Molly Hooper was a curious girl. Curious girls became scientists, or doctors, or astronauts. Molly Hooper became a doctor who worked with dead bodies. She was just rather curious, but that didn't mean she was great dealing with people. She liked poking and prodding but she didn't like having to physically ask questions. She always wanted to try on her own.
She was also very, very shy.
Molly Hooper had spent the past eight or so years of her life since Uni basically frozen while she worked day in and day out at her job whilst receiving little recognition and being in love with men who'd never touch her with a ten foot pole. Then she met Jim and her world started up again like a speeding train.
Jim's first edict had been that if he was going to have her in his life she would dress far better and made sure Sebastian went about ensuring that. (She'd been shocked to discover that as much as Jim knew about men's fashions, he didn't know anything about women's. She was double shocked to discover Jim Moriarty's favorite sniper knew more about women's fashion than most women knew.)
She wasn't sure if she should thank Sebastian or Jim for this latest purchase.
It had started very basically, Sebastian talking to her seriously about how a bra should fit after he'd gotten her re-measured for bras. It had been embarrassing, but she'd never been more thankful for Sebastian's expertise than later that evening when Jim had walked in on her wearing the sexy lingerie that Sebastian had needled her into buying.
But it was that day's conversation that had started the spark in her mind. It had been an off handed question: "Have you ever tried a corset?"
"No," she said responded. "I don't want to be restricting."
"They don't have to be restricting," Sebastian said with a shrug, sipping from the bottle of Pepsi he was indulging in for his twice yearly soda splurge. "In fact there were the preferred method of support for women for many years for a reason. A properly made, probably fitted corset can help with back problems, and is often more suited to a woman with a large cup size."
"Really?" Molly asked, hardly believing it.
Sebastian shrugged. "You're on that boarder where you could probably go either way. I was just wondering if you'd ever considered it before."
"No," she said.
"Well, oh well."
But Molly had considered it after that. Jim's appreciation of her simple, lacy white lingerie had helped her consider it. Being with Jim ripped away the shame that normally bound Molly's curiosity. She was curious, but she didn't want to ask for help when she decided she wanted to try a corset. Dealing with Sebastian on that first trip had been enough, and having to ask the sales people was too many people as it was.
She wondered if maybe she should have gotten something custom fitted. She certainly stood straighter than normal (though that could just be Jim's insistence to keep her shoulder's back). The way it restricted her ability to bend over was bothersome ("Learn to bend at the knee first" the sales woman had suggested), but not insurmountable. Mostly it was just the oddness off it.
"Knock, knock," came Jim's deep voiced Irish lilt, the one he used when playing a part. Molly nearly jumped out of her skin. He didn't come to her flat very often.
"Jim!" she gasped. Her first move was to wrap her arms around herself. Her second instinct fought against her first and she forced herself to put her hands down.
"My, my, Dr. Hooper," Jim mused, smirking (most likely from the awkward backwards self-hug he'd just witnessed).
"Jim, do shut up," Molly said, blushing. Sometimes she could get away with talking to him like that when he was in a good mood. She almost didn't care if he was or not. Her heart still slammed into her chest when she saw his eyes go dark.
"Turn around," he said in his still deep-voice.
Molly blushed even more. His voice had that affect on her. She found Sherlock more classically attractive, yet it was Jim's voice that had drawn her in more. Jim could drop his accent at any time (a la Hans Gruber from Die Hard), but Molly had always found the Irish accent to be painfully attractive. If Sherlock had an Irish accent (and the slightest interest in her) he would have been perfect.
"Don't make me say it again," Jim said.
Molly slowly began to turn around, embarrassed to be standing only in panties and peach colored corset. "Is there about else you want, Mr. Moriarty?" she asked. Possibly she'd been spending too much time with Sebastian. She'd picked up his sarcasm anyway.
"Someone's feisty today," Jim said right next to Molly's ear. She didn't jump anymore when he snaked around her like that. "Does someone fancy herself a dominatrix now?"
"Corsets can just be another form of support," Molly said, not letting the normal shy tone infect her voice. She was standing in next to nothing and he was fully clothed in one of his fine Italian suits and she was too embarrassed to be bossed around.
"I must say, you have to be the most awkward prostitute in the Moulin Rouge." He was poking at her love of romantic musicals. She scowled.
"Shut up, Jim," Molly said.
"What's Miss Molly going to do if I don't?" he asked.
Molly was a curious girl. She liked new things. She liked to try things, but she didn't like asking for help, and she liked to try on her own. She didn't want to be made fun of for trying something new. That wasn't how Jim trained her to be.
She spun around, clapping her hands over her cheeks and dragging Jim Moriarty into a kiss he probably hadn't been expecting. "I'm still new to my trade, sir," Molly said, allowing herself to smile coyly, though the blush on her cheeks still showed off the embarrassed nature even Jim couldn't wash away. "Will Sir go easy on me?" she asked, letting her large eyes get even wider. He wanted her to play a part? She'd play the part.
For just a second his also large eyes got wider. Then Jim smirked. Molly's hands went to his tie while Jim slipped out of his jacket. He dropped the jacket on the floor (where his tie soon lay as well), and began working on his shirt buttons from the top down. After Molly let his tie slip from her fingers she pulled his shirt from his pants and began working on his buttons from the bottom up.
"I'll be kind for you, Miss Molly, but you have to be a very good girl for me," he crooned and she beamed. She'd surprised him. She'd made him happy (happy as he got anyway).
"We aims to please, sir," she responded and kissed his cheek, her hands moving to help him out of his shirt at the same time.