Fifty Shades of Sherlock Holmes (4 page)

"Well I
certainly hope you do not expect me to do it for you."

I smacked him on
the arm and looked back to make sure the woman was still too busy weeping to
pay attention to us.
 
"Stop being
ridiculous.
 
Between this conversation
and that woman's caterwauling I should be fine in a moment or two."

"Excellent,"
Holmes said.
 
He leaned over the back of
his chair and said, "I am glad to inform you that my associate and I will
take up your case, my dear Countess.
 
Watson will escort you downstairs and we should have an answer for you
by tomorrow."

Her eyes widened,
"Tomorrow?
 
You mean…It might be
that soon."

Holmes nodded,
"I believe I already have it sorted out, but first, I need to check a few
things.
 
Expect me before sunset."

She was still in
shock as I escorted her down the stairs, "I cannot believe it.
 
This was my last resort.
 
I never hoped it might actually work."

"I have seen
Holmes untangle mysteries that all of Scotland Yard could not begin to
grasp.
 
You came to the right
man."
 
I opened the door for her and
said, "Hurry, lest you catch a cold in the rain."

She raced through
the door toward the carriage, and waved excitedly back at me before she entered.
 
"Thank you again," she called
out.
 

"You're
welcome," I said.
 
I held up my hand
before I closed the door and locked it, only to feel the penetrating glare of
someone standing behind me.
 

Mrs. Hudson was
at her door with her arms folded.
 
She
bore a candle in one hand and was dressed only in a long white nightshirt.
 
Her silhouette behind the shirt was
full-figured with a large bosom and curving hips that flared from her narrow
waist.
 
In the candlelight she looked
only a few years older than I.
 
"I warned
you that any further disturbances would result in penalties, Doctor," she
said.
 

"Yes, you
did, Mrs. Hudson."

"I heard
every filthy word that woman uttered.
 
It
was utterly horrifying the way she spoke."

"I
apologize, Mrs. Hudson, but she was in distress.
 
Surely, we must forgive her some errors in
propriety."

"I will
not," she said.
 
She looked up the
stairs at my apartment's door and then leaned close enough to me to grab my
shirt, "But I am willing to compromise with you so long as you meet my
terms."

I was about to
ask what she had in mind, when she suddenly pulled me into her apartment and
pressed me against the wall.
 
"You
are a man of the world, Dr. Watson.
 
A
veteran of the Afghan wars and medical practitioner.
 
Surely you have known something of the women
you've encountered."

"But, Mrs.
Hudson.
 
What about Mr. Hudson?"

"Dead.
 
Ten years, without a man to warm my
bones.
 
Ten long years of frigging myself
to sleep until my fingers were numb."
 

She fumbled with
my trousers and my John Thomas immediately shot up at the contact.
 
She laughed in delight as she yanked my
trousers free and soon had me trapped in the warmth of her mouth.
 
I grabbed the back of her grey hair and
brought her head forward even deeper on its length, feeling her lips clamp
around the base of my shaft and the muscles at the back of her throat constrict
around its head.
 

"Oh, Mrs.
Hudson," I whispered.
    

Unmasking the Raven

The next morning
Holmes woke me up early to begin the day's investigation.
 
I had only slept a few hours, and not had
time to properly wash.
 
My hands still
bore the scent of Mrs. Hudson.
 
Her
dampness had dried to my fingers and soaked into my mustache and I could not
help but inhale it again and again.

Holmes watched me
sniff my fingers as our carriage lumbered back and forth.
 
I had been staring out of the window thinking
of Mrs. Hudson's breasts, still full and firm, despite her age.
 
Holmes voice snapped me out of my reverie
when he said, "Where did you go after you escorted the Countess
downstairs?"
  

"I needed
some fresh air, so I walked for a while," I said.
 

"And did
that supplant the need to ejaculate?"

"Holmes!
 
Good God, man.
 
This is not the sort of thing two gentlemen
discuss."

"I cannot
see why it shouldn't be.
 
We are both men
of science, Watson.
 
You, as a doctor,
and I in so many others.
 
I have none of
the religiously-associated guilt that goes along with the topic of self-abuse,
nor do I assign it any moral value.
 
It
is simply a biological function, and one I expect that many are glad to
have."

"Still, it
is one thing to discuss as men of science and another to have you discuss my
practicing of it."

Holmes frowned in
thought as he considered that.
 
"Fair enough, Watson.
 
Look
sharp, we shall soon be at the London docks."

My nose curled at
the dank odor of sewage and murky water and oil smoke belching from the ships
as they pulled in and out of the various ports.
 
"Why are we here again, Holmes?"

"As I said
last night, I have already solved this little mystery.
 
I am simply looking for evidence to support
my conclusion before speaking to our client again.
 
Come on, then.
 
Here we are."

I followed him to
the first dock's shipping office.
 
The
clerk looked up with bored disdain at Holmes.
 
I supposed they did not get very many pasty-white men dressed in
houndstooth coats and deerstalker caps.
 
"What yes need?" he muttered.
 

"I would
like to see the records for any ships that arrived within the last two weeks
from the Orient."

"Why should
I show them to the likes a' yes?"

I looked at
Holmes for a moment, unsure of what he would say.
 
Without missing a beat, Holmes became very
serious and said, "We are here from the Royal Office to investigate an
outbreak of Oriental malaria that has already killed four people.
 
