Archive of Our Own ^beta

Moriarty was completely naked as he knelt over Molly’s bared body, his hips snapping as he entered her cruelly over and over again. Flat lean muscles rippled as she was used, it seemed effortless to him except for the thin film of sweat that was making him gleam a bit. Her eyes were locked onto his face, the gag in her mouth making it impossible for her to speak. Moriarty was obviously enjoying himself fully, not making any attempt whatever to get her to enjoy the act, selfishly ramming into her body with careless abandon as he sought his pleasure. When he ejaculated, James pulled out just enough to make the biggest mess possible, his seed squirting inside her passage as well as onto her pubes and lower belly. She felt dirty, and then she felt revulsion as he climbed off of her with a careless, “Your turn, tiger.” Moriarty wiped his hand off on her breast, just casually standing there tweaking her nipples while he waited for his second-in-command to get out of his trousers.

Molly was in a state of continual shock. This was nothing like the first time she’d slept with Jim, though now she knew that Jim was James, and didn’t work in IT at all. Back then he had been tender and considerate, if somewhat lacking in the wow department, except for the pleasing girth of his member, which she’d quite liked at the time. He’d given her some of the nicest orgasms she’d ever had until now. Still, it hadn’t worked out, so Molly had broken up with him. Now she was stinging all over, her jaws still aching from when Jim had her suck him off at gunpoint. She hated his cock. It was foul and rude, and James used it to soil her everywhere from the top of her head, and even down to her legs. Being abducted at gunpoint had been a novel experience. At that moment she had thought it was as bad as it could get. After the oral sex, where James had come all over her face and breasts, Moriarty had made her service his henchman, Moran, and she suddenly understood deeply that it was all about to get much much worse.

Molly had only been with three other men before James, one at a time, and all of them were well within the national average in the pants department, missionary position, lukewarm orgasms achieved on both sides. Jim was strangely thick, and he knew exactly how to use it. She felt sore in a stretched out sort of way, and Molly had quickly learned that Moran not only bigger than James was, but prone to roughness. Eagerly, he sometimes could barely wait for his employer to be out of the way before he began to press his unnaturally large penis into her, “Oh you made her nice and sloppy, boss.” He had no trouble twisting her body about or forcing her to expose herself for his pleasures.

“Make a mess, tiger, I like the way it looks when it drips out of her. She’s got gorgeous snapback too, look at her close up when you pull out.” They played with her for a while, Sebastian plunging in and pulling out over and over again as they admired her physical reactions. Molly felt ill because she was getting wetter and wetter. She shouldn’t be! They were disgustingly crude. It wasn’t necessary to comment about how absolutely drenched she was. Moriarty had brought her off several times, he did it like it was a technical exercise, not satisfied until she was nearly screaming with the intensity of her release. With one last cruel pinch, James stepped back, “Enjoy, baby. Make her come for me, will you? I like her sounds.” Moriarty used Molly’s favorite blouse to wipe his cock dry, and it made her mad. She’d saved up for ages to get that top! Now it was ruined. Seating himself in the chair Moran had waited in, he crossed his leg and slouched back, watching her face with a grin on his as he removed the gag, “You’re so pretty like this Molly.”

“Go kill yourself.” She spat and they laughed, seeming to find her insult amusing. Her knees were then kept open with a spreader bar, and her wrists were cuffed to the same device. Moran rolled her up with ease, trapping her on her back with her head braced against the padded arm of the sofa, her entire body already shaking with the force of his thrusts. It felt shamefully good, the fat head of it hitting the perfect spot inside her. Molly was so angry with herself for reacting at all but how was she supposed to ignore how amazing it all felt? It was wrong, so very wrong, and only proved that she wasn’t in control of anything at all. No matter how she tried to refuse what was going on, her body only grew wetter and tighter, her traitorous hips working to meet Moran’s thrusts until they found a rhythm that was good for both of them.

Moriarty waited until she was done sobbing her way through another orgasm, “Seb, fuck her up the arse.” he commanded in a mild voice. Molly screamed for real now because Sebastian did as he was ordered. At least he used lube, fingering her open hastily, wiping a dollop more over her anus and his cock before entering her, but the pain was still tremendous. It clearly excited both men to hear her screams and wails. Sebastian didn’t stop, no matter how she begged him to.

Sebastian was as cruel as his boss, holding her down easily and fucking her deeper and deeper until she could feel his bollocks pressed to her arse, “Oh yeah, she’s a rare one, boss.” Sebastian sounded boastful, “She’s tight, that’s for certain. Cherry.” Molly had never even contemplated anal sex before and now she had a huge man’s cock stuffed up her arse. Vaguely she wondered if he could feel her internal organs, they were close enough to his cockhead.

