CHAPTER NINE
What Lies Inside
AN: warning for sexual content!
John Watson had never met the Head of the Secret Police and the Monitoring of the Cardinal Law Security Act. He didn't even know there was a real person who held the title; he assumed it was just a name meant to frighten people. Another bureau dedicated to policing ordinary and often times honest civilians.
But no, as it happened, the head of the SPMCLSA, or "Spemclasa" as some people referred to it, was a real living person. And he happened to be the elder brother of Sherlock-fucking-Holmes.
Left that bit out when we met, John thought as he waited for Mr. Holmes in his underground office. John was unpleasantly uncomfortable at the idea of being trapped underground with a man he didn't know in a place he didn't even know existed until two men in black suits and a pretty woman showed up at his flat and asked him- ordered him- to go for a ride with them.
John was frisked and his gun and knife were taken from him and he was asked to remove his shoes before entering the office.
Do they think my shoes are a bomb? He thought.
Mr. Holmes the elder was on time unlike his little brother. He was not what John was expecting. He was expecting someone who looked more like Sherlock. Where there was some familial resemblance the two men could have been completely unrelated.
"Captain Watson," Mycroft Holmes said politely extending a hand to him. The two men shook hands and observed the other. Mycroft offered John a seat.
"You're probably wondering why you're here." Mycroft began, sitting behind his large desk, the woman who had escorted John to the dungeon waited in front of the door.
John could tell she wasn't an SH. No, she was far too real to be one of them.
"You can't imagine what I'm thinking," John said sarcastically. Mycroft smirked, almost in distaste.
"My brother failed to check in this morning." Mycroft said, cutting to the chase immediately. John found that that was one thing he could like about this man.
"And?" John replied with a shrug. "Maybe he's on a case."
"My brother has no cases at the moment, Captain Watson." Mycroft informed him. John was still confused, he didn't understand why he was here.
"Look, maybe he slept in."
Mycroft seemed to be capable of sneering and laughter at the same time. A trait that made John even more unsettled.
"Captain Watson, I'll be frank with you, my younger brother has many admirable qualities... but," Mycroft paused, seeming to be thinking on what to say next.
"But?" John helped him along.
"But, he too like any man, has demons."
"What's that got to do with me? I've barely spent any time with him."
"And yet he's already invited you to dine with him." Mycroft interjected.
"Maybe he's just being polite."
"My brother isn't polite, as I'm sure you've been made aware."
John was beginning to take back what he thought of Mycroft Holmes; he didn't cut to the chase, he didn't get right to the point, the man was playing with him. Making him jump through metaphorical hoops.
"Look either spit it out or let me go." John said, his temper rising.
"My brother is missing, Captain Watson and I want you to go and find him."
That's more like it, John thought.
"Why not send some of your Watchers or spooks after him?" John suggested, flippantly of course. Company manners be damned!
"Where I want you to go-where I know Sherlock will be-I can't send Watchers."
"And where exactly would that be?" John asked.
"The NLD."
John felt the world shift. No wonder Mycroft was so... was worried the right word? It all made sense now.
The Neon Lights District was more than a rough place. It was the outskirts of the city. It was beyond all the sectors, beyond all the station houses. Beyond everything that was considered to law and order. The badlands of depravity.
Crude, loud, sweaty, debauched...
It's where people went to die or live in poverty for the rest of their lives. Where businessmen got their rocks off, where prostitutes and pimps seemed to bleed and pus out of the woodwork. A place where there was now law. No dignity.
A place of where no ordinary citizen dared go unless you were a real junkie, thrill seeker or just plain fucking stupid.
Or assassinating someone, John thought coldly, clenching his fist that rested on his leg, out of sight of Mycroft Holmes.
For a few moments, reliving the times he had gone undercover in the NLD, he pictured Sherlock Holmes there. The great and arrogant man wasting his brain, wasting his life.
It made John sick to his stomach.
It's also where John lost something... someone.
You still can't say my name, can you? He heard her voice like she was standing right next to him.
"When do you want me to go?" John asked, his anger was set aside. His ability to see beyond the arrogance of Mycroft Holmes dissipated and was placed on the back burner.
"When can you be ready?" Mycroft asked, he was testing the waters. Trying to finally come to a conclusion of what kind of man John Watson was.
