A/N: I'm normally not so fast at updating, but I am just enjoying myself writing this so much! Here you are readers.
"Mr. Hooper."
She opened her eyes, frowning as she blinked a few times.
"Mr. Hooper," came the voice again. Louder this time. There was banging to accompany it. Molly looked up and frowned towards the door as she realized it was coming from outside the flat.
"There's a visitor for you here, Mr. Hooper," Mrs. Brownlow yelled.
Molly sighed and stumbled out of bed. Of all the times, did it have to be the morning? She made her way over to the vanity, staring at herself in the mirror, especially at her horribly crooked mustache. She knew she should have removed the thing before sleeping, but with her late night she hadn't bothered. Her fingers did their best to move the silly facial hair back into place, but she knew it would take some actual work to make it look truly presentable.
"I'm in a state of undress, Mrs. Brownlow. I'll be with you in a moment."
She fumbled for her chest binding, but she was aware in a matter of minutes that she wasn't going to have enough time to do it properly. Could she risk going to the door in her normal clothing? She certainly didn't have much to boast of up top, but that didn't mean her visitor might not spot it.
"Erm…who is it exactly, Mrs. Brownlow?" Molly asked as she reached for her shirt.
"A young woman," Mrs. Brownlow answered. "She's quite insistent she speak with you. I informed her you're usually not up so early, but she refuses to leave."
"Oh do shut up," came a distinctly feminine voice.
Molly froze. She knew that voice. That sultry lilting voice. Dear god, how could she be here of all places? How…how was that possible?
Before Molly could possibly speak, she heard The Woman a second time.
"You've served your purpose. Now, go away and leave me to my business with Mr. Hooper."
There was a noise of the door of her flat opening. Molly gasped. Mrs. Brownlow was yelling now, something about impropriety. But Molly's attention was focused fast on finding a way to escape possible notice.
Her eyes fell to her dressing gown. It was quite large and it had a thick and warm material. It truly was the only option at the moment.
Without a second thought she rushed to grab it, flinging it on and tying the knot just as the door swung open.
The Woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark blue dress this time that made her eyes seem even more vibrant than before. She advanced with that same smirk, though Molly thought she noted an extra gleam in the eye.
"What are you doing here?" Molly gasped, pulling back as she soon found her visitor within a meter of her person. She pulled the dressing robe a little tighter, praying that her breasts weren't showing.
"I came to ask a favor," The Woman said.
"I can speak with you when I'm finished dressing," Molly said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "But I can assure you that this is entirely inappropriate…how…how did you even find me?"
The Woman smirked. "Let's just say that man…Anderson…well he certainly does a good amount of talking with the proper motivations. He informed me of your name and address."
Molly was feeling tempted to strangle him later. Drown him. Poison him. Stab him. Working with murdered corpses all day led to some creativity in terms of thoughts on murdering someone. But nonetheless, she knew they'd be having words.
"I still must insist you wait," Molly said.
"Hooper," The Woman said, not bothering to heed Molly's words. "He said that was your surname. But he's unaware of your first. I'd like to know it…"
Molly frowned. "There's no purpose in knowing that. What in heaven's name could you possibly want with it?"
The Woman stepped a little closer, hips swaying some as she did. Molly felt her eyes widen. She stepped back, legs colliding with the bed so that she fell onto it. She pushed herself up onto her elbows to keep her eyes on her visitor, suddenly feeling all too exposed. She sat up to try to make sure the gown wasn't showing anything she didn't want seen.
"You see…I need help learning more about the murdered woman," The Woman purred. "And I was hoping to have your help…and if you were to perhaps give me some access to information I might…make it worth your while."
There was a hand on Molly's thigh before she could stop it. A gasp escaped her before she managed to grab that delicate hand and pull it away from her person. Never in her life had someone touched her like that. But a woman of all people…it just felt a violation.
"I…I won't," Molly said. "I'm not interested."
The Woman chuckled and reached out to stroke along Molly's face.
"You lovely man. Surely you have some interest in me? I see from your flat that you live alone. I'm offering a night. A day. A few if you'd rather. I could make you feel so good."
