A/N: Decided to bump the rating up to M just to be safe. Nothing super explicit, but I want to be careful.
The plan really hadn't taken all that much effort to execute. Irene smirked as she beheld her work. In the small parlor were gathered a dozen women. Her web of connections had only continued growing over the last few years. And now was a time she appreciated that more than ever.
"So, it's simple really," she explained. "All I require of each of you is that you go and ask for the assistance of Sherlock Holmes. Each of you has been given the description of your 'case' and you must memorize these details as carefully as possible. Once you have, go and inquire after the detective."
A pale and pretty girl blinked up at her questioningly. Irene licked her lips as the girl bent forward, displaying a pale cleavage to Irene's wandering eye. She was much tempted to again sample the fine flavors of the delicious girl in front of her. However, an image of Hooper's passion-filled brown eyes suddenly made her pause.
"Yes?" she said, doing her best to pull herself back into a more restrained state.
"Miss Adler, mightn't this be a problem with how perceptive the good detective is?"
She fluttered her long lashes. Irene might have thought the seduction was intentional, if she didn't know the girl all too well.
"No," Irene said. "Your stories will lead to various scenarios that will be undeniably intriguing to the detective. A few of you might be detected, but I believe most of the stories I've selected are close enough to the truth to not arouse suspicion."
"And why are we doing this, Miss Adler?" the girl asked.
"Because, sweetling, I have a bone to pick with the detective."
"Oh," the girl said, blinking a few times. "That makes sense I suppose."
"Good. Then we are in agreement. I thank you all for your help. If you have any problems, do not hesitate to contact me," Irene said.
The group of women rose and filed out. One or two stopped to say a few words to her. However, Irene's attention was drawn back to the pretty blonde thing that was still draped over the settee.
"Did you need something else?" Irene asked. "Or are you perhaps confused by the instructions?"
"No," the girl said. "I'd heard….I'd heard Kate is no longer with us."
She reached out to put a hand on Irene's arm, fingers moving over the skin gently. Irene found herself shuddering in spite of her body's obvious interest.
"I could help you feel a little less…lonely…" the girl whispered.
She stood and moved a few centimeters closer, nose almost brushing against Irene's cheek.
It was utter temptation. A beautiful and welcoming woman, ready to accept her advances. In any other circumstance she would have given in. No commitments with another woman to hold her back.
But even if there were no formal commitments, there was still a feeling of loyalty to Molly.
What had the girl done to her? To make her so repelled by another woman's touch.
Irene knew already that attraction could be more than just sex. After all, men were fine in terms of their bedroom abilities. But women…women made her feel so much more…complete. So finding a woman who was intelligent and capable…who wasn't afraid of backing away from a challenge. An equal in so many ways. Not like this shallow pretty thing who doted on her every turn. No, Hooper would be a real challenge to win. Something Irene would relish doing.
"I'm afraid," Irene said, pulling back a step, "that I have already found means of easing the loneliness. If you would take to your task I would be grateful. I have no need of any other…services."
"I do wish you'd let me help," the girl said, but she withdrew, seeming to understand.
"I'm afraid...I'm afraid now isn't a time I need any," Irene said. "Or at least with that. Take care of the detective. That's all I ask."
The girl nodded and smiled. "Oh we'll make his life a living hell."
Irene was unable to keep from smiling at that. Oh yes, they certainly would.
Molly was unable to keep her reactions from showing when Lestrade turned up in her morgue. Though it wasn't he that had caused her to be so distressed, but rather the sheet covered figure that came behind him. From the delicate hand peeking out beneath, Molly soon realized it was a woman.
There was a moment where she realized it could be Irene underneath the sheet. One terrifying minute where her heart stopped.
She stepped forward, hand shaking slightly as she pulled the sheet away.
There was a moment where she scanned the pale features of the corpse. And then she breathed a sigh of relief.
It wasn't Irene.
Another young woman was lying still and pallid, eyes thankfully closed. She looked so young. Molly had to picture herself as a young woman, beginning life in London. Had she ever looked so youthful and at peace?
"I'm afraid she was found an hour ago," Lestrade said. "Is there anything you can tell me just looking her over? Any help would be appreciated. Holmes has given me next to nothing."
Molly frowned. "Holmes hasn't been helping? I thought he was chomping at the bit to get going on this case."
"I'm afraid that he has been rather distracted the last few days," Lestrade admitted. "Apparently he's suddenly been flooded with cases. I don't know all the details, but his clients have been most persistent, and the cases they bring quite puzzling. He's been wrapped up in this business and hasn't been able to give me a single word as to his progress on these murders."
Molly sighed. "This one has similar stab wounds. But they are wider than the ones on some of the other victims. A different blade most likely. I cannot say much more than that without a more thorough analysis. Any idea on her identity yet?"