"Give me my gun and I'll go right now."
The two men, with the help of the woman who John lated learned name was Anthea, helped him organize a drop-off and pick-up point. If the pick-up failed there would be a car waiting at another pick-up zone, but John would have to drive the getaway car.
Mycroft equipped John with a new body armor made from the same materials as the SH's.
John's weapons were minimal. Two sidearms and a boot knife. He couldn't really walk into the NLD with an assault rifle, even though plenty of mad people would be carrying them.
Mycroft instructed John on the best places to look first, Sherlock's usual haunts.
"Only two men have ever successfully extracted my brother from such a place, Captain Watson," Mycroft informed him as John prepared to leave. "I'll tell you what I told them, don't be a hero. Just get him back."
John snickered.
"And who were these great men? I'd like to meet them." John said, imaging some brooding toughs guy with broken noses and dark eyes.
"You already met one of them." Mycroft said, giving him a knowing look.
John realized what Mycroft meant and felt a strange pang of admiration.
Not just a desk-jockey after all, John thought as he was lead by Anthea out of the underground chamber.
When John felt sunlight on his face again he breathed a sigh of relief.
In the car Anthea went over his mission statement one more time.
"I got this, I was a soldier ya know?" John said as she spoke and she put the tablet away, smiling.
"And a spy. Any good?" She asked, he nodded.
Is she flirting? John thought curiously. He wanted to show her just how good he was.
"You've read my file." John pointed out.
"Yes." Was all she said. He smiled again and cleared his throat.
Okay, let's see where this goes, he thought. A little flirting never hurt anyone.
"I know it's nothing serious between you and your boss. I know you're more dangerous than most people. I know you're flexible," John said, testing the waters and seeing how far she would go.
Anthea smirked, a face that seemed to say "go on".
"Gymnast?" John asked.
"Ballet." She replied.
When had they moved closer to each other? The car went over a bump and they seemed to use it as an excuse to move closer. Her hand falling on his forearm.
"You know a man usually thinks about two things before going into battle," John said, his voice lowering. Anthea raised an eyebrow, those full lips begging to be kissed.
"What's that?" She whispered, moving ever closer to him.
This stopped being just flirting a few inches ago, John thought.
"His family," his lips were millimeters from hers.
"Uh-huh."
Fuck it, was the last thing John Watson thought before she grabbed him by the collar and pressed her captivating lips against his. Apparently she definitely agreed they were done with the flirting stage. Not that it lasted that long anyway...
The next thing John knew he was pressed back against the seat of the car and the woman named Anthea was straddling him, her fine black pencil skirt stretching as he attempted to push it up her thighs.
John Watson, are you really going to take a woman in the backseat of a car?
John opened his eyes and glanced behind her head at the driver, again Anthea seemed to have the same thought and with a free hand she pressed a small black button on the door console and the window went up. Their lips parted so they both could breathe again.
Yes I am fucking am, he thought as he felt himself harden even more.
Panting against her lips, John spoke,
"Oh, I like you." He said profoundly, like he was confessing to a Cardinal.
"What's the second thing?" Anthea whispered, leaning in close to his ear, kissing his lips now and again and eventually moving to his neck.
John gripped her hips tightly in his hands before finally giving that damn skirt a firm yank, causing Anthea herself to jump a little.
With a firm hold on this goddess he leaned in closer, putting one hand on the side of her neck. Those brown marble eyes glazed over with longing.
"To fuck a beautiful woman." He said. Anthea smirked and resumed their passionate kiss.
John rolled them so he was on top of her, her curvy thighs spreading easily for him and wrapping around his waist.
Firmly, John began moving against her. Even through the material of his trousers he could feel her lace panties, soaked with her own desire, grazing his aching cock; the sensation causing millions of pleasurable tingles up and down his spine.
"Fuck." He moaned as her hips met his.
John squeezed and massaged her breast, careful not to rip the material of her blouse, knowing she had to return to work after their little tryst but wanting so desperately to tear her clothes to bits.
John wasn't like Sherlock, he hadn't been repressed. He had been trained to use his sexuality if he needed to. As a spy he had to be many different people.
But right now he was just a man; a man possibly going to his death, a man who wanted to feel the warmth and comfort of a woman.
Anthea reached down and gripped his hard cock through his pants and he moaned hotly against her mouth.
