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Their assignments came in almost simultaneously.
Though no one else knew that Molly Hooper was no mere pathologist, but actually an angel exiled to earth for the crime of wanting to know too much, her good friend Sherlock Holmes did. And the same was the case with his true identity; a demon in deep cover playing the long game. What that game actually was he hadn't been told. He didn't like not knowing. Sherlock's 'brother' knew, Mycroft a fellow demon of a much higher rank and, of course, no relation to him whatsoever. But the bureaucrat refused to give him any clues. All Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, could do was continue with the life he'd made, and wait.
Though they were aware of each other's secret, they rarely spoke of it and even though they never admitted it out loud, it comforted them both to share their burden with another living... soul. Molly had been there for Sherlock in some of his darkest hours, and that's saying something for a demon, though he'd gotten used to this human existence. And as for Molly, she found Earth a much more pleasant and exhilarating experience than what she remembered of Home. She knew that could be mostly attributed to her friend, the detective.
She was sitting on his sofa flipping through cold case files as Sherlock set up yet another experiment in his kitchen when her mobile dinged, followed almost immediately by his. Molly pulled hers out first. She read the text three times, just to make sure. It had been years since she'd even been contacted by anyone from Home, and now... this? By the time she was finished Sherlock was standing in front of her, mobile in hand.
"What does yours say, exactly?" he asked.
She could barely think, let alone speak. Never in her entire span of existence had she been asked to do something like this. Her job had been a care-giver; to provide comfort and acclimatization to new arrivals. The words alone frightened her beyond imagination.
"Ah, it says: You must be the cause of his death." She finally looked up and met his eyes.
He nodded. "Yes, it means me."
"You got one too?"
"Indeed. Mine says: Her death must be by your hand alone," he explained.
Silence descended upon the flat as the long-time friends considered the weight of the words they each had just spoken. Molly had never taken a life, nor did she wish to, let alone that of her closest friend and, quite frankly, despite the fact that he was a demon from the Pits of Hell, the love of her life. And even though Sherlock wasn't altogether unfamiliar the act of killing since his placement on Earth he hadn't taken one life unless they absolutely deserved that life to end. Molly Hooper, angel, certainly didn't fall into that category.
Suddenly Sherlock had an idea. He smiled and paced across the room, facing away from his friend. It can't be that simple, he thought. But then again, he'd helped Mycroft find loopholes in Demon Law on many occasions. It was almost pathetic how easy it actually was. Angel Law was surely just as flawed. He took a deep breath before turning back to the angel on his sofa.
"Molly," he said as he approached. "We have to have sex."
Instead of needing it explained or stuttering out a response, Molly simply brightened and said, "Yes, of course! That's brilliant!"
It was all in the wording. Death. But the messages didn't say what kind of death. La petite mort. Even a little death would do.
These bloody fools didn't know who they were dealing with. He was Sherlock fucking Holmes and he wouldn't be tossed on earth for several years, put in the path of an innocent angel, only to fall ridiculously in love with her then be told to kill her or allow himself to be killed by her. No. In his experience there was a loophole to just about every situation.
Oh, and what a lovely loophole he had just found. His and Molly's clothes vanished the moment he carried her into his bedroom; no further conversation was necessary. She didn't argue. She didn't ask questions. He lay her down upon his bed and hovered over her body, not daring to touch her just yet. Even he recognized that this moment had importance, a great deal actually.
He had seen many naked demons and humans in his existence. But none of that prepared him for Molly's body laid out in front of him. This was an opportunity he thought he'd never be granted and his eyes couldn't take in enough of her at once. She was magnificent.
Though they'd been friends for years and he'd never actually allowed himself to consider her as a romantic partner. Why would an angel, not only an angel but this perfectly beautiful creature allow something as tainted and corrupted as him to enter the temple of her body?
She wouldn't. And he wouldn't allow it either. But now it seemed their only salvation. So he'd take what she offered him, greedily. He was completely overwhelmed by his emotions as he looked down into her lovely brown eyes. Eyes he'd dreamed about on the rare occasions that he had slept. It was always Molly who followed him in sleep, though she was never there when he woke and he was left bereft and aching.
"I'm going to touch you now," he whispered.
"Please," she begged causing his chest to clench and his cock to twitch.
He placed his hand over her heart, a thing he desperately wished could be his, not just for this moment but for eternity. As he did Molly gasped and her body shuddered. "You okay?"
"Just don't stop."
As if he would.
