As always, I own nothing
-MH-
The sights and sounds of London flashed before Molly Hooper's eyes. She sat, anxiously, fully absorbed by her thoughts. Oblivious was she of the sounds of the carriage wheels creaking beneath her, of the horses' shoes clipping across the cobblestoned streets. Unseeing was she of the busy Londoners going about their days, of the lovely buildings she rarely had the pleasure of seeing. Instead she sat, worrying her bottom lip, twisting her hands in her lap, her foot tapping noiselessly from nerves.
Beside Molly sat her employer, Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith and her husband has been nothing but courteous regarding Molly. They had hired her upon her parents' deaths as a nurse to their children. They paid her a modest wage, clothed and fed her, and allowed her a place to live. For their kindness Molly was immensely grateful. Today, however, was not a day for gratitude.
Upon the recommendation of a neighbour, Mrs. Nottingham, Mrs. Smith was accompanying Molly on an appointment to see a physician. This particular physician's practice had been recommended by the cousin of Mrs. Nottingham who claimed the physicians had worked wonders upon a girl with symptoms similar to Molly's own symptoms.
'Nausea,' she had tutted, 'Lightheaded. The girl is surely hysterical!'
Now, not a fortnight later, Molly found herself on her way to an appointment to consult with one of the practice's physicians. Mrs. Nottingham's tale of her cousin's acquaintance had sent a wave of nausea through Molly at the time and still, too, did the treatment - the word's very mention or thought - send a chill down Molly's spine. Clitoridectomy. Molly had basic knowledge enough of medicine (her parents' influence) to fear the word.
The carriage shuttered to a sudden stop, jolting Molly from her thoughts (both an easement and a new cause for anxiety). She breathed in a large gulp of air as Mrs. Smith moved from the carriage. Molly followed the woman onto the street.
"Come!" Mrs. Smith urged briskly, walking quickly across the street. Molly hastened to follow and together they entered a tall building.
-SH-
A sharp knock sounded from outside the door of Sherlock's office. He sighed impatiently and called 'Enter!' before turning his eyes back to the periodical laid out before him.
Two women entered the room, one purposefully, the other more timid. Sherlock gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, determined to finish as least the paragraph her had begun reading before the purposeful woman began speaking. Happily, both women took their seats and remained quiet until Sherlock let his eyes shift upward.
He looked between the two women. One older, but not old enough to be a blood relative of the younger, at least not in her particular class. An employer and employee, then. The younger was likely orphaned, working with the elder's children, or some other household employment. Their reason for being in thre office was obvious, the building's physicians catered only to one set of maladies…
"Doctor Holmes," the older woman spoke, "My name is Margaret Smith, and this is my nurse, Molly Hooper. We are here at the recommendation of a friend. It would seem Molly has the symptoms of hysteria. We, of course, are interested in a treatment Mrs. Nottingham named clitoridectomy."
Sherlock breathed heavily through his nose, "And Mrs. Nottingham herself is a physician? A nurse, perhaps?"
The woman, Mrs. Smith, stuttered momentarily, "No."
"What the devil would this woman know of hysteria symptoms and measures of treatment?" Sherlock caught the younger woman hide a smile at his comment. Or perhaps it was regarding the whole Smith-Nottingham-Hooper situation.
Mrs. Smith spoke again, launching into a convoluted account of Mrs. Nottingham's apparent expertise regarding female anatomy and an acquaintance, but Sherlock was not listening. Instead he observed Miss Hooper, the younger woman. Judging by her own reactions to Mrs. Smith's account she was rather intelligent. Not formally educated, of course, but knew quite enough to understand basic and slightly more advanced medical concepts. Sherlock saw her roll her eyes at Mrs. Smith's mention of Miss Hooper's 'symptoms' once more. She knew, Sherlock could tell, that hysteria was utter nonsense. Interesting…
Mrs. Smith finally ended her account and looked at Sherlock. Quickly, Sherlock scribbled upon a piece of paper as he worked out a plan for Miss Hooper. The girl was clearly terrified of what damage he could do her body at Mrs. Smith's allowance, but she also possessed a strange air about her, intelligence, kindness, purity. Finally, a basic scheme formed in his mind and Sherlock looked upon his patient and her employer once again.
"While I do not condone seeking medical advice from neighbour women who know no more than a common farmer she was correct in knowing nausea and light-headedness to be symptoms of female hysteria. If Miss Hooper has been experiencing such symptoms I must further interview her in order to properly diagnose her malady."