“Lean back baby, daddy wants back in.” Molly was horrified when Moriarty straddled Sebastian’s lap, and felt perversely relieved when James simply pushed his cock back into her vagina. For a panicked moment she thought he was going to try and get into her behind along with Sebastian. It felt so weird having two penises inside her body, but not awful, and that information made her feel conflicted. She should not be responding to this! Molly was full, both high and low, and it was startlingly good. Her previous lovers had barely caressed her behind, their intimacies always awkward, and over as soon as possible. They certainly hadn’t done anything too indecorous, so Molly had no personal frame of reference, or even terminology to explain what they were doing to her, “Together, tiger.” ordered the small madman. In tandem, they began to fuck her, playing her skillfully until she was seized with another orgasm, this one wet and embarrassingly loud. She felt stretched out and filled up, and it far from horrible. Yes, it was mortifying to be used like this but at the same time Molly had never ever felt such degrees of pleasure, not even when she got herself off. Moriarty grinned knowingly at her, and she flushed. After a few more strokes, Sebastian was ordered to leave Molly’s arse for Moriarty’s. “Fuck me baby, while I fuck her.”

“Anything you want boss.” Moran pulled out without hesitation and it left her feeling raw and open, a sensation that lasted only a moment before a long fat dildo was inserted into her, slick with lube, the flared base of it keeping it outside her body. Jim moaned during the process and fucked his cock into her with a playful wiggle before leaning forward and spreading himself. Sebastian wasn’t any gentler with his boss than he had been with Molly, but James seemed to enjoy the pain. The larger man shifted around until he was standing behind Jim who was fucking Molly with vigor. Catching Jim’s hips in large hands, Sebastian lined up his cock and quickly pressed home, “Like that?”

“Yeah baby, just like that.” Moriarty closed his eyes for a second and moaned, “Oh Molly, you lucky thing. Sebastian gave you a taste of what real sex is like, it was good, wasn’t it? I’m completely addicted to it; I know you are now as well.”

“I hate you both.” She felt exhausted, pleasantly sore, but betrayed as well, not just by Moriarty but by her own body. She’d never had such intense orgasms in her life, both men seemed to know exactly how to manipulate her body. She knew it was just a physical response to stimuli, but that didn’t take the shame away. She should be in agony, instead she felt like she’d just had an amazing workout. Molly understood that endorphins were confusing her reactions, and rage flared up again because Moriarty was such a jerk, he knew exactly how to make her own flesh work against her mind.

Her anger just made them fuck her with greater abandon, and she felt so small, so helpless. There was no getting away, no escape. Even one of them would have been difficult, both of them together was impossible. The knowledge that they could be doing so much worse to her kept her from fighting too hard. Moriarty was completely insane and Molly had a pretty solid impression that Sebastian wasn’t any better. Moran seemed to enjoy her more and more, and the more excited he got, the happier Moriarty got. He was a big man in all ways, Molly had never been with a man so much bigger than her. It would be intimidating if there was anything left to scare her with, they were already raping her. They alternated between making her orgasm and making her scream with pain. It was a vicious cycle with her as the accelerant. Molly was fleetingly distressed with thoughts of STIs and pregnancy, but after a while it seemed like her brain had mercifully shut down, leaving her body to go along with things undirected.

Molly stopped thinking about how she was certainly going to get a yeast infection, if she survived the encounter that is. She didn’t scream anymore, she didn’t protest when they took turns raping her arse yet again, nor when they jerked off together, this time spilling their seed deep inside her body one after the other. She thought of pregnancy again. She’d always been careful, and normally was on the pill but it made her feel ill, so she’d decided to get a coil. Her appointment hadn’t been scheduled yet, she’d meant to but hadn’t gotten around to it. Now look, she was having unsafe sex. All the brochures at her gynecologist’s office were chiding her. It was the right time of the month. It could happen, why, she could even have two babies at once, one James’ and one Sebastian’s. She’d read medical journals that spoke of such pregnancies. She’d name them after their daddies. Molly realized that she was falling apart, that her mind was doing it’s best to deal with what she was forced to endure, that she was beginning to rave a little inside her own head.

