Ema was dusting the crime scene for fingerprints when the murder victim sat back up. She was so engrossed in her duties (mmm...science) that she didn't even notice until the man stumbled over to her and tapped politely on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss," he said. "D'you know what time it is?"

Ema checked her watch. "It's quarter past fiv--"

At this point she realized who she was talking to, and screamed, scooting back away from him. Dead bodies were one thing, but dead bodies that got up and started asking questions? That was another thing entirely.

"Oh please, stop that noise," the victim said, wincing. "I've got enough of a headache without it."

"You're...you're dead!" was all Ema could think to say.

"For about six hours, from the sound of it," the victim said. "Blast, that thing could be anywhere now."

"You were shot through the heart!" Ema said, still trying to come to grips with this unexpected turn of events. The victim looked down at his bloodstained shirt and grunted.

"So I was," he said. "Fortunately, I've got a spare." He lightly tapped his chest on the side opposite the bullet wound. "Ruined my coat, though." He seemed somewhat more put out by this than the gaping wound in his chest.

Ema just gaped at him. She'd never heard of anything like this, and she'd read every textbook on crime scene investigation she could get her hands on.

"Right," the man said. "I'll be off, then."

He took a step forward, and immediately collapsed. Ema managed to get upright in time to catch him, laying him down gently.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, exasperated. "Your chest is still full of lead!"

The man considered this. "Ah, good point," he admitted. "I think I might be in need of medical attention."

And then he passed out.