"Come on, Captain," she said darkly. "Impress a girl."
"Yeah? You want me to?" He said, nipping down her jaw and neck. She nodded her head.
"You want this?" He whispered pressing his fingertips to her opening. She shuddered and gasped as he pushed her panties aside and teased her.
"No... no time. Please." She begged. John smirked down at her as he rubbed her clit in little tight circles.
"You started this, woman, now it's my turn." He watched as she was both tense for time and thrilled at the prospect of what he would do to her.
Their mouths met once more, her hand gripping the back of his neck as the speed of his fingers became quicker. Her head fell back, she gripped him tighter, like if she let go she would fall away into nothing.
John let the steaming abyss swallow him as he slipped a finger inside her, still massaging and toying with her clit. He knew they didn't have much time, god how he knew the car could come to a stop any minute. But that didn't stop him.
"You want to cum? You want me to make you cum like this?" He said against her mouth, his tongue flicking out and grazing her own, still teasing her.
"Yes, yes," she replied, breathless.
John thrust a little harder, his wrist was getting tired but it didn't stop him. He loved watching a woman's face when she came. It was exhilarating, it was addicting, it was fucking toxic.
It was the man inside every man, the one that told them to throw a woman over his shoulder and drag her off to his cave. The conqueror ready for their next conquest.
John watched the sweet face she made when she reached her climax, her eyes closing, her mouth parting, the sharp little gasps she made as her cunt twitched and flexed.
He wasted no time in reaching between them and unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers, he jerked himself a couple time before positioning himself closer to her.
John let himself get lost in the torrid heat of Anthea, a moan escaping both of their lips. He braced his hand on the door console, consolidating all his effort into rocking his hips and began thoroughly fucking her.
His hips snapping hard into her own, he leaned in close,
"Is this it? Is this what you wanted?" He sighed, their breath mixing and mingling, their desperation to be closer than they already were overwhelming.
Anthea nodded.
"Yes- oh god, yes." She moaned and he kissed her hard again. Teeth hit, lips were swollen, they were in complete disarray.
John felt himself getting closer. With a woman like Anthea you didn't hold out for long. The way her hips cradled him, the way her lips begged him and the intensity of her gaze brought him closer and closer.
"Fuck, fuck." He moaned.
John gripped the door console so hard he chafed his hand as he came inside her.
When he came back to himself, he felt her stroking the sides of his head. He knew he had to put himself back together quick but all he wanted was to remain in the arms of Anthea. He felt... home for a brief moment. Back when home had been a real future with someone.
With her.
The moment ended and John and Anthea were fixing their clothes.
"Thank you, Captain Watson," Anthea said and she handed him a bottle of water, splashing a little on her cheeks and pulling her messy hair into a ponytail.
"Thank you, Anthea," John said taking a sip of his water.
Back to business as usual, he thought.
Eventually the car did come to a stop and the real work began.
X
"Where's that maid, Mrs. Hudson? The frail looking one." Janine asked the old woman as she was brought her tea.
"Oh, she's taken to bed, my Lady. She's feeling ill." Mrs. Hudson explained, motherly.
"Ill? Does she have sick days?" Janine asked and Mrs. Hudson nodded. "I'd like to see her."
Mrs. Hudson shook her head.
"Oh, no my dear, you need your rest." The old woman chided. Janine rolled her eyes.
"Mrs. Hudson please, I'd like to feel useful. Please, take me to...?"
"Molly."
"Yes. Molly. Please."
The two women made their way to servant's quarters. Mrs. Hudson pointed out Molly's room. Janine knocked. There was a little noise, the sound of rushing footsteps. Mrs. Hudson looked about awkwardly, as if they shouldn't be there.
It's my damn house too, Janine thought bitterly.
The door opened and standing there looking a terrible fright was Molly. Without question, hesitation or invitation the maid stepped aside and allowed only Janine inside.
"Oh dear." Mrs. Hudson said unsure of what to do with herself.
If the Lady finds out...! Mrs. Hudson thought frantically.
Inside Janine looked about the little room. She had never been inside a servant's room before. It was all very ordinary. She glanced at a picture of a little girl with a grown man but didn't pay it much mind.
"Mrs. Hudson says you're feeling unwell." Janine said matter of factly. Molly nodded.