"She's got to be pretty well-off," Lestrade said. "Based on her jewelry that is."
Molly smiled. "See, why seek after Holmes? You can make your own deductions quite well."
Lestrade snorted at that. "Ah, if only that were true. But far too often it's just impossible without his help. I wish it weren't necessary, but if he solves them I can't really complain. After all, a criminal caught is a benefit to our society, don't you suppose?"
Molly shrugged. "I suppose so."
Her thoughts went back to what Irene had said a few days before. Was this what she'd meant when she said she'd keep Sherlock busy? Well, Molly would have to thank her later. It meant the plan was working, which gave her even more reason to work hard and get ahead of Holmes while she could.
"Please let me know the moment you find out who she is," Molly said. "With so much obvious wealth on her, I cannot imagine she will go undiscovered for very long."
"No," Lestrade said with a sigh. "But I'm afraid the public has begun to demand answers. This many murders...people are beginning to notice. We must catch this fiend before this goes any further."
Molly nodded, wondering what more she could really do to speed up the process. Perhaps she'd been wrong to put Sherlock off of the case. After all, did she really know much more than the only consulting detective?
"Just do what you can for me," Lestrade said. "Oh...and Hooper. Be warned, if I ever catch you stealing a police uniform...I won't be quite so lenient."
Molly swallowed and turned back to her work, only glad Lestrade had decided to not make trouble. Then again, knowing how often Sherlock caused him difficulties, she supposed her own troubles had seemed minor in comparison.
"Good day, Hooper."
He exited the morgue, leaving her to her work. She set in, only hoping a few more clues might be revealed. Gazing down at the face of her victim, she sighed.
"I'll do what I can to help you," she whispered. "I promise."
What Molly hadn't anticipated came later that evening. She'd been working hard most of the day. Anderson had long since said his goodnights and gone home. The last few workers were slowly trickling out of the building, until Molly found herself the last one there. It wasn't unusual though.
She was just putting the bodies back to rights, cleaning tools and putting them away. Footsteps echoed behind her, causing her to pause.
"Mr. Hooper?"
She turned to see Sally standing in the doorway, blinking a little as she peered in.
"Come in, Miss Donovan," Molly said with a sigh.
"I just...I wanted to come tell you that I finally did find out who the maid was. Are you interested in knowing still?"
Molly perked up. "Really? That's incredible. Who is she?"
"It was difficult," Sally said as she walked further into the room. "She had apparently recently left her employer...but I did find out from the cook that she'd talked to the girl's mother who hadn't seen her recently either. Odd, isn't that? Anyhow, she worked in the Spearing's household."
"Thank you," Molly whispered. "You have no idea how much this helps me. I really needed more."
"It's nothing, sir," Sally said, though she smiled in spite of her modesty.
"Truly, it is," Molly said. "You are a great detective, Sally. And I'm honored to have your help."
"Let me know if there's more I can do," Sally admitted.
"If you can ask around with other maids about this one, that might be helpful," Molly admitted. "I'll try to talk to her employers myself, but there's only so much I can do. And I believe connections you might have could be of good use to you. Will you help me, Sally?"
"I'd love to, sir."
"Good," Molly said. "I could use all the help I can get...I'm afraid I've perhaps bitten off a bit more than I can safely chew on my own."
Sally cocked her head slightly. "And you'd ask me for help, sir? Rather than another man... someone more...professional...more capable and better educated?"
Molly sighed. There was a temptation to reveal herself of course, to show Sally the truth. However, she realized after a moment that it would be unfair. While she could hide her own potential handicap away and pretend to be a man, Sally would never rise above her situation. Never truly. Even disguised as a man her race would set her back.
"I am glad to have help wherever it may come from," Molly admitted. "And you strike me as quite the intelligent young woman, in spite of perhaps lacking a formal education."
"I do my best to read, sir," Sally said. "It helps some."
She thought of her younger self curled up with a book and had to smile.
"It does. Keep studying. Keep dreaming. Never give up. You will make something of yourself one day. I guarantee it."
Sally hesitated a moment before sticking out her hand to take Molly's. She shook it firmly.
"I'll help however I can, sir."
"Hooper or Miles if you please," Molly corrected. "Really, I don't like all the sirs from someone I couldn't solve this case without."
"Hooper," the girl said hesitantly, but she smiled in spite of her obvious confusion. "I'll do my best to find you more information."
"And if you'd talk with the servants of the Bethney family too that would be much appreciated. Can you manage?"
Donovan nodded. "Talking to a few servants? Sure. Simple really. Do you think...you might solve this case before Sherlock Holmes with my help?"
"I do hope so," Molly admitted.
