Chapter 1
05 December 2015
It's been a whirlwind since September. We're coming on Christmas and so much has taken place since I've last written. And, here you are, a new journal for the coming year. I bet you never suspected, as you sat in the bookstore with your papyrus brethren, all new and beautifully pristine - smelling of fresh ink and fiber - that one day your pages would be the recipient of my endless writings, drawings and, on occasion, become a fill-in therapist. We're here to satisfy each other's intentions, I suppose, therefore I write and you receive. Seems like the most perfect and delightful exchange.
Sherlock and I...we're doing well. Truthfully, not much has changed although everything's changed. We have a nice rhythm, well, considering our relationship isn't exactly typical. Oh, we've had a few dinner dates that always begin with Sherlock saying something like "You might want to change your shoes." Meaning, ditch the heels because this isn't what you think it is. 'Dinner' is the avenue for something else far more interesting than eating a beginner course of salad, moving on to pasta, ending with something sweet – or with wine in between. Dinner is the foray into the curious that might end up with 'I got you a bag of crisps at the petrol station.'
Gifts – now this one is never predictable or dull. Although sometimes a bit questionable and even risky. Oh, Sherlock – be still your unromantic heart. First gift was a chair. Nice, practical, fits me perfectly so my "little legs and feet can touch the floor." At the same time, this token is a doorway into his heart and sentiment. It might seem rather mundane to anyone else, but from Sherlock it's the skeleton key into a safely guarded life where few are privy to enter. I remain truly touched.
The second gift was wrapped in a jewelry box – covered with lovely indigo blue paper, with a simple wide band ribbon of the most pale pink. You can just imagine, dear diary, my surprise and excitement! Mrs. Hudson was there when he sprung it on me, which seemed a bit bold. Neither one of us are big on flaunting our new found relationship in front of others and to be honest, I prefer to leave everyone questioning as we figure it out. But, the moment got the best of me and left me a bit choked with tears. I opened the box carefully, wanting to savor each second with the beautiful paper…even though Sherlock was a bit impatient. Mrs. Hudson waited with anticipation, smiling ear-to-ear, eager to see "what goes on in that funny little brain of his" got me. The moment arrived when I lifted the lid, pulled back the perfectly folded tissue and saw a brand new pair of handcuffs.
Definitely not what I expected. They weren't even studded.
Mrs. Hudson had a few things to say.
"Sherlock Holmes! Shame on you. That's a rather private gift, don't you think?"
Oblivious to all the unspoken innuendos, Sherlock just beamed with pride. And me…well, I had no idea if he was not-so-subtly telling me about his secret kink and that he digs Fifty Shades of Gray – or Molly, in this case. Or, just joking. Except Sherlock never jokes. Not like this.
"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, isn't it brilliant? I'm going to teach Doctor Hooper all about handcuffs."
"I don't think so, dear."
I just stood there, mind spinning and on the verge of speechlessness.
"Sherlock…I…uh…I…I don't know what to say. Thank you…?"
"Molly! What would you do if you found yourself handcuffed and in need of escaping?"
"Scream?"
"A rather predictable and not very helpful reaction."
"I bet you're going to teach me."
"Exactly."
Mrs. Hudson shot me a look that spoke volumes and whispered before going back downstairs -
"You could turn it into a bit of romantic fun. I've borrowed his other ones a few times."
Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into – was the only thought that came to mind. For the next two hours – yes, diary, I said Two. Flipping. Hours, Sherlock taught me the intricacies of picking locks – which I'm far from mastering, but have been given "homework" which will no doubt come with a surprise quiz one day. Of course, I had to move through the awful feeling of being bound with no escape, wanting to cry, getting angry and tired – and Sherlock heedless to it all. Finally, Mrs. Hudson's wisdom hit me like a brick over the head – time to switch the power play and turn this into a game.
Sherlock was timing me to pick the lock, but instead of disappointing his stop watch once again, I told him in my most sultry voice, as I stepped in close…
"I've been very naughty, Mr. Holmes…"
I began unbuttoning my blouse, breathlessly whispering and nibbling his neck…
"It's awfully hot in here."
"Molly, I'm trying to teach you a very important skill."
"I always did like being the teacher's pet."
My hands trailed down his shirt, tugging it out from his pants, snaking underneath to caress his skin, releasing the buttons with my teeth and tongue (which isn't easy to do!), rubbing my body along side his, slow and seductive. Trust me, diary, it is possible to distract Sherlock Holmes.
"Molly…"
He tried to sound threatening, but was unsuccessful. Fortunately, his body gave him away.
"I know I should practice…harder. Are you going to…punish me?"
Oh crap, Sherlock got that look in his eyes…he was starting to like this game. I didn't expect the tables to be turned on me. This wasn't what I was going for. I wanted frustratedSherlock. ImpatientSherlock. Let-me-out-of-the-handcuffs-Sherlock. Not turnedonSherlock. Not backing-me-into-the-wall-towering-over-me-Sherlock, returning my seduction with his own.
"You are being naughty, Doctor Hooper. I should turn you over my knee."
What the hell?!
"But, instead, there's a few things I need to do, so I'll leave you to practice on your own."
He smiled, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and added one more prose of superiority.
"We'll work on your 'I'm in handcuffs' seduction skills later on."
What the hell?!
"Sherlock, let me out of the damn cuffs now! It's not like I'm at risk of bondage working with a bunch of corpses."
"One must always be prepared for the unexpected, Molly."
"A zombie attack?"
"Stranger things have happened?
"Like what?"
"Us!"
He walked out of the room, started down the stairs, but returned for one last smug remark:
"Oh, I do like the new bra, by the way, and look forward to taking it off of you later."
This, dear diary, is gift-giving with Sherlock. I did get out of the cuffs and it took me less than two minutes. Probably because I was furious. And, just for the record, he never really left, but waited downstairs just to "see what I'd do." As he "predicted" – to himself – I'd get out of the cuffs quickly, my anger being the fuel of heightened motivation.
Later on, the moment he was looking forward to (removing my new bra) came with a 'turn-about-is-fair-play' scenario. He needed to unhook it with only his teeth and tongue. So much for my 'seduction skills,' eh, Mr. Holmes? Only he was able to do it less than thirty seconds. Like I said in my previous journal, Sherlock comes with a steep learning curve.
For what sounds like bordering on complaints or frustrations, I must make it clear that each moment spent with Sherlock is precious to me. Being with this man comes with a few built in dangers. Learning how to defend, observe and even see the world through his eyes is a privilege, not a drudgery. And, I would spend a thousand more "you better change your shoes" dates with him, than have what passes for a normal life. The things I've learned from him have no price tag, but are given freely from his desire to see me aware, safe and happy. But, most of all, his love. How could I not treasure this?
Now, I'm about to head out shopping for Christmas. The lists are made, with the exception of Sherlock. This is definitely going to require some special thinking skills and I know just the person who can help.
Author's Notes: This is a work-in-progress, but want those who read to know I'm pretty consistent about posting at least once a week, but sometimes even more. I like to keep stories moving at a steady pace. Feedback helps! (*hint*) but most of all - Thank you for reading!