Molly shuddered, especially as her companion pressed closer to her. She felt suddenly quite dizzy from the proximity. Her mind was reeling.
"Give me your name," The Woman said, breath ghosting over Molly's lips. 'So that I may say it when I have you."
Oh dear sweet lord, Molly thought, swallowing. This had gone too far already.
"Give me yours first," she challenged.
The Woman's eyebrows furrowed, eyes glinting. "Does that mean you accept my request?"
"No," Molly said curtly. "But I want to know your name. Since you keep…harassing me."
"I may continue to do so if you do not consent to helping me. I need information. I believe only you can give me that. Now, what will it be?"
Her hand was on Molly's leg again, her other moving to Molly's face. That beautiful curvy body had begun to press towards hers. And she knew in a matter of seconds that somewhere she would be discovered. The body might find her chest, or the hand her lack of…parts, or the lips might disturb her mustache with a kiss. Molly had a second to decide, and she realized what it had to be. In order to avoid discovery, she had to help this woman.
"Fine!" Molly snapped. "Fine, I'll help you if you discontinue vexing me."
The Woman pulled back enough to examine her. "Lovely. Now shall I begin?"
"No!" Molly said. "I mean…I…no. I'm not interested. Please withdraw your person from mine. I will…I will do as you ask. But I don't want any compensation."
The Woman had withdrawn a little more, though she was scanning Molly dubiously. "Are you certain? Surely you have some desires I could meet."
"No," Molly said, doing her best to keep her voice as deep and as steady as possible. "I am without a doubt… certainly… completely not interested, so if you'd please just step away from me that would be best."
The Woman took another step back.
Molly let out a sigh of relief. "Now, might I have a moment to dress myself before we continue conducting our business?"
There was a curving red smile, and then a nod.
"I'll leave you to it. But first, I would like your name. If only to satisfy my own curiosity," The Woman said.
"I'll give you mine if you give me yours," Molly said, clutching the robe a little tighter. "I swear, I have no reason to tell Sherlock or the police. I am interested in the same thing you are…to bring justice to a dead woman."
The Woman frowned. But after a moment she straightened a little.
"The name is Irene Adler. And now if you'd be so kind to give me yours, Mr. Hooper."
Irene Adler. It was everything this woman was. Refined and strong. Elegant and powerful. Molly found herself shivering a little.
"Miles," she said after a moment. "Miles Hooper."
"Miles," Irene said, testing it.
Molly again found herself shuddering. She'd rarely heard her first name spoken. She had few acquaintances she knew well enough to use it, and most who did know her well enough were aware her real name was Molly.
"It's a pleasure, Mr. Hooper," Irene Adler said as she turned towards the door. "Dress yourself and I'll be in your sitting room. Perhaps I can get that curmudgeonly landlady of yours to make us some tea."
Molly was still, waiting till she was certain the door was closed to finally breathe a sigh of relief. She heard shouting again and assumed it was Mrs. Brownlow giving Adler a good piece of her mind. Well, at least someone would try to defend her.
She sank back onto the bed and thought about how exactly she was going to handle this. Working for a criminal…as though her life couldn't become any more bizarre.
Irene managed to somehow rope the older woman into making tea. She could tell that she was only a few missteps away from being murdered, but at the moment she'd managed to placate it by remarking what a lovely establishment the woman was running and how clean and well decorated the flats seemed to be.
She'd frowned at that, though Irene could see just a glimmer of pride at the mention. "Oh I keep a tight ship, I tell you! And that's why I don't want any people of ill repute coming around here. Now you had better leave before I call the police!"
Irene had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary," she said. "After all, if the police know, word might get out. It would be a pity to have people start assuming awful things about yourself and Mr. Hooper…he seems such a lovely man."
She had planned right then, when she saw the woman's face fall. Maternal instincts at work. The landlady clearly had some concern for her tenant and didn't want anything to happen to him.
"Now, why don't you make us some tea," Irene suggested with her best smile. "I'm sure that would allow all of us to relax a little. I'll even come help you."
There was a deadly glare aimed at her, but she pretended not to see. She walked down to the main level, even though her mind kept wandering back up to the bedroom she'd just left.