It felt like hours later before they were done, both men using her vagina and anus to ejaculate into time and again. She had no idea where they got the endurance. Her body was pinched and slapped until she was pink all over, her hair pulled until her scalp ached. Moran finished last, stroking himself off to leave streaks of semen across her face. They left her where she lay on the sofa, blood and semen everywhere, bruises on her breasts and throat, as well as her wrists and upper-arms. She had no idea how many times they’d caused her to orgasm, but she was wrung out, exhausted to her very marrow. “Tell Sherlock we said hello. Later sugar-doll, we have a lot of catching up to do, not that they’ll ever catch us, but you know what I mean. Maybe we’ll make this a regular date.” Moriarty leaned over and fingered her one last time, trailing his fingers over her softness with delicacy as he pressed tender kisses to her cheeks. Despite her weariness it felt nice and James noticed her response. With care and odd seeming consideration he masturbated her one last time. The orgasm she had was intense but shivery without more than a couple of fingers to clench around, and dully she watched Moriarty suck her juices off his digits thoughtfully. “I think I’ll do that, poppet. We’ll be having you again some day, Molly my pet. Toodles!”

Molly passed out. When she came to she heard the two last voices in the world she wanted to hear right then. Of all the undignified ways that her two biggest crushes might have finally seen her naked, this was the worst. Instead of blushing Molly began to cry softly, and was surprised to find her legs being released from the restraints with such gentleness she almost hadn’t noticed. “Sherlock, I’m calling an ambulance. Get her out of those cuffs and call Lestrade.” Things went fuzzy again, and when she managed to open her eyes it was to see John Watson leaning over her. He was drawing a sheet over her body, “Molly? Do you know who I am? Can you tell me what happened?”

She lolled her head to the side and saw Sherlock speaking into his mobile and holding a pair of bloody hand-cuffs. His eyes were harder than she’d ever seen them before, but they softened significantly when he realized she was awake, “Get your team here right now Lestrade. Molly is coming ‘round, John has called the ambulance. Process the scene with extreme care, don’t let Anderson muck it up. Molly trusts Donovan, ask Sally to be at the hospital to stay with her for as long as possible.” He ended the call and came over to her, “Molly? Do you know who we are? What can you tell us? John, stop mothering her, I swear you grow more matronly with every passing day.”

“Shut up, you lanky git, Molly is traumatised, she doesn’t need everyone to see her bits!” John was angry but his touch was so gentle. Molly glanced around and saw that the spreader bar had already been enshrouded in a large clear evidence bag. Trust Sherlock to have something like that in his pockets.

Molly smiled as she realised that these were the people she felt safest with. They would protect her, not expose her. Their bickering just reminded her of something that had troubled her at one time, but now gave her great comfort. The men before her were devoted only to one another, she’d never had a chance. Even if she’d offered, they wouldn’t take her up on it, would they? She was more than safe with them; she was safer than whatever the safest thing in the world was. John and Sherlock were unstoppable, like a self-sustaining force of nature. “John. Sherlock.” Her voice was cracked and harsh, “It was Moriarty and his boyfriend Moran. James says hello.”

Sherlock’s face twisted in a terrible way and Molly was shocked to see his lip tremble. John knelt beside her, clearly distressed, “Oh Molly. I wish we could have found you faster, I wish this hadn’t happened to you.”

Molly blinked, her body unwinding now that the worst was over, relaxing into the sofa and beneath the comfort of her sheet, “He planned it all. He kept you busy and you didn’t even realise it. He told me. Everyone who knew me, who might have noticed I was gone, everyone was just…busy. He said we’d be making a regular date of it.” She didn’t seem to be troubled by the information she was sharing, and Molly realized she was probably in shock. “I’m going to need a rape kit done, and I’d like you to do it John. Sherlock, thank you for asking for Sally. I get on with her and that will make this easier.” Molly knew full well the procedure for rape victims. She’d done kits herself, normally on corpses, so there was that, she was alive, and that was something. She knew the window of calm would pass and she would be a complete mess.

John seemed to be as affected as Sherlock, the doctor in him radiating protective concern, but Molly saw the soldier as well, a man who would kill and maim to protect her, and she relaxed further, “You are covered in evidence. I know it won’t likely help catch him but we can at least get his genetic profile out there.” Of all the strangely comforting things to hear, Sherlock offered words she could deal with, “Very practical calling on John’s skills, it will expedite things greatly.” If Molly wasn’t on the verge of falling asleep she would have said something cheery, but as it was, all she could manage was a small smile.

The hospital was no treat. The nurses and doctors were very professional but Molly felt a bit embarrassed that her colleagues were compelled to touch her privates, and take intimate swabs. Sally Donovan stood outside the door, looking angry like normal, but that just comforted Molly. Donovan was filled with an excess of frustrated rage. If James or Sebastian showed up, it was entirely possible that Donovan would kick both their arses just for the relief of it. When her statement was officially taken, and her rape kit completed, she was kept overnight for observation, and given a card for a therapist to help her deal with her trauma.