Molly had never had sex before. Once sent Down she had been focused on starting a life, obtaining a job and trying to adjust to the humanity that surrounded her. She knew very little of human interaction other than what she had learned from the new arrivals she'd worked with back Home. Dating a human seemed dangerous; letting a human that close would mean lying and lying some more. So she kept to herself, making friends but keeping them at arm's length. That is until Sherlock Holmes walked into her morgue and started beating up dead bodies. She knew. And he knew as well. Finding someone with whom she could share her secret was both a relief and somewhat terrifying. It took a couple of months before any kind of friendship formed but once it did Molly realised what she'd been missing, and she relished every moment with the moody demon.
She hadn't planned on falling in love with him, though it wasn't surprising in the least. He was bloody gorgeous. Those eyes, that seemed to be a least five colours at once, painfully sharp cheekbones and Lord help her that hair. Now, as his naked body lay above hers she had the whole picture and it was marvelous. If he didn't do something soon she'd explode.
Finally he started touching her and her body felt like a live wire. She begged him not to stop and he just smiled, one of his cocky, knowing smiles that made her want to lick every inch of him. Then he lowered his head and began kissing her neck. If his hands felt wonderful, there weren't words for those lips. She managed to bring her hands up and lightly touch his back and she heard him moan. I did that, she thought. Although the thought was almost silly since she'd seen his erection the moment his clothing had disappeared.
She suddenly felt his large hand touching her breast, then rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Oh, nothing should feel this good. She said something to that effect, causing Sherlock to chuckle as he raised up and looked her in the eyes. Finally taking the initiative, Molly threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down for a kiss, needing to feel his lips on hers.
Sherlock immediately took control, nibbling her lips until she opened for him as he slid his tongue into mouth. Molly lost any semblance of decency as she started wantonly grinding her core into his erection in desperate need for release. He broke the kiss, panting, and looked into her eyes for a moment before finding her breast once again. Moving off to the side a bit, his hand traveled down her body until it reached her centre, causing her breath to hitch.
Looking up he said, "Ready?"
She nodded, biting her lip. Then she felt his fingers parting her labia. She screwed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
"Molly, look at me. Please, look at me when you come."
Opening her eyes was almost painful. Knowing that Sherlock was only doing what he had to to save both their lives, she felt tears gathering in her eyes as his fingers breached her entrance. They started spilling as he filled her to the limits of what her body could take.
"Oh fuck, Molly. You're a virgin?" He started to pull out but she put her hand on him to stop him. "I'm hurting you!"
"You're not. Not like that," she explained. "Please don't stop, Sherlock. It feels good." More tears fell.
He leaned up, never removing his hand, and kissed her cheeks. "Don't cry, my angel. It'll be over soon. I'm sorry, but I cannot kill you."
His kind words caused her heart to swell and hurt at the same time.
He started moving his hand, slowly, gently. But it wasn't enough until he added his thumb to her clitoris and Molly's hips jerked forward. "You like that? Hmmm?" He kissed her neck, then licked and bit her skin above her pulse point.
Molly dug her nails into his scalp as she moved with his hand. "Oh-oh-oh... God!"
"Fucking hell, Molly you're so beautiful," Sherlock whispered in her ear. "Come for me. Look at me and come," he pleaded as he fucked her with his hand.
"Sherlock... I'm... Oh GOD!" Molly shrieked as her body convulsed. She'd never experienced anything like it before. It was perfect.
He kissed her chest and neck, her cheeks and chin. "Gorgeous, Molly. Perfect. Death by my hand."
"Right, yes. Well done... you," she replied in a breathless whisper.
Sherlock positioned himself above her. "I'm so sorry but this next part... it will hurt."
"Less than having to kill you, I imagine." She smiled.
His eyes were soft, softer than she'd ever seen. "I'm sorry that it's me. That I'm your..."
"I'm not," she interrupted.
He actually gasped but seemed to recover quickly from his shock, then took himself in hand and eased himself in slowly. Molly closed her eyes as she felt herself being filled by this... man? this... demon? no, he was Sherlock. Right at that moment he was only Sherlock and she was just Molly.
He was completely overwhelmed by her. Not just her tight heat, but her willingness to give this to him rather than kill him. Frankly he'd have let her. In a heartbeat he'd have given his life (if you could call it a life) for hers. But he knew Molly well enough to know that taking a life would have virtually ended hers. She would have never survived the guilt. The ridiculous bureaucracy of Heaven and Hell and their orders! Why? Why did either of them need to die? He started to think about it, then he heard her call out to him and realised he hadn't fully entered her yet. He refocused his attention on the angel beneath him rather than the idiocy of their superiors.
One more deep thrust and her virginity was gone. She cried out in pain and gripped his shoulders tightly.
"Are you okay? Can you continue?" he asked.
