Ordinary couples went on vacations together to tropical locales filled with relaxing massages in cabanas by the seaside. Ordinary couples bonded over common interests like biking or British television. Molly Hooper and Jim Moriarty were a couple, but they certainly weren’t ordinary.
The idea had been whispered in the dark, between bruising kisses and clawing nails eager to draw blood.
“And what about the pretty Miss Adler?” Molly had whispered coyly, her voice almost lost amidst the rustle of bedsheets.
A dark chuckle bubbled from Jim’s lips.
“She’s been so very naughty. I guess we’d better pay her a visit.”
Irene looked up from her martini as the slight brunette slid shyly into the chair next to her. Giving the newcomer a brief once-over, Irene noticed that the girl seemed uncomfortable and out-of-place in the hopping club, even though she was dressed for the occasion – well, sort of. Tight black dress with bra straps showing, too-red lipstick, and a simple updo that was already starting to fall apart: she was pretty, Irene supposed, if in a desperately-trying-too-hard kind of way. And yet, there was something about her that intrigued Irene: the soft vulnerability in her smile, and the sweet hint of desperation that spoke of a woman who wanted to be pushed far beyond her comfort zone. It had been months since Irene had moved to America and given up her business, but she still longed for the feel of a riding crop in her hands, the thrill of power that would race up her spine as the handcuffs locked with a click. And here was this pretty little thing, jewelry screaming of a wealthy yet empty marriage, ineptly flirting with her. And one more time couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Donna. Donna Grayson,” she said, flashing the woman her most dazzling smile.
“I’m M-Molly. Molly Hooper. Pleased to meet you.”
Leaning against the bedroom door of their new flat, (Wasn’t real estate so very hard to find these days? Unless, of course, previous owners happened to mysteriously disappear.) Jim watched her dress, a small smile appearing on his face as she applied the finishing touches to her lipstick.
“I’m M-Molly. Molly Hooper. Pleased to meet you,” she stammered, eyes fixed to the ground as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. She bit her lip and looked up, her expression changing in front of his eyes as her mouth curled into a dark smile.
“Oh, tonight will be fun, Jim. It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to play.”
“Promise to leave something for me?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
She giggled before pressing him against the door for a hard, deep kiss. “If you’re lucky,” she murmured into his ear, “I’ll even let you have the first slice.”
It was so very easy. A bashful smile, a few tongue-twisted remarks, and within fifteen minutes, Molly Hooper had Irene Adler completely twisted around her little finger. It never failed to amuse Molly, how quickly those so-called geniuses would leap onto an attentive audience; then again, if the Woman wanted to come out and play, who was timid, sweet Molly Hooper to deny her?
Oh, Irene had missed it. The sight of a lithe body arching under her, red welts blooming under the sheen of sweat. The knowledge that she could bring both pleasure and pain and blur the line until the one caused the other. The satisfaction that came from a job well done. Even when faced with the appalling lack of tools in Molly’s flat, she still managed to perform… admirably. She left Molly’s handcuffs on as she tugged her new plaything up for a kiss. “You’ve done so very well, pet,” Irene whispered.
“Oh, I’m not done quite yet.”
Suddenly, Irene felt the cool metal chain of the handcuffs dig into her neck. Spots began to flash within her line of vision as she struggled against the other woman, who was calmly wrapping the chain tighter and tighter and…
“Donna Grayson is such a dull name,” Molly giggled, “I would say Irene Adler suits you so much better. Oops! I mean suited.”
Irene saw Molly’s face break out into a vicious grin, and for a moment, she was truly and utterly terrified.
Molly hummed softly to herself as she laid out the various scalpels on the nearby table, hearing Jim’s footsteps sinking into the plush carpet behind her. He let out a short peal of laughter upon seeing her meticulously setting out her tools. “Well, well, someone’s being just a little bit naughty. No lab coat to cover you up, Ms Hooper?”
She straightened up slowly, rolling her hips a bit for good measure, and leaned back into the chest of the consulting criminal behind her. “Mm, there’s no use putting on clothes when we’re about to get dirty,” she crooned.
Jim caught sight of the figure chained and struggling to the bed. “A gift? For me, Molly? Why, you shouldn’t have.” With a grin, he grabbed a scalpel and headed towards the bed.
“Well, it’s only fair that we unwrap it together.”
Hours later, Molly watched the blood swirl down the shower drain as she basked in the stream of hot water beating down on her. “It’s a pity,” she murmured, “she was so very pretty. And a fucking fantastic lover.”
“The pretty ones do bleed out the best,” Jim said with a smirk.
“Indeed. Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask you; have you thought about that tasty Detective Inspector?”
His interest piqued, Jim leaned forward, perching his forehead against Molly’s. She tilted her head up and ghosted her lips against his. “I’d love to rip him apart and see what makes him tick.”
Moriarty chuckled, before pressing a hard kiss to his pretty little vixen’s lips. “That’s my girl.”