"If it will alleviate your distress, then I will admit for your sake that I found myself confounded by being outwitted by a member of the weaker sex, but beyond that, you must not believe. I am not given to sentiment nor can a chit like Miss Hooper ever tempt me. She owes her wit to the teachings of a great doctor in Michael Stamford. She is useful but not a curiosity for me at all . . ."
Molly dropped into her seat in the hack with a huff. Mr. Holmes' vitriolic diatribe still echoed between her ears. She crossed her arms so tightly over her chest that her hands began to tingle from lack of circulation. Her angry tears burned like vinegar in her eyes but she refused to allow them to let. What a disappointment Mr. Holmes had been. He really was no different from the chauvinistic norm for all his demonstrated brilliance.
"What more could I do to prove myself worthy of his admiration?" She pondered.
She shook her head and backtracked so quickly that her inner monologue almost stuttered.
"Respect! Definitely not admiration. I want his respect!"
She grumbled a sigh and sat back. Why was her confounded hackney cab not moving yet? Then, she felt the side of it dip, the door open and the ridiculously large detective himself climb into the cabin and settle into the opposite seat. Her breath hitched as his slanted eyes glinted with intensity. She had to remind herself that she disliked him immensely in that moment as the pulse in her neck throbbed with blood.
"Please f-find yourself alternate transportation, Mr. Holmes," she directed with a shaky wave of her hand towards the door, "I am perfectly capable of seeing myself home."
She watched his elegant fingers fold together on his lap, then his thumbs tapped together and his neck stretched as he prepared to speak. His chin moved in a bit of an arc before he blinked slowly and his lips parted.
"No."
She frowned at his deliberate enunciation of that simple dismissal. Then, her already frothing blood began to boil and she jumped up. However, she was unable to stand and instead found herself bent towards him unnervingly. She swallowed.
"L-Let me relieve you of your obligation then, sir," she declared. "I . . . I do not wish to continue an association with a man who considers me merely u-useful."
A groove marred his otherwise perfect brow. "You deem 'useful' an offensive term, do you?"
"I deem its connotation offensive!" She hissed.
The hack jerked into motion unexpectedly. Molly attempted maintain balance but momentum propelled her forwards and with a shriek she crashed into her companion.
"Unh!" Mr. Holmes grunted as her knee landed squarely between his legs. "Ffft!"
His fingers clamped around her arms as he adjusted himself and huffed a series of pain-filled breaths. She found herself pressed against his chest. Her fingers tensed over the fine fabric of his coat. She bit her lip as she gazed at his contorted face illuminated intermittently by each gas street lamp the carriage passed.
"Oh, I am dreadfully sorry, Mr. Holmes!" She rushed out. "Are you . . . injured?"
"Hu-uh, a moment . . ."
He continued to wheeze. Molly's hands sprang into action despite hers and Mr. Holmes' awkward entanglement and the jostling of the hackney cab as it bounced over the cobblestones.
"Mr. Holmes?" She prodded as she attempted to ascertain where the source of his pain originated.
She felt the muscles of his torso stiffen beneath her digits. His fingers tightened on her upper arms and his eyes flew open.
"Dear Lord, Woman, cease your explorations immediately!" He panted.
"B-But you seem to be in a tremendous amount of pain," she babbled. "Perhaps it is serious like a broken rib or something of the ilk. I am studying to become a doctor-"
"Miss Hooper," he gave her a purposeful shake. "Let me be very clear, it is a transient soft-tissue injury as . . . as much to my dignity a-as anything else."
Molly's forehead bunched in confusion but the meaning of his words dawned on her with crude clarity. Fire raged up the skin of her chest, her face and towards her scalp as she looked into his eyes. She wanted to faint dead away from the embarrassment. She had kneed him in his manhood!
"Forgive me, Mr. Holmes," she whispered. "W-Will it take you very long to r-recover?"
He shook his head as he set her gently next to him on the bench. He stretched out his legs and repositioned himself in his seat, reducing her occupancy of the bench to a small wedge in the corner. She crossed her legs and retracted them in order to avoid contact with his long limbs. She studied him anxiously wishing there was something she might do to reduce his distress.
"Fortunately, the ache already subsides," he raised a brow as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Ahem, you may want to avert your eyes a moment."
Heat flared in her cheeks again. The detective moved around in the seat next to her before heaving a sigh and relaxing again. She turned hesitantly back towards him. He held up his hand.
"Do not . . . do not apologize again."
They rode on in silence for a few minutes. Mr. Holmes averted his head in the direction of the window and seemed to become lost in thought as the hack trundled through the streets. She clutched her hands together on her lap and stared straight ahead. Every imperfection in the road (of which there were many) bounced her towards him. Every so often she had to wriggle away. They would soon arrive to her door where they would part forever. A sigh rattled her lips.
"Mm," her companion murmured as if agreement with her thoughts.
They were an absurd pair really, she thought dejectedly. What a failed experiment they had undertaken.