"What's wrong?" Janine asked her, sitting on her bed. Molly's eyes seemed to widen for a moment before relaxing, somewhat, again.
"I- I'm ashamed to say, my Lady." Molly squeaked out, looking down at her feet. Janine hushed her and asked her to sit down. Molly sat beside her Lady.
"You can tell me. We're friends." Janine said kindly. She didn't know why she was taking it upon herself to care about Molly. Why was she? She didn't know and she didn't care. The girl looked terrible, as if some monster was going to burst through the walls of reality and steal her away to an alternate world.
"I'm... I'm agitated." Molly said, she was shaking like a leaf. Her hands trembled in her lap. Janine felt her concern rising for Molly. The girl was more than agitated.
"Please, tell me. What are your symptoms?" Janine asked sympathetically. The woman had had her fair share of medical concerns and had seen doctor Lynn enough times to be certified!
Molly began to cry quietly. Janine wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders.
"Please, don't cry," Janine said, her anxiety spiking, her fear mounting.
Only one of us should cry, Janine thought sadly. Her heart was clenching, why was Molly so sad?
Molly gulped, choking back her sobs.
"I'm... I have a... burning, and itching too." Molly said, she was looking around the room nervously.
She's afraid, Janine realized.
"What else?" Janine asked, taking charge and ready to get to the bottom of what was wrong with this maid.
Molly shook her head.
"No, please, I can't it's so embarrassing." Molly pleaded. Janine hushed her again and pulled the girl closer, embracing her and holding her.
Both women were surprised by the movement but neither tried to pull away. After a moment of Molly weeping the other woman pulled away a little and wiped her cheeks.
"What else, Molly?" Janine asked her firmly.
"It's... sore and there's something coming out." Molly said vaguely.
Janine frowned.
"Where does it hurt, Molly? Please, you need to tell me. I won't laugh, I promise."
Taking a deep breath, Molly pointed downward with one trembling finger. Janine followed her motion and realized what exactly Molly was pointing at.
"Down there?" Janine asked, unembarrassed. Molly looked away and nodded.
"You're coming with me." Janine said decidedly. "Get dressed and meet me downstairs. I'll order a car."
Before Molly could protest Janine was already on her way out and calling her doctor and a car.
At doctor Lynn's office Molly was a ball of tense panic. Janine, however, was feeling confident. She was feeling determined.
"Mrs. Holmes?" The receptionist named Jane called.
Janine and Molly approached the desk.
"We've been waiting for doctor Lynn for almost an hour." Janine said, trying to be polite but her irritation was beginning to show.
"Yes, ma'am, but your maid isn't covered on any kind of health plan. I'm afraid we can't see her." Jane said, her faux sympathy was easier to read than a cheat sheet.
Molly made some excuse and said they should leave, but Mrs. Holmes stood her ground, taking Molly's hand in her own.
Janine smiled.
"Is that so?" Janine questioned, however it wasn't really a question, it was a challenge.
Jane nodded curtly. Mrs. Holmes leaned forward.
"You know who I am?" She said to Jane who glanced behind her a the other patients waiting. "Hey, eyes up here frumpy dumpy," Janine said sharply, snapping her fingers in Jane's face which startled the crispy woman.
"I'm married to the head of the POI. Sherlock Holmes, you do know who he is?" Janine said, her tone soft and yet utterly menacing. Jane nodded once more.
"Then you know that if I ask him he'll find something. Something on your husband, something on you. Something on your children and before you know it, Jane, your whole world will be on fire. I can make that happen with one phone call. Don't make me do that, Jane."
Jane cleared her throat, her eyes glassy.
"Doctor Lynn will see if you five minutes-"
"You've got two or I'm making a call." Janine threatened.
Janine and Molly sat back down.
"Can you do that? Can Mr. Holmes do that?" Molly asked.
Janine smiled cynically.
"Molly dear, I honestly have no idea for sure what my husband does for a living. But I once told a man who my husband was and he went white as a sheet. Paled right before my eyes and proceeded to tell me what a law abiding citizen he was. Every party I go with him, people look at him like he's god's right hand or the devil himself," Janine paused and looked at Molly who seemed entranced by what she was hearing.
"He's a good man and a bad man. But I never know which man sleeps beside me. I love him because I'm married to him. And I hate him because I don't have a child. I fear him because of how people look at him, how they look at me. You're lucky, Molly.
