fic for inatshej: All She Really Needed
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holmesticeTitle: All She Really Needed
Recipient inatshej
Author:penaltywaltz
Verse: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: Irene Adler/Molly Hooper
Rating M
Warnings: Mentions of Molly in an abusive relationship
Summary Molly was all she really needed, she realized. It just took Irene a while to
actually know that. Or, a relationship in nine beats.
The first time they met was at a sex club. Irene hadn’t had quite the reputation she would develop later, but she had made it known that she would train submissives if it was needed. Usually, that would mean training the dom as well, which she found vastly more fun, but the minute she stepped into the room with her and her then-boyfriend she knew this was an abusive relationship; Molly seemed scared of him, and to be honest, he seemed an arsehole of the highest degree.
Nothing would work to train him to take care of Molly, she knew that for sure.
“We don’t need you here,” she said to him coldly.
“She’s my bitch,” he replied.
“Not tonight.” The amount of malice she was trying to hold back in her tone couldn’t be measured; if she did one thing tonight, even if it was highly out of character for her, she’d try and get Molly to a place where she could at least say no to the worse things he could put her through.
He glared but left, and Irene went to Molly, undoing the collar from around her neck and getting down to her level, as Molly was on her hands and knees, not looking at her at first. Gently, Irene eased her head up. “Let’s get some coffee, shall we?”
–
They began to meet at the coffee shop once a week. Irene found that Molly had a dry and morbid sense of humor that delighted her. Once she was away from her boyfriend and had gotten a taste of freedom, she’d opened up to what an ugly relationship it actually was. Irene planted the seeds to get Molly completely free of the bastard, but they were slow to take. But now, three months later, Molly arrived at their coffee date with two suitcases.
“You left him?” Irene asked.
“I did. He didn’t take it well.” She rolled down the neck of her turtleneck and Irene could see hand marks around Molly’s neck. She wanted to kill the bastard on Molly’s behalf, or at least ruin him for life. “So I stabbed his hand with the knife he held to my throat and threatened to go after his bollocks next. Then he let me leave.”
Pride radiated in Irene’s eyes as she made a decision that would change both of their lives forever. “You’ll stay with me, then.”
“Okay.”
–
The first time Irene saw her naked, without bruises, was the day Molly took a bath and realized she’d forgotten her towel. Oh, neither woman had been naked before on purpose in front of the other, but Irene had seen glimpses of fading bruises on Molly’s pale skin for weeks, and it looked like they’d healed.
One of Irene’s favorite things to do was to braid Molly’s hair before she went to sleep. It was soothing, having something to do with her hands. And Molly seemed calmer for it, which was good. She still was worried her ex would come after her (though Irene had used some of her contacts to make sure he went far, far away...it wouldn’t be the first time she’d used Moriarty’s help and it wouldn’t be the last) but at least she was sleeping.
“The bruises seem to be gone,” she said as she brushed Molly’s hair, letting her fingers glide through the silky strands.
“You saw?” she asked.
Irene chuckled. “Not on purpose, but I did. That’s a good thing. Now you can wear whatever you want.” She paused. “Or nothing at all. This is a clothing-optional household.”
Molly smiled at her in the mirror and Irene felt her heart do a flip. Molly smiling did something to her, but she didn’t know just what it was. Not then...but soon.
–
When they kissed for the first time, Irene knew it was love.
It had been a soft, searching kiss on Molly’s behalf. Tender and light, but filled with warmth and a hint of passion. Irene let her be tentative, let her explore a bit with tongue and hands, and then when the kiss became more passionate she backed Molly against a wall, moving her hands to cup Molly’s face and swallowing her moan in the kiss. This was what she had wanted, really, ever since the coffee dates, the night they were introduced at the sex club. She wanted Molly, and she wanted Molly to want her.
And Irene usually got what she wanted.
–
Eventually, Irene let her hair down, literally and figuratively, and lets Molly be the dominant one when they make love. It was thrilling to be submissive to the woman that she loved, a thrill she’d never felt before. Molly was gentle but firm and found a fondness for the hand whip, with the soft leather cords.
Molly deserved it, after the way she’d been treated. She deserved to get what she wanted in a safe and sane environment. And Irene found she wanted to please Molly. Their lovemaking wasn’t like the sessions she had with her clients; it was interesting and fun and heartfelt, and she had never shared that much intimacy with another person, male or female of other, before.
