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The Stairwell Postulate	By : Keen Category: 1 through F > The Big Bang Theory Views: 10098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Guess what….I don’t own The Big Bang Theory! Shocker, I know. But I wrote this and created the characters not of the show. And I make no money, so they have no reason to sue me. Right? Right.

Chapter List
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            Dr.
Sheldon Cooper, with a fistful of blood spattered tissues held against his
face, watched the Detective Bowen pace. One, two, three, four
steps and then pivoting on the fifth to return where she started. It was
all rather annoying and numerically uneven.
            He
had rather hoped she would stop on her own, tire out, but the muscle density
and definition in her legs said that would not be for a long time. So a more
direct approach would be required.
            “Could
you stop that?”
            “Walking?”
Bowen glanced at him, “Does it annoy you?” she asked, taking step three.
            Sheldon
sighed, his shoulders slumping with the heavy exhale, “Immensely.”
            “Good,”
she smiled, pivoting and stepping again. Her grin widened to see him angrily
crumple the napkins in his hand and reach for the Kleenex atop the bench.
            Sheldon
ripped a few of the delicate papers from their box with a snort, “I do not
understand what is taking so long. Or why you
have to be here for that matter.”
            “Firstly,
there are other people in this hospital besides you—some of them with gun shot
wounds—and second, because you are the victim in a mugging case that my partner
insists on writing up.”
            Sheldon
folded the napkin in his hand haughtily, his eyebrows raised.
“We’ll I will thank you to vent your frustrations about the latter at someone
more deserving. Possibly your partner for being so libido-minded
or Penny for being so attractive to him.”
            “Keep
your mouth shut, Doctor Cooper. The contraction of the muscles required to talk
will no doubt aggravate your knitting wounds.”
            Sheldon
narrowed his eyes at the woman, sullenly reclining on the gurney under him, but
he obeyed. Her reasoning, although from a place other than kindness, was logically
sound.
            A
few silent moments later, the door opened much to the delight of both doctor
and detective. Or, until the theoretical physicist realised the boy standing
over him, scanning quickly over his chart, was not a candy striper.
            Sheldon
raised a questioning brow, “You are to be my attending physician?”
            “Yes,”
he nodded, smiling brightly. It fell to see his patient furiously shake his
head ‘no.’
            “Unacceptable,”
Sheldon declared.
            Bowen
sighed, her eyes rolling, “What’s wrong now,
Doctor Cooper?”
            “I
request someone else tend to me. Preferably someone who is
older than the iPhone in my pocket. ”
            “He’s
a licensed surgeon,” she rebuffed, slightly insulted for the man, “Employed by
one of the most prestigious hospitals in the state.”
            “He
has a nametag that identifies himself as Doctor Zack with a sticker of Naruto in the upper left-hand corner” Sheldon clipped. “In
graffiti font, mind you.”
            “It’s
Dr. Chin normally but I changed it to something more informal as most days I
work in paediatrics. Although, foolishly, I thought today I would be making a
switch...” he huffed, snapping on his gloves.
            “Excuse
me?” Sheldon turned sharply to face the man-child who insulted him, but the
detective stepped in his line of sight, unfolding her arms.
            She
tapped a hard finger in the centre of his chest with ire. “Look, Doc. You
wanted to come here. From what I can see looking at your face, a cold pack and
a few band-aids would suffice but here we are, so sit there, be quiet and let
the man work.”
            Bowen
pushed Cooper back against the gurney with a small but firm shove and resumed
her place at his side. Sheldon felt embarrassment quickly creep up on him as ‘Doctor
Zack’ chuckled to himself. Thankfully, he looked away, opening packages of
gauze and sterilised needles but the young doctor shared a knowing glance with
the policewoman and Sheldon grit his teeth.
            “May
I take a moment to remind you that I am the victim here, Detective? That it was
I who was brutishly attacked, punched in the face for simply opening my mouth—”
            “Noooo,” Dr. Chin gasped with mock surprise. It garnered a
chuckle from the pretty detective, but the sarcastic dig sailed over his
patient’s head.
            “Truly,”
Sheldon nodded, enthusiastically. “And for doing what Penny assured me was the
‘right thing.’”
