A/N: For the January 7th prompt - "Once, when no one was looking..." Rated M. There will be another, possibly even a miniseries.
If there was one thing Sherlock Holmes hated, it was the fact that not everyone kept his hours. Which is to say that not everyone was available any day at any hour should a case come up, and that utterly galled him.
It's barely past midnight and what does Watson say? "I would much rather stay warm and dry with my wife than be out in the cold and damp with you, Holmes." Married life has changed him. I certainly hope that if I were to marry, it wouldn't change me one iota. Not that I will ever marry, of course.
Upon reaching St. Bartholomew's, Holmes paid the hansom driver then went down to the morgue. The body of Lord Barrett was laid out, already prepped for the autopsy, but there was no one around.
Curious. "Hooper?" There was no sign of the pathologist. Sherlock went to her office at the back of the morgue. He could see light coming from underneath the door and was about to knock when he heard her voice.
"Oh, God…" She let out a groan. "Come on…" The sound of a hand slapping the wall. "Come on!" Another groan, this one louder and deeper, but still hers.
Sherlock could feel his member beginning to stir in his trousers. She sounds like she's with someone, dangerous for a woman trying to hide her gender from the world. I must put a stop to this, for her own sake. He could just hear Watson's voice say, And the fact that you want to get rid of the blighter and take his place has nothing to do with it? Sherlock ignored the voice and tried the knob. The door was unlocked so he barged in.
His vision was immediately filled with the sight of Dr. Molly Hooper, known to the rest of the world as Dr. Mortimer Hooper, wearing her trousers and shoes and nothing else. Her jacket, waistcoat, and shirt were draped over her chair and the strips of fabric she used to bind her breasts were in a pile on the desk, leaving her breasts completely bare to him.
Perfect, just as I knew they would be. The fact that she's still wearing her moustache and wig spoils the effect a bit, but that is easily remedied.
He heard her gasp and just as she was going to shout his name, he clamped a hand over her mouth. "My dear Dr. Hooper, if you call attention to us now, we'll both be ruined," he murmured in her ear. "Allow me to do what you failed to before." He waited for her nod then he let go of her mouth and went back to the door, locking it.
Molly scrambled to put her shirt back on, her cheeks flaming, but she only got as far as slipping her arms into it before Sherlock came back to her, his gaze intent.
"These must go," he murmured as he carefully removed her wig and mustache.
She stared at him wide-eyed, unable to hide her anxiety. "What … what are you going to do?" The two halves of the shirt gaped open, showing more and more of her skin.
Sherlock slipped it off her, leaving her top half bare to his gaze once more. Molly tried to cover her breasts with her hands but Sherlock gently grabbed her wrists and held her hands away from her chest.
She shut her eyes, her cheeks flaming again as he gazed at her, then after a moment, she looked up at him warily. "You didn't answer my question."
"I assume you are in this state because your bindings became uncomfortable. I can help you redo them, but first I want to look at you, Molly Hooper, in all of your feminine glory."
She stared at him. "You only want to look?"
"Yes." Just as she started to relax a bit, he added, "For now. Lestrade will be here soon or I'd take you right here on the desk. As it is, such activity must wait until we can be assured of privacy."
Molly's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I would do anything with you?" she demanded.
Sherlock leaned to murmur in her ear, "Because you are as attracted to me as I am to you."
Molly shivered but still would not yield. "I am not a loose woman, Holmes. If you insist on bedding me tonight, then I insist on marrying you in the morning."
He stared at her. I hadn't considered that but now that she's said it, the idea has merit. Having Molly as my wife, coming home to her every day, having her in my bed every night… He could feel his heart and his member swell. "Very well," he murmured. Sherlock lowered his eyes to her breasts. "Your breasts are perfect, my dear."
"They're too small," she muttered. "Even without the disguise, I practically look like a man."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Molly, whoever told you that is wrong. Dead wrong. Your figure is very womanly." He let go of her hands. "If I may…"
She hesitated for a moment then nodded. He removed his gloves then cupped her small breasts in his large hands. Molly closed her eyes, sighing softly, then moaning as his thumbs stroked her hardened nipples.
"Your breasts are soft, pert, and just the right size for my hands," he murmured. "You are a beautiful woman, Molly, and any man who doesn't think so is an utter fool." She looked overwhelmed, perhaps on the verge of tears, so he added, "Let's make you presentable before Lestrade gets here."
Molly nodded and he helped her bind her breasts again. Once she was Dr. Mortimer Hooper once more, Sherlock followed "him" out of the office just as Lestrade arrived.
"Ah, Lestrade, there you are," Sherlock said, smiling a bit. "Let's wrap this up quickly, I have an urgent appointment after this."
Lestrade missed Molly's knowing smirk.