The Only Drug I Need (Chapter 4)
REEEEEEEMMMMIIIIIXXXX! (aka The Perfect Drug mix)
For this prompt on shkinkmeme:
Molly discovers, through use of a word, that Sherlock used to be a sub. At first she doesn't know what that means, but then she starts to take advantage of it.
Bonus points if she does it while he's in the lab acting like an ass to her.
Disclaimers right now:
SO NOT MINE. I pray that Gatiss and Moffatt do not release the lawyers of war upon my ass. I am not part of the BDSM scene, but I got knowledge from the Internet and friends. Everything is unbeta'd and edited by me. If you find errors, let me know.
Definitely not safe for work. Not safe for children. Really, not safe period.
I should add that yes, I did add a bit more to this than what's on the meme. Like I said before, this is a bit of a remix as I go through and edit the fuck out of this thing to make it more of what I want.
If you're new, go check out Chapter 1
Comments are love and I am a hooooor.
Even though the fantasy portion of her brain hoped, prayed and wished Sherlock would suddenly see her as something more than what they were currently (which was nothing), the realistic portion of Molly’s brain shut that idea down quickly.
Just business dear, she kept telling herself in the days after their meeting and after a few cursory texts went unanswered. If he cared about you, he would’ve have messaged you. Has he? No. Hell, you don’t even know if he wants to continue it. Don’t expect anything, you know it’ll end badly. Keep him at arm‘s length.
While she may have told herself that, Molly also felt an odd empowerment knowing she had control over him, however brief it was. Reports of what occurred resulted in praise and gentle critiques from the BDSM forum members, which also bolstered her confidence.
When she returned to work on Monday, Molly found herself wearing a shirt that was a bit lower cut in cleavage, a skirt that skimmed her knees and a pair of black boots. True, they weren’t the thigh-high boots, only reaching her knees, but she felt dangerous, which gave her a bit of rush as she battled the reports and caught up with the weekend’s intake.
There was still silence on Sherlock’s end. After two days, Molly decided that he had forgotten about her. Ego slightly bruised, she resolved to get on with her life. Of course he wouldn’t be interested in continuing -- the whole point of the exercise was to keep her happy enough to allow him access to the morgue. With that accomplished, what else would he want of her?
When she arrived at work one morning, Molly noticed she had a visitor. Sherlock was standing at the door with two cups of coffee. The fact that he thought of bringing her coffee surprised the dickens out of her. As usual, he was impeccably dressed and standing ramrod straight. But instead of the normal air of impatience, he appeared as if he had all the time in the world.
Molly could feel her heart flutter as the images of him naked and sweating flooded her memory. Stop, she thought. Be cool Molly. Have some composure.
“Morning Sherlock,” she chirped as she unlocked the doors and let him in the lab. “What do you need today?” Molly put her coat away and donned her lab coat, willing her hands to keep from shaking. It was unnerving -- the man’s charisma was so potent that he didn’t have to do a thing and her body began aching for him. Is this how drug addicts feel when they go between hits? she wondered.
Sherlock set down the coffee cup in front of her. “I just thought I’d come by and we could discuss what occurred before.” His expression was inscrutable and it could have been anything he was talking about ranging from the weather to a lab report. Not being figged, forced to clean a kitchen and then unceremoniously booted out of Molly’s flat.
“Oh?” Molly picked up the coffee and sipped it. Perfect, as usual. “I hope it was to your satisfaction.”
“I have to admit I was surprised to find it was,” he said.
She couldn’t help but snort. “You underestimated me,” Molly was astonished to hear the blunt works issuing from her mouth.
He nodded. “Yes,” he admitted.
“The great Sherlock Holmes was wrong for once,” Molly smiled into her cup. “I’m going to have to mark this on my calendar.”
She was rewarded with a reddening across his face, which made me smile more. “So what do you want Sherlock?” she asked, leaning back against the countertop. She was wearing a green sweater, black trousers and feeling good about her appearance. Molly noticed his eyes briefly flit across her body, but said nothing. Sherlock‘s eyes always flittered over her and ultimately it was meaningless. There was probably a stray cat hair from Toby or he was determining what brand of laundry detergent she used.
“I have to admit, I am impressed by your scenario, and I was wondering if you would be willing to meet again?” Again, Sherlock stated the question as if he was inquiring about a tricky lab result or the weather.
Molly took a deep breath. “If you would like,” she bandied back. “It was a rather educational and stimulating afternoon.”
“Indeed it was,” he said softly.
Molly didn’t want to explore that statement further for several reasons -- but one of the biggest ones was that she was at work and since she didn’t have a spare pair of knickers around, she didn’t want to be sitting in wet panties all day.
“When would you want another appointment?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
He smiled -- a bright, genuine smile that caused his eyes to crinkle in the most delightful way. It occurred so quickly that Molly wasn’t even sure it existed before it vanished.
“Next weekend?”
Molly ran the date through her head. “That could work,” she said. “I’ll e-mail you the dates, times and requirements.”
Sherlock nodded. “Very good,” he said.
“Is there anything else you wanted?” Molly asked.
“Actually yes,” he said. “I need access to a body that came in last night -- white male, mid-thirties? Found stuffed into the boot of a car?”
Molly chuckled. Of course he would want to see a body, not her. The more things change, the more they stay the same, she thought to herself.
She couldn‘t help but smile when she replied, “Came in last night. I’ll get it for you.”