            “Well
she was wrong,” Bowen declared. “You were lucky you were only punched. You could have been shot, he
could have had a gun.”
            Sheldon’s
eyes rounded, realisation slacking his jaw. “I had not considered that,” he
breathed. “I merely thought of his size in relation to my own and arrived at the
conclusion that the odds—as the colloquialism goes—were not in my favour.” Chin
took a swab and forceps up to the man’s face only to have him recoil, snapping
abruptly from his thoughts. “What is that? It does not smell like isopropyl alcohol.”
            “It’s
antiseptic,” Chin tried again only to have the man turn fully.
            “I
know what it is generally speaking, but I’m asking you specifically what is the
name of the compound or the active ingredient thereof that you are about to so
swiftly introduce into my blood stream via the open wounds on my face. Or did
they not teach such things at the playground you learned to play doctor in.”
            Chin’s
brows furrowed, he held the instrument in his hand tightly, “Benzalkonium Chloride. And that
playground? UCB.”
            “Berkeley?” The physician
held his head higher with a grin and Sheldon snorted, “That is not nearly as
impressive to me as I’m sure you hoped, Doctor. Zack.”
            Chin
tossed the tool in his hand down and stared to peel off his gloves when the
detective lay a hand on his shoulder. She peered down
at him as he sat on the low-stool pulled at the bedside and shook her head
once. There was no way he was going to leave and make her wait another three
hours with the insufferable man while they found yet another physician for him
to discredit.
            “I
fully agree with you, Doctor. Cooper,” she said winking at Chin. “The odds were
not in your favour. I don’t think they ever are.”
            “Yes,
well I am fully aware of my physical limitations, Detective.” He said with a
sage nod, “I learned very early in childhood that this body was built to house
an exceptional mind, nothing more.”
            “An exceptional analytical mind—and
nothing more.” She corrected.
            Sheldon
shifted, ignoring the stinging pain of antiseptic on his brow, “You say it as
if there is some deficiency there. What is a mind for if not for logical
reasoning? Recognition, interpretation of speech and other sensory information…”
            “Empathy,
sympathy, adoration?” she interjected, cutting his self-serving list short. “Y’know, the things that facilitate
social interaction and communication? In these areas, to use your own
words, you are clearly deficient. So conversely, your mind is deficient as well in missing these
pieces.”
            “They
are not missing. I have no need or use for them. Maybe in your line of work you
require—”
            “Is
that because we only use 10% of our brain?” she interrupted again, seeing Chin
grasp at the curved suture needle. “Only so much information can be stored so
you packed yours to capacity with facts, formulas and forgot about all that
other stuff.”
            Sheldon’s
head lowered, his brows knitting, “Are you serious?”
            “I
read it somewhere,” she shrugged.
            “Reading
something does not inherently make it true. Although I could
see that being a point of confusion for someone who is not as widely versed in
literature.”
            Bowen
put a fist on her hip, “You’re saying I don’t read?”
            “At
least not enough,” he nodded. “If you did,
you would know that brain imaging clearly shows that the brain does not lie
fallow. Although certain functions only require the use of a small portion of
the brain at one time, any sufficiently complex set of activities or thought
patterns will utalise many parts of the brain all at
once. Over the course of a whole day in the average adult all of the brain is
used at one time or another.”
            “So
the answer to my question would be ‘no.’”
            “And an emphatic one at that.”
            “Done!” Chin quickly stood and snapped off his gloves,
tossing them into the waste bin with the swiftness of a basketballer
landing a three-point shot. He took up the clipboard at the foot of the bed and
scribbled furiously while Sheldon, slowly moved from
the gurney, crossing the room to the mirror.
            The
blood around his nose had been wiped clean, the cut left by his assailant’s
ring, neatly closed with a simply interrupted stitch that glistened, smeared
with antiseptic ointment.
            “So
he’s clear to go?” Bowen neared Chin who merrily signed is name on the release
papers.
            “Absolutely,”
he beamed. “He’s all yours.”
            “No
MTBI? Apparently he hit the pavement pretty hard.”
