Sherlock walked into the mortuary bright and early on Monday morning. His coat drifted behind him, and his scarf was bundled around his neck against the brisk January chill. Snow had covered the streets the night before. Sherlock liked snow. Although the traffic jams it caused were dreadfully annoying, not to mention dull, it gave the city a fresh, clean look. It was still lightly falling, and was currently melting into John and Sherlock's hair.

"Morning Sherlock." Molly said, looking surprised. "Wasn't expecting you so early. I had coffee sent up for later."

"Ah, thank you Molly." John gave a huge yawn, and smiled warmly at Molly. "Fix your lab coat, it's falling off your shoulder."

"Oh, sorry." She pulled it on. Mike Stamford came in.

"Ah, Sherlock. Greg Lestrade told me you'd be in." Greg lived in the same flat building as Mike. "He said the samples will be in soon. Anderson's coming by." Sherlock groaned.

"Fantastic, that's exactly what I need. An incompetent from Scotland Yard." Sherlock perched at his usual microscope. "Molly, did those test results come in from yesterdays tests?"

"Right here. Actually, it was interesting. John suggested a poison. But there are actually five." Sherlock looked at the tests.

"Basic, and more than enough to kill you. But why?" Sherlock sat, his fingers steepled together.

"Maybe he was testing a cocktail poison." John suggested.

"No, that doesn't make any sense."

"What if he wasn't sure, so he added them all together?" Molly suggested.

"Far from it, Molly. He knew how much, so why add them together? No, this is about something different. Did the blood sample get a match?"

"No, the poison overrode it." Sherlock and Molly stared at one another.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, look." Molly looked it up.

"You didn't do something stupid, and hand it over to a moron, did you?"

"I swear, Sherlock, I did it." She said. "I had finished my paperwork, so I did it myself while I had the time." Sherlock looked over the results.

"No DNA found." Sherlock's mind was reeling. "This is fantastic." John was looking at him in confusion. "We can't find any ID, nor is there DNA in the blood. The poisons, they must strip away all the DNA left in the bloodstream." Sherlock sat back on his stool. Anderson came in.

"Here's the blood sample's Lestrade sent, Molly."

"Thanks, Jimmy." She said. Sherlock was thinking. John's only thought was Anderson's first name is James?

"What DNA samples are there, Anderson?"

"Blood, mouth swab, hair." Sherlock pulled on some gloves, grabbed the samples, and went to work.

"Molly, run the blood again, as a double check. We may have either come across our red herring, or I'm right."

"We've got more than one, should I test them all?"

"No, save one. I want to take a look at the blood under the microscope." Sherlock handed Anderson the hair. "Here, run the tests. I'll take a blood sample, Molly." Sherlock's iPhone rang. "John, answer that, please." John pulled it from Sherlock's coat off the hook. "It's Mrs. Hudson." He answered it. "Hello? No, we're just at St. Barts. Yeah, so far. Sure. Sherlock." He held his hand out for the phone, peering into his microscope.

"Sherlock, why is there a human leg in your bathtub?" Sherlock smirked.

"Experiment, Mrs. Hudson. Do leave it alone, please."

"All right. What experiment."

"I'm testing the congealment of blood after death in room temperature. Man's alibi depends on it." It wasn't really a case, but she'd never let him do the experiment otherwise. And he never knew when he'd need the information again.

"...That's really disturbing, Sherlock. What kind of case is this?"

"A longer one than expected, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said. "IS that why you called?"

"No, Mrs. Turner and her married ones are coming over for cards later." Sherlock looked at John and rolled his eyes. He looked confused. "I wanted to see when you'd be home tonight."

"I'm not sure, we might need some food."

"I'll have leftovers from our cards."

"All right. What is that noise in the background?" There was a clanking of pots, and a lot of other noise.

"I'm having one of my herbal soothers for my hip."

"Is it that time all ready?" Sherlock asked.

"No, but it's extra bad today."

"Well, take it easy, Mrs. Hudson. Did you call the plumber? John was being annoying about it."

"I'll do that once they open, all right dear?"

"Thank you."

"All right." Sherlock hung up, and continued with his work.

"What's she up too?" John asked.

"Mrs. Turner and her...married ones, are coming over." They smirked.

"What?" Anderson asked.