"Good," Donovan said, folding her arms. "I ran into him a few days ago doing an experiment and he was absolutely appalling in terms of his manners. Completely rude. I'd love to show him a thing or two."
"He's rude to everyone," Molly said with a sigh, thinking of the other day and his horrid attempts at seduction.
She still felt ashamed when she thought about it. That she'd been so close to giving everything away, all for a man who didn't even love her. Just wanted to use her for his own advantages. How could she be so stupid? Sherlock and Moriarty and...if she really thought about it Irene too. Everyone wanted to use her. She feared only Thomas had been truly genuine in his affections.
"Well all the same," Sally said. "It'd be nice if someone knocked him down a peg."
Molly smiled. "I quite agree."
She opened her eyes, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings. She sat up in the bed, startled to find herself in a loose nightgown. Her eyes wandered over a beautifully rich room, rich furniture and filigree in the very wallpaper.
Molly was even more startled by a hand moving along her back. A gentle caress through the thin fabric. She spun to face her bedfellow.
Irene was lying behind her, smiling slightly as she examined Molly.
"You!" Molly gasped.
"Me?" Irene said with a smirk. "Is my Molly so surprised to find me with her? I can never resist you."
Molly shuddered, though she noted the use of her real name and not the male counterpart.
"Oh dearest, did you really think to trick me?" Irene purred. She moved a little closer, and Molly noted for the first time how little the other woman was wearing. Molly managed to gasp, even as a lick of heat tore through her.
"Now, are you going to be a good girl and behave, or do I need to remind you that you're mine again?" Irene asked, one hand moving to curl around her wrist. Molly shuddered.
She moved in and Molly found lips against hers before she could protest.
Irene's lips were so soft. A tongue darted out to taste her, and Molly groaned. She fell quiet beneath that talented mouth, giving in, hand going slack in Irene's grasp.
Irene's fingers had moved beneath the nightgown. Molly failed to protest, only moved as Irene beckoned, allowing the flimsy fabric to be pulled away.
From on top, Irene looked down at her and smirked as she looked over Molly's form.
"My lovely lovely wife," Irene purred into her ear. "Let me remind you how good this can be."
"Wife?" Molly asked, though she was rendered speechless as Irene slid down her body until her face was between Molly's spread legs.
"Wife," Irene whispered, moving to kiss one of Molly's thighs. "My dearest Molly."
If there was more it was lost.
Molly's eyes opened and she sat up, gasping as she looked around her own room.
She glanced to her side where the vision of Irene had lain, but there was only Toby, curled up amongst the sheets and breathing softly. She reached over to scratch his head, grounding herself back in reality with just a touch against his soft fur.
Molly's gaze ran over the room around her, looking for signs that The Woman had really been there.
But instead she found it undisturbed, only a little light streaming through the windows.
Only a dream.
She sank back amongst the pillows, struggling to breathe.
It had felt so real. Irene in her bed, whispering sweet nothings into her ears. Irene kissing her and pulling her nightdress off. Irene between her-
Oh God. She'd really thought such a thing. Molly squeezed her eyes tightly shut. It had been one thing to look at women and think them beautiful. Quite another to dream of such a carnal encounter in such graphic terms. To imagine Irene as a...wife? As though such a thing were possible.
"You're fooling yourself, Molly," she whispered. "Making yourself think you might really be a man. But you aren't. Not truly. Just a very confused and lonely spinster."
She rose without another word, doing her best to forget the burning that still lingered in spite of the dream. There was too much guilt to possibly seek any kind of satisfaction.
Molly dressed, doing her best to keep her breath steady as she did. As she slid her hands over her breast to bind them, flashes of Irene again seemed to haunt her.
Her attention refocused as soon as she was clothed. She needed to be rid of these thoughts. They would get her nowhere. And to Molly there was only one true way to rid herself of something troubling.
She headed out the door, brushing past Mrs. Brownlow and not even bothering to stop at Janine's. She headed down the street, keeping her head bowed low. She didn't look up until she had reached the familiar Cathedral doors.
The church was quiet. A few candles glimmered in the dim chamber, and a few people sat in the pews, but for the most part Molly had no fear in approaching a confessional. She slid in and closed the door. She kept her eyes closed tight as she waited, hoping only to resolve her guilty conscience.
The small window opened though she could still see little through the screen. There was a soft greeting, though Molly could hardly hear it.
"Bless me father for I have sinned," Molly whispered, swallowing down the lump that had seemed to settle in her throat. "My last confession was three weeks ago."
She paused a moment, but as normal the priest did not speak. Gathering her courage she continued.
"I have lied recently," she said. "Quite often actually. To law enforcement and to others. I have become entangled with those of perhaps more dubious morals than my own. I have stolen. And...I have begun to have lustful thoughts for anoth— a woman," she managed to catch herself.
