The morning started like every other morning in recent weeks. Molly shot a quick pic to Irene via text. She wore a pleated skirt that came to just her knee, a crisp white button-down blouse that fit her nicely, and a vintage green velvet blazer that closed with a ribbon-belt. Underneath it all she wore her white lace chemise, plain stockings with her pink garter-belt (she grew fond of the feel of this combo and now indulged regularly) and a pair of plain white satin knickers. There was no bra today because, following the text being sent, Irene reminded her that she bought the chemise in honor of the movie scene that inspired her, which was decidedly sans brassiere. But Molly was fine with the direction because she was feeling more comfortable with her body, and the thick velvet of her blazer provided her with the cover she needed for her workday.

Molly trotted out of the flat and tried not to think that any day could be the day. It all just depended on when Sherlock next showed up to Bart's. She rode the tube to work and occasionally slipped her hand into her purse to stroke the soft leather glove she kept there.

She sat through the morning briefing and was actually a little disappointed to find out that there was nothing unusual on the docket for the day. That would mean two routine autopsies that would probably be cardiac related, some busy-work such as taking an inventory of supplies, and most likely no visit from Sherlock Holmes. She wasn't sure if she felt disappointed or relieved. At least though it gave her time to finally get someone down to check on her computer. A nice guy arrived surprisingly quickly and got it de-bugged "easy peasy." His name was...Jack? Tim? Well it was something simple like that and he looked like he was working up to asking her for coffee when Molly saw a familiar figure in a long coat stride by the windows of the door.

"Excuse me." Molly interjected politely and scurried off to her office to contact Irene Adler.

Miss Adler, Sherlock is here today.

A surprisingly short time later, Molly's phone rang.

"Hello Miss Hooper. Well, today is the day, isn't it?"

"Oh! Umm, I guess it is!" Molly relied with trepidation. She was so high strung she jumped when she heard the whip crack and a quick cry/moan come from the background of Irene's side of the call.

"Oh, am I bothering you at work? We could wait until his next visit if you are busy?" Molly offered.

"No, it's no trouble dear. My dear Kate is standing in as my whip-hand with his eminence. But the naughty boy decided to test Kate's fortitude about carrying out my orders to punish him if he moves. I'm fine to step out and leave him in her capable hands."

Molly heard a door shut just as another blow fell with an equally pained yet gleeful response from Irene's esteemed client.

"Now, are you in your office Molly?"

"Yes Miss Adler."

"Do you have the glove with you today?"

"Yes Miss Adler."

Molly felt a calm start to come over her from this simple exchange.

"Here is the plan Molly. You are going to stand in front of that mirror for a bit and follow my instructions. When we are done, you are going to march into that lab and give Mr. Holmes his glove back. And he is going to see you as he has never seen you before, and he will never look a you are just a piece of the furniture ever again. Understand?"

"Yes Miss Adler."

"Good Girl. Put the phone on speaker mode and place it nearby. Now, let's begin. Molly, get that glove out and place it on your hand like you have before when you were alone."

Molly let a small but pointed gasp slip.

"Oh Miss Hooper, now is really not the time to be coy. Of course I could piece together that you would indulge in some, shall we say, sensory-fantasy, whilst wearing the glove of the man that you would like to be the one touching you. It doesn't take an expert to figure that one out, dear."

Deep breath. Another one. "Right then." Molly finally replied. She retrieved the glove from her bag and slipped it on her hand. It was a bit big on her of course, having been molded to the contours of a long-fingered consulting detective/violinist.

"Now, keep your eyes on your self in the mirror and do as I say."

"Yes Miss Adler."

"So, picture yourself standing there in front of your detective. He looks into your eyes and he sees you. He sees every inch and ounce of you as you truly are. What would he do first with that gloved hand, Molly?

Molly conjured it in her mind just as Irene instructed. She saw her own reflection in the mirror but simultaneously, in her mind's eye, she was looking up at Sherlock. He gazed at her and into her and there were no other puzzles clouding his mind. She was his entire focus. Already Molly felt her breathing and pulse increase.

"At first he'll just look at me. He's so often in a hurry when I see him but this time he takes his time. He'll reach out one hand finally and brush the hair from out of my eyes and tuck it behind my ear. His touch will be hesitant. Before drawing it back he'll lightly brush it over my cheek and I'll lean into it."