It wasn’t until that moment that Molly realized she had nowhere to go. Her flat was a crime scene. Sally apologized profusely, but had no place to offer her either, her flat was being fumigated and wouldn’t be habitable for ages. She had been staying with her sister. To Molly’s tremendous surprise, Sherlock and John showed up, signed her out, and took her with them.

Recovery took a long time, but it was undertaken at Baker Street where she was firmly ensconced. All three of them went to get tested for STI’s, Molly because of what happened, and John and Sherlock just to keep her company, and to keep her from feeling like everyone at the clinic was staring at her. Their screens came back clear, and she learned that she wasn’t pregnant. Her doctor fitted her with a coil at her insistence. She wasn’t risking pregnancy again.  Sherlock had been uncharacteristically protective of her, insisting that she come stay with them until she was better, ruthlessly throwing John out of his own room, not that the doctor argued it at all, “He’ll bunk with me. We’ve shared hotel rooms before, it’s just temporary.” She had nightmares, waking up with sore throats from all the screaming, but it didn’t seem to bother John or Sherlock. John just brought her tea with extra honey in it, and Sherlock would play his violin to the fireplace. Molly knew he was playing for her, but would never say so. The main bathroom became hers alone, stocked with feminine products and perfumed bath oils, while Sherlock and John shared the en suite that went with Sherlock’s bedroom.

Molly hadn’t agreed to keep staying at Baker Street but also hadn’t disagreed. It was so much simpler to just go along, and she really didn’t mind. Sally was kind enough to go back to Molly’s flat to pack her things so she ended up with coordinated outfits, and all the right make-up. Mrs. Hudson fussed and fussed, making Molly come sit with her to laze the days away watching mindless programmes on the telly, or helping the older woman put fancy finishes on her endless quest to make the perfect confection. It was actually very comforting. Molly never had to leave the building, nor did she want to. She was terrified of being anywhere but there, 221 B Baker Street had become her sanctum, and the insane life lead by the men who rented it just swirled around her, like she was a large boulder in the middle of a raging river.

Living with John and Sherlock was bizarrely comfortable, neither man seemed to expect anything from her, just including her in their odd daily routines as if she’d always been there. John was as motherly as Sherlock accused him of, fussing over food and laundry, making sure both his charges were fed, washed up, and re-dressed before he took himself off to work. He even had her cat brought over after he made Sherlock sign a written contract that forbade him from using the cat in any sort of experiment, and to help feed and clean up after it. Toby really liked Sherlock, who constantly pushed him away, but Molly had caught the detective slipping her kitty tidbits on more than one occasion.

Sherlock, for his part, ignored Molly and left her to her own devices, unless he needed some blood to experiment on, or a hair or two, or someone to hold a flask for him to fill with unnameable substances. To some, it might seem rather heartless but Molly appreciated it. She needed quiet time to wrap her head around her experience but was petrified of being alone. Sherlock was always there, wrapped up in his experiments, or destroying John’s memorabilia, especially if they were from ex-lovers, and generally acting like he was the centre of the universe, which Molly supposed, was how John made him feel. It was very relaxing, and she settled onto John’s old chair like it was made for her, cuddled under a crocheted blanket Mrs. Hudson had made that was apparently one gigantic frill. She liked it. When they left to work on cases, Mrs. Hudson or Sally came over, and when the boys were deeply engaged in a case, Mycroft came by with cakes. It was their little secret, and Molly enjoyed having little secrets with Sherlock’s older brother. It made her feel like she was part of an inside circle for once in her life.

One night she watched season one of an old series while John was at work, and Sherlock was working in the kitchen. After an hour or so, the tall detective came back and sat beside her on the sofa where she was snuggled down for the duration, “This is that silly show John loves so much. The time travel thing.”

“Doctor Who. Yeah, he loves it, that’s why he asked if I wanted to see it.” Sherlock was silent, “You can watch it with me, it would be like research, lots of people are fans of this show, and do lots of silly looking things because of it. It’s all great fun.” Molly knew better than anyone that Sherlock was baffled by people, and always sought to learn more about determining motives. With a distracted nod he sat back and began to pay attention. Molly smiled softly because she knew it wasn’t for her sake that he was doing so, and perversely, it made her feel warm inside that someone so distant would go through such efforts to please someone like John.

Several episodes later John came home and caught them snuggling under the woolly frill. He had take-away and didn’t bat an eye at seeing Molly resting against Sherlock. Instead he set the containers down on the coffee table, fetched back small plates and a handful of chopsticks, lifted Molly’s legs up so he fit on the sofa too, and served up dinner. “I love this episode.” was all he said.