"The gay couple that lives next door." Molly said. "I met them last Christmas."

"Molly, don't fraternize with the neighbors, they aren't exactly good for your sanity." Sherlock said. John smirked; He knew that all too well.

"Learned that last Christmas, Sherlock." Molly said, giggling.

"Don't make jokes, Molly." Sherlock retorted.

"Sorry, Sherlock."

"No, Molly." John said. "No, say whatever you want." Sherlock looked at John. Molly looked at John. Anderson looked at them in shock.

"John, it's okay-"

"No Molly. It's not. Sherlock makes your life hell from the moment he walks into this morgue. It's your lab, Molly, now tell him what to do."

"John, I like ordering coffee for you guys."

"And he doesn't act like he cares, Molly." John said. Anderson looked confused.

"I really shouldn't be here." Anderson said.

"No, Jimmy, your fine. Look, John." Molly said. "Sherlock does this better than me, I honestly don't care." Molly looked at a very surprised Sherlock. "I mean, a thank you would be nice, but a happy Sherlock at the end of a good case is just as good. John, I like helping you."

"Why?" Anderson asked. "He's-"

"Oh, shut up, Anderson!" John shouted. Sherlock sat uneasily at the table, peering into the microscope. Anderson looked equally uncomfortable.

"Does he always do that?" He asked Sherlock.

"He has the tendency." Sherlock muttered. "It's annoying."

"Having a conscience is annoying?" John asked.

"John, do shut up, these tests are vital to the end of a case." Molly was looking at her computer.

"Sherlock, are you running tests on your blood sample?"

"I wasn't planning on it, why?"

"Um, because I have four separate people off these samples." Sherlock looked at her, and jumped up, going to her computer and staring in shock.

"Are you serious?"

"Anderson, what about the hair sample?"

"Right here." He said, pulling it up, and showing us. "This was found on the knife in the woman."

"What was the colour?"

"Black."

"And her hair is black."

"If this isn't the body, we may have our killer." Sherlock said, pulling out his phone. "Lestrade, it's me. We may have a situation."

"What?"

"Five different people."

"Are you serious? On the Johnson case?"

"Yes."

"Let me have the names."

"Lucille White, Mara Evans, Lisa Jones, and Jonah Smith."

"All right. We'll look them up and see if we can get a hold of them. Send over John and Anderson."

"Why?"

"I know that you kept Anderson, maybe to annoy him or do your work, but either way I need my Forensics pathologist. John, because he's a crack shot."

"All right." He hung up. "John, Lestrade needs you in case they need an extra gun. Anderson, he want's you, but I don't know why." Sherlock said.

"Because it's my job."

"It's mine too, but at least I'm competent at my job." Sherlock said. "Molly, did the body from the Johnson case come in yet?"

"Yes, and I did the autopsy last night."

"I want to see it. Lestrade will want results on the body. You haven't tested anything but the blood yet?"

"No, I wasn't sure what we'd try. That and we had four body's at once going." Sherlock sighed.

"You're clearly the best one at your job, you should have told them that these tests depend on peoples lives."

"Well, I can't push Mike Stamford around."

"Why not?"

"He's my boss Sherlock." She said as she tossed Sherlock a pair of gloves, entering the lab. He pulled them on. "I can't exactly tell him what to do."

"So, be persuasive."

"The only persuasion types I've got to model after are your techniques." Molly said. "And you like to flirt with me..." She looked at his smug smirk. "Oh, no. Sherlock, no way."

"Why not? It works on you."

"Yes, but I'm different. It works on me, but Mike is married, and very loyal to his wife."

"Oh, come on, a compliment isn't flirting."

"So, wait, you admit to flirting with me?" Molly asked.

"No, I tell you the truth, and it happens to work to my advantage." Molly smiled.

"You honestly believe some of the stuff you say?"

"No, I believe it all." Sherlock said, looking puzzled. "Molly do I lie about people being able to do their jobs?" Molly laughed. She knew the idea was completely ludicrous. Sherlock Holmes lying to spare someone's feelings was a ridiculous thing. It was not the Sherlock Holmes way.

"All right then. Here, you want the report?" Sherlock took the report and started to look over the paper.

"Why did you side with me on John's argument?" Sherlock looked at Molly.

