Sherlock unzipped the bodybag and looked down at the corpse. Ebony, who had seen plenty of dead bodies, sat on a nearby countertop and watched the Live Soap Opera between her elder brother and the pathologist.

"How fresh?" he asked.

"Just in," Molly replied. "67. Natural causes. Used to work here. I knew him, he was nice."

"Fine."

Sherlock turned around and faced her.
"We'll start with the riding crop."
---------

Ebony watched Molly's expression as Sherlock beat the body.

Sometimes she grimaced, other times her face showed admiration. Ebony had no idea what she saw in him besides the cheekbones and cleverness.

Molly stepped forward when he stopped.

"Bad day was it?" She giggled nervously. It was a dumb attempt at a joke.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me."

Ebony could tell that Molly was gathering up her courage to ask him out.

"Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later, when you're finished..."

"You're wearing lipstick. You weren't wearing lipstick before."

Ebony facepalmed. The idiot. Her brother was an idiot.

"I uh... I refreshed it a bit," Molly stammered, a plastered smile on her face.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

Ebony leaned forward in anticipation. Come on. Come on!

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee."

YES.

"Black, two sugars please. I'll be upstairs."

NO!

"Uh, Sherlock, I don't think she-" Ebony started. She was cut off by Molly shaking her head.

Sherlock walked away, not hearing her comment. The clever, yet ignorant man.

She went after him, refusing to ignored.

"Why do you have to treat her so badly!"

"I don't. She simply asked if I would like a coffee, and I said yes."

Ebony rolled her eyes. "You sir, are an idiot."

"No, I'm the smart one. You're the idiot."

He walked away, not noticing that he hurt her. She was clever too. But he would never know. She would never tell him.

That clever, yet ignorant man.

She looked at Molly through the window, walking to get coffee, and started to deduce.

Loves cats. Watches Glee. Lab worker. Unarmed. Friendly. Wants a relationship. 31 years old.

She still had it. That ability. And still, no one knew.

Not even that clever, yet ignorant man.