Miss Hooper's eyes were wide as they fixed upon him anxiously.
"Mrs. Smith, if you would be so kind as to leave my patient and I in privacy a diagnosis can be quickly reached."
The older woman gasped, "Why ever would you require privacy? She is my employee!"
Sherlock stopped himself from rolling his eyes before replying, "I simply wish to fully understand Miss Hooper's condition. I fear with an employer present certain symptoms may be concealed for fear of judgement. Hysteria is a very delicate subject."
Mrs. Smith sat in surprise for a moment before she rose from her chair.
"Close the door behind you, please, Mrs. Smith," Sherlock called casually.
-MH-
Molly watched her employer leave. She knew her eyes were wide, both in worry and relief. When the door clicked closed she turned back to face the physician. He was scribbling again while she sat quietly, wondering what her fate would be. Regardless of her disbelief regarding hysteria, she knew her opinion counted for very little in this scenario.
Finally Doctor Holmes looked up. She had caught his unnerving gaze upon her earlier and was no less confused by it now.
"Miss Hooper I believe I should first inform you that this practice no longer performs clitoridectomy. We have moved away from such ridiculously primitive methods. I hope that, with this knowledge, you will feel more comfortable in providing necessary information regarding your apparently malady."
Molly nodded numbly, not quiet believing the man behind the desk.
"What of your nausea? Have you experienced it often?"
Molly shook her head, "Very little in comparison to light-headedness. Perhaps three times a week at most."
"How often do you experience light-headedness?"
"Daily."
"Have you fainted due to this light-headedness?"
"No."
Doctor Holmes regarded her carefully, Molly felt as if he could see inside of her mind. Unnerving, indeed.
"What about sleeplessness? Anxiety? Nervousness?"
"Well, yes, lately. But I believe those symptoms to be due to the threat of this appointment," Molly explained quickly. Surely that was to be expected?
"Quite," Doctor Holmes commented. He scribbled again upon his paper before looking up again, "Have you experienced erotic fantasy? Perhaps in the form of a dream?"
Molly felt herself blush. She looked to her hands clasped in her lap, bit her lip. There really was no point in being untruthful…
She nodded quickly, hoping her embarrassment would ease.
The physician hummed before speaking again, "A final question – have you noticed increased vagina lubrication at any point in time?"
Molly looked up quickly, brows furrowed, "Not that I've noticed."
"No, a woman in your position would not notice such a thing…" the Doctor mused.
Molly sat quietly a few moments longer.
"You are not hysterical," Doctor Holmes finally stated, "We both know the concept itself is flawed – preposterous. You experience faintness due to your poor eating habits, not enough and not frequent enough. Your nausea is, of course, related. You over-feed yourself when you have the opportunity to eat properly. Erotic fantasies are simply human. If you took the time to notice you will find an increase in vaginal lubrication from time to time, especially following these fantasies."
Molly started at the man's frankness. His calling hysteria preposterous had surprised her most of all.
"Of course Mrs. Smith will not be pleased with such a diagnosis," Doctor Holmes continued, "I will recommend you return here every week for a non-surgical treatment. You are intelligent, I am confident we can find something with which you can occupy yourself for an hour. My treating you will eliminate any possibility of your being forced to more physicians until Mrs. Smith gets her desired result."
Molly sat in shocked silence before uttering, "Thank you."
-SH-
Sherlock felt nearly cheerful as he set out a small plate of food the following week. He was not entirely sure why he had desired to help the girl – Miss Hooper – at such length, but some aspect of her being compelled him deeply.
Following his private consultation with Miss Hooper he had summoned Mrs. Smith once more. He had explained that while Miss Hooper was certainly hysterical her situation had not yet advanced to such a stage requiring the clitoridectomy treatment. Mrs. Smith was obviously displeased at that, and become even more so as he explained Miss Hooper's necessary weekly appointments to attempt a simpler treatment. The woman did not argue, however, and allowed Miss Hooper to return every Tuesday morning until her symptoms ceased.
Sherlock had every intention of treating Miss Hooper's symptoms, namely by providing the poor girl with at least some food and an hour of relaxed leisure. It was not much, but it was certainly better than any alternative available.
Next to the plate of food – simple cheeses, bread, and fruit – he then placed a periodical for Miss Hooper to read. While later she was free to wander or read at her own whims, the reading now on the desk was a necessity for their deception to continue.