To her surprise the priest spoke. "What kind of lustful thoughts?"
"I...I've been...paying attention to her appearance," Molly said, finding herself flushing. "It had begun quite innocently, simply finding myself attracted to her. She has pressed a bit at a potential...sexual relationship... touching and kissing me. And I...last night I had a dream of the two of us...engaged in carnal relations..."
"What kind of carnal relations?" the voice asked.
"I..." Molly hesitated. "I'm not sure I wish to answer that, father. It was...quite graphic. The two of us in bed. My only consolation was that we were apparently...married."
"Hmm," the voice said again. "And who is this woman you find yourself stumbling for?"
"I..." Molly stammered. "A...she's not exactly of high moral standing, father. I know very little about her other than that she is involved in dealings with some persons of ill repute. But she is lovely...so beautiful and...intelligent. I am quite drawn to her in spite of all my reservations."
There was a laugh and Molly found herself taken aback. The window shut and then there was a noise before the door to her confessional opened. Before Molly could say a word Irene Adler herself was sliding into the small chamber with her.
"How...how did you get here!" Molly gasped.
"I followed you," Irene said with a twinkling smile. "And I'm glad I did, you delectable thing. Having dreams of me then?"
"It wasn't about you," Molly protested, even as Irene slid partway onto her lap. There was no room to really maneuver away from her. The darkness of the small room hid them, and yet Molly still felt horribly exposed.
"Oh really?" the woman said with a smirk. "Then who is this ill-reputed beautiful intelligent woman, that I might challenge her for your attentions. How am I supposed to allow her you when I want you as my own, Miles." Her mouth moved against Molly's jaw, whispering the words before sucking softly at Molly's pulse.
"I'm not telling you," Molly said. Getting over her initial shock, red hot anger began to boil beneath the surface. "How dare you take advantage of me like that? In the midst of me trying to cleanse myself."
Irene Adler rolled her eyes. "Cleanse what? Your little guilty conscience for thinking about me, darling? An intelligent man like you thinking there's a God to do that for you? Perhaps it's time someone enlightened you. You needn't worry about such silly old-fashioned things. There are far better ways to forget about guilt. If you'd let me, I'd show you a few."
She slid a hand over Molly's thigh and Molly jerked. It was the last straw.
With the little strength she had, Molly shoved Irene back, pushing her back out of the confessional and managing to disengage herself thoroughly enough to make a dash towards the door.
Irene called after her, but Molly didn't stop.
She didn't pause in her escape, only walked faster the further from the cathedral she went, until she broke into a full run. Molly didn't stop until she was well away, though she couldn't decide in the end if she'd been running because she'd thought she could escape her feeling for Irene, or because she had realized that she in fact couldn't escape.
She realized just a few minutes later that it had been a blunder. Though normally her plays were so well calculated, Irene did have to admit that the confessional situation had truly been played on a whim. And it had cost her dearly.
Those words had set her pulse spiking, realizing Molly was thinking of her. Dreaming of her. The mere thought sent a shiver up her spine. She'd sat in the darkened confessional room thinking of all the delicious things she'd do to the other woman once she finally had her. And in a moment of lust she'd allowed her desire to cloud her judgement.
"She'll never trust me now," she whispered as she stared after a rapidly disappearing Molly.
But it was true. To invade privacy in such a way as that, and then to mock the rights Molly had been seeking... she should have realized how poorly such a move would play out. Yet in the moment she'd only been thinking of Molly. Imagining those brown eyes blown wide with lust, picturing that short hair grown long enough to thread her fingers through it, a dress in place of the ridiculous trousers, one she might easily lift the hem of to find her desire.
Yes Irene had been a fool not to realize. Not to see the crucifix in Molly's chambers and realize its meaning. Desire might be there, but it was buried behind deep reservations, and Irene knew that mockery and cruelty were not the ways to undo such teachings.
"Just give me a second chance," she whispered, and somehow she found herself looking at the cathedral. "I don't personally believe. But Molly does. And if you love her, you'll want her happy. I can give her that. Please. Help me show her it doesn't have to be like this."
Irene paused, unsure if she should end it as a typical prayer might. But instead she fell silent. No. Better to not offend any gods any more than she already probably had. In the meantime she'd forget divine figures in favor of finding her own earthly angel. Before it was all too late.
A/N: By the way, if anyone else wants another Victorian lesbian story (non-fandom) you should check out Affinity by Sarah Waters. Read it a bit ago and really liked it!
Sorry for the wait on an update. Hope you enjoyed that in spite of the fake out with the dream. Some real things will come in future chapters, but for now it's still a bit of a slow burn.
Loving all the reviews so thank you for that!