This is oh, so very dark. While I was writing "Spectrum" and trying to work out the direction of the story, I kept seeing it branch off in sometimes radically different directions. I originally wanted to publish this piece as the darker version of (the first chapter of) "Spectrum", in the same fic, (hence the title 'Spectrum') since the premise is very similar. Even the language echoes, because I wrote them more or less simultaneously.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading (ehh...'enjoy' isn't really the right word), and if you react to it, check out "Spectrum" for comparison: [fanfiction .net/s/7892836/1/Spectrum, or just go to my page]. Although, be warned that this one may throw the other in a slightly more disturbing light...
Warning for non-con situations and drug use. Yes, it's that kind of dark. Evil!Sherlock intrigues me, so I've used the drugs here to explore what could happen if he was in a desperate situation (like post-Reichenbach) and momentarily lost his moral compass.
Like "Spectrum", I wrote this with only pronouns...maybe I was subconsciously trying to distance myself...It's Sherlock and Molly, in case you can't tell. (I really hope you can tell...)
Not my characters. And for the record, they really don't deserve this. I'm such a jerk. :/
His eyes were bloodshot. Pupils fully-dilated. Breathing shallow. There was a noticeable nervous tremor in his hands.
"Did...did you...take something?" she whispered, extremely anxious, because she'd never seen him like this before.
"But - where did you even find -?"
"I said," he growled, "Not important." She was taken aback by the aggression in his voice.
"Are you alright? If you like, I could -"
She shut her mouth quickly, eyes wide and frightened.
He stared at her with an unusual intensity, even for him, and there was an uncomfortably long silence which she didn't dare interrupt.
Then, he took a step forward. And another. Measured, deliberate steps. A shaking hand reached up towards her, and she felt his fingers brush her cheek. The contact made her skin burn. She stiffened.
"Wh...what are you doing?"
Her defensive body language and the apprehension in her voice seemed to catch him off guard. He frowned, glassy eyes searching her face as if looking for the punchline to a joke - one that he didn't find at all amusing.
"You know what I'm doing."
You know what I'm doing.
Oh, and she did.
She felt most of the blood drain from her face. Her heart started beating faster, though whether from fear or excitement she couldn't have said.
"Um..." For a moment, she was entirely at a loss. How was this happening? Why was he acting like this?
She took a good look at the tall, mysterious, and incredibly attractive man in front of her who apparently had acquired an urgent desire to fulfill one of her most desperate fantasies...and it felt wrong. She suddenly wanted to be far away.
"I don't think I feel comfortable..." she began, but at the expression on his face, the words died in her throat.
He kept advancing towards her, forcing her to walk backwards, until her back collided with the wall and she had nowhere to go. He loomed over her, uncomfortably close.
"I don't understand," he said, through gritted teeth. She could feel his breath. "This is something you've been hoping for. Isn't it?" he seethed. "You've been fantasizing about this for years." A tone of bitter mocking had crept into his voice. He took hold of one of her wrists and wrenched it up, pinning it against the wallpaper, near her shoulder. "Don't think I haven't noticed...every desperate attempt to get my attention!"
"No - of-of course you have," she agreed hastily. "And...you're...you're right," she added, though it pained her to admit it out loud. "But -"
"Then, why - can't - you - like it?" he hissed savagely.
It took her a moment to work up the courage to speak again, and her voice trembled as she said, "I just...I'd rather not...Not like this..."
He stared at her, confused and angry. She realized, in a horrible pang, that he honestly didn't get it.
"P-please," she managed, blinking rapidly. She couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I don't...I'd really rather not -"
He shouted the word roughly, sounding for a moment half-crazed and almost fearful, and shoved her body into the wall.
"I can't let you take this away from me as well," he breathed.
Ah, there's the rub...
For one strange, luminous moment, she pitied him; the fact that everything in his world had been stolen from him so quickly; that this was all he had left -
this power over her.
Then he knotted his fingers into her hair. And it hurt. The pain tearing at her scalp snapped everything back into focus. She looked up to meet his dark, hungry eyes, and she was terrified.
Because staring back at her wasn't the man she knew. Instead, she saw a feral, drug-addled - the word sprang unbidden into her mind, and it was so cruelly ironic -
It was as if he could read her mind. An unnerving, toothy smile lit his face that made her blood freeze. She'd never seen an expression that was at once so vicious and so cold.
She couldn't help it - she panicked. She tried to twist away, but that only made it hurt more. With her free hand she tried to pry his fingers out of her hair, but his vice-like grip tightened ferociously. His fingernails were digging into her head. He was so strong.
She started to cry.
Eventually she remembered to try and kick, but he was already too close, and to stifle her protestations he pushed himself towards her aggressively, crushing her into the wall. Every part of her body was now pressed flush against him. Her ragged breaths were muffled slightly by his chest, which nearly smothered her breathing altogether. She squirmed feebly, sobbing into his shirt.
Her struggles only excited him further, feeling the thrill of power over her and the friction between their bodies. He was panting heavily with the combination of exertion, drug-induced mania, and arousal.
She heard him hiss into her ear in a disturbingly placating tone. Then, the hand still entangled in her hair pulled her head back with a painful jerk, and he ran his tongue slowly over her jaw and down the length of her neck, making her shudder violently as her confused body experienced conflicting sensations: fear, repulsion, and a startling, treasonous rush of desire.
She felt him smile into her collarbone at the response he had caused. She whimpered softly, and a groan of pleasure grew in his throat. He moved his hips against hers sensually, almost teasingly - goading her body to betray her further.
"Please," she was able to choke out. "P-please don't. Oh, please - no - Stop, Sh -Ooh!"
Her tearstained pleading cut off in a shuddering gasp as he impatiently thrust his hand between her legs. Her thoughts all blurred out of focus and she felt her knees buckle as her body surrendered to him limply. The tears continued to stream silently down her face, making her vision hazy.
She could still make out his leering grin as he leaned down and placed a shockingly tender kiss on her lips.
When he spoke, his voice was so low and subdued she could barely hear it.
she was drowning.
Please R&R. I need feedback on this one, good or bad.
Kudos if you spotted the Hamlet reference.
If this is the first fic of mine that you've read, please know that I like to do light/heartwarming stuff as well! Check out my page to get the whole spectrum (uh...no pun intended. But seriously, do read "Spectrum.")