AN: This chapter contains extreme sexual themes.

CHAPTER ONE

Her name was Molly Hooper and she seemed to be everywhere at once and then nowhere at all. Sherlock's mind liked played tricks on him, daydreaming of her. The maid who worked for his wife. The maid he had known most of his life. The dreamy little blinks of her eyes captivated him. It pulled him chillingly closer to the edge of sanity when it came to that maid.

The maid who never meant anything and everything. The one woman...

Her name was Molly Hooper and she was the colors of spring and summer, warping his mind into an array of endless fantasies and musings he never dared tell anyone. That seemed to be his lot in life; keep it all inside, never tell another human being. Never ever divulge what lurked beneath the surface.

If he did he knew what horror awaited him. He arrested men like himself every day. The men who were not faithful to their vows under the Cardinal and the Law. However loveless and unhappy one's life and marriage might be, it was against the law to sin against one's spouse.

That didn't mean the law didn't turn a blind eye every now and then. Especially to those who could pay to keep the Watchers and the Cardinals at bay.

And yet... that maid with her short strawberry blonde hair and twinkling green eyes made the beast he kept in a cage howl and claw at the bars. He would never tell her, however much he wished he could, how he wanted to pin her down and debauch her.

Molly was ever so innocent, perhaps that was what made him yearn harder for her. Those subtle gestures she made when she thought she was all alone in his great house. But oh, how he watched her...

When she was thinking or lost in thought her movements became lighter. When she was focused she bit her bottom lip ever so slightly. Sometimes she would stop and stretch, her little lithe body pressing against the fabric of her blue gown.

How he wanted to rip it from her body and at the same time hike up her skirt and ravish her pleading form. Yes, she would beg him to stop. And yet he believed he would find her wanting. Dripping, soft, pliable, bending to his whim whether she wanted it or not.

The amount of times Sherlock had daydreamed of her had begun to overwhelm him. He was not feeling himself lately and he could not quite place what had changed within in.

Sherlock wanted Molly willing, unwilling, pleading, begging... he wanted all of her.

And every day he knew he was coming closer and closer to the brink.

Sherlock knew he had already taken far too many liberties with her as it was. Gently brushing her hair behind her ear, letting his finger ghost along her cheek. How she had held her breath, it took every ounce of self control he had not to take her then.

And how he would take her-

The alarm beside the bed screamed at him as he awoke from another dream he would forget in minutes and all that would remain would be strange feelings throughout the day; a remembrance of something that had never taken place except within his own mind.

Sherlock Holmes dressed for the day in his bathroom as his wife slept. Another night of their lovemaking had left him feeling empty. He didn't think of Molly when he took his wife, Janine. For it would never be the same and she would never allow him to move as he wished or fuck her instead of making love to her.

Janine did everything she could to please him in bed, but it never worked. He knew she only wanted to be a good wife to him. She had been assigned to him from the Maiden's Citadel. She came from a good family, an honest one. She came with money not that he needed it. And more importantly, at least to everyone else involved, she was fertile.

And yet, after five years of a silent marriage, there were no children running about the house knocking into family heirlooms. No children that would go on to make this world a better place. No sons or daughters of the Sherlock line that would carry over and take his place as a Watcher.

Sherlock tampered with nothing. He was not to blame. He had seen a doctor at Janine's request. He was fine, fit and healthy. No one could understand why there were no children. And because of this five year long trial and error process, Janine sunk deeper into the possibility that she would never give her husband children.

"It's all I've ever wanted," she would say again and again, tears falling from her brown eyes, her cheeks red and she looking almost like a child herself. And Sherlock wanted to say that it wasn't, that it was all everyone else wanted. She had only been raised to think it was all she had to offer.

Babies, he would think, I hope we never have one.

And only to himself he would be joyous when yet another test proved negative.

Janine still slept as he left the bedroom for his early breakfast. He knew he would find Molly setting up the breakfast room. His heart fluttered and his stomach swam.

And of course, there she was. Her blue dress, her medium high collar that he wanted to pull down with his teeth. She heard him enter and turned and bowed a little, her cheeks flushing of their own accord.

"Sir," she said and placed a tablet on the table where he always sat.

"Hooper." He said sitting.

Strange, that after knowing each other so long, they still spoke like it was her first day of work.

She stood in the corner staring straight ahead as he ate. He wasn't very hungry this morning. He still had two hours to kill before he had to leave for his sector's station. Janine would be in bed for another four. He had time... time to-

"I'm not very hungry." He announced simply. Molly approached the table and reached out to take the plate of steaming eggs and toast. He watched as the flesh on the inside of her wrist was exposed and nearly bit his lip. He had known this girl for years. He was years older than her but knew her father. He had trained Sherlock.