That’s how Molly Hooper’s life took a turn for the weird.
Chapter 5
For this prompt on shkinkmeme:
Molly discovers, through use of a word, that Sherlock used to be a sub. At first she doesn't know what that means, but then she starts to take advantage of it.
Bonus points if she does it while he's in the lab acting like an ass to her.
Disclaimers right now:
SO NOT MINE. I pray that Gatiss and Moffatt do not release the lawyers of war upon my ass. I am not part of the BDSM scene, but I got knowledge from the Internet and friends. Everything is unbeta'd and edited by me. If you find errors, let me know.
Definitely not safe for work. Not safe for children. Really, not safe period.
I should add that yes, I did add a bit more to this than what's on the meme. Like I said before, this is a bit of a remix as I go through and edit the fuck out of this thing to make it more of what I want.
If you're new, go check out Chapter 1
Comments are love and I am a hooooor.
Even though the fantasy portion of her brain hoped, prayed and wished Sherlock would suddenly see her as something more than what they were currently (which was nothing), the realistic portion of Molly’s brain shut that idea down quickly.
Just business dear, she kept telling herself in the days after their meeting and after a few cursory texts went unanswered. If he cared about you, he would’ve have messaged you. Has he? No. Hell, you don’t even know if he wants to continue it. Don’t expect anything, you know it’ll end badly. Keep him at arm‘s length.
While she may have told herself that, Molly also felt an odd empowerment knowing she had control over him, however brief it was. Reports of what occurred resulted in praise and gentle critiques from the BDSM forum members, which also bolstered her confidence.
When she returned to work on Monday, Molly found herself wearing a shirt that was a bit lower cut in cleavage, a skirt that skimmed her knees and a pair of black boots. True, they weren’t the thigh-high boots, only reaching her knees, but she felt dangerous, which gave her a bit of rush as she battled the reports and caught up with the weekend’s intake.
There was still silence on Sherlock’s end. After two days, Molly decided that he had forgotten about her. Ego slightly bruised, she resolved to get on with her life. Of course he wouldn’t be interested in continuing -- the whole point of the exercise was to keep her happy enough to allow him access to the morgue. With that accomplished, what else would he want of her?
When she arrived at work one morning, Molly noticed she had a visitor. Sherlock was standing at the door with two cups of coffee. The fact that he thought of bringing her coffee surprised the dickens out of her. As usual, he was impeccably dressed and standing ramrod straight. But instead of the normal air of impatience, he appeared as if he had all the time in the world.
Molly could feel her heart flutter as the images of him naked and sweating flooded her memory. Stop, she thought. Be cool Molly. Have some composure.
“Morning Sherlock,” she chirped as she unlocked the doors and let him in the lab. “What do you need today?” Molly put her coat away and donned her lab coat, willing her hands to keep from shaking. It was unnerving -- the man’s charisma was so potent that he didn’t have to do a thing and her body began aching for him. Is this how drug addicts feel when they go between hits? she wondered.
Sherlock set down the coffee cup in front of her. “I just thought I’d come by and we could discuss what occurred before.” His expression was inscrutable and it could have been anything he was talking about ranging from the weather to a lab report. Not being figged, forced to clean a kitchen and then unceremoniously booted out of Molly’s flat.
“Oh?” Molly picked up the coffee and sipped it. Perfect, as usual. “I hope it was to your satisfaction.”
“I have to admit I was surprised to find it was,” he said.
She couldn’t help but snort. “You underestimated me,” Molly was astonished to hear the blunt works issuing from her mouth.
He nodded. “Yes,” he admitted.
“The great Sherlock Holmes was wrong for once,” Molly smiled into her cup. “I’m going to have to mark this on my calendar.”
She was rewarded with a reddening across his face, which made me smile more. “So what do you want Sherlock?” she asked, leaning back against the countertop. She was wearing a green sweater, black trousers and feeling good about her appearance. Molly noticed his eyes briefly flit across her body, but said nothing. Sherlock‘s eyes always flittered over her and ultimately it was meaningless. There was probably a stray cat hair from Toby or he was determining what brand of laundry detergent she used.
“I have to admit, I am impressed by your scenario, and I was wondering if you would be willing to meet again?” Again, Sherlock stated the question as if he was inquiring about a tricky lab result or the weather.
Molly took a deep breath. “If you would like,” she bandied back. “It was a rather educational and stimulating afternoon.”
“Indeed it was,” he said softly.
Molly didn’t want to explore that statement further for several reasons -- but one of the biggest ones was that she was at work and since she didn’t have a spare pair of knickers around, she didn’t want to be sitting in wet panties all day.
“When would you want another appointment?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
He smiled -- a bright, genuine smile that caused his eyes to crinkle in the most delightful way. It occurred so quickly that Molly wasn’t even sure it existed before it vanished.
“Next weekend?”
Molly ran the date through her head. “That could work,” she said. “I’ll e-mail you the dates, times and requirements.”
Sherlock nodded. “Very good,” he said.
“Is there anything else you wanted?” Molly asked.
“Actually yes,” he said. “I need access to a body that came in last night -- white male, mid-thirties? Found stuffed into the boot of a car?”
Molly chuckled. Of course he would want to see a body, not her. The more things change, the more they stay the same, she thought to herself.
She couldn‘t help but smile when she replied, “Came in last night. I’ll get it for you.”
That’s how Molly Hooper’s life took a turn for the weird.
Chapter 5