Crowding together on the sofa became their evening routine, and Molly pretended not to notice that John and Sherlock were secretly holding hands or caressing each other’s hair behind her back. She knew for a fact that they weren’t lovers…not yet. They were definitely sharing a bed, and the walls of the flat were incredibly thin. She’d overheard both of them at one time or another, masturbating in the shower as discretely as they could, each of them sighing the other’s name. Days turned into weeks, and even a month later no one suggested Molly return to her own flat.

Six weeks later Molly overheard their late-night return. They’d been searching for a killer and from the evidence given by her ears, they’d found him. She listened as Sherlock moaned out John’s name, and giggled softly as a very regular thumping sound started up some time afterward, and went on for an impressively long time. She fell asleep just after they did, but was woken some time later when the thumping resumed, not once, but twice. She never said a word to anyone about it, but after that night she knew with certainty that Sherlock and John had finally become lovers, energetic ones.

Two months after that she was cuddling with Sherlock on the sofa again when she realized that he was stroking her hair absently. It was nice, and she fell asleep leaning against him the way she often did. When she woke up, John was there, sitting beside her like usual, only this time he was kissing Sherlock over her. She could feel how hard he was, and without thinking of what she was doing, Molly raised her hand and stroked her fingers over their chins. Sherlock immediately licked her fingertips before John took her hand from him, and sucked two of them into his mouth, “Is this alright?” rumbled Sherlock.

Molly thought about it before shifting a bit so that she was on her back. She didn’t want to be afraid of this. Who else would she work out any possible problems with than the men who had somehow become her very best friends? Molly used to enjoy sex, but until tonight, she’d felt a bit dead between her legs. With a bit of maneuvering she had John between her thighs while her head was on Sherlock’s lap. She needed this, needed to reclaim this lost act. She couldn’t be frozen inside forever. “Yes.” Sherlock’s fingers slipped through her hair so he could cup the back of her head. Lifting her easily he raised her up and kissed her mouth gently. It was pleasant, soft, and safe, but exciting at the same time. John had leaned in and kissed his way down her blouse, his clever fingers undoing her buttons and flies, tugging away her protective layers until she was as bare as the moment they’d rescued her. His mouth and hands were clever and satisfying, or nearly so, and every touch seemed to heal the invisible wounds she’ hadn’t realized had been there, “Please John.” Molly sighed as she spread herself wide.

Molly witnessed the devilish grin that John must have perfected while he was traveling abroad in the army. It was confident and cheeky, and with a teasing nudge he looked her straight in the eye, “I have a bit of an oral fixation.” Oh god, really?

“He does,” agreed Sherlock, “It’s impressive.” It certainly was. John spread her thighs wide while Sherlock kissed her mouth, drinking in her moans as John used his tongue with devastating skill. No one had ever gone down on her like this. Only two of her previous lovers had even tried, and neither of them had come close to getting her off. John managed twice. The soldier knew exactly when to lick faster, or slower, when to push his tongue harder against her, or when to suck her clit. He seemed to know that she liked things a tiny bit aggressive, and when she was close to her peak, John became merciless. It was so strange to have someone sound so hungry when they were doing this, it wasn’t something she’d personally experienced before.

Weak as a kitten, and too satiated to move, Molly was surprised to learn how strong Sherlock was when he scooped her up and brought her to their bed. Spreading her thighs wide, Molly Hooper became the first person to experience Sherlock’s curious nature as he took his turn and feasted on her, replicating many of John’s techniques. She blushed often as he paused to comment on her texture, and her flavor, wiping his chin clean of her juices before diving back in. He was enjoying himself, and when he brought her off on his own, Sherlock looked absurdly pleased.

John knelt behind Sherlock, treating the consulting detective to a very close examination and massage. Watching Sherlock Holmes bury his face between her thighs had been unreal and to her surprise, Molly orgasmed a second time. When she caught her breath she wiggled around until she was beneath Sherlock’s hips. He was braced on hands and knees while John stretched him open, so Molly opened her mouth and sucked on Sherlock’s cock, shorter than she might have guessed for such a tall man, but still well above average. As soon as she had him in her mouth she felt him shift his weight to one hand, freeing the other to reach over and begin fingering her. His fingers were so long, and in the past, Molly had fantasized about them many times. It felt amazing to have him inside her like that, and she was glad that she was able to enjoy sex still. Her dark experience hadn’t tainted her completely.