As Molly spoke she raised her gloved hand and did as she described. The soft leather felt so warm on her face.

"Good, Molly. What else?"

"His hand will linger there then, even though he hadn't planned to. His eyes will dance all over my face and he'll look...not bored. Curious. Like he wants to know more."

"How will you encourage him to keep exploring, Molly?"

"He'll brush his thumb over my lips just barely and when he does I'll kiss it. He'll be surprised. He may even hold his breath a moment. He'll keep his thumb there, motionless, with the hint of my lipstick on it. I'll keep my eyes locked on his as I open my mouth just a little and lick his thumb with the tip of my tongue. I'll kiss it again with my lips slightly parted and just a little nip of teeth. He won't be able to look away."

Irene hummed/purred her affirmation.

"And then?"

"As his thumb is on my lips, his fingers will be stroking the side of my neck as if acting on their own. I'll break off the kiss and tip me head just enough to let him know that I like it and to give him my permission to further explore. He'll move his whole hand to my neck then. He'll touch in light strokes but then he'll also wrap his hand around the back of my neck and squeeze just a bit. He's moving on from just exploring to thinking about what it would be like to have me."

"How will you show him that he can have you, Molly?" Irene asked in a whisper across the line.

"I'll tilt my head back and arch my back. I'll shrug off my jacket and let it fall to the floor. He'll feel the heat radiating from me. His hand will slide down and his fingers will flex wide so that the spread of his hand covers both my clavicles. When he does this it will spread my collar enough so that he sees the lace underneath. He'll let his pinky finger drop and trace the edge. His finger is trembling as he does it. I'll reach up and slowly unbutton my blouse until it is hanging open, just a bit of lace and satin separating us now. He'll let his fingers ever-so-slightly dip under the boarder of lace at the top. It's a question."

"And what is your answer, Molly?"

Molly placed her bare hand over her gloved one, and moved it to rest over her left breast.

"Yes." She sighed.

Supple leather cupped her small, firm breast. Then the middle finger stroked from the very top of where the gentle slope started to the apex of her nipple. The sensitive area responded immediately. The palm of the glove ghosted in circles over the erect flesh, the subtle stitching causing shockwaves through her body.

"Stay with me, Molly. Tell me what is happening. What is Sherlock doing?" Irene's voice was more gentle than Molly had ever heard it, as if she was trying to not break the spell.

"He pulls me close to him now. He can't stand to have those few inches between us anymore."

Molly grabbed her own hip and she roughly leaned forward against the mirror, as if tugged there suddenly. She lifted her one knee to rest on the cool glass, the gloved hand running down her outer thigh and lifting the knee higher.

"He runs his hand down the side of my leg and detects the feel of my garter belt underneath. He hitches my leg up around his and then slowly slips his hand up under my skirt until he reaches bare flesh. He smooths circles over my thigh and keeps reaching back further with every stroke. When his finger tips reach my panties he stops for a moment."

Molly had her head resting against the mirror. Her own breath fogged up the reflection before her, coming in fast pants. But she didn't see the haze, she only saw her own eyes/his eyes, hungry with desire and want.

"He then plunges his hand beneath the satin and cups half my bum kind of roughly. His fingertips are already reaching between. They brush over my..."

Molly's reporting was interrupted by her own long, soft moan.

"Oh, god. Oh god yes..." she breathes in stutters.

"How do you feel to him Molly? What does he find with his eager fingers?" Irene asked quickly and quite eagerly herself.

"Unnnggggghhhh, he finds me...wet. And responsive. He shifts his hand around to the front to reach me better. He is breathing with me. His fingers reach inside me. Ah! It feels so good! He knows it won't be long because I have been waiting for this for so long. And he realizes, just now, that he has been wanting this all along as well! His fingers move from inside to up where...ah! He alternates the two motions and it is perfect. God it's so perfect! And he's looking in my eyes and he sees nothing but me. He wants to see the moment when it happens. He thrusts in harder and strokes deeper and slower and...and..."

Molly cried out in staggered sobs as the pleasure took her in wave after wave. Every nerve ending danced with such an intensity it was almost too much. She smiled and she saw him smile. She saw Sherlock Holmes genuinely smile at her, pleased to have held her through the most amazing, crashing climax of her life.