She nodded in response and he began to thrust in earnest. He was close as soon as he started once again. Everything about Molly made him want to spill his pointless seed. But he wanted to take her with him. This was a one-time opportunity and he needed to make the most of it. He slid his hand between their bodies to stimulate her clit and Molly called out to him as her inner muscles started to shudder around his cock. He bit down hard onto her collar bone, anything to halt his orgasm as Molly began tightening more than he thought possible. He finally gave up, allowing himself to experience every single sensation his body would allow. His mind blanked out and for just a moment he felt as if he had a soul once again. It was there, he could see it, touch it, feel it. He remembered what it meant to be whole and complete. It was loving this beautiful creature, it was being loved by her. As unattainable as that was, for those few seconds, he felt it... it was utterly transcendent. When he came back to himself he found that he had all but collapsed on top of her. He quickly moved to the side, and rolled onto his back.
After a few minutes of recovery he asked. "Um, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Great, actually."
"Good, that's... good."
Molly got up and went to the bathroom and he heard his shower start up. He quickly changed the sheets while she was gone. He wanted her to stay. They needed to see how their trick played out with the powers-that-be.
"Oh, I would've have helped with that," she said as she walked back in wearing just a towel.
"It's no trouble, Molly." He returned the pillows and went to his drawers. "Stay. Please. It's late and we should be together in case there are further... instructions." He pulled out a pair of pajamas.
Molly nodded. "That's probably a good idea." She took the clothes from him.
As he walked up to her he couldn't help the feeling of melancholy that had overtaken him. He'd retrieved his own sleep clothes and would stay on the sofa. He allowed himself to gently touch her cheek. "Sleep well, Molly Hooper." The he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"Night Sherlock."
He walked out of his room without looking back.
It had been over an hour since he'd left Molly and since he was in no need of sleep he decided on committing the events of the evening to a special room in his mind palace. He was nearly finished when he heard the heavy footfalls of his 'brother' on the stairs outside his flat door. The demon didn't knock, just entered.
"Well this is an unpleasant surprise," Sherlock said, not looking up.
Mycroft crossed the room and sat down in front of the detective. "Evening Sherlock."
He finally looked at his boss. As usual, could read nothing on the demon other than the fact that he'd just eaten an enormous amount of cake.
"You've been Topside for over ten years now. Other than tracking down the occasional rogue demon, we've asked nothing of you. Then finally you're given a task, an important one and you fail, miserably and deliberately. Why?"
Rogue demons? The scum that he'd been forced to deal with were a bit worse than rogue. Sherlock considered not answering, but knew it was pointless. "Since when is killing defenseless angels considered such an important task?"
"It was a test, Sherlock. For the both of you. And you both failed."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "A test? What the Devil for?"
Mycroft leaned back. "It's quite simple actually. Miss Hooper would have been welcomed back Up with open arms if she'd been able to take care of a demon. They were kind in assigning her a seemingly docile one such as yourself. Or if you'd succeeded in something so ruthless as killing someone you... love," he said the word as if it nearly stuck in his throat, "you would have been promoted to a higher station. No more chasing petty demons. No more dealing with the riffraff of this world. We've had our eye on you, Sherlock. You have potential. But unfortunately, something keeps getting in your way."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And what's that?" he sneered.
"Your soul. It's not content with being absent from your body." The older demon leaned forward. "It's gotten progressively worse since that angel entered your life. We tried to separate the two of you. Moriarty. Magussen. Even John Watson was an attempt to drive a wedge between you. But you always came back together. So I spoke with her superior and we brokered a deal."
"It didn't work."
"Clearly. Though demons far above me had hoped that you'd choose to make the kill, I knew you wouldn't. You found the loophole, just as I predicted. The only question I had was, would you taint that pure soul with your seed or... your death?" He picked up his umbrella and stood. "Now I have my answer."
Sherlock stood up. "What happens to her?"
"Not you? Not worried as to what your future holds, little brother?"
Sherlock blanched; he hated it when the demon called him that. "No, I need to know that she'll be safe."
Mycroft smiled, an almost genuine smile, Sherlock couldn't remember ever seeing one on him before. "You're both free, my young friend. We have no use for a demon who can't be controlled. A demon who loves. A demon with... a soul. And as for Molly, she's been made human as well. She's been tainted, she won't be allowed back, as least not as an angel. She'll have to earn it, like everyone else." Mycroft turned to leave.
Sherlock couldn't believe what he'd just heard. It couldn't be that simple. "Are you saying..?"
Turning back to the young man Mycroft said, "Yes. It's already happened. It's done. Goodbye, Sherlock. Perhaps we'll meet again." Then he walked out the door.
Sherlock stood perfectly still, completely stunned for nearly a minute. Then he broke and ran into his bedroom to tell Molly, his angel, the news. He had an important question to ask her...