Preparations complete, Sherlock settled in his own chair and awaited the arrival of Miss Hooper. He waited only minutes when the girl's knock sounded timidly against the door.
"Come in," he called.
The girl's appearance matched her knock. She looked timid as a mouse, unsure of what to expect.
Sherlock stood as she closed the door and approached the desk, "Miss Hooper," he greeted.
She smiled politely in return.
Sherlock gestured her to sit and moved to seat himself, "Miss Hooper I said I would treat you and I intend to do so." As he mentioned his intent Miss Hooper's brows rose, he eyes widened, her cheeks flushed.
"Doctor Holmes?" she questioned.
Not, evidently, his wisest word selections. Sherlock took a breath, "What I meant was I intend to treat your symptoms, specifically the cause of your symptoms… Food."
Miss Hooper's eyes flicked down to the plate before her and blushed again in understanding.
"Beginning next week you will be allowed to choose your own activities. Today, however, we require you to know how exactly one treats hysteria. Though I see you are already somewhat familiar I would prefer you read this text regardless. There is never harm in re-familiarising oneself with the various treatment techniques. Is this an agreeable arrangement?"
Miss Hooper reached forward and picked the periodical up from the desk. She smiled and settled back into the chair to read.
"And eat," Sherlock stressed, pushing the plate closer to the girl.
They settled into a working, comfortable silence. Sherlock attempted to read his own periodical, however the girl before him proved to be quite a distraction. He would manage a paragraph, maybe two, when something regarding the girl caught his attention. Her small fingers reaching for a piece of cheese, bringing the cube to her sweet mouth; the changes in her breathing, hitches, inhalations, all dependent on what she read. She was a fascinating study, Miss Hooper.
When she had completed her reading – with only five minutes of their hour to spare – Miss Hooper set the periodical onto the desk before plucking the final apple slice from her plate. Sherlock glanced up at her sign of obvious completion, "Have you any questions?"
He watched as the girl bit her bottom lip in unconscious thought, "With their hands, physicians perform pelvic massages… And brought their patients to hysterical paroxysm. I assume that is a euphemism for sexual climax?"
"Of sorts," Sherlock answered, "More exactly it is a way to explain sexual release while pretending women have no desire for sexual activity."
Miss Hooper nodded, "Have you performed many? Pelvic massages, that is?" her checked flushed deliciously.
"Few," he answered truthfully, "In training, largely."
"Will… Will I be expected to act differently? Having had a hysterical paroxysm?"
Sherlock paused, "No," he answered finally, "Any reaction would have been experienced immediately. However, because you have eaten, you will not show any of your so-called symptoms for a day or two if you try to eat properly at home."
Miss Hooper nodded, "I suppose I must leave now… Thank you, Doctor Holmes."
Sherlock stood as she did, "It was my pleasure, Miss Hooper."
-MH-
Molly was nearly giddy as she rode to her next appointment. The physician, Doctor Holmes, was a truly remarkable man. How he had known only by looking at her of her own opinions regarding hysteria she still did not know. But such a detail did not matter in the face of his kindness toward her. She was excited for her hour of leisure in the company of such a wonderfully compassionate man!
When the carriage stopped Molly climbed out quickly. The driver offered her his hand in assistance which she gratefully accepted. The man had an odd expression on his face, one of amusement but in a more sinister manner. He winked as Molly took her hand from his. Molly quickly scurried away into the building before her.
As she made her way up the stairs she met Doctor Holmes rushing down, "The door is open, Miss Hooper, let yourself inside. I will be but a moment."
Molly nodded, though to whom she didn't know, Doctor Holmes was long gone. She finished her assent and entered the office, taking a piece of fruit from the plate on the physician's desk as she sat.
Molly took the opportunity to look about the large office from her seat. There were dozens upon dozens of books and periodicals, both organised on shelves and scattered about the room's surfaces. Across the room, opposite the window sat an empty fireplace. The office must become cold in the winter, Molly mused. There was a medical table in one corner, a sofa in another. The office was cozy, rather more than she had expected.
Just as she finished a second piece of fruit Doctor Holmes entered and closed the door quickly.
"Your driver will give you no more problems," he said, moving to sit at his desk chair.
Molly felt her brows rise, "You saw that?"
Doctor Holmes nodded, "I did. He has been threatened – violently – against further indiscretion. If you have any further trouble, write or wire me. I will have him slaughtered."