She swivelled her head to look at him. "Mr. Holmes, it is quite obvious we do not work well together-"
He jerked his head to assess her. "Is it?"
She huffed. "Oh, would you please! Listen, I want us to part on good terms and there is no reason we should not be able to do so."
His right eye flinched. "This sounds like a farewell speech. Is this because I referred to you as useful?"
She groaned. "No, it is more than that, of course it is more than that. Your attitude, that is, it is of such a nature . . ."
Mr. Holmes sat up, boxing her even further into the corner of the cab. The curls on the top of his head were beginning to loosen from their styled confines. His lush lips tightened angrily.
"My attitude! You cannot be serious. This is your excuse?"
She glowered up at him. "Excuse?!"
"Yes, an excuse! I thought you were of a hardier stock, Miss Hooper, but do go on. Run along home and . . . scrub some floors or other such rubbish," he bolstered his words with a flourish of his hand. "Go try your hand at something easier and live down to everyone's expectations. For, if you cannot suffer so debatable an offense as being called, 'useful' then you were never fortuitous enough to become a real examiner."
"Oh!" Molly exclaimed, her back went taut.
She resented his logic even as she begrudgingly agreed with it. Still, she jabbed him with her finger in the shoulder. She positively steamed.
"You," she poked him again, "you are not a g-gentleman!"
She was about to wind up and jab him once more for good measure but he caught her wrist and slammed it against the window on the side of the hack. The cold of the glass and the menace from his curled lip caused goosebumps to riddle her flesh. Her other hand rose to her defense but he ensnared that as well and pinned it against her hip. His chest lifted and fell with heavy breaths as he looked down then raised his head and leaned forwards over her. His eyes were as deep and dark as a coal hearth that had gone cold.
"I have never claimed to be a gentleman," his voice rumbled through her like a passing locomotive.
There was something mesmerizing about the way his lips moved when he spoke. Molly's lower abdomen churned with strange sensation.
"P-Perhaps you have not given voice to the idea but you present yourself as such, sir. Is your appearance just propaganda, then?"
"Without a doubt," he huffed through his nostrils as his eyes grazed her face.
He closed the distance and his nose brushed by hers. She held her breath as his mouth hovered so close she could feel the warmth of his flesh across the finite gap.
"I cannot accept your resignation. I still have need of you, Molly Hooper," he murmured nearly against her lips as he squeezed both her wrists.
She gasped in a breath. Her stomach contracted in her belly. She did not understand what was happening to her body, it was as if she had been flooded with spirits which weakened her limbs yet heightened her senses. Her skin warmed everywhere, her heart beat so frenetically, she could feel her pulse in her face.
"You n-need me?" She asked breathlessly, flexing her knuckles against the glass.
His nose bumped hers and then seemed to nudge it upward. "Yes."
She could not help herself. Her mouth followed his but his lips remained maddeningly elusive. Her chin dropped as she panted for air. Once more, his nose flicked at hers to compel her lips to chase his. She whimpered. Her loins felt impossibly wound tight. Her body begged for some sort of release.
The hack stopped then and the driver's muffled voice called their stop from his outside perch. Molly nearly groaned aloud in frustration as Mr. Holmes gave his head a shake and snapped it back. His expression was rife with confusion as his eyes bobbed up and down. His nostrils flared. Then, his hold on both her wrists slackened and he sat back. He busied his fingers smoothing the lapels of his jacket.
"This is my stop," Molly whispered.
He nodded. He looked outwardly cool and collected save for the heaving of his chest. Despite his protestations to the opposite, Mr. Holmes exited the carriage and escorted her to her door like a gentleman. Once there, he dipped his head curtly.
"Goodnight, Miss Hooper."
Molly chewed her lip as he turned to depart. Her blood still thrummed through her veins at a heady pace. Her lips felt plump as if they needed to be plucked before the swelling would subside. Also, she ached. She ached everywhere and the very sod who had put her in this state strode away as if pursued by serpents. His long coat flapped in his wake.
"Mr. Holmes-"
He turned suddenly on the stone walk. His uniquely handsome profile bathed in moonlight nearly stopped her heart.
"Miss Hooper, rest assured, I will require your assistance again," his eyes cracked to hers like a whip. "Will you acquiesce to my demands?"
She swallowed. His voice had an undercurrent to it that caused her to flush again even as his challenge raised her hackles. She did not know whether to curse at him or insist he return and bestow the kiss he had taunted her with in the hack.
He raised a brow. "Miss Hooper?"
She wrinkled her nose as she drank in the sight of him, slightly ruffled and somewhat stiff in gait as if he too had not yet shaken off their encounter. Her conscience and voice of reason screamed dissent but its cries were soon muffled. It was pounced upon by a gluttonous inner demon pleading for whatever scraps its current obsession might impart.
Molly let out a stream of air. She was too easily swayed by her demon's preferences.
"I will endeavor to become . . . indispensable to you, Mr. Holmes."