A/N: A smutty (starting next chapter) three- or four-shot professor!lock dedicated to allthebellsinvenice for many reasons. I suppose this could be read as dubcon but I've tried to make it very clear that everything that happens, Molly agrees to (and I made her 18 in case anyone's wondering).
Professor Sherlock Holmes idly flipped through a book of romantic poetry he'd pulled at random off the shelf behind him. He was sitting in the private library belonging to the staff at the small public school where he currently taught a variety of subjects. Waiting. He knew she would come; she always did when he summoned her for a private tutorial, even when said summoning consisted only of a certain look...as it had today. A look she'd responded to with a slight catch of breath, a faint hint of pink to her cheeks before she'd ducked her head and hurried off, books clutched tightly to her chest.
He certainly hadn't started out to seduce a student when he'd accepted this temporary posting at his brother Mycroft's behest. Of course he'd been bored out of his mind from day one, but the long con that was being played out against the Headmistress required an equally long commitment from himself, so he'd made sure to leave plenty of free time in his schedule to take on short-term outside cases as they presented themselves. Unfortunately none had presented themselves to him since the Christmas holidays, which was when Miss Hooper had first caught his attention.
He'd noticed her before, of course, as one of the few bright spots in an otherwise boring academic landscape; a quiet, serious-minded young lady who was here on scholarship, had few but very loyal friends, and no boyfriends either openly or on the sly (or romantic female partners, for that matter). She was what a previous generation might have termed 'bookish', wore black-rimmed rectangular glasses for reading, kept her chestnut-colored hair long but neatly contained within a braid or single tail tied at the back of her neck…and of course her mind was a step above ordinary. She would make a good career for herself once she finished whatever program she entered into after graduation – something in the sciences, he judged based on her curriculum and side studies, or possibly the medical field.
During the Christmas holidays he'd been forced to remain on campus as the suspect had been expected to make a move at that time. Excitingly enough, he hadn't, which had considerably increased Sherlock's interest in the case and also raised his opinion of the suspect's intelligence.
It had also, however, left him rusticating in the middle of nowhere without much to occupy his time other than reading or surfing the internet, both boring. Or else deducing what little he hadn't already from the few other staff and students who either had no family to return to or didn't celebrate Christmas. Miss Hooper, it would seem, was in the former category, although decidedly not in the latter; he'd come across her attempting to smuggle a small bit of greenery into her bedroom in the middle of the night. "Because it's just not Christmas without a tree, Professor," she'd tried to explain, while he busied himself looking stern and disapproving when secretly he was rather tickled by her small rebellion. Normally Miss Hooper was a girl who obeyed the rules almost to a fault, and because of that and his own private amusement – well, and because he honestly couldn't give two figs for the rule – he let her off with a stern warning not to attempt any such tomfoolery in future.
She'd ducked her head and mumbled her thanks, hugging the pine branches to her chest as if they were the most precious items in her possession. Later, when he leaned how important Christmas had always been to her father, who had died not quite two years ago, he would come to understand how accurate that observation was.
He'd sought her out on Boxing Day, offering his services as private tutor, with no hidden agenda for once other than a desire to learn more about the surprising Miss Molly Hooper. It was an idle and yet useful way for them both to pass the time and would be helpful in her future endeavors. She'd stammered out her thanks and blushed, which he'd taken entirely for embarrassment, although he knew better now.
His lips curled in a smile at the memory of their first session in this very room; an accidental touch of his hand against hers as he pointed something out in her chemistry text had pinkened her cheeks and put the stammer back in her voice. Curiosity and something else, the part of himself he normally kept very tightly under control, stirred within his mind, and he'd decided to conduct a little experiment to judge the depths of her interest in him as something other than an educational resource.
In that spirit he allowed himself another 'accidental' touch, his fingers brushing against hers, and noted with pleasure the definite shiver that went over her petite form. And when he leaned over to demonstrate the proper rendition of a formula on her notepad, resting one hand lightly on her shoulder, she shivered again, her cheeks flushing an even brighter pink than before.
Two days later they were discussing a particularly sticky maths problem when she piqued his interest in an entirely different manner. During his tenure here he'd cultivated the appearance of a stuffy, dogmatic bore, exactly the sort of professor parents wanted around their adolescent daughters. But Molly, it appeared, had already seen through that façade; as he demonstrated why she'd got the maths problem wrong, he caught her looking at him with a bit of a knowing smile on her lips. "A problem, Miss Hooper?" he said stiffly.
Her mouth dropped open as she realized she'd been caught staring. "Oh!" she exclaimed nervously, fidgeting with her textbook. "N-nothing, Professor. It was…"
"I doubt it was 'nothing' that was distracting you," he retorted. "I hope you know that you can speak freely in front of me. Certainly when we are alone," he added, in an effort to discern if her thoughts had been wandering down certain naughty pathways.
