DC (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
darnedchild) wrote2017-09-02 05:59 pm
darnedchild) wrote2017-09-02 05:59 pm
Molly Mine
Summary: A short fic for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week (Summer 2017) - Day 7 -Free For All - Jim Moriarty has a final meeting with his Little Miss Molly. (Technically a bit of a follow-up to my one shot “Little Miss Molly”, but you can read this as a stand-alone fic.)
Rating: M
A/N - In addition to being a Molly Hooper Appreciation Week fic, this is also a prompt fill for Deby45, who requested Molly and Jim sharing an elevator (highest rating I feel comfortable with).
This is straight up Molliarty here. This is not my usual ship so I’m sailing on unfamiliar waters, please bear with me if I screw it up.
Molly Mine
Jim Moriarty settled into the back of the car Sebastian had pulled into the delivery bay behind the hospital. The laptop he’d been using to monitor the Barts’ CCTV live feed had already been removed from his cubicle in the IT department and was on the seat beside him. Jim watched the hospital disappear through dark tinted windows as the car merged into the hectic London traffic, and farther away from Sherlock Holmes and his little sidekick John Watson.
For the moment.
In the back of his mind—beyond the surge of excitement that came with pushing forward with the next step in The Game, and a wave of amusement at witnessing the Consulting Twit fumble along with the puzzle of Carl Power’s drowning—was the question of how Little Miss Molly Hooper would react to Sherlock’s insensitive and obnoxiously showy reveal of the phone number that had been “clumsily” left behind.
Sherlock’s reaction was easy enough to predict. The man would brandish the slip of paper like a trophy and gloat that his initial deduction had been correct. “Jim from IT” was definitely gay, and was clearly only using Molly to get closer to his real target.
Idiot.
Jim’s enjoyment dimmed for a split second as he thought about how hurt Molly would be at the revelation. She’d go through every one of their interactions in her mind, run through every conversation, wonder if he’d been a little too interested when she mentioned Sherlock’s name, a little too disinterested when they shared their handful of kisses and hesitant touches.
Could he have found a way to get close this close to Sherlock Holmes without using her?
Probably.
But would it have been nearly as entertaining?
Not the horrific “Glee” garbage she’d insisted on watching, that had been torturous (even his love for music in all forms couldn’t make that dreck palatable); but Molly was oddly amusing once she got comfortable. Her morbid sense of humour had made him unexpectedly laugh more than once.
Him. Not “Jim from IT”. Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal mastermind.
Her knowledge of anatomy and potential forensics countermeasures gleaned from years spent working with Holmes and the simpletons at the Yard could prove useful.
Jim frowned as the thought intruded in his mind. That hadn’t been the point of buttering up to the morgue mouse at all.
The look on Sherlock’s face when he realized the man who had been holding and kissing his Little Miss Molly was the same man who had lead him on a merry chase . . . that’s what the last few day’s masquerading as the meek but eager suitor had been about.
That moment of confusion, rage, and envy written across Sherlock’s every micro-expression, seconds before Jim had him killed.
Now that was entertainment.
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
Jim looked over the edge of the roof, then cast a critical eye at the buildings that surrounded the hospital. He identified several that could provide a decent vantage point for one of his men, then moved toward the roof access door.
Odds were that Sherlock would choose Barts for their last confrontation. It was the place he was most comfortable, second only to Baker Street. Sherlock wouldn’t put his landlady at risk again, not if he remembered the old woman who hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut and had to be silenced. Now it was simply a matter of figuring out the most likely location within the hospital, and the wait for Sherlock to catch up. He was so disappointingly predictable.
The door to the stairwell silently swung shut behind Jim as he casually strolled through a hospital corridor. He approached the nurses’ station and nearly did a double take as he recognized a familiar form leaning against the counter, laughing at something one of the other nurses had said.
He slowed his steps as she pushed away from the counter and waved goodbye to one of the nurses seated in front of a computer. Luck was on his side as she appeared to be heading toward the bank of elevators, which is where he’d been headed.
He managed to slip into the elevator with her just as the doors shut. “Going down?”