"Because, I'm serious, I do like doing things for you. I like seeing you smile, and I like working with you. It's a whole lot more exciting with you around then without." Molly looked at him. "Besides, seeing you work is...never mind." Molly blushed.

"Seeing me work is what, Molly?" Sherlock asked, the report forgotten in his hands.

"Er...well...it's sexy." Sherlock looked at her in surprise.

"Oh." He said simply. He placed the report on her desk, and slowly approached her. "You find me working...sexy?" He was slowly approaching, and she stopped.

"Yes." She sounded scared of his intentions. "Uh, Sher-" The rest of the word was cut off by his lips on hers. They slowly kissed, right there, no audience but a dead body. Sherlock's fingers ran through her hair, her hands on the back of his neck. Sherlock finally broke apart.

"That was rather impressive." Sherlock said. "Although, I do admit, I've only got Mrs. Hudson and my mother to judge off of that." Molly looked at him.

"Well, I've got a lot to teach you." They smiled. Sherlock's mobile rang.

"Sherlock, we've got another body. John's at another location, is anyone available at Barts?"

"Sure, I'll bring Molly." Molly looked surprised. Sherlock hung up, and went in to grab his coat.

"How are you going to work this out?" Molly asked, grabbing her coat and phone, pulling off her lab coat.

"Easy." Sherlock lead her into the hallway, and caught Stamford. "Ah, Mike."

"Yes, you all right?"

"Yes, I need to borrow your pathologist."

"Why?"

"Because my doctor is unavailable, and Molly would like the on-sight experience."

"Oh. Well, sure. If you both can do the body later." Sherlock grinned.

"Thank you Mike. Coming, Molly?" They went out the door, and to the address that Lestrade texted him. They arrived quickly at the scene, where caution tape covered the entire place. Anderson and Sally stood there, waiting.

"Molly?" Anderson asked. "How did he force you out here?"

"He didn't." Molly said.

"Lestrade asked me to bring her out. Where's Lestrade?"

"Inside, looking at the body." He went inside. Molly went after him, looking curious. She was handed a body suit and gloves. Lestrade already had one on.

"Molly, good to see you again." Lestrade said. "Suzie said she'd seen you around." Suzie was Lestrade's teenaged daughter.

"Yeah, she was with a boy." Lestrade looked furious.

"What?"

"She's been seeing someone for a while Lestrade. Don't worry, class valedictorian, class president, going off to law school at Cambridge in two weeks." Sherlock rattled off.

"Isn't that where you went?"

"No, Oksford." Sherlock said. Molly looked at him.

"Really?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"No, of course not, it's just...me too." Molly smiled. "I had a full ride scholarship." They went into the living room where a body was laying across the ground. Sherlock looked at it.

Faded wedding band tan line: Divorced for a year.

Blonde hair, but not natural

Make-up smudges, covering...Sherlock used his gloved hand to wipe a litte of it away. A bruise? No...many bruises. She was being abused. She is underweight, and she seems unhealthy.

Shoes...no shoes. Oh, over there, across the room. New, but several older pairs as well. Dirt caked into the Wellington boots, woman's boots. These Converse are scuffed, but well taken care of. Favourite pair of shoes then.

Her clothes are tattered though, and Converse can get expensive. They're a gift then. She's poor, but...then...

"This isn't her home." Sherlock said.

"No, she lives with her mother." Lestrade said.

"Which body is this one?"

"Lucille White." Lestrade said, handing him the picture. "What have you got on her?"

"Her clothes, she's poor. So, this isn't her house, because this is a wealthy neighborhood. She's moving back in. She's a teenager, judging by her facial features and body size. So, these Converse over hear are hers."

"You know difference types of shoes, but not the Prime Minister?" Sherlock ignored Lestrade. Molly watched him, curious.

"What about the Converse, Sherlock?"

"They're scuffed up but well taken care of. She can't afford them herself, so, they're a gift. Her wedding ring finger has an old ring on it. She's divorced. Or a broken promise ring."

"What about class ring?" Molly asked.

"What?" Sherlock looked at her. Molly was looking at a ring on the floor. Sherlock picked it up, and noticed that the ring fit the finger.

"She must have lost it, or..." Lestrade began.