Shock filled Molly's body and she nodded numbly. Compassionate toward a select few, then, perhaps.
After a short silence the man spoke again, "Have you given any thought to how you would like to spend your hour?"
Molly cleared her throat before speaking, "Yes… I think I would like to read more on the topic of hysteria. That is, if you have such a text."
He smiled widely, "I have just the book, Miss Hooper."
Molly smiled as she watched him stand to seek out a specific book for her giggling softly as he moved about quickly in search. Finally he stood before her, placing a thick book into her hands, "The wandering womb and beyond."
She thanked him and settled into her chair with her large text in hand.
-SH-
As weeks passed Sherlock found himself more and more enchanted by his lovely patient. Continue to please him she did, whether through her intelligence and choice in reading material, or through their conversations. While her upbringing and life thus-far had not entirely supplied her with a wealth of knowledge in all topics she was certainly eager and willing to learn. Sherlock was enamoured by the girl, by Miss Hooper.
During their quieter appointments Sherlock found he could enjoy simply sitting and observing Miss Hooper. So engrossed was she in her reading she scarcely seemed to notice. Her facial expressions proved endlessly fascinating, her features ceaselessly lovely. Her nose's sweet upturn made him smile, her deep, brown eyes made him feel as if he were drowning in likely the only enjoyable way.
Sherlock could feel himself becoming fully immersed by the girl; she had utterly taken over his thoughts. It was a rare occasion upon which he did not find himself thinking of Miss Hooper hours after she had left for the week. Often her image was at his mind's forefront at home, as he settled into his favourite chair. The day Miss Hooper's reading had brought her to the topic of water massages as treatment of hysteria Sherlock found Miss Hooper's blushing cheeks, shifting body, bottom-lip-biting happily on his mind until he finally found sleep in Wednesday morning's wee hours.
If he believed his attention lingering on his patient had been frequent in appointments previous, Sherlock found himself completely unprepared for this eighth meeting. He had, in some ways, prepared for the girl's visit. He knew, of course, her reading material had led her to the newest innovations in hysteria treatment, electromechanical medical instruments. He therefore also readied himself for several hours' of (rather pleasant) distraction. However, such an outcome was the entirety of his preparedness. He had not expected another form of distraction. Miss Hooper had surprised him.
He had been correct, of course. Miss Hooper blushed gloriously as she read of the vibrating machines. She had dug her teeth into her lower lip to suppress silly grins in the most delicious way. She had – and there was not better descriptor – squirmed so wonderfully in her seated position. Sherlock relished her reactions, not caring in the slightest that he would experience less-than-perfect mental functions, likely until the next morning. He gloried in her.
Miss Hooper had closed the periodical from which she read with only five minutes until their meeting's end. Sherlock had managed to snap into awareness in time to pull his eyes to his own reading before she caught his stare. Feigning a new awareness of the girl by her movements Sherlock let his eyes flick up to meet hers. There was something there, something in her face, waiting to be asked, stated.
Sherlock spoke, "I'm afraid you may need to find a new topic for study, Miss Hooper. You have just completed my most contemporary piece regarding female hysteria." He hoped dearly she would choose something equally entrancing.
Miss Hooper nodded contemplatively, "Doctor Holes I was wondering that perhaps…"
Her question faded, a flush returned to her cheeks. Had she a new topic already in mind? Sherlock waited silently for the girl to gather her thoughts, to voice her query.
She inhaled deeply, eyes closed tightly as if in determination, "I wondered if, next week, rather than reading you might… Perform a pelvic massage? On me."
Sherlock sat in silent shock. Miss Hooper had utterly shocked him. They sat in silence as his mouth caught up to his brain. Before he could speak Miss Hooper spoke again, "Of course you should not feel you must. I was simply curious and I thought in your capacity as a physician –"
"Yes," he said finally, cutting her speech short, "Yes, next week I will gladly perform the massage."
Already the idea of her warm cunt at his fingers raced through Sherlock's mind, made him shiver. Miss Hooper was wearing the silly grin she had attempted to hide earlier. He smiled back.
-MH-
It was an odd contrast, Molly reflected as she rode through London, the difference between her thoughts journeying to her first appointment with Doctor Holmes and her thoughts today. Even odder was the fact that she was, today, still about to undergo hysteria treatment.
Her proposition of Doctor Holmes had been the gradual work of several weeks. The man had her enamoured, from his kindness toward her and his intelligence, to his handsome face, his obviously strong body. He was ceaselessly attractive to Molly. She amazed herself at her ability to read what she had been given while seated in the man's presence.