Molly stared at him with wide eyes as he pushed the button for the ground floor. “Or is it too soon to ask that?”
“What are . . . You-you can’t be here.”
He hit the emergency stop button, leaving them stuck between two floors. There was an annoying bleat of an alarm, but that was easy enough to ignore. “I believe I can.”
“What are you doing?” There was a sweet tang of fear in her voice.
Good girl.
Then her eyes flashed with anger, and her lips set into a determined line.
Even better.
“Talked to Sherlock recently?” The way she wouldn’t meet his gaze answered that question quickly enough. “Excellent news. It’s so good to know he’s using every resource at his disposal while he’s on the case.”
Molly glared. At first, he thought she was upset that he’d been mocking her precious Consulting Detective, but the venom in her tone as she barked, “You kidnapped innocent children!” made it clear that it was the nature of his crime that bothered her more.
“Not personally,” he scoffed. “I’m an orchestrator, I don’t get hands on.”
She tilted her head and studied him, as if he’d said something unexpected.
Ahh.
“Unless there’s something special in it for me,” he clarified. Jim winked, and she blushed. There was no reason not to let her think she was the reason he’d come out to play all those months ago, rather than his desire to see Sherlock flounder up close.
Molly gasped and looked away. Jim didn’t bother to hide his smirk as he moved into her personal space. “I’ll tell you a secret. I missed this.” He brushed his fingers across her hair, before sinking them into the incredibly soft strands of her ponytail. When they’d been at her place, watching that insipid musical program, he’d distracted himself by playing with her hair.
Molly jerked her head to the side. He held on just long enough for her to feel a pull, then released her.
Her breathing sped up, grew sharper. He waited for her to tell him to stop—He was a very bad man who had done many, many bad things; but he was not, and had never been, a rapist.—but she remained silent.
Interesting.
“Have you missed me, Little Miss Molly?”
Her pupils dilated.
“Tell me, was it fumbling, bumbling Jim from IT that got your motor running, or was it knowing that one of the most dangerous men in the world had put his hand on your breast and whispered sweet nothings in your ear?”
Molly shuddered. Her skin flushed a delicious shade of pink from the apples of her cheeks all the way down into the front of her blouse. He briefly wondered how much further down it went.
“That’s it, wasn’t it?” He leaned closer and nuzzled his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply, before whispering against her skin. “Did you get off thinking about me? Even knowing what a horrible man I am, did you put your hands between your legs and make yourself come pretending it was me?”
She snarled, “Fuck off.”
Rather than getting upset, Jim lifted his head and laughed, delighted at her defiance. “Not the most ideal conditions, but I’m game if you are.”
Molly whipped her head around and nearly bumped her nose against his chin, they were that close. “You can’t be serious.”
Underneath the disbelief and prudish outrage, he was positive he saw a hint of arousal.
Apparently, his Little Miss Molly had hidden depths. Perhaps when this messy business with Sherlock was dealt with, he would make some time to visit her again.
He made the immediate decision to call off the woman who had been assigned to assassinate Molly if Sherlock refused to comply with Jim’s plans. He remembered thinking before that Molly’s skill set would be useful to have at his disposal. With proper conditioning, there were a dozen things he could use her for in the next few months. The least of which was fucking.
“Have you ever done it in an elevator, Molly?”
She licked her lips and shook her head.
Jim leaned his body into her, pressing her against the wall. “Would you like to?” he purred into her ear.
“God, yes.” He barely had time to draw in a deep breath before she was on him. Her mouth was against his, her strong hands in his hair pulling him even closer. She bit his lower lip, a sharp sting that was probably meant to be punishing but he found he quite liked it.
Jim worked his hands between them and immediately began to pop open the buttons of her cardigan and blouse. He shoved layers of fabric off her shoulders, and Molly whined as she had to let go of him to pull her arms free. He didn’t bother releasing the clasp of her bra, merely pushed the straps of her shoulders and pulled the cups down to expose her small breasts. He bent and took one peach coloured nipple into his mouth, scrapping his teeth against the sensitive flesh, making her moan his name.