            “EEG
was fine. Pupil size is equal. No light sensitivity or motor coordination
inhibition. And although I wanted to vomit at times, he did not.” Bowen gave a
sigh and plunged her hands in her pockets. The doctor crossed his arms over his
clipboard, “You seem almost disappointed by my diagnosis.”
            “No.
Relieved actually,” Chin inspected her curiously, “If he needed an MRI or
SPECT, I’d have to go with,” she explained with a smirk.
            Chin
smiled, “Oh, you have plans tonight?”
            “No,”
            “Would
you to have plans tonight?”
            Deirdre
paused, “Zack. We had our time.”
            “And
I’ve learned my lesson. We can do it strictly on your terms: no strings.”
            “We
tried that last time, remember. Come, Doctor Cooper,” she held a hand out to
the rigidly postured man and he quickly went, pulling his messenger bag from
the bed and sling it over his narrow shoulders. With a polite nod he passed the
once couple and moved into the hall, leaving two alone.
            Zack
looked at the woman expectantly, “Last chance, Deirdre. Just
sex.”
            “You
are a good looking man, Zack. If it’s ‘just’ sex, you can get it from ‘just’
anybody.”
            “Yea,
but I like y—” He shot a curse under his breath to see her shift position. Her hands folding defensively over her chest. “If it’s just
sex or nothing, I’ll settle for the just sex.”
            Deirdre
smiled and shook her head. “Good-bye, Doctor. Chin.”

            On
the walk to her police cruiser, Dr. Cooper revealed in a quite round about away
that he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. Deidre worried he would ask
about what happened between her and incredibly studly
Dr. Chin but she should have known better. Matters of the heart were of no
interest to the man.
            “Why
would you guess I needed a SPECT instead of a CT scan?” he asked.
            “Most
concussions cannot be detected with MRI and CT alone.”
            “Ah.”
He followed her as she opened the double doors to the outside.
            She
raised a questioning eyebrow, “Ah?”
            “I
find it curious you are read enough to know the difference and the limitations
of various brain functioning imaging systems, but not enough to realise we do
not use ten percent of said brain.” Bowen slung the passenger side door open
and Sheldon eased to sit, glancing at her. “It is almost like you started an
argument, knowing full well you were wrong. And you were wrong.”
            “To
keep you compliant,” she muttered to herself. Bowen slammed the door in his
face and strut slowly around the front of the car, relishing the relative
silence. The moment of respite was crushed as she reached the driver’s side
door. In the window she could see Doctor Cooper looking up at her, question at
hand.
            With
sharp breath she pulled the driver’s side open and plopped inside. Derailing
the would-be inquest with a request of her own.
            “Doctor
Cooper, tell me about your research,” Deirdre’s eyes widened with mild fright to
see him attempt something like a smile.
            “Oh!
What would you like to know?” he said delightedly.
            “Everything,”
she lied, shifting the car into gear.
            “I
hardly think I have sufficient time or you the academic aptitude but we will see
how far we get.”
            “Yes,
we will,” she grit, peeling away from the curb in a screech of tires.

            After
a two hour drive—thanks to traffic and related complications— and lecture from
the Professor, Bowen finally pulled her cruiser up to the Police station lot. Hopping
up the steps, she was almost so elated to see Penny she cried out. The woman
sat quietly, whispering something to her partner, Felix Marshall, when Deirdre shoved
the newly bandaged and still talking
physicist toward her.
            “Miss
Nebraska, I believe this belongs to you,” she said striding past. “Felix, upstairs?”
            “Thank…you?”
Penny whined to feel the handsome detective withdraw his arm from her side. She
moved with him as he stood. “When will I see you again?”
            “At the birthday party.”
            “But
that’s too far away,” she pouted. “What about later tonight?”
            Suddenly
there was a roaring shout from the back of the station. Felix turned sharply,
his name called in the noise. Atop the steps, arms folded and foot tapping
impatiently, his partner waited.
            “I’ll
call you,” he chuckled, giving the slender blond a peck on the cheek.
            “I
wonder what her problem is?” Sheldon watched Marshall fly up the steps
and disappear behind a guarded checkpoint with Bowen. The woman punched his arm
twice and then a third time he could only hear. “We were having an absolutely delightful
discussion on the ride over about second-harmonic generations for Bogoliubov excitations in two component Bose-Ein condensates.”