You'll never have the burden of loving someone and not knowing why."
If only Janine knew how wrong she was.
Doctor Lynn called Molly into the examination room, she had to go in alone.
Molly nearly cried when he asked to get on the table so he could examine her privates.
"Miss. Hooper, I need to ask you a delicate question," he said as he finished his exam.
Doctor Lynn was middle aged and had a nice face and graying hair.
"Have you been sexually active lately?"
The question hung in the air and Molly felt it took her years to respond. Molly knew she couldn't lie to a doctor. They knew everything. He would certainly know if she was lying.
"Yes." She said, hanging her head.
"It's alright, you're not in trouble. It's human nature no matter what kind of conditioning you were raised with. On your chart it says you're an Infertile so I'm not worried about a pregnancy." He said, he patted her foot gently and she closed her legs.
Molly nodded at his question.
"You have a yeast infection brought on by sexual activity. When a woman, such as yourself, who has not had sexual intercourse before partakes in such activities suddenly the common and good bacteria in the vagina can become off balanced causing a yeast infection. Your vaginal lining is also extremely chafed and irritated. I would recommend that your young man slow things down a bit." He said with a kind looking smile.
"But-"
"No buts, Miss. Hooper. I'm prescribing you a single pill that should make you feel better. But please try to abstain from intercourse until it clears up."
"I'm... I'm not in trouble?" Molly asked, wondering if this was some kind of trick.
Doctor Lynn looked surprised and then nodded understandably.
"Miss. Hooper, it's not illegal for persons such as yourself to have sex. You're not in trouble, I just want you to be careful. Does your young man ever wear a condom?"
Molly shrugged and he nodded again, realizing once more who he was talking to.
"Alright, here we go." He said and it was then that Molly received a crash course in sex and protection. Molly was utterly overwhelmed by all of it. And on the the drive home she became angry at Mr. Holmes more than she was sad.
After what Doctor Lynn told her she realized Mr. Holmes had never worn any kind of protection, had never asked, had never told her. Surely a grown man like himself knew of such things.
Doctor Lynn had explained to her that using protection was very important even if she couldn't get pregnant. He gave her another crash course on STD's. It had frightened Molly but he reassured her that as long as she went about having sex in a safe way she would be alright.
"It's very important you make him wear one, Molly," Doctor Lynn explained and sent her home with a small packet of condoms. "Trust me, if he doesn't know what it is or how to put it on or refuses to, do not have sex with him." He joked but he had also been very serious.
"I can understand why you like, Dr. Lynn." Molly said on the way home. Janine smiled and took Molly's hand in her own.
"Feel better?" Janine asked. To be fair, Molly was still very sore and anxious, but all she had to do was take a pill when she got home and that was relief enough.
"I am." Molly said, squeezing Janine's hand.
"I'm glad we're friends, Molly Hooper." Janine said sweetly.
Molly nodded, agreeing. She had never had a friend before. Not one, no one but her father. She had hoped Mr. Holmes had wanted to be her friend. In a way he had been until his attention towards her altered and now they were... whatever they were now.
We're nothing. I mean nothing, Molly thought gravely.
And deep down, she felt horrid in her deceit of Mrs. Holmes, her Lady, her friend.
Molly knew she would never tell the other woman that her husband was the cause of not only her physical pain but her emotional quandary as well.
I have to tell her, but then she won't be my friend, Molly thought. What do I do?
And as much as she hated Mr. Holmes, as angry as she was at him, no matter how many reasons she thought up to despise him... she couldn't.
Something about last night didn't sit right. Looking back, how could he have gone so quickly from tender to cruel?
His coldness was something she had grown accustomed to but he had never made her feel unsafe.
Was it because of what she asked? It didn't mean anything, did it? It was just a question, just a simple word.
But that one simple word had changed her in such a short period of time. It had mutated her whole world. A new world was forming, growing inside her and she didn't know what to do about it.
This can't be love. Love wouldn't hurt, would it?
AN: I want to take this time to thank all of you for the lovely reviews and comments. Thank you so much! I know you're probably wondering why this chapter has a title when the others didn't, I have my reasons. Chapter titles are hard for me to come up with so when they do I name them. Silly but that's me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks again 3