She watched, fascinated, as John prepared Sherlock for penetration. She’d never seen the mechanics of gay sex before, and she was riveted as well as turned on. When he finally pushed into Sherlock, it was all Molly could do to keep breathing as she struggled to keep fellating the detective while he was being savagely fucked. When John finally came, it was with a great shout. Sherlock’s cock jerked in her mouth and she had to swallow fast to catch all of it. Sherlock was ramming his fingers stiffly into her at exactly the right pace, and with a low groan she came right after he did. They lay there in a fleshy tangle until they were recuperated enough to lay properly on the bed. Molly was between both of them, John snugged tight to her back, while Sherlock faced them both, his long arm holding them close. She felt safe again.

It wasn’t long before both men were hard again, so Molly lifted her leg onto Sherlock’s waist and let him push into her. John used a great deal of lube and fingered her for an age before he pushed in as well. She was reminded of James and Sebastian as they coordinated their thrusts, but John and Sherlock were only intent on bringing her pleasure, not themselves. John felt really good in her behind, nothing like the rape, instead he just felt solidly in place, fucking her with Sherlock who was playing with her breasts. John reached up and wrapped a hand around her throat, choking her gently, and that did it for her. With a high pitched wail, Molly came hard. After that it was all blurry. John and Sherlock took turns bringing her to orgasm, and her ability to come over and over again impressed them all.

After that first night sex was on the table at all hours. Sometimes it was just Molly and Sherlock sweating in bed together, sometimes it was her and John. Both men were excellent lovers, and there didn’t seem to be a scrape of jealousy about any of it. Sherlock especially liked to just lay there and let Molly ride him, allowing her to learn how to best please herself. If Molly was with one and the other came home, he would just join them mid-coitus. She was quite fond of anal sex now. Molly grew adept at fellatio, practicing deep-throating, using bananas, with Sherlock to surprise John on his birthday. Sherlock was good at cunnilingus too, nearly as good as John, and many days Molly got him to go down on her, just to take the edge off. He always made hungry sounds too as he did so, and it was a bit of a thrill. Sherlock really liked it when she yanked on his hair as she came, and very often she would reciprocate by sucking him off. They were always gentle with her, no matter how wild they were otherwise.

Eventually she had to return to work, and it made her anxious. Sherlock came by all the time, once, fucking her hard in her old office during her lunch break, and again in the staff bathroom. John one upped him by having sex with Molly in the administrator’s office, and in the pharmacy, and one time her supervisor popped in for a quick word while John was between Molly’s legs beneath her desk. He’d stopped, thankfully, but the second the door shut, he was tonguing Molly furiously until she came with barely muffled screams. It was lovely and exciting.

Three months after the incident, they were careless. Molly was knocked out at work and taken away once more. When she woke up in a strange hotel room, James was already fucking her, “Someone left you wet, my sweet, naughty naughty girl.” Sebastian was there, and he wasted no time pushing into her arse. “Oh, someone’s been practicing! Good girl, Sebby’s missed your sweet little derriere.”

Molly found that Sebastian wasn’t the painful intruder he’d been the first time. It was rough and unexpected, but she was feeling that now familiar curl of arousal as he plunged deep into her backside. Her pussy grew slick, and the sounds of Moriarty’s thrusts gave her arousal away, “Looks like our sweet little doctor is a nasty little work.”

“Indeed Sebastian.” Taking both men at once wasn’t a problem either. It was like her time with Sherlock and John had made her body compliant to penetration, so having James and Sebastian fill her orifices was pleasant, and not painful. “Oh she’s so wet.”

Moran responded with a long drawn out moan as he fucked her arse with growing intensity. Molly just shifted until the angle was more agreeable to her, and let her orgasm build. They kept her for hours, bizarrely stopping in the middle for a romantic candle-lit dinner for three where they hand fed her delectable tidbits in between sips of wine. When they were done, James allowed Molly to wash up, dressed her in new bespoke clothing he’d apparently had made for her, and had Sebastian command one of their drivers to bring her back to her flat. It had been cleaned and restocked, her wardrobe entirely replaced with new bespoke clothing that suited her body as well as her personal tastes. In his own broken way, it looked like James was trying to be romantic. Her wall phone still worked, so Molly called John.

Sherlock was furious on her behalf, especially when she declined an ambulance and even the police. It was pointless, no authority anywhere could stop the madman, not really. They hadn’t found a single useful thing the first time around. They wouldn’t this time either, they all knew it. “We know who it was, it’s not a mystery. You know the police can’t catch them, and they didn’t hurt me this time. It was almost like a date.”

“A date where they take turns raping you…” began Sherlock.

