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