Anyone who came in contact with it is in
grave danger.
 
I need to see your
manifests and passenger lists so that you might be spared a horribly agonizing
death, sir!"

"Here yes
go," the man said quickly, digging a large red book out from under the
papers on his desk.
 
"Take anything
yes likes."

Holmes flipped
through the pages quickly, scanning the lines of entries with his thumb.
 
He came to the last page and said, "You
are in luck, my good man.
 
The
contaminated cargo did not pass through here."
 
He closed the book and slid it back across
the counter, "Good day."

As we left the
office, men were slinging containers on and off of the boats, while others hauled
enormous fishing nets out of the water.
 
Fish slime and dank water covered the ground where we walked, and though
I was careful to step in as little of it as possible, Holmes was too lost in
thought to bother.
 
He sighed deeply and
said, "Let us hope we do not have to search for too much longer.
 
When the conclusion is inevitable, it is
simply boring to have to chase it down."

All told, we
visited four dock offices before Holmes found the entry he was looking
for.
 
"Ah ha!" he said and
stabbed the page with his finger.
 
I
leaned over his shoulder and saw the passenger list for a boat that arrived
last week from Hong Kong.
 
The name
Holmes was pointing at read,
W.
Barrymore, Count of Corvus.
 

Holmes was
practically prancing with satisfaction as we walked back toward our
carriage.
 
He whistled a tune I'd heard
him play on his violin many times, though the name always escaped me.
 
"Tell me, Watson.
 
Have you figured out the case, yet?"

"In fact, I
believe I have," I said.

"By all
means, tell the tale."

"The
Gatekeeper, for lack of a better name, is a business associate of the good Count,
and intends to blackmail him with details of his wife's sordid adventures on
the night she described.
 
Perhaps it is
someone the Count wronged, and this is his way of taking revenge.
 
A rather cruel thing to do, I might say.
 
To corrupt a young woman like that by taking
advantage of her loneliness.
 
Despicable,
I say."

Holmes listened
politely as I spoke, and once I finished, he clasped his hands behind his back
and resumed his whistling.
 

"Well?"
I said.
 
"Are you in agreement with
my deduction?"

Holmes smiled at
me and said, "Not in the slightest."

~***~

We took the
carriage to Countess Barrymore's London home, and Holmes had managed to contain
his amusement enough to knock on the front door.

The Countess
appeared a few moments later by breathlessly racing down the steps.
 
"Did you find him?
 
Can we go see him?" she said.
 

"I believe
we can," Holmes said.
 

She ran up and
embraced him, gushing with thanks.
 
Holmes tolerated the hug but did not return it.
 
"First, I must ask you to allow me to
inspect the gown that you wore to the gathering that evening."

The Countess
retrieved a long black dress from her bedroom and handed it to Holmes.
 
The golden raven pin was still attached to
the shoulder.
 
Holmes slid the dress
along the palm of his hand and said, "Ah, exactly as I suspected.
 
Feel this, Watson."

I ran my hand
along the skirt and knowingly said, "I see."

"What do you
see?" Holmes said.

I sighed with
defeat.
 
"I haven't the foggiest
idea, Holmes."

"What do you
feel
, Watson?"

I touched the skirt
again and said, "It is exquisitely soft, as the Countess had said.
 
Is that it?"

Holmes shook his
head sadly and said, "Come along, everyone.
 
We have a bit of journey to make.
 
Please bring the gown with you,
Countess."

I escorted her into
the back of the carriage while Holmes went up front to speak with the
driver.
 
She smiled shyly at me and said,
"I am sorry if I caused you any embarrassment the other night.
 
Your detective said to leave out no details,
so I thought it important to be specific."

"It was
quite all right," I said.
 
"I
am not easily shocked."

Holmes knocked on
the rear door before opening it.
 
"I
am going to ride up front with the driver to give him specific directions.
 
I trust Watson will keep you good company,"
he said with a nod.
 

The Countess
watched Holmes shut the door and lifted her fist to her mouth and bit one of
her fingers.
 
"I could see how
excited you were when I was telling my story, you know."

My eyes widened
at both the humiliation and her boldness in speaking so.
 
I immediately sputtered out an apology, but
she smiled wickedly at me and said, "I've found that what terrified me before
only excites me now.
 
You cannot imagine
the thrill I received from looking at your cock protruding from your trousers
while I spoke."
 
She leaned forward
seductively, "Tell me, did you pleasure yourself once I'd left."

I did not answer.

"Did you
allow Holmes to pleasure you, perhaps?"

"What?
 
How outrageous," I gasped.
 
"You are possessed by the devil,
woman."

"Yes,"
she whispered.
 
"The Gatekeeper has
possessed both my body and soul.
 
I no
longer have any control.
 
That night
after I left your apartment, I was so overwhelmed with passion that I began to
frig myself in the back of the carriage.
 
Thank God he didn't come back and open the door.
 
He'd have seen me spread eagled on the bench
with my three fingers inside of my cunny."

I laid my hand on
my lap to cover up my emerging erection.
 
"Three, you say?"
   

She nodded
slowly, and I saw that she was squeezing her legs together as we spoke.
 
Without her hat and veil, she was quite
lovely to look at.
 
Milk-white skin and
straw blonde hair pulled back.
 
Her eyes
were indeed as green as jewels and even in her conservative outfit complete
with scarf and coat and long skirt, I could see that her figure was a thing to
behold.