“No, they did it pretty much at the same time.” Molly interjected. She didn’t feel anything inside, she only felt tired, and in need of a hot shower and a long nap. “Look Sherlock, I know it’s awful but you and I both know there’s nothing to be done. If James Moriarty wants to keep having me, then he will.”

“You’re not his!” hissed Sherlock furiously.

“I’m not yours either.” She reminded him tartly. She must be in shock again because she felt nothing negative at all. She’d been abducted, raped several times, fed, raped some more, given expensive presents, and that seemed to be it.

John and Sherlock stood there looking sad and she sighed, “I’m my own woman. I decide what happens to me, at least a bit. I don’t know what he wants but frankly, the sex was pretty good, I got a nice dinner out of it, and this is pretty much the most attention I’ve ever gotten in my entire life so yay me.”

“He’s raping you Molls.” John kept his voice gentle, “We need to keep you safe.” The soldier looked torn between fury and something that looked distantly like jealousy.

“You can’t.” she said simply, and all of them knew it for truth. “It’s been lovely being with you two, a dream come true really, but I think it’s time for me to go to my own home.” There was no point in being afraid. James could find her anywhere, and John’s bed really was fairly small compared to hers.

“Molly.” Sherlock seemed upset for once, “You’re safer with us. It’s better.”

She smiled gently at him, “It’s been really good, Sherlock, but you and John have your own thing to let grow. I’m not a part of it, not really, but that’s alright. I’m alright.” She really was. Molly was fully aware that she wasn’t dealing with things in a particularly healthy way but she couldn’t bring herself to be bothered about it. It a strange way she felt content, like her life had purpose now, and she was relevant.

Sherlock was blatantly against it all but he still helped John box up all her things and brought them back to her flat. She kissed them each on the cheek, but nothing more was offered, and she knew that they understood that their physical relationship was over for good, “Thanks for everything.”

“Molly.” Sherlock sounded miserable, almost hopeless, “Please come back.”

She smiled at him, “I’m alright Sherlock. No one is going to trouble me.” She was right. With John and Sherlock publicly known as her protectors, no one gave her difficulties about much. A week later, James and Sebastian stole her away once again, this time bringing her to a five-star hotel where a Saint Andrew’s Cross waited for her. Tied up and gagged, she moaned and sighed as they fucked her every way they could think of, leaving her dripping with come all over again. Sebastian was impressed with her ability to take him right to the root when she sucked him off, and James eagerly took his turn in her mouth while Moran licked her until she came.

Molly’s life grew odder and odder. Sherlock and John were still a huge part of her life during the week, but on the weekends she belonged to James and Sebastian. Molly didn’t mind. She loved the sex, and James was prone to extravagant gifts. Her flat was re-painted one weekend, she had a new bed on another, a new stove on yet another, and so forth until everything she owned was new and top-of-the-line. Three months later, she was returned to a whole new flat, all her things already located, her fridge full, and a hot bath already drawn.

Molly noticed that she wasn’t even threatened by small time crime. No one tried to mug her, or even leer at her. She realized that Moriarty and Moran were protecting her with even greater fierceness than Sherlock and John were. She still had secret cake dates with Mycroft, which was a delight, and she knew that the British Government was also keeping an eye on her. She’d never been so safe.

One weekend was very different. As per usual she was abducted right after work. What wasn’t normal was the fact that she regained consciousness in an operating theatre, “Now now poppet, Daddy has decided.” Moriarty was standing beside her, holding out his hand. On his palm was the small coil that had been planted deep within her, preventing her from getting pregnant. For the next two months James and Sebastian exclusively fucked her vaginally. Even if she fellated them, both men insisted on shoving their cocks into her before they came. Nine weeks after they’d removed her coil, Molly woke up retching and heaving. She didn’t need tests to tell her what had happened. Molly was pregnant.

She told John and Sherlock of course. A nurse had mysteriously shown up that very same day, done a blood draw, and given Molly pre-natal vitamins. Moriarty and Moran obviously knew and approved, “I’m having their baby.” She told her friends firmly. She didn’t want arguments about it, “It’s all alright.”

John was disturbed, and so was Sherlock, but they were both pragmatic enough to understand that she wasn’t going to do anything to alter her current state. John simply signed her up for prenatal classes, found a doctor he trusted to look after her during the interim. Sherlock volunteered to be her birthing partner, and Molly knew that he’d be writing all sorts of papers on pregnancy, and harvesting who knows what kinds of biological data from her. “Don’t make shampoo out of the afterbirth.”

“As if I would!” replied Sherlock. There was colour high on his cheeks though, and she knew she’d nailed it, “I’m there to support you, that is all.”

