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Across the city, within the aforementioned Bart's hospital,
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there stood, within the morgue, a man looking over a black plastic bag.
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The bag was the size of an average man,
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therefore deduced to be a body bag.
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The man quickly unzipped the bag and stared at its contents.
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The observer in question was a thirty-something year old male with black-
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curled hair.
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He was wearing a large black overcoat and a dark blue scarf.
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He sniffed the body within the bag.
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"How fresh?"
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he asked the woman helping him with his work.
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"Just in," she replied. "67, natural causes. He used to work here.
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I knew him, he was nice."
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Just as she finished the man speedily zipped up the carrier
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and turned to the female doctor.
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"Fine," he said, slightly smirking.
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"We'll start with the riding crop."
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Molly Hooper laid the naked cadaver on the examination table while the
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observer removed his coat and scarf.
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From his belt he took a large riding crop and held it by his side.
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"You might want to stand back,"
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he advised Molly.
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She followed his advice and took two large steps backwards.
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Suddenly, the visitor began striking the corpse with the whip, lashing at him
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again and again.
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After fifteen seconds he finally stopped.
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Any person would believe committing such an act was mad.
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But Molly knew that the committer was not a normal person.
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She knew Sherlock Holmes all too well.
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"So,
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bad day, was it?"
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she joked as Sherlock got his breath back.
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Sherlock, however, continued with his work.
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He retrieved his BlackBerry from his pocket and began his search for information.
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"I need to know what bruises form within the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi
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depends on it. Text me."
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"Listen, I was wondering,"
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began Molly, trying to strike a conversation with the man as he jotted
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in his notebook,
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"maybe later,
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when you're finished..."
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"You're wearing lipstick."
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Sherlock interrupted.
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"You weren't wearing lipstick before."
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"I, er..."
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Molly stuttered.
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"I refreshed it a bit!"
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Satisfied with her explanation, he continued with the original topic of the conversation.
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"Sorry, you were saying?"
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"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee."
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Sherlock's reply was one which Molly was a bit annoyed by.
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He didn't turn her down,
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but he misunderstood her.
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"Black, two sugars, please! I'll be upstairs."
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And with that, he exited the morgue and made his way to the examination lab.
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After he went, Molly could do nothing but weakly say,
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"Ok."