She tried to slip a hand between them to work at the buttons of his shirt, but he slapped the hand away. “Your clothes,” Molly panted.
In answer, Jim sucked a mark into the upper curve of her breast.
Molly gave up her attempts when he turned his attention to her other breast and bathed the nipple with his tongue. He unfastened her trousers and shoved them down her hips as she scratched her nails against his scalp. He had no idea when he’d last become so hard so fast.
She toes off both shoes, and helped him yank her trousers and pants down her legs. He slid a hand between her legs, and grinned at what he found. “So wet. But I bet you can get wetter, can’t you my Little Miss Molly? Let’s see.” Then he dropped to his knees and forced her legs farther apart so that he could bury his face between her legs.
“Fuck,” Molly hissed. She slid one leg over his shoulder, and pulled on his hair to encourage him. As if he needed any encouragement.
He slid two fingers in and out of her channel. He drew away from her mound just far enough to press a kiss to her thigh. “Can you hear that? How obscenely wet you are?” He continued to thrust his fingers into her, pulling gasps and breathy moans from her throat. “It’s fucking gorgeous, Molly. Fucking gorgeous.”
Jim moved back in and flicked his tongue against her clit and that was all she needed to reach her peak. He continued to work her through her orgasm, enjoying the feel of her core fluttering against his fingers.
When she was finally able to draw in a breath without whimpering, he let her leg slide to the floor and stood. Molly reached for him and he let her kiss him, knowing her essence was still smeared across his lips. When she tried to touch him through his trousers, he grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers up to his lips.
“Not possible, luv. Unless you’ve got a condom stashed away in here somewhere?”
Molly shook her head. “Wasn’t really planning to have sex on my lunch break.”
“Pity. You might want to consider keeping it in mind from now on, Molly mine.” Her eyes widened at the new pet name. “You may want to get dressed, I’m sure security is dying to know why the elevator has been stalled for the last fifteen minutes.”
Molly scrambled to pull her clothes on, and he made no move to help; although he did wait to release the emergency stop until she’d finished, which seemed rather generous of him.
They finished the ride down in silence. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he stepped through. “I’ll be seeing you again, Molly mine. Very soon,” Jim called over his shoulder as he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and melted into the crowd.
Rating: M
A/N - In addition to being a Molly Hooper Appreciation Week fic, this is also a prompt fill for Deby45, who requested Molly and Jim sharing an elevator (highest rating I feel comfortable with).
This is straight up Molliarty here. This is not my usual ship so I’m sailing on unfamiliar waters, please bear with me if I screw it up.
Molly Mine
Jim Moriarty settled into the back of the car Sebastian had pulled into the delivery bay behind the hospital. The laptop he’d been using to monitor the Barts’ CCTV live feed had already been removed from his cubicle in the IT department and was on the seat beside him. Jim watched the hospital disappear through dark tinted windows as the car merged into the hectic London traffic, and farther away from Sherlock Holmes and his little sidekick John Watson.
For the moment.
In the back of his mind—beyond the surge of excitement that came with pushing forward with the next step in The Game, and a wave of amusement at witnessing the Consulting Twit fumble along with the puzzle of Carl Power’s drowning—was the question of how Little Miss Molly Hooper would react to Sherlock’s insensitive and obnoxiously showy reveal of the phone number that had been “clumsily” left behind.
Sherlock’s reaction was easy enough to predict. The man would brandish the slip of paper like a trophy and gloat that his initial deduction had been correct. “Jim from IT” was definitely gay, and was clearly only using Molly to get closer to his real target.
Idiot.
Jim’s enjoyment dimmed for a split second as he thought about how hurt Molly would be at the revelation. She’d go through every one of their interactions in her mind, run through every conversation, wonder if he’d been a little too interested when she mentioned Sherlock’s name, a little too disinterested when they shared their handful of kisses and hesitant touches.
Could he have found a way to get close this close to Sherlock Holmes without using her?
Probably.
But would it have been nearly as entertaining?
