The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

clearly printed on the back of my skull. I had to avert my gaze.
    "Enough!" I gasped, "You are right, and I am most deeply sorry. I have been an utter fool, and placed you in the most terrible danger. Please accept my abject apologies, and I am entirely ready to find other lodgings, you need only say the word–"
    "You will do no such thing," he swore violently. "Doctor, please be so good as to finish that brandy and listen. I am not at all repelled by the idea that your sexual proclivities deviate from the rather narrow confines dictated by society, indeed I myself share similar tastes."
    "I know," I said miserably, before biting my lip and wishing I had held my tongue as he looked at me in frank astonishment.
    "That is a statement we shall explore in more depth later," he promised, staring at me with narrowed eyes, "but currently–"
    He broke off, seeming at something of a loss for words. Finally he continued, sounding hesitant for possibly the first time in our acquaintance.
    "I do not know the depth of your feelings toward me – I have occasionally been accounted handsome enough in my own peculiar fashion, but I am a rather arrogant, tiresome devil with numerous bad habits, hardly the type of person to inspire anyone's lasting affection–"
    His voice tailed off again until, with an exclamation of impatience, he said, "Dash it all, professional pride is a fine thing, and it is only right that a gentleman should help a lady in distress, but I hope you do not believe that they were the motivations for my actions."
    Scarcely daring to breathe, I stared down at the empty brandy glass, concentrating with all my might on the reflection of the firelight in its smooth surface.
    "What are you telling me?" I asked, barely audibly. I heard him shifting in his chair, and then the reflection in my glass flickered as he rose to stand before the fire.
    "You do not imagine that I would risk a prison term over a witless society female, I hope? Surely my Boswell knows me better than that. When I was moved to plan my house-breaking attempt, I was thinking of someone else entirely."
    A strong hand came to rest gently on my hair as he added in a rather subdued tone, "My dear Watson. My only thoughts were that, to give you peace of mind, I would rather risk trial and imprisonment than spend a single day more watching you slowly torture yourself to death, afraid to confide in me."
    Disbelieving, I looked up at him. His face was open, the softer emotions more clearly displayed upon it than I had ever seen them. Without thinking I rose from our settee, took his face in my hands and kissed him as I had so longed to do for many months now. For a moment he stood frozen and I wondered if I had grievously miscalculated, but then his arms came around me tightly and his mouth opened against my own. I do not know how long we stood there embracing, but when I came back to myself Holmes's dressing-gown was loosened, his shirt untucked and my hands were upon the bare skin of his stomach. As I had often noticed during covert glances at the Turkish baths, there was not a spare ounce on him, and his muscles were immediately visible under his skin. They quivered against my fingers as I traced their outlines.
    Suddenly he pulled away from me, his eyes bright and almost feverish. He darted to the door of our sitting-room, turned the key in the lock and then all but dragged me by my shirtfront towards his bedroom. Once inside, he pressed me back against the wall beside the door and resumed kissing me with a single-mindedness and focus I had previously only seen directed at an intricate chemistry study or an abstruse problem. His nimble fingers darted over my clothing – loosening and unfastening – while my own attempted to reciprocate. My co-ordination was already some way behind his own, and it deserted me altogether when his hand slipped below my waistband and his fingers curled around me. I gasped convulsively and clutched at his forearm. His lips were against my ear, and when he murmured a soft interrogative noise, my hips thrust involuntarily into his hand. Tightening his grip, he started to stroke me slowly yet deliberately.
    I squeezed my eyes shut as his hand tormented me, the drops of pleasure welling from me making it scarcely necessary for him to wet his fingers in his mouth. I opened my eyes as he released me, and was rewarded with the sight of him pulling his fingers slowly out of his mouth, sparking instant graphic mental pictures of