Molly rolled her eyes and it made John laugh. It was strange. A year ago, Molly would have been appalled to learn of her upcoming situation. She was being molested on a regular basis, she’d finally managed to have sex with Sherlock Holmes, with bonus sex with John Watson, she had a new flat, new clothes, and a new life to grow. She should be falling apart, but instead Molly discovered that she was much stronger than she’d ever expected. Her nightmares had faded, her body had healed, she missed having sex with John and Sherlock a tiny bit, but her weekend kidnappings continued, so in that regard, she was still getting a pretty energetic workout.

Three months after that Molly was utterly astonished to find that she’d awoken in another luxurious hotel room, but this time, there was a minister there. Sebastian and James were both wearing bespoke suits, and Molly had been dressed in a flowing gown of white that made her look ethereal as well as obscured her bump. “We’re getting married, poppet! Exciting, yes?” James was fixing Sebastian’s boutonniere. “The minister was a little fussy, but he’s finally made the right decision.” Molly said nothing. There was nothing to say. There in the strange room, a nameless man bound her in matrimony to both of them. She was given heavy gold rings, one for her right hand and one for her left. James presented her with a small chest filled with rare gems and precious jewelry, and Sebastian presented her with a similar sized chest filled with bonds and other documents denoting her new wealth, “Well, Mrs. Moran? Happy?”

Molly looked up at one of her new husbands, “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say, our Molly. You belong to us. I’m glad you ended your little thing with the boys of Baker Street, I’d hate to have to try killing them again. Tricky business that, but it’s all okay now. You’re having our baby, and we can’t let our baby momma be poor, or badly dressed! What would other criminals think of us?” He was beaming madly at her. Molly’s heart was thumping. Her freedom was well and truly gone, but she found that she didn’t seem to mind. She was financially secure, safe, cared for, and in the weirdest way possible, finally married. “You don’t even have to stop working. It’s rather thrilling knowing that my wife spends all day playing with dead people.”

They dismissed the man who had married them. Stripping her of her clothes, Molly was then treated to a weekend with James and Sebastian like she’d never experienced before. They made love to her. They didn’t fuck her, or hurt her, or double-team her. They took her to bed, and in the sweetest of ways devoted all their energies to making her scream with pleasure. When they were finished with the sex, James and Sebastian rubbed her down, smoothing scented oils over her skin until she was drowsy with it. A sumptuous meal was shared, and like so many other times, they hand-fed her each bite until she could eat no more.

Her co-workers were a bit surprised to find that she was married. Molly had woken back in her new flat with a wallet full of new ID and credit cards. That’s when she learned that she was officially Mrs. Molly Hooper-Moran. Apparently Moriarty’s last name was still too much of a hot-button to flaunt so openly. When asked to bring her new spouse around Molly gave them her scripted excuse, “Seb works out of the country. He flies in on weekends to see me.” And that was it.

Sherlock threw a massive tantrum, going into a pout of epic proportions after he found out. He called his brother, shouting into the mobile for Mycroft to fix things somehow. There was no official registration of the marriage, but everyone knew that it didn’t matter. Moriarty had claimed Molly, and that was it. There was no divorce, no separation, no splitting up, nothing at all to do that would ever make Moriarty or Moran give Molly up entirely. Molly stood in the kitchen of 221 B Baker Street clutching her belly, and trying not to cry as she watched John try to calm his lover down. Finally, she stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. Sherlock stopped moving, and sank to his knees, “We should have married you, not them,” he said brokenly, “We’ve failed miserably at protecting you Molly. Forgive us.”

Molly felt something in her heart shift. Sherlock was distraught because of how he cared for her. John was manfully suppressing his tears but his eyes were red. Neither man moved even a bit as she leaned in to kiss their cheeks, “You did everything you could, and more than I ever dreamed you would. I’m not unhappy Sherlock, John. Really I’m not. They haven’t hurt me since that first time, not really at least, and since I got pregnant they’ve actually been strangely nice to me, well, as nice as they seem able to be.”

“They’ve bought you off with rags and a hovel.” spat Sherlock spitefully.

Molly smiled at her friend, understanding that lashing out was one of the few ways Sherlock knew how to deal with emotional stress, “They’ve made me wealthy and comfortable. James didn’t even expect me to stop working. I can do whatever I want, except on weekends, and weekends aren’t that bad, not any more.”

John stood there at full parade rest for an entire minute before he managed to relax himself. Bending down slightly, the doctor kissed Molly’s cheeks twice each, “Congratulations Mrs. Moran.”