And Sherlock had killed him.

Molly would have fallen into poverty had Sherlock not intervened. And the girl knew nothing of any of it. Her father, Anton, had committed a crime and was discovered by Sherlock. Of course the old man should have known never to trust his partner.

A Watcher's first mistake is depending on his partner. And the first rule of being a Watcher is "Watch your Watcher".

"Can I show you something?" He said softly to Molly. She paused, stilling her movements like a statue. Her lips parted a little and he watched as her pupils dilated.

"I... I shouldn't." She whispered. He leaned forward ever so slightly, reaching his hand slowly towards her little wrist, that pure skin. She smelled so clean. His thumb lightly danced across the inside of her wrist, a little gasp escaping her lips. Her flesh breaking out in goosebumps.

"Please." He said as quietly as she.

Molly barely nodded and against her better judgement, after she had cleared the table, followed her employer into his study. He carried his tablet with him, it alerted him of the day's duties.

Incoming Transmission it spoke to him. He thumbed the tablet and filed it away, telling it to alert him at a later time in the morning. There was plenty of time after all. He had rearranged his entire morning routine the moment Molly came to work for him and his wife. He knew when he returned at night she would be finishing her rounds on the upper floors and his chances of being alone with her diminished.

They entered his office, he slid the sliding wooden door closed behind them. He could sense her apprehension. The last time they stood in this room together many things had nearly happened. Afterwards he couldn't count on happening upon her in the house anymore and so he took to creating reasons to be alone with her. He sensed she was on to him and yet she was here.

He remained at the door, she taking in her surroundings, though she had been in this room hundreds of times before.

"What is it today, Sir?" She asked him politely, almost quietly. As if the walls had ears... in many homes, they did.

Not his, he made sure of that.

Sherlock slowly began his approach, he took quick notice of the way her feet almost moved. But she stayed still. Frozen, he was sure she was terrified of being alone with him. But that sweet blush she couldn't control, the way her breathing intensified with each step he took. What wonders she did to him... he wondered what he did to her.

"Take your hair down." He ordered. Though her hair was short it was still long enough for a small braid. She shyly reached up and took out her braid. "Turn around." She did.

He came closer, reaching a nervous hand and running his fingers through her hair. He felt her gasp and he closed his eyes briefly.

Control... he thought lustfully.

"Sir..." she said to him but he didn't listen. Not to her, not to his own mind, he only listened to the darkest and most primal parts of himself, the parts he had been told to deny his whole life; the beast that told him to ravage the girl.

"S... Sir!" She said more sternly. He then realized his hands were no longer in her hair but were on her. He had pulled her back against his body. Her little form squirming helplessly against him.

"I want to take you, Molly." He whispered into her ear. She whimpered but he felt her shiver at his words. It felt blissfully good to say them.

"Please, Sir." She begged and it only stoked his fire. He let his hands travel up from her waist to her front, grasping her small breasts in his hands breathing heavily against the nape of her neck. She cried out and he moved a hand over her mouth.

"Don't pretend, be silent." He ordered her and she nodded. After a moment, still not removing his hand from her lips, he used his free hand to unbutton that collar that hid her sweet pale neck from him.

He groaned as he pressed his mouth to her pulse and he felt her stiffen against him. So sweet, innocent... his.

He finally removed his hand wanting to hear her whimpers and moans instead of silencing them. And oh, how she moaned. He was aware she had never been touched before. He was more aware that she had little idea of what was happening to her body. He forced her to walk a couple steps forward until her knees hit his desk and he bent his body more heavily over hers.

"Sir... it's not right- it's against the law." She pleaded to him but he shook his head and mouthed her neck once more. This time he bit just the smallest into her flesh and she cried out, her knees locking together.

"Remember on the steps a month ago?" He whispered into her ear and she shamefully nodded.

He had cornered her in the afternoon on a weekend when he was home, asking her about the new patches he had commissioned her to sew onto his jackets. He found her taking the stairs instead of the elevator. He had stroked her bottom lip with his thumb before pressing it into her mouth. She had been pressed against the wall, a look of fear and want in her eyes as her tongue ran along his thumb. He had slunk away from her after that, fucking his own hand in a closet.

"Do it again." He begged, pressing his thumb to her lips. She shyly parted her lips and he pressed his thumb inside the warmth of her mouth. He moaned into her ear, his hot breath tickling her nerves and driving her mad with feelings she didn't understand. Feelings only he had ever stirred. And yet she still feared him. Her fear was smart for he was a Watcher and they terrified all who looked upon them.

Sherlock removed his thumb from her mouth and reached a hand down to the hem of her dress. She tried stopping him but he was stronger.

"Sir, you could be arrested- I could lose my job." She whimpered as his hand trailed hot flames across her thigh. "I hurt- I hurt all over." But she hadn't asked him to stop.