"Disguise." Molly sad. "The picture she had brown hair, but here she's blonde. Her roots are showing, so she's a died blonde."

"Very good Molly." Sherlock said. His body was responding weirdly to that, adrenaline pumping, heart pounding. Sherlock recognized the signals as sexual arousal, but that's ridiculous. Sherlock Holmes doesn't get turned on. "Look, the make up."

"Oh, my..." Molly wiped some of the make up, and looked at Sherlock. She said, "She's being abused."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Here, get a sample of the make up." Lestrade said. Sherlock pulled out a petri dish, and got several make up samples.

"She died of knife wounds. The blood is everywhere." Molly handed him four blood samples to take to the lab. "And this abuse. We'll have a better look in the mortuary." Sherlock said. Lestrade's phone rang.

"Lestrade. Oh, hi John." Lestrade put his mobile on speaker. "What is it?"

"We found all the bodies. They're all dead. Accept Jonah. He's alive, but barely."

"Can you bring him in?"

"We need a woman, he won't come near us."

"What, what are you talking about?"

"He's a child." Lestrade cussed.

"Sherlock, send in pictures, see if the bodies all look the same." Sherlock sent John several pictures.

"Hold on...yeah, exactly."

"Get blood samples, and check for physical abuse. Now, we'll send Sherlock and Molly over to get the kid."

"Molly? What is she doing there? Sherlock, if you did anything-"

"Shut up, John. She wanted to." Molly smiled, and took the samples, put them in an evidence bag, and gave them back. "Text the address, we'll be there."

"All right." The line went dead.

"The mother will be home soon, go ahead and leave. We'll take care of the mother." Sherlock and Molly left, Sherlock putting the lab samples in his pocket for later. Sherlock and Molly left. They went towards the caution tape, a car approaching at the same time. Sherlock turned to Sally.

"Tell Lestrade the mother's here." Sherlock's mobile went off. He checked for the address. "come on, Molly, John sent the address." They left then, the mother looking terrified. Sherlock ran to the curb.

"Taxi!" He called. Molly was at his elbow. They scrambled in, and Sherlock rattled off the address. The cab ride was silent. Sherlock looked out the window, thinking. Molly leaned her head against the seat. They sat there in their silence.

Once they got to their location, Sherlock threw the cabbie a few notes, and they left the cab. They ran to John at the front.

"Where is he?"

"Come on." They went into the house. It was revolting.

The floors were dirty, and covered in takeaway containers and pizza boxes. Sherlock found stacks and stacks of dirty dishes in the sink that were rotting. Molly and Sherlock were lead into a small bedroom, where a policeman stood.

"Good, you two are here. Maybe one of you can do something." Molly went into the room. Sherlock followed her.

"Hey." Molly said. The boy looked terrified. "Hi, sweetheart, how are you?" He was shaking. "Come on. We're going to get you out of here, ask you a few questions, and get you a safe, clean place to live. Okay?" The boy looked at Sherlock, terrified.

"Come on, son." Sherlock said, kneeling down next to Molly. John watched in amazement, as Sherlock reached out for his hand. "Come here, Jonah. It's okay. I promise, you aren't in trouble." The boy crawled from his bed, and into Sherlock's arms. He held the boy close, and carried him out of the house. Lestrade pulled in.

"Come on, get in. We'll take him down to the station."

"Molly and I have samples to take to Barts, we'll take care of him there." Sherlock said.

"Want a ride?"

"Please." Sherlock got in, the boy clinging on to him. John and Molly climbed in, Molly in the back, John up front.

"Who knew you were good with kids." Molly said. Sherlock ignored her. "It's sweet." She said, squeezing his arm. Sherlock continued to ignore her. John looked at him, concerned, but he said nothing. They made it to Barts in record time, and went off to the lab.

"Son, listen to me. We need to take a blood sample, all right?" The boy nodded. "Now, it's going to hurt a little bit, but after that it'll be okay." Sherlock got the sample cleanly and quickly. The boy didn't cry, but he looked upset.

"Am I going to be safe here?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, pressing his lips to Jonah's forehead. "You'll be all right. We'' have a doctor look you over and we'll find you someplace to stay." Molly, Lestrade, and John were amazed.

Come on. Let's get you taken care of." Sherlock said, scooping Jonah up and carrying him away.