–
But all good things come to an end, eventually, and their love affair was no exception. When Molly got out of her schooling and started her post at St. Bartholomew, they started to drift apart. As her life got more dangerous with the secrets she was keeping, the things she was holding over powerful and influential people’s heads, the more she pushed Molly away for her own good. She could accept the loss of her life for the game she was playing, but she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Molly.
That would kill her dead in a heartbeat, and she’d burn the world to get revenge.
–
Sherlock was a game.
She had no true feelings towards him one way or the other other than fascination. She had heard that Molly knew him, harbored a silly little crush (Molly’s words, not what Irene saw...she saw a strong attachment that Sherlock was stupid enough not to see himself), but she wanted to know what made him so special. What made him tick?
What made him worthy of her Molly, should things come to that?
But they didn’t. The game played out and she lost. It had been foolish to change her password to “I AM SHERLOCKED,” but if she had kept it to her usual “I AM MOLLLOCKED,” well, there would have been questions.
He was a worthy foe, but not worthy of her Molly.
Of that, she was certain.
–
“Molly asked me to rescue you.”
Those were the first words Sherlock said once they’d hunkered down in a hotel in Karachi. She was shocked, of course; how did Molly even know she had needed rescue? But Molly culled her own favors, she supposed, and this had been one of them. Asking Sherlock to save her life...what had that cost her?
That ran around in her mind as they escaped to New York City, where she could get lost in the city of lost souls. Sherlock said he’d deliver a message to Molly for her, and all she had to say was “Find me.”
–
The familiar figure approached her building in Chicago. She wasn’t poor, not by any means, but she lived a less luxe lifestyle these days in an effort to hide from those who still wanted her head. But her heart leaped as she recognized the woman with the bobbing brown ponytail come up to the steps and open the door. She’d still need to be buzzed upstairs, but that was a momentary thing.
Irene opened the door to see Molly standing in front of her, wringing her hands. “I found you,” she said.
“I missed you so,” Irene replied, opening her arms. Molly moved into them, kissing Irene, the two women laughing and crying and kissing and Irene knew no matter where she had to go, it would be home as long as Molly was with her.
And that was all she really needed, she finally realized.
Recipient inatshej
Author:
penaltywaltzVerse: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: Irene Adler/Molly Hooper
Rating M
Warnings: Mentions of Molly in an abusive relationship
Summary Molly was all she really needed, she realized. It just took Irene a while to
actually know that. Or, a relationship in nine beats.
The first time they met was at a sex club. Irene hadn’t had quite the reputation she would develop later, but she had made it known that she would train submissives if it was needed. Usually, that would mean training the dom as well, which she found vastly more fun, but the minute she stepped into the room with her and her then-boyfriend she knew this was an abusive relationship; Molly seemed scared of him, and to be honest, he seemed an arsehole of the highest degree.
Nothing would work to train him to take care of Molly, she knew that for sure.
“We don’t need you here,” she said to him coldly.
“She’s my bitch,” he replied.
“Not tonight.” The amount of malice she was trying to hold back in her tone couldn’t be measured; if she did one thing tonight, even if it was highly out of character for her, she’d try and get Molly to a place where she could at least say no to the worse things he could put her through.
He glared but left, and Irene went to Molly, undoing the collar from around her neck and getting down to her level, as Molly was on her hands and knees, not looking at her at first. Gently, Irene eased her head up. “Let’s get some coffee, shall we?”
They began to meet at the coffee shop once a week. Irene found that Molly had a dry and morbid sense of humor that delighted her. Once she was away from her boyfriend and had gotten a taste of freedom, she’d opened up to what an ugly relationship it actually was. Irene planted the seeds to get Molly completely free of the bastard, but they were slow to take. But now, three months later, Molly arrived at their coffee date with two suitcases.
“You left him?” Irene asked.
“I did. He didn’t take it well.” She rolled down the neck of her turtleneck and Irene could see hand marks around Molly’s neck. She wanted to kill the bastard on Molly’s behalf, or at least ruin him for life. “So I stabbed his hand with the knife he held to my throat and threatened to go after his bollocks next. Then he let me leave.”
Pride radiated in Irene’s eyes as she made a decision that would change both of their lives forever. “You’ll stay with me, then.”
“Okay.”
The first time Irene saw her naked, without bruises, was the day Molly took a bath and realized she’d forgotten her towel. Oh, neither woman had been naked before on purpose in front of the other, but Irene had seen glimpses of fading bruises on Molly’s pale skin for weeks, and it looked like they’d healed.