Perhaps I should... perhaps...

Sherlock spun her around, pressing Molly's backside into the desk. Her hands flattening against his sturdy, powerful chest. She gasped when she saw the look on his face. He never looked more threatening before. So fiercely unhinged. So... insanely handsome. He cupped her face in his hands and she prepared for an attack. He only pressed his lips to hers gently.

A kiss? She thought, confused and unsure. Is this what a kiss is?

Sherlock pulled away only a few inches before kissing her gently a second time, then a third...

Molly's lips slowly responded by fifth kiss and he pulled back only a little.

"Open your mouth." He ordered. She was slightly disappointed. She didn't mind his lips but now he wanted her to lick and suck at his finger again?

Molly parted her lips a little, only to be surprised when his mouth came down upon hers once more. She moaned hotly against his wet tongue as it explored her virgin mouth. Sherlock groaned deeply; everything about her was virginal. His cock was so hard as he pressed it against her hip.

The girl tentatively touched her tongue to his, still attempting to push him away and keep him close. Not struggling as hard as before. When he tore his mouth away she was once more disappointed. But then he began kissing her neck and all her nerves began dancing once more.

"Do you think about me?" He asked, his voice deep and husky and almost desperate. "Do you lie awake thinking about the day on the steps?"

Molly nodded a little.

"How did it make you feel?" He asked, pulling away from her neck, now a little red from his kisses.

"I... I don't know." Molly replied. Sherlock reached between her legs once more, or tried to, for when he did she pressed her knees together. But Sherlock was persistent.

"Open for me, Molly." He whispered hotly, knowing she could not refuse an order from her employer... her master. But the girl shook her head and he pressed harder against her, intimidating her with his body and voice. "I said, open for me Molly," He said again. She turned her face away from him and put a hand over her mouth.

Doesn't he realize I'm trying to protect him? Molly thought. She pictured him tied to a post, his hands bound behind his back, his eyes covered with a black cloth...

"They'll shoot you." She said gloomily through her hand, still not looking at him as she tried to hide or subdue her sobs.

"Molly," he said tilting her chin towards him. Her eyes still filled with tears.

"Open. Your. Legs." He said more forcefully. He wasn't ignoring what she said, this was his answer to it. He knew that she realized right now that he didn't care what the law said. He wanted to have her. He fucking needed to have her. And she only resisted because of her own conditioning.

The great lies they tell us, how easily we believe them, he thought sadly.

Sherlock felt the shift in her leg muscles as she slowly began opening them. He almost let out a sigh of relief. Stepping between them he wasted no time in cupping her innocent mound. She gasped clapped a hand harder over her mouth. He moaned at what he felt... wet.

"Were you wet after the stairs?" He asked her and she quickly nodded her head. He smiled then, for some strange reason he actually smiled. Janine had always needed more help in the bedroom; he was never truly capable of getting her completely aroused, she always stopped him before it got too far. The one time he did bring her to orgasm she was left in a terrible fright and asked him not to touch her the following night.

But Molly was dripping for him, mewling and moaning.

How can I want to fuck her and make love to her all at once? He thought madly.

"Si-sir, please... it hurts everywhere." She whimpered and before he could answer she gripped his wrist in her hand and locked eyes with his. His movements stilled as he looked at her. Pale and red and sweaty and beautiful. His thumb resumed its movements only more slowly now; rubbing her clit gently and teasingly.

"How do you feel?" He whispered, his lips inches from her own. She wanted him to kiss her again.

"I feel... empty." She replied and he kissed her savagely. She learned to kiss him back quickly.

If her quim feels empty, I'll give her something to fill it, he thought darkly and lustfully.

His beast inside was panting and drooling. Her hand still wrapped around his wrist as if guiding him in some way. He yanked her underwear aside roughly as he slid a finger inside her dripping entrance. Her body tensed at the unfamiliar invasion. But he worked her slowly, then more quickly, making sure her body adjusted to the new sensation.

And then he added a second finger. He was sure she was making a mess of his desk, but he didn't care. She was so tight, so warm, so welcoming. He felt her hands shaking as she tried to unbutton his shirt. He couldn't help her but watched as she tried to focus on her task while being fingered intently by this strange man who employed her.

The man who killed your father, he thought.

Eventually she got enough buttons open to slide her small hands into the opening of his shirt. She ran her hand down his muscular torso, feeling the bumps and plains of his abs. Sherlock kissed her deeply, running his tongue over hers, relishing in how seedy and disgusting the whole situation was.

Yes, they were breaking the law. They were breaking the law by even barely touching.

He broke the law every time he masturbated thinking of her. But now they were too far gone and Sherlock didn't want to stop.

