testing methods.”
“Thank you for this fascinating drug lesson, but we have a patient to save.”
“Do you know that black tar heroin can be sold in a powdered form and that it was your patient’s favorite form of heroin?”
He opened his mouth to say something flippant, but then stopped. She could see the wheels starting to turn. He was catching up with her logic. She grinned again.
“I still don’t see the point to this,” Taub broke in.
“The cop thinks our patient was stupid enough to confuse black cocaine with powdered black tar heroin. Which means he could have inhaled any number of unknown chemicals and could have led to his elevated potassium levels,” House explained, still watching her, almost sizing her up.
“So, he took the wrong drug, his schizophrenia led him to kill someone, and the wrong drug landed him in here with his symptoms,” Foreman mused. “It could work, but how do we find out what was in what he took?”
“I’ll get you a sample of what Narcotics has, see how he could have gotten his hands on uncut black cocaine and get back to you. In the meantime, do that charcoal thing you usually do when someone has an OD and see if you can’t suck the chemicals out of him,” Murphy stepped away from House, heading for the door. “I’ll call you when I find something.”
There was quiet in the office for a few seconds after her exit before Foreman spoke up again.
“She just beat us all to a diagnosis, didn’t she?”
“Go clean out the patient’s veins and test his blood for every chemical you can think of,” House muttered, but he was still looking at the exit, and the wheels were still turning.