Not the horrific “Glee” garbage she’d insisted on watching, that had been torturous (even his love for music in all forms couldn’t make that dreck palatable); but Molly was oddly amusing once she got comfortable. Her morbid sense of humour had made him unexpectedly laugh more than once.
Him. Not “Jim from IT”. Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal mastermind.
Her knowledge of anatomy and potential forensics countermeasures gleaned from years spent working with Holmes and the simpletons at the Yard could prove useful.
Jim frowned as the thought intruded in his mind. That hadn’t been the point of buttering up to the morgue mouse at all.
The look on Sherlock’s face when he realized the man who had been holding and kissing his Little Miss Molly was the same man who had lead him on a merry chase . . . that’s what the last few day’s masquerading as the meek but eager suitor had been about.
That moment of confusion, rage, and envy written across Sherlock’s every micro-expression, seconds before Jim had him killed.
Now that was entertainment.
Jim looked over the edge of the roof, then cast a critical eye at the buildings that surrounded the hospital. He identified several that could provide a decent vantage point for one of his men, then moved toward the roof access door.
Odds were that Sherlock would choose Barts for their last confrontation. It was the place he was most comfortable, second only to Baker Street. Sherlock wouldn’t put his landlady at risk again, not if he remembered the old woman who hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut and had to be silenced. Now it was simply a matter of figuring out the most likely location within the hospital, and the wait for Sherlock to catch up. He was so disappointingly predictable.
The door to the stairwell silently swung shut behind Jim as he casually strolled through a hospital corridor. He approached the nurses’ station and nearly did a double take as he recognized a familiar form leaning against the counter, laughing at something one of the other nurses had said.
He slowed his steps as she pushed away from the counter and waved goodbye to one of the nurses seated in front of a computer. Luck was on his side as she appeared to be heading toward the bank of elevators, which is where he’d been headed.
He managed to slip into the elevator with her just as the doors shut. “Going down?”
Molly stared at him with wide eyes as he pushed the button for the ground floor. “Or is it too soon to ask that?”
“What are . . . You-you can’t be here.”
He hit the emergency stop button, leaving them stuck between two floors. There was an annoying bleat of an alarm, but that was easy enough to ignore. “I believe I can.”
“What are you doing?” There was a sweet tang of fear in her voice.
Good girl.
Then her eyes flashed with anger, and her lips set into a determined line.
Even better.
“Talked to Sherlock recently?” The way she wouldn’t meet his gaze answered that question quickly enough. “Excellent news. It’s so good to know he’s using every resource at his disposal while he’s on the case.”
Molly glared. At first, he thought she was upset that he’d been mocking her precious Consulting Detective, but the venom in her tone as she barked, “You kidnapped innocent children!” made it clear that it was the nature of his crime that bothered her more.
“Not personally,” he scoffed. “I’m an orchestrator, I don’t get hands on.”
She tilted her head and studied him, as if he’d said something unexpected.
Ahh.
“Unless there’s something special in it for me,” he clarified. Jim winked, and she blushed. There was no reason not to let her think she was the reason he’d come out to play all those months ago, rather than his desire to see Sherlock flounder up close.
Molly gasped and looked away. Jim didn’t bother to hide his smirk as he moved into her personal space. “I’ll tell you a secret. I missed this.” He brushed his fingers across her hair, before sinking them into the incredibly soft strands of her ponytail. When they’d been at her place, watching that insipid musical program, he’d distracted himself by playing with her hair.
Molly jerked her head to the side. He held on just long enough for her to feel a pull, then released her.
Her breathing sped up, grew sharper. He waited for her to tell him to stop—He was a very bad man who had done many, many bad things; but he was not, and had never been, a rapist.—but she remained silent.
Interesting.
“Have you missed me, Little Miss Molly?”
Her pupils dilated.
“Tell me, was it fumbling, bumbling Jim from IT that got your motor running, or was it knowing that one of the most dangerous men in the world had put his hand on your breast and whispered sweet nothings in your ear?”
Molly shuddered. Her skin flushed a delicious shade of pink from the apples of her cheeks all the way down into the front of her blouse. He briefly wondered how much further down it went.