One of Irene’s favorite things to do was to braid Molly’s hair before she went to sleep. It was soothing, having something to do with her hands. And Molly seemed calmer for it, which was good. She still was worried her ex would come after her (though Irene had used some of her contacts to make sure he went far, far away...it wouldn’t be the first time she’d used Moriarty’s help and it wouldn’t be the last) but at least she was sleeping.
“The bruises seem to be gone,” she said as she brushed Molly’s hair, letting her fingers glide through the silky strands.
“You saw?” she asked.
Irene chuckled. “Not on purpose, but I did. That’s a good thing. Now you can wear whatever you want.” She paused. “Or nothing at all. This is a clothing-optional household.”
Molly smiled at her in the mirror and Irene felt her heart do a flip. Molly smiling did something to her, but she didn’t know just what it was. Not then...but soon.
When they kissed for the first time, Irene knew it was love.
It had been a soft, searching kiss on Molly’s behalf. Tender and light, but filled with warmth and a hint of passion. Irene let her be tentative, let her explore a bit with tongue and hands, and then when the kiss became more passionate she backed Molly against a wall, moving her hands to cup Molly’s face and swallowing her moan in the kiss. This was what she had wanted, really, ever since the coffee dates, the night they were introduced at the sex club. She wanted Molly, and she wanted Molly to want her.
And Irene usually got what she wanted.
Eventually, Irene let her hair down, literally and figuratively, and lets Molly be the dominant one when they make love. It was thrilling to be submissive to the woman that she loved, a thrill she’d never felt before. Molly was gentle but firm and found a fondness for the hand whip, with the soft leather cords.
Molly deserved it, after the way she’d been treated. She deserved to get what she wanted in a safe and sane environment. And Irene found she wanted to please Molly. Their lovemaking wasn’t like the sessions she had with her clients; it was interesting and fun and heartfelt, and she had never shared that much intimacy with another person, male or female of other, before.
But all good things come to an end, eventually, and their love affair was no exception. When Molly got out of her schooling and started her post at St. Bartholomew, they started to drift apart. As her life got more dangerous with the secrets she was keeping, the things she was holding over powerful and influential people’s heads, the more she pushed Molly away for her own good. She could accept the loss of her life for the game she was playing, but she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Molly.
That would kill her dead in a heartbeat, and she’d burn the world to get revenge.
Sherlock was a game.
She had no true feelings towards him one way or the other other than fascination. She had heard that Molly knew him, harbored a silly little crush (Molly’s words, not what Irene saw...she saw a strong attachment that Sherlock was stupid enough not to see himself), but she wanted to know what made him so special. What made him tick?
What made him worthy of her Molly, should things come to that?
But they didn’t. The game played out and she lost. It had been foolish to change her password to “I AM SHERLOCKED,” but if she had kept it to her usual “I AM MOLLLOCKED,” well, there would have been questions.
He was a worthy foe, but not worthy of her Molly.
Of that, she was certain.
“Molly asked me to rescue you.”
Those were the first words Sherlock said once they’d hunkered down in a hotel in Karachi. She was shocked, of course; how did Molly even know she had needed rescue? But Molly culled her own favors, she supposed, and this had been one of them. Asking Sherlock to save her life...what had that cost her?
That ran around in her mind as they escaped to New York City, where she could get lost in the city of lost souls. Sherlock said he’d deliver a message to Molly for her, and all she had to say was “Find me.”
The familiar figure approached her building in Chicago. She wasn’t poor, not by any means, but she lived a less luxe lifestyle these days in an effort to hide from those who still wanted her head. But her heart leaped as she recognized the woman with the bobbing brown ponytail come up to the steps and open the door. She’d still need to be buzzed upstairs, but that was a momentary thing.
Irene opened the door to see Molly standing in front of her, wringing her hands. “I found you,” she said.
“I missed you so,” Irene replied, opening her arms. Molly moved into them, kissing Irene, the two women laughing and crying and kissing and Irene knew no matter where she had to go, it would be home as long as Molly was with her.
And that was all she really needed, she finally realized.
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Date: 2022-12-12 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-12 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 10:56 pm (UTC)I'm going to add the story to AO3 later today (I love it down to archive-only views, which is why I didn't post it there originally) so what's your AO3 username so I can gift this to you there?
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Date: 2022-12-15 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 10:58 pm (UTC)