What would happen if you had a disease/poison that was incurable by all the great medical shows and untraceable by all the great cop shows, but a mystery writer and psychic detective could work together to solve it all?
Since all diseases have menacing sounding names, why should this one be any different? And in my overly-active imagination, this disease is one that sprang from a long time poisoning, it is obviously much more dire as far as emergency goes.
I’m picturing an “I’ll die in twenty-four hours without help” kind of scenario here. You with me?
So I have this polahockatoliosis. That’s what I’m naming it. And if I don’t get help in the next fifteen hours [I slept for nine. It’s what the disease does], I will die an agonizing and yes, even gruesome, death.
Not a happy or pretty picture.
So obviously, the first thing I do, while I’m still in the mad headache and sore limbs stage of this disease, is check myself into a hospital. I have no idea what’s happening to me. I didn’t know I had been being exposed to poison for a long time. So I’m lying in a hospital bed, stretched out, hands over my eyes, when suddenly a man walks in the door and says, “Hi, I’m here to find out what’s wrong with you. Special division of CSI.”
What. On. Earth.
Okay, go for it. If you can find out what’s wrong with me, by all means.
Following him is his division’s doctor. They start quizzing me about my activities and my friends and who could possibly want to kill me. I’m baffled. Who knows? I like pretty well everyone.
Then another two people come in the door. They try to come in at the same time, but they get stuck in the door frame and start squabbling. When they finally throw themselves into the room, they introduce themselves as Shawn and Castle.
Their questions are a little more baffling and strange and off-the-wall than I expected. Finally, Shawn jumps up. “I think I’ve got it.” Castle follows him, nodding, saying the same.
The CSI guy and the doctor have been staring at me, dumb-founded, for some time now. They have absolutely no clue what to do, even though they’re the best in their fields.
This bodes well, methinks not.
So. Nearly thirteen hours have passed. Then bam! The door crashes open and there stand Shawn and Castle, bickering ever so slightly and both grinning like idiots.
Turns out, my roommate has been slowly poisoning me with an untraceable poison every night for two months. Apparently, I breathe loudly when I’m asleep and she doesn’t like that much. At all.
So the doctors take the two into another room.
At fifteen till midnight, they rush in again and force me to drink something that’s a grey-ish green color, noxious smelling, and burns on the way down.
Bam. Healed with minutes to spare.
Want to know how Castle and Shawn figured all this out?
Go ask them. I have no idea.
I just write the stories.