            “Yea,
I wonder too, sweetie.” Penny sighed leading him by the arm to the exit.

            Walking
up the steps of the apartment building, Penny stopped just before they reached
the fourth level. While they agreed she would break the news to Leonard of
their afternoon adventure, knowing he had the tendency to get overly excited to
the point he needed his inhaler, there was one thing she had to remind Sheldon
of before they entered the apartment.
            Shoving
him against the wall she threatened him with violence should he tell Leonard
exactly what they where doing at the Best Buy.
            “Which
was?”
            She
pinched the meeting of her brows with a sigh, “Shopping for presents for his
surprise birthday party, Sheldon.”
            “Oh.
Judging from your tone, I thought you where implying something else. Like your
acquisition of a date for tomorrow night.”
            She
smacked his arm and wagged her finger threateningly. “Just keep quiet and let
me do all the talking.”
            “That
shouldn’t be too difficult,” he said dabbing at his face. “Although I believe
she told me in the hopes I would simply be quiet, Detective Bowen was correct
that speaking agitates my wounds.”
            “Then
you should break your nose more often.”
            Penny
opened the door to his apartment and Leonard sprang from his seat. One look to
Sheldon’s swollen and bruised face and the woman’s ginger care of him as she
helped him to his seat, and Leonard’s face paled.
            “Oh
my goodness, what happened? I called Koothrapali but
he couldn’t speak since he was apparently in the middle of bailing Howard out
of jail?!”
            “We
were mugged,” Sheldon answered. Penny threw up her hands in exasperation.
            “I
thought it hurt you to talk!”
            “It’s
getting better, thank you for your concern.”
            Penny
turned with a tight smile to Leonard who had mouth agape and eyes wide. He
shook so violently, it looked as if any moment he’d crumble. “You
where what?!”
            “Mugged,
robbed, held-up, stuck-up, assaulted, take your pick
of synonyms Leonard.”
            Sheldon
yelped as Penny took an icepack from the freezer and very roughly—and
deliberately—shoved it against his wounded nose. “I was shopping for a friend when
some guy snatched my purse,” she explained quietly.
            “Are
you ok?” Leonard came to her with hands up, ready to embrace or cup her face,
she couldn’t tell. She smiled at how sweet it was.
            “Yes,
we are,” Sheldon said, voice muffled
by the icepack and the cloth held to his face. He watched them embrace with a
scowl, wondering why Leonard paid the un-injured Penny more attention than him.
            “Hold
it tight, sweetie,” Penny warned him with a smile. “We’re ok, Leonard.
Fortunately there where a pair of off-duty cops around and I got my purse
back!” She dangled the bag triumphantly.
            “Correction, one cop and a walking vexation.”
            Penny sissed at Sheldon to be quiet, “They
where both very nice and very helpful.”
            “How
would you know? You spent the majority of your time circling the male cop like
a Cathertes aura over carrion.”
            Penny
tilted her head, “Like a wha?”
            “He
saying you took an interest to one officer,” Leonard said quickly, omitting his
reference to a vulture and a dead animal carcass. “The male
one.”
            “Oh,
him?” she blushed. Penny with satisfaction, rocked on her heels, her hands
clasped in her lap. “I wasn’t that interested.”
            Leonard
came closer, his fingers picking at their tips, “Is it serious?”
            “He
just asked me on a date, if that’s what you mean.”
            His
hopeful grin fell, “Oh, well, good for you,” he forced a smile, “Then maybe we
can double date. I have, I have a date too.”
            Penny
was taken back. He had a date too? “Who is she?”
            “No
one you know,” he said dismissively. Happy he got a rise out of her and a win
to chalk on his mental scoreboard, he moved to the kitchen.
            Alone,
Sheldon looked at Penny who longingly looked at Leonard. She caught him spying
and turned with a huff. “What now?”
            “I
am sure you are thinking the same thing.”
            “Want
me to help you hold that cold-pak against your face?”
            “No
thank you I can manage,” Sheldon said quickly, inching away from her.
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The Stairwell Postulate