Okay guys, this is going to be a little different. But my head is in a weird place right now. LOL

Chapter 22

Molly had sat with Sherlock who never left Laura's hospital bed to even use the restroom. It had been over thirty six hours. She wasn't sure how he did that. He didn't sleep. Didn't eat. Didn't even take his eyes off the sleeping child. Like any way to help her could be deduced from watching her every breath.

Molly's hand was almost welded to her husbands. He'd held it so tight she felt it loose circulation. But she didn't care. She was scared, and just being near him, doing what he did made her feel some comfort.

But it also gave her strength. She was the wife...chosen wife... of the worlds only consulting detective. She had learned much from him over the years. Perhaps it was time to show him what she had learned.

One day, she disentangled her fingers from Sherlock's and texted Mycroft to meet her in the cafeteria. She hoped she didn't seem disloyal for leaving the room.

Mycroft met her at a small booth. She picked at the food on her plate, still not hungry. Mycroft sat across from her, the hollow look in his eyes told her he was just as scared as the rest of them.

"I asked you here to ask you a favor. No. " Molly shook her head. " Im not asking. I am demanding. "

Mycroft was a little taken aback by Molly's tone.

"What can I assist you with, Molly? "

"Get me in to see ...her. "

"Her? "

"You know bloody well who I am talking about. Don't be an idiot, Mycroft! " Molly spat out.

" Are you sure that is wise, given your current state? " Mycroft looked down at her.

"I don't care if it is or it isn't. Get me in. Now. "

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

"What an unexpected pleasure, Mrs Holmes. " Irene said, sitting across a long table from Molly. She's sneered out the word Mrs.

Irene sat back with a look of superiority, crossing her legs and placing her hands demurly on her knees.

"What can I do for you? "

"You can start by telling me everything you haven't been telling Mycroft and his people. " Molly started, but her hands were tell tale as they shook.

This did not go unnoticed.

"Awe. Look at the ever so sweet Molly. I can see why Sherlock wanted you to play mummy to that little girl. Tell me, does playing the house maiden turn Sherlock on? "

"That is none of your business. "

"Oh, but it is. I learned a lot from Jim. I do regret not...having dinner... with Sherlock. I admit I think about it more often than I should. Do I look like a woman who doesn't know how to get what she wants? "

"You didn't get him. "

"Not physically. "

"Not in ANY way. "

"If it helps you sleep at night to believe that, by all means. " Irene shrugged.

"I believe it because my HUSBAND told me all of it. And I believe him. I believe IN him. "

Irene smirked.

"Make me a believer, then. "

"What? " Molly asked, unsure of where to go to next. She had had this planned out, but everything was twisting.

"Surely you know how Jim got all that information about Sherlock, for Miss Rielly. "

"Yes. You want information? To bring Sherlock down? I won't help with that, sorry. "

"No. Contrary to popular belief, I do care about that frustrating man. That is the reason I was TRYING to help. Only to get locked up here. What I am suggesting is a little game. Like Jim played with Mycroft. A little quip pro quo. "

"Meaning... ? "

" I ask questions. You answer. Don't try to lie, because I will know it. If all your answers satisfy me, I will try to answer some questions from you. "

"That's crazy. "

"Perhaps. But I have this curiosity that won't let go. I need to know. "

"Why? "

Irene merely smiled at her.

"Shall we begin? "

Molly sat back and weighed her options. Sherlock may be angry with her, but if it helps Laura, it would be worth it.

"Ok. "

"Fine. As you obviously know, I knew Sherlock wasn't...inexperienced... when I chided him. Flirted and pretended he didn't know. I wanted an admission. I even got a look from him just before Mycroft's men entered the flat that made me think... "

"I suppose there is a question in here somewhere? "

"Direct. I can do that. First question is obvious. How is he? "

"He's upset because his daughter is comatose! "

Irene was a little shaken at the information, but shook it off quickly.

"I didn't mean at this moment. I mean how IS he...intimately. Im trying to be delicate here, Molly"

"This isn't... "

"I will be less delicate. Is he a good fuck? "

Molly turned beat red. Suddenly a strength she didn't know came over her and she looked Irene straight in the eye, a vicious smirk on her face. Well, she asked for it.

"I wouldn't know. He's only ever made love to me. There is a difference you know. But no, you wouldn't would you? Someone actually has to care about you to put forth the effort to do that. To put someone else's needs above your wants. You want to know what he's like. Bloody fantastic. He's Sherlock Holmes. He deduces EVERYTHING. He can tell exactly how and where to touch. His hands are graceful and strong. His fingers are so long, and feel divine when they crook just right deep inside me. "

Irene gulped for a moment, and it pushed Molly forward.

"Oh, and his MOUTH... breath so hot! Don't get me started on his amazing tongue. Brings me off in just a few strokes. Again...and again...and again. THEN... when he comes into me, it is the most glorious feeling. Fills me completely. The depth and the thickness hits every inch of me. Slow strokes until he feels me start to release then pumps harder to bring me over. I can almost feel the flesh of that gorgeous back side of his under my nails as I feel the muscles contract with each thrust. "

Irene squirmed in her seat, but her face remained placid.

"Oh... but how about how he TASTES? All man... musky and sweet with only a hint of saltiness. Diet, I suppose. He moans, you know. I hadnt expected that. I thought perhaps some heavy breathing... a few grunts when he comes. But no... he moans the whole way through. Moans and tells me how good I make him feel. Its incredibly hot. The feel of every vain running along my tongue... "

"Stop. "

"I thought you wanted to know? Don't stop now. I haven't told you how his fingers play on me when he... "

"Please... I thought... "

"Thought what? The only way to get me to stop is to tell me something helpful. "

"I don't know anything. I just... "

Molly stood up and placed her hands on the table.

"How did you know when to meet the courier? Was it always the same one? "

"Yes. I got coordinates on a text. "

"What did he look like. "

"Young. Perhaps twenty or twenty two. Blonde, blue eyed. "

"Name. Do you have a name."

"No names."

"Who was the big man you delivered the packages to? "

"I don't ... "

" Seems you are a little uncomfortable. Hmmm... maybe I can talk to Sherlock about a performance. To drag information from you. As much as I love how Sherlock treats me in bed, I wouldn't mind a bit of a fuck now and again. Yes. I can have him come in and bend me over this table. Hands in my hair... "

"FINE! " Irene huffed, the image in her mind. But in her mind, it was her and Sherlock. She wanted him more than ever now. But the only way to get anywhere near that, get rid of the bitch in front of her. So she had to supply something. Second, Sherlock wouldn't be too keen for anything of the sort while his daughter was in danger.

"Moran. His name was Moran. "