“That’s it, wasn’t it?” He leaned closer and nuzzled his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply, before whispering against her skin. “Did you get off thinking about me? Even knowing what a horrible man I am, did you put your hands between your legs and make yourself come pretending it was me?”
She snarled, “Fuck off.”
Rather than getting upset, Jim lifted his head and laughed, delighted at her defiance. “Not the most ideal conditions, but I’m game if you are.”
Molly whipped her head around and nearly bumped her nose against his chin, they were that close. “You can’t be serious.”
Underneath the disbelief and prudish outrage, he was positive he saw a hint of arousal.
Apparently, his Little Miss Molly had hidden depths. Perhaps when this messy business with Sherlock was dealt with, he would make some time to visit her again.
He made the immediate decision to call off the woman who had been assigned to assassinate Molly if Sherlock refused to comply with Jim’s plans. He remembered thinking before that Molly’s skill set would be useful to have at his disposal. With proper conditioning, there were a dozen things he could use her for in the next few months. The least of which was fucking.
“Have you ever done it in an elevator, Molly?”
She licked her lips and shook her head.
Jim leaned his body into her, pressing her against the wall. “Would you like to?” he purred into her ear.
“God, yes.” He barely had time to draw in a deep breath before she was on him. Her mouth was against his, her strong hands in his hair pulling him even closer. She bit his lower lip, a sharp sting that was probably meant to be punishing but he found he quite liked it.
Jim worked his hands between them and immediately began to pop open the buttons of her cardigan and blouse. He shoved layers of fabric off her shoulders, and Molly whined as she had to let go of him to pull her arms free. He didn’t bother releasing the clasp of her bra, merely pushed the straps of her shoulders and pulled the cups down to expose her small breasts. He bent and took one peach coloured nipple into his mouth, scrapping his teeth against the sensitive flesh, making her moan his name.
She tried to slip a hand between them to work at the buttons of his shirt, but he slapped the hand away. “Your clothes,” Molly panted.
In answer, Jim sucked a mark into the upper curve of her breast.
Molly gave up her attempts when he turned his attention to her other breast and bathed the nipple with his tongue. He unfastened her trousers and shoved them down her hips as she scratched her nails against his scalp. He had no idea when he’d last become so hard so fast.
She toes off both shoes, and helped him yank her trousers and pants down her legs. He slid a hand between her legs, and grinned at what he found. “So wet. But I bet you can get wetter, can’t you my Little Miss Molly? Let’s see.” Then he dropped to his knees and forced her legs farther apart so that he could bury his face between her legs.
“Fuck,” Molly hissed. She slid one leg over his shoulder, and pulled on his hair to encourage him. As if he needed any encouragement.
He slid two fingers in and out of her channel. He drew away from her mound just far enough to press a kiss to her thigh. “Can you hear that? How obscenely wet you are?” He continued to thrust his fingers into her, pulling gasps and breathy moans from her throat. “It’s fucking gorgeous, Molly. Fucking gorgeous.”
Jim moved back in and flicked his tongue against her clit and that was all she needed to reach her peak. He continued to work her through her orgasm, enjoying the feel of her core fluttering against his fingers.
When she was finally able to draw in a breath without whimpering, he let her leg slide to the floor and stood. Molly reached for him and he let her kiss him, knowing her essence was still smeared across his lips. When she tried to touch him through his trousers, he grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers up to his lips.
“Not possible, luv. Unless you’ve got a condom stashed away in here somewhere?”
Molly shook her head. “Wasn’t really planning to have sex on my lunch break.”
“Pity. You might want to consider keeping it in mind from now on, Molly mine.” Her eyes widened at the new pet name. “You may want to get dressed, I’m sure security is dying to know why the elevator has been stalled for the last fifteen minutes.”
Molly scrambled to pull her clothes on, and he made no move to help; although he did wait to release the emergency stop until she’d finished, which seemed rather generous of him.
They finished the ride down in silence. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he stepped through. “I’ll be seeing you again, Molly mine. Very soon,” Jim called over his shoulder as he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and melted into the crowd.