Title: Masochistic Tendencies

Author: Akuhei

Summary: A continuation of "Seeing is not Observing". Sherlock attempts to delete new found information about his pathologist. When that doesn't work, he determines that an experiment is in order.

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock.

Author Notes: Slight BDSM, may get heavier in later chapters.

You can find the first part (Seeing is Not Observing) here: s/9750561/1/Seeing-is-not-Observing

It had been a few days since Molly had scurried out of the morgue with the excuse of needing coffee. She had prolonged her escape by hanging out in the café with Mary for an hour or so. Mary had only given her a strange look before diving into the details about her and John's most recent date. When she finally worked up enough nerve to head back down to the morgue, she found her work space dark and quiet. The body had been stored and there was no sign of Sherlock. She would be lying if she said she hadn't been relieved to find him gone. The incident between them had left her rather shaky and a bit uneasy.

As quiet and mousy as the pathologist was, she had a tiny little secret that she didn't tend to broadcast to the world. Miss Molly Hooper liked intimacy a little rougher than most. While she didn't consider herself a full blown masochist, the mix of pain with pleasure was very nice.

Over the years of Sherlock deducing her dates and boyfriends, she was surprised that he never hit upon the fact that there was something a bit more behind the break ups. Then again…he always did manage to miss something.

Sure, they usually resulted in her getting her heart broken and her misjudging people, but they were also fueled by the fact that she would not have sex with them or the sex that they did have was not very stimulating. Sure Vanilla was good enough, but she needed someone who would be able to step it up when she needed things to be a little more….intense.

To date, she still hadn't found anyone that she had been willing to admit her kinks to. While she had enjoyed the intimacy and companionship, none of her previous dates or boyfriends had managed to really spark her libido. They didn't even quite measure up to the arousal that she had experienced just by observing and hearing Sherlock's tirade with the riding crop. Just the thought of it stinging her skin had been enough to set her breathing patterns to a shallow and uneven pace.

It was almost a week before Sherlock managed to find his way back to St. Bart's. He had attempted to delete the new information about his pathologist. To his dismay, in the quiet of his mind palace, the little mewling noise that had escaped her lips would echo through his mind. He would wake in the night covered in sweat, hearing that decadent sound in his head.

As far as he could recall, not even The Woman had had that kind of effect on him. While the moaning ringtone was unsettling, it hadn't made him loose his train of thought or wake up with his cock in his hand.

Even in the dead of night, lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, her little moan would echo through his subconscious and he would find himself face to face with the mental image that had imprinted onto his mind before she dashed out of the morgue. Dilated wide eyes, mouth slightly open, heavy breathing. It wasn't much of a jump to nakedness and then the idea of her beneath him as he ran the riding crop down her spine and over her buttocks.

It took four days for him to come to a conclusion. Four horny nights with no case or experiment to focus on. Four days to decide that the only choice he had was to conduct an experiment on Molly Hooper.

Molly Hooper with her big doe eyes and lips that were not too small despite his words on Christmas Eve.

Of course, he knew he wouldn't be able to tell John about it. John would berate him for messing with Molly's delicate sensibilities. He could hear his partner now declaring that one of these days he would lose her and access to the morgue. There was no way he wanted to deal with that bit of melodrama. It wasn't as if he could tell John what the experiment was for. The new information was only for him. There was no way he was sharing it with anyone, even if that anyone was his best friend.

So here they were, a week later. It was a dark and rainy day outside and even though Sherlock had no cases to use as an excuse for going into the morgue, he had grown tired of waiting for one to pop up. When he arrived, she was standing at her filing cabinet putting away reports and results. She hadn't even heard him walk him.

'Good' he thought to himself as he watched her from the door. He quickly went over the first experiment in his head. 'Experiment 1: Riding Crop on a body to see if reaction can be repeated. If reaction is repeated, move on to second experiment.'

Quickly, he ruffled his hair, took a deep breath and in two long strides found himself standing next to an empty gurney. With a sharp motion, he lifted his arm up into the air and brought the riding crop down onto the table with a resounding 'whack'. As the riding crop hit, he paired it with her name.

He watched her body stiffen slightly before she turned around. He observed that her eyes were wide and the papers in her hands rattled shakily, "Y-yes?"

Very carefully, and with very good acting, Sherlock dove into his experiment. "I need a body, Molly." He watched her breath hitch as he laid the riding crop down and swung his belstaff off of his shoulders. "I've got a particular case that is working on bruising. I need to see if a riding crop bruises a human the way it would a horse."

She stared at him for a moment, frozen in spot before a huge whoosh of air escaped her lungs. She had been dreading seeing him for a whole week; fearful that he would expose what he had deduced about her the last time he had seen her. It was almost a relief that he had a case that he would be focused on.

"Now would be preferable, Molly."

Sherlock's voice cut through her relieved thoughts, "Oh, yes, of course! I've got one that is getting ready to ship out tomorrow. Closed casket, so whatever you do won't be visible." Quickly she turned and went back to the cooler. A few moments later she rolled out an older gentleman who looked to be about 74. "Here you go. I'll just be over there doing some more filing." With an uneasy smile, she turned and walked back to the filing cabinets

Sherlock watched her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He hoped that his brusque attitude had put her in a mild manner. She had been obviously relieved that there was no mention of the previous week's incident. Good. He would like to keep it that way for a little bit longer. Molly was smart in her own right and he knew that it wouldn't take very long for her to come to the conclusion that there was something fishy about his actions.