But no; instead, she surprised him by saying, "It's just that…you're not actually a professor, are you. I mean, not a proper one, not like the face you've been showing everyone else."
He frowned at her; he was the one who was supposed to be deducing her, after all. "What makes you say that, Miss Hooper?" he asked, using his coldest and most intimidating tone.
Although she flushed and looked ready to bolt, she stood her ground – or rather, remained in her seat, hands clenched tightly around her pencil and notebook. "Because I've seen you, when you think no one's looking," she replied after a moment, her voice faint but becoming stronger as she met his eyes. "You look bored or distracted, and there's those times when you're absent for a day or two – three days, once, in November – and I can tell you think most of the other staff are stupid and useless even if you don't say so."
He nodded to indicate she should go on when she faltered to a stop, curious to see if there was anything more she'd noticed about him. She took a deep breath before blurting out, "And you get those odd messages on your mobile…I mean, no, I haven't read them!" she exclaimed, biting her lip and lowering her eyes as her entire face flushed red. "But you get them at odd times, and when you read them you have this grin sometimes, as if…as if you've received amazing news or heard from someone you've been missing. But I overheard you telling Miss Hedges that you have no family or close friends, and so I thought, well, it must be…something else," she'd concluded, rather lamely.
He hadn't expected her to notice much of anything at all about him besides his physical appearance and air of authority and perhaps his teaching skills. That was all anyone else seemed to notice about him in this place. She continued to surprise him, and his opinion of her intelligence continued to rise. So few people managed either, and to find both in one quiet, petite package that just so happened to be fitted out in a face and figure that exactly matched his tastes…well. There was absolutely no way he was going to let her slip through his fingers.
He didn't answer the unasked question regarding his phone calls and occasional absences, instead changing the subject back to maths and eventually to some questions she had regarding chemistry. Which, as it turned out, was exactly what he wished to study more of with Miss Hooper. She was ten years younger than he, nowhere near his genius level of intelligence and entirely unworldly; it was about time she was granted some mystery and excitement in her life.
Both of which he was all too happy to provide. Many would disapprove of his intentions toward her, but she was of legal age and clearly interested in the same sort of relationship he was, so he dismissed any concerns about what others might think. At the same time, he acknowledged that the clandestine nature of their personal interactions held as much appeal to him as it surely would to her.
All in all, he concluded, that initial experiment had been entirely successful. A week after she'd turned the tables on him and correctly deduced that he wasn't exactly who he claimed to be – although she still had no idea who he really was – he coaxed her into allowing him to kiss her, although he was very careful about when and where the kiss took place. Outside, on the grounds, far from the prying eyes of the few others still on campus, who were entirely uninterested in the pair of them anyway. Miss Hooper – Molly, although he rarely used her first name, enjoying the formality of their surnames even when he was whispering filthy suggestions in her ear – was considered a safe student, and he of course was far too staid and boring to do anything untoward with one of the girls.
If Molly retained any such beliefs about him, he was smugly certain he'd utterly destroyed them when he came to a stop behind a stand of pine trees on the western border of the school grounds. "Professor Holmes? Is something wrong?"
He shook his head and smiled at her, a warm, slow smile as he reached out and cupped her cheek with one hand. It was the first time he'd touched her deliberately, in a manner that could never be mistaken as an accident, and the same small shiver shook her form as his fingers caressed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing deepened as he leaned forward and spoke softly, barely above a whisper, both hands cradling her head. "I'm going to kiss you, Miss Hooper. If that is not what you wish to happen right now, then all you need to do is step away."
When she remained unmoving, his smile deepened and he turned his head, brushing his lips gently across hers. She gave a little gasp and her hands came up to rest on his, sliding down to his wrists and holding on for dear life as he took immediate advantage of her opened mouth to deepen the kiss. She followed his lead eagerly, not at all shy about sliding her tongue along his or sucking his bottom lip into her mouth after he'd demonstrated the technique on hers.
When he pulled back after a moment to study her, he was pleased at how flushed her cheeks were, the dilation of her pupils and the ragged gasps her breathing had devolved into. He knew he presented a much cooler façade, could read the uncertainty in her eyes as he gazed at her, and gently took her hand in his and laid it over his chest. Her eyes widened as she felt the strong beat of his heart, and he smiled as he leaned forward to kiss her again…
A timid knock at the door caught his attention and brought him instantly back to the present. "Come in," he said crisply, and the door opened, revealing Molly's habitually uncertain smile as she peered into the room.
"You…you wanted to see me, Professor Holmes?"
He closed the book with a snap and a thin smile. "Ah, yes, Miss Hooper. Come in, please, and shut the door behind you."
She nodded and edged into the room, fidgeting nervously with her uniform tie with one hand while softly shutting the door behind her with the other. He heard the firm click of the latch and bit back another smile; she was such a good girl, she already knew the rules of this new game they were playing without his ever having said a word.