She could picture Miles Hooper laying in his dressing gown on the bed, eyes wide, tensing when she ran a hand along his thigh. The poor thing had seemed half-terrified of her.
And yet, he had still managed to refuse her? That was perhaps what puzzled Irene most. She was not used to being rejected. Just earlier that day she had convinced the man in the morgue to give her Hooper's information. It was so rare to have someone turn her down.
The fire in his deep brown eyes. She had seen it so strongly this time. More so than in the morgue even. There was strength in him that she couldn't help but admire. But it would take more time to tell if he really was a worthy helper. Still, it was a risk she was willing to take.
"How long has Mr. Hooper rented from you?" Irene asked as the landlady began making the tea.
"Oh a decade at least," she said. "He came here as a colt, fresh from the country, ready to apply himself to studying medicine."
"So you've known him a while," Irene said. "Has he always been a bachelor?"
She earned another glare for that.
"He is quite popular among the ladies actually," the landlady said with a sniff. "Proper ones of course. I have seen him with quite a number peeking out my window. And he is quite close with Miss Hawkins who rents my other flat. I have been surprised he hasn't proposed marriage yet. They do make such a lovely couple. But alas, he seems quite preoccupied by his work."
Irene found that odd. Plenty of women in his life yet no desire for marriage? Especially with one whom he seemed to be close?
"Miss Hawkins…is she…unattractive?" she asked. There had to be an answer and she would find it.
"Quite the contrary. Very lovely in appearances, fair with dark hair. Dresses nicely. I suppose some men might be put off by the fact that she works. But otherwise I see no reason for her to be snubbed."
Then it was something else. Irene smiled as she began to formulate a theory.
"Does he have any friends who are men?"
"Sherlock Holmes is often around," the landlady said with a wave of her hand. "And that Dr. Watson too on occasion. Other than them I cannot say I've seen him with many others."
Friends with Sherlock? Well to Irene that did have some meaning. So, perhaps there was a reason her advances had been unwelcome. Such a pity to have such a handsome little thing turn out to be disinclined to the fairer sex.
"He seems a charming man," Irene said. "I'm sure you're glad to have him as a tenant."
"Oh yes," the landlady said beaming. "He's a dear heart. Puts up with my prattling and goes and fetches things from the stores when I need them. I would be so disappointed were he to leave me. But I do hope…" she glanced at Irene with a touch of curiosity, "I do hope he hasn't fallen into some bad company."
"No," Irene said with a smirk. "I require his help and then I'll leave him be."
"I should hope so," the woman sniffed. "Now, take that tea upstairs if you will. I'm sure Mr. Hooper will be wanting it since you've disturbed his sleep."
Irene took the tea and thanked the woman. She received a huff in response before she disappeared up the stairs again.
A girl poked her head out on the landing, stared at her for a moment and then ducked back inside again. She frowned, knowing this had to be Miss Hawkins that the landlady had mentioned earlier. Well, the woman was correct in one regard, she was a pretty thing.
Which only solidified the idea in her mind that Mr. Hooper had to indeed be uninterested in women. To turn down herself was one thing. Men could on occasion be prudes. But to turn down a pretty young thing that was ready for marriage…now that was something else entirely. She would certainly have to test the theory of course. See if she could get his resolution to crack.
She entered the sitting room at the top level and set the tea on the table. She looked towards the bedroom door but it was still closed. Well, time to wait until Mr. Hooper was ready.
Molly had to spend a few seconds just taking deep breaths before she could put her clothing back on. She did eventually manage to get up and begin dressing, but she found herself so incredibly nervous that it took her longer than normal.
After finally checking herself in the mirror one last time, she opened the door.
Irene Adler had already made herself comfortable in one of the chairs. She smiled as Molly approached.
"This is highly improper," Molly said with a sigh. "I do hope you realize. In the future you must…be more discreet."
Irene let out a laugh. "Well there is only so much one can do. Your landlady is far too fond of you to say anything. And who else besides us knows I'm here? Really, we could do anything you liked."
"I just want to talk," Molly said through gritted teeth as she took her seat.
"Fine," Irene said, though her smile had dropped. "I did manage to secure tea if you'd like," she said, motioning to the pot and cups on the table.