Molly was pulled roughly from her beautiful moment by the voice, no longer gentle, calling her through the phone resting nearby.

"Molly! Molly Hooper! I need you to listen to me! Are you listening?!"

"Yes." Molly squeaked out. He cleared her throat. "Yes, MIss Adler."

"Good. Now, you button yourself up but leave off the jacket. And straighten your skirt a bit if it needs it. But don't you DARE take off that glove. In fact, don't even use that hand if you can manage without it."

"Okay." Molly replied a bit distantly as she tried to button her top with her non-dominant hand.

"Now, when you are decently put together, you are to march out of your office and directly to the lab. Allow nothing or no one to get in your way. You go right up to your detective, remove the glove in front of him, and politely return it."

"But...he'll, I mean it's what he does...he'll know every..." Molly stammered.

"Miss Hooper! Is this or is this not what you wanted?" Irene barked. Molly could feel her fierce glare through the phone.

"Yes, Miss Adler!"

"Are you quite sure, Miss Hooper?"

"Yes, Miss Adler."

"Good. It's time to hang the phone up now, Molly."

"Yes, it is."

Molly hung up the phone and tossed it back on her desk with a clatter.

She opened her door without a second thought.

Molly Hooper strode through the winding hallways from her office to the lab, her heels echoing resolutely against the old linoleum.

Molly whipped the door open with such conviction, John Watson immediately thought better of saying his usual greeting. He followed her journey across the room with wide, curious eyes.

Molly Hooper approached Sherlock Holmes and stopped directly next to him. He looked up from "his" microscope with a look of annoyed consternation that fell away the moment his eyes came into focus on the figure beside him. Her heart was pounding and yet a cool calm washed over her, even as she saw his eyes flitting from the warm red of her throat, the hint of lace at her neckline, the earnest push of her breasts under her blouse, and the way her skirt's hem sat slightly off kilter. He turned in his stool to face her better. She saw the deductions flying across that beautiful brain of his, but the lovely crinkle between his eyebrows was knitted tight. The current data was not lining up with the previous case history he had kept filed away on her.

Then she slowly raised the gloved hand. She started to remove it, tugging one finger loose at a time. Sherlock was enrapt with the action. Molly knew that he saw what others would not see. He saw the lipstick. He would saw the slick trace of her completion. Then his eyes tore away from the glove and met hers. His lips were parted in a gentle "O" of the puzzle pieces clicking together.

This was the moment.

Molly Hooper stood stock still and drank it in.

Sherlock Holmes saw her. He. Saw. Her.

Molly breathed out with relief and something akin to realization herself. The last bits of her disguise fell away. She felt lighter. She felt more like herself that she ever had. For in the impossibly-hued grey/green eyes of Sherlock Holmes, she saw her own reflection, and it was like she was seeing it for the first time.

Molly smiled and tugged the glove completely free. She took Sherlock's hand in hers and placed the glove in his palm.

"You left this here a little while ago. I thought it was about time I returned it. Thank you, Sherlock."

She gave his hand a little squeeze and turned away from the stunned genius. She strode back through the lab towards the door.

She nodded to Dr. Watson as she walked past.

"John" she acknowledged simply. It was both greeting and casual goodbye in one.

"Molly." He reciprocated in kind, but with a thoroughly confused look. As she passed she saw him turn to his flatmate with questioning eyes.

"Sherlock?" John asked simply. Molly was out the door before she heard his reply.

As soon a she stepped back into her office, Molly's text alert split the air.

?

Molly smiled as she typed her response.

Mission accomplished. And it was perfect.

Do you miss the glove already?

Molly thought it over for a moment, then smiled even wider.

Nope. Don't need it anymore.

Well done, Miss Hooper.

Molly ran her finger across the simple text from the strange and powerful woman who helped grant her wish. She was surprised when the chime sounded again a moment later.

I'm not hungry. Let's have dinner.

Thanks everyone for reading! This fic has been fabulously fun to write!

In coming days expect a little epilogue of sorts. It will include some extra mini-scenes surrounding the events of the last bit of this chapter. Also, if anyone is interested, I have somehow worked out in my head a fairly involved back story about the relationship between Irene and Kate. If anyone is interested to hear it, let me know and I will send it over PM.

Reading your input and reviews make my day, so please don't hesitate to drop me one. Thanks in advance!