Sherlock quickened the thrusting of his fingers into her cunt and she gasped and moaned hard against his neck as he cradled her little body against him.

"Please, it's- I can't- too much." She whimpered almost incoherently. Sherlock tilted her head back and looked into her eyes.

"Yes, yes you can." He told her sweetly and flicked his thumb across her clit, her backside rising a little off the desk she was so enraptured.

As Sherlock watched her find her ecstasy he felt his own rising as well. He reached out and took her hand, placing it on the significant bulge in his trousers. Molly almost went white as a sheet, then he flicked her clit again and she moved her hand along his trouser front.

"Take it out, please, Molly." He begged her and through her haze and lust filled fog she did but she dared not to look at it, still too afraid. Sherlock moaned hot and heavy into her neck as she stroked him with shy touches.

Sherlock tried to get Molly to cum first but he failed and he grunted hard, hips thrusting into air and hand as he came. He took a moment or two to catch his breath before thrusting his fingers harder into Molly. She whimpered and fell back against his desk, her chest rising and falling quickly.

And she did cum, she came all over his hand, his desk. She came with his mouth over hers, tongues slick and warm and lazily sliding against one another in their post orgasm euphoria. He swallowed her pleasure in his mouth and savored the taste.

When it was over he took her to an elevator and directed them to the guest rooms floor. There they cleaned up and he watched her from behind as she scrubbed her hands. There, the shame had returned. She felt it but Sherlock could not find it in himself to feel ashamed for taking pleasure from this woman.

Molly had only fought it because she had been raised to fight seeking the pleasure of a man and a married man (a married Watcher no less) was the worst offense she could make. She was conditioned her whole life to be chaste and remain virginal until the day she died.

For Molly was an Infertile. She could never have children and so what was the point of laying with a man if not to have children? Sexually, society saw her as useless. But society also saw her as a nurse or a maid or a school teacher. Still working within the capacity of children but never able to have one of her own. And because she had been habituated with all of this in her mind she had no idea what sexual pleasure was.

Well, then her father died and Sherlock came along and saved her from being destitute.

And for five years she had watched him, unaware of the meaning the feelings she felt when she saw him even meant. She rationalized it being that seeing him made her sick.

When Mr. Holmes would stand close by, her heart would not stop hammering away. When he touched her accidentally or on purpose (which was the more likely case) she felt dizzy and later on when she would go to the bathroom her underwear would be soaked as if she had wet herself but she knew she hadn't.

And yet Mr. Holmes was so unforgivingly cold to her and warm all at once. It was an enigma. A code she would not ever be able to crack no matter how many times and different ways she tried.

Sometimes when Molly could not sleep she would go about the house while everyone was asleep, or so she thought. She always ended up on the second floor where the master bedroom was. Where her Masters slept. And sometimes she would hear faint noises coming from inside the room. Silently, she would listen. Unaware of what was happening inside the marital bed. But why would she know or have an inkling to what was happening?

Molly would hear her Lady making faint sounds, her Master making even deeper noises that made him sound like some strange animal. Panting heavily, but almost trying to stifle such noises. And it was only after he had made his first advance on her (that was the only word she could think to describe it) did she realize that the very sounds she heard coming from her Master's bedroom were the same as when he would press himself to her.

It was all extremely confusing to her. Why touch her in such ways when he had a wife? Molly knew they were having trouble conceiving. The entire household knew. From the butler Mrs. Hudson the housekeeper to the lowest gardener. Even the mailman knew.

Molly wasn't stupid enough to believe he would want her to have his children. He knew she couldn't. It was what made her the perfect candidate for the job. Or at least that's what she thought.

As Molly gently splashed some cold water on her fiery cheeks the reality of what they had done became more and more clear.

He could be arrested, I could be thrown into a factory! She thought frantically.

And as if he sensed her fear he gently touched her shoulder. She jumped a little then quickly apologize with frantic, "I'm sorry, Sir, oh god I'm so sorry!"

Sherlock silenced his girl by cupping her cheeks and kissing her forehead. He felt her hands grip his elbows tightly.

"You," he began but paused searching her glistening eyes, he felt his own moisten at the sight of her sweet young face. So fresh and warm and inviting. Trusting... trusting in him. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself. He released her and stepped back, noting how her hands reached out for him. "You should... get back to work. I've kept you too long." He said coldly, turning away from her unable to look at her another moment and never wanting to lose sight of her again.

"Sir?" She said worriedly.

"Damn it what are you waiting for!" He shouted suddenly, making her jump.

He felt her reaching out for him but he left the bathroom quickly and without another word. He found his tablet in his study and rushed to his car. He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat and did all he could to calm his beating his heart from hammering out of his ribcage.

Control, he thought again.