"Thank you," Molly said, reaching for a cup only to have Irene snatch it away and pour it out for her.
"Cream or sugar?"
"Both if you please," Moly said.
Irene nodded and poured the cream with a graceful movement before adding a spoon of sugar. Molly wondered again at the strange picture that was this woman. She wore paint on her face as a harlot might, but she had obvious skill in terms of serving tea…as though she'd been raised in a fine household. Molly was unsure what to make of the mix.
She took the cup and sipped at it, cautious as always of the small bit of hair on her upper lip. It honestly caused her so much trouble sometimes.
"Your landlady tells me you're a bachelor, as I suspected," Irene Adler said, eyes glinting as she poured her own cup. "And that you're friends with Sherlock Holmes."
"Yes," Molly said. "Sort of. He doesn't truly take friends you know. Other than Dr. Watson of course. For the most part I'm merely a help with his cases."
Irene smiled again. "Well, if that's all…I did somewhat think that was…well an understandable reason why you might be against compensation. If I'm wrong, however…well I'll leave it be."
Molly frowned. What on earth was she referring to with such a tone? Her friendship with Sherlock being the reason she didn't want to… hold on, did Irene suspect she was…female? She swallowed and set her teacup down, doing everything in her power to keep her hands from shaking.
"I merely…I have better things to do," she managed to say.
Irene raised a brow.
"I want to get on with this," Molly said. "I do not need compensation…other than for you to leave me alone."
Irene stared at her a moment before nodding. "We have an understanding. I'm wondering if you and I are more alike than you would think…"
"I highly doubt that," Molly said. "But regardless, there is the matter at hand."
"Ah yes," Irene said, taking her own cup and settling back in her seat. "I would like you to inform me of everything you find out about the case. It has a personal significance to me."
"Why?" Molly asked.
When Irene remained silent, she sighed.
"Look," Molly said, "if you don't tell me I can't help you. I need to know why."
"There are people out there who dislike me," Irene said. "Those who would even want to kill me. Kate's death was a sign meant for me. It is a message. And I need to keep ahead of whomever is behind this. If I cannot, I might find myself in a similar position. Do you understand?"
Molly nodded. "Are you…in any way connected to the Whitechapel murders?"
Irene's eyes widened. Molly watched one of the hands on the teacup tighten so much that the knuckles turned white.
"No," Irene said. "Not directly. But I knew who was behind it. I also know he's dead now."
"So it's someone else doing this killing. But they…do you think they knew…that you knew the killer?"
Irene sighed. "Perhaps? It's hard to keep track of these things. Honestly, I usually am the one who keeps other people's secrets, not the other way around. But it is hard to say how far this goes. Will you work to solve it for me?"
"I'm not a detective," Molly said.
"More's the pity," Irene said, smiling again, eyes fixed on Molly's face.
Molly found herself turning red. Perhaps she had misread? This woman couldn't possibly know she was…did she?
"I will do my best," Molly said. "That's all I can promise."
Irene sighed, but she nodded before rising from her chair. "Then that's all that needs to be said. I will drop by to visit the morgue in a few days. Preferably once others have left. But your co-worker already informed me you tend to be the last to leave. Is that amenable to you?"
"It's fine," Molly said.
Irene stepped closer. Molly found herself standing, worried she might need to run. Why was this woman so determined to make things difficult for her?
But Irene stopped just a short distance away, eyes running up over Molly's form, smiling as she did.
"If you ever do change your mind…let me know," Irene purred.
She leaned in and Molly froze.
And then there was a soft brush against her cheek, and Molly found Irene pulling away to gaze into her eyes. It was as though she'd become incapable of movement. Molly just gazed at the woman before her. She stared at those eyes, that face, the sharp features and curving smile.
"Until next we meet, Mr. Hooper."
Irene Adler turned towards the door. Molly found her gaze drawn to the swing of the woman's hips, the tight posture of her back. She had to force her eyes back to the tea on the table.
Molly hardly noticed when the door closed, leaving her alone again. She reached her fingers up to touch the spot, pulling them away to find a smudge of familiar vermilion paint.
A/N: All right, there's another chapter! If you enjoy it be sure to let me know!