Of course, her mind had wandered occasionally. In her initial readings, histories of female hysteria, concentration came much more easily. As the time line progressed, as treatments turned to physicians and midwives bringing patients to hysterical paroxysm, to sexual crisis, Molly often found herself imagining the man across the desk from her helping her along to release, to climax. Her eyes often drifted to his hands when she reached for a piece of cheese or fruit. His hands, large, long, placed before him on the desk as he, too, read. Those hands, so prominent in her momentary imaginings never failed to ruin her attention. While the water massage and electromechanical medical instruments had also sparked interesting images in her mind, the pelvic massage certainly held the most allure.
So, when Doctor Holmes had announced her exhaustion of reading material on the subject of female hysteria, when there would no longer be readings to conjure images and scenarios, Molly knew it was time to act. Now, as she made her way to Doctor Holmes's office she knew there was no word to describe her state other than excited.
Molly inhaled deeply and exited the carriage as they reached her destination. In a new normal the driver extended his hand, eyes cast down, and retracted his hand as soon as Molly was firmly on the ground. A result of Doctor Holmes's threat, she had inferred some time ago. Molly made her way to the office, hardly seeing her surroundings in her haste and giddiness.
The door was open slightly, their usual routine, and she stepped inside, unbuttoning her coat as she did. Doctor Holmes was standing by the door, closing it behind her and taking her coat. Molly smiled up at the man. He nodded in response.
"Please sit, Miss Hooper," he said. Molly's brow furrowed slightly at his tone, slightly clipped, perhaps anxious? She did as she was told and watched expectantly as he sat behind the desk.
"Miss Hooper –"
"Molly," she insisted. The man was charged with assisting her to sexual climax, he could certainly use her given name!
He hesitated before smiling, "Molly," he agreed, "I do not wish to pressure you. Of course if you still desire a pelvic massage I will perform one with pleasure. If you no longer wish that to be the purpose of today's meeting I am sure another reading topic can be found, or another activity arranged…"
"The massage," Molly said eagerly as the man before her smiled.
Doctor Holmes stood, moved to her side, and held his hand out for her, "This way, then, Molly."
Molly took his hand and rose to her feet, following his lead to the medical table just in reach of the fire's warmth. She sat upon the surface, gratefully placing an offered cushion where her head would rest. Her eyes met his; the moment seemed to last hours, until she stretched forward and pressed her lips to his.
His lips were soft, sweet beneath her own. Molly thought vaguely of a desire to kiss this man many more times. When the kiss ended Doctor Holmes gently pushed her to lay back. He untied her boots and placed them on the floor before untying and pulling her drawers from her waist and down her legs, over her feet, and dropping them to the floor. He brought her feet up to rest on the table, her knees bent and spread gently.
Doctor Holmes loomed above her, his eyes bore into her own as she felt his lovely hand skim down her body to her exposed thighs, and then slowly move to her most secret spot. Molly froze as his fingers finally connected with her, relaxing only when Doctor Holmes pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Molly sighed in contentment as the man worked her body. The sensations spreading through her were delicious. Molly found herself pushing against the physician's hand for more pleasure; found her eyes had closed without her noticing as his fingers pressed just so against her; found herself wishing for an odd fullness as she writhed with the man's motions.
The sensations she felt were magical, the sounds she heard – her gasps, his breathing, a wet motion – were arousing. When she had the presence of mind to wrench her eyes open her view, that of his concentration and contentedness, was awe-inspiring. She didn't want the massage to end.
Until it did. Molly's climax was silent. Amazed, happy silence. Her body froze with pleasure, apart from her sex's shuddering, fluttering. She found she was panting, unable to form a coherent thought. It was incredible. Deliriously Molly reached forward to bring the physician's face closer to hers, pressed her lips against his. Dimly she heard him chuckle as the kiss ended.
"In all of my readings I have never come across the account of a physician who gained pleasure from performing a pelvic massage," Doctor Holmes finally spoke.
Molly grinned, noting cheerfully that the man's hand remained cupped against her, "Perhaps you will have to write your own piece."
"Perhaps. Or, I may keep this experience for myself."
"This… And others?" Molly asked hopefully.
"It would be my pleasure."
Whee! That was a wicked thing to write, it was re-done several times, lost... Absolutely ridiculous!
Thank you so much for reading!