Torchwood: Fanfic: Indecipherable

[m_findlow]

Title: Indecipherable
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Gwen, Tosh, Ianto, Owen
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 413 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for juliet316’s prompt "Any, any, trying to decipher a doctor's handwriting" at fic_promptly
Summary: It's not alien languages that are difficult to translate

Gwen peered at the piece of paper thoughtfully. She looked back at Tosh, confused. Then she turned it up the other way. Nope, it made even less sense upside down, she thought. She definitely had it the right way up the first time around.

'I can't make heads or tails of it. Ianto!' she yelled across the hub. 'Can you decipher this?'

She passed him the manila folder and he inspected the chicken scratchings on the page. He sighed.

'It might be, "died from external wounds". Erm,' he paused. 'The next bit looks like "massive bleeding", then something about a heart attack.'

'Are you sure?' Tosh asked, leaning over the two of them. 'It looked to me more like damaged exoskeleton, momentary blindness and undiagnosed asthma.'

'It would help if the rest of the file gave it some sort of context,' Ianto mused, inspecting some of the other pages in the file.

Gwen swiped the file back and checked over the wording again.

'Really?' she said, 'You figured out even that much? I can't read a word it says. Why do doctors always have such bad handwriting? It's a wonder you ever get the right prescription at the chemist.'

'Sometimes I'm not even sure of that,' he added.

'Are you sure that's an F? It could be an H,' Tosh asked.

'Hmm, now that you say it, it does look a bit like an H,' Ianto conceded. 'What does that make this word then? Parabolic? I doubt he knows the meaning of it.'

'Why don't we just give it back to him? It's not like it's our responsibility,' Gwen suggested.

'You say that, but guess who Jack will palm the file off to for translation,' Ianto complained. 'I have enough paperwork as it is, and I don't see either of you volunteering to feed weevils.'

'He's got a point. I'd rather do paperwork than feed weevils,' Tosh admitted.

'Oi, what does it take to get some coffee around here?' came the gruff London voice, rising up the stairs from autopsy. He caught sight of the three of them huddled around conspiratorially.

'What are you lot doing?'

'Trying to figure out what it is you wrote here,' Gwen replied, thrusting the piece of paper in his direction.

'Hey, I've been looking for that. Must've gotten caught up in my pile of reports.'

'So what does it say?'

'It's my shopping list. Diced ham, extra virgin olive oil, mixed vegetables, lamb chops and honey puffs.'

Comments

[bk_forever]

I am frankly amazed that Owen can read his own handwriting. I often can't deciper mine.