Sherlock: (unzips a body-bag, smiles at what he sees) How fresh?
Molly: Just in, 67, natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him, he was nice.
Sherlock: Fine. We'll start with the riding crop.
(Cut to Sherlock vigorously beating the dead body with a riding crop. He stops suddenly.)
Molly: Bad day was it?
Sherlock: I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me.
Molly: Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later when you’re finished...
Sherlock: You’re wearing lipstick. You weren't wearing lipstick before.
Molly: I, uh, I refreshed it a bit.
Sherlock: (beat) Sorry. You were saying?
Molly: I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee?
Sherlock: Black, two sugars please. I’ll be upstairs.
(Sherlock leaves the room)
Molly: ...Okay.
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