The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

dragged me back up against him.
    "Oh, believe me," he murmured hotly in my ear, "knowing that you are wearing that in preparation for later this evening will be its own test of my patience."
    He kissed me firmly as his hands reached around to grip my buttocks. I made a soft noise as his massaging of my flesh shifted the plug inside me and sent a gentle surge of pleasure up my spine. When he drew back, his eyes were dark with avarice and he stared at me in a manner that made me swallow hard.
    "You had best tuck your shirt in and straighten your collar," I said shakily, "and we should go. It would be rude to keep Signora Lucca waiting any longer."
    I left the room before him, trying to calm myself with a deep breath and revelling in the all-too-rare sensation of having thrown Sherlock Holmes completely off balance.
    * * * *
    So it was that half an hour after discovering the body of Gorgiano, we were all installed in Signora Lucca's sitting-room. Holmes had immediately taken the only remaining seat when we entered, leaving me to stand behind him, leaning on my cane. I received sympathetic looks from both Gregson and Leverton at this perceived incivility to a war veteran, but I was glad of Holmes's seeming rudeness. While standing and walking presented no great challenge, I strongly suspected that sitting down would have applied pressure in places more used to being stimulated when Holmes and I were alone, with the security of a locked door between us and the rest of the world.
    Signora Lucca's story was quickly told. Her admiration of her husband's bravery brought a shine to her fine eyes and a joyful animation to her expression, and even Gregson cautiously agreed that neither she nor her husband ought to face serious consequences as a result of their actions that night.
    When she was finished, Holmes rose and stretched.
    "Well, Watson, you have one more specimen of the tragic and grotesque to add to your collection. By the way, it is not eight o'clock, and a Wagner night at Covent Garden! If we hurry, we might be in time for the second act."
    We said our goodbyes to Signora Lucca and the two detectives, and descended to the street. Holmes linked his arm through mine companionably, but when he turned in the direction of Baker Street I dug in my heels.
    "Covent Garden is the other way."
    "Oh come, Watson!" He glanced at me with amusement. "You know very well that I was only teasing you."
    He made to walk on until I stopped him. "But I insist."
    He stared first at my arm holding him back, and then at my blandly innocent expression. "But you hate Wagner."
    " 'Hate' is a little strong," I said, thoughtfully, "but it is true nevertheless that you have been trying for a long time to cultivate a taste for interminable operas in me. Clearly you have had some degree of success."
    He recovered well from his surprise and his eyes gleamed at me wickedly. "Very well. If you truly wish to watch the second act then you are right, Covent Garden is indeed this way."
    * * * *
    The second act had started by the time we arrived, and we settled ourselves quietly in the box that Holmes had reserved for the season. I do not think I had ever been so glad to have privacy when at a performance. The short walk here had been more or less bearable, helped by Holmes's explanation to me of the theme of the opera, but nevertheless I was not entirely comfortable. The heavy pressure inside me was terribly distracting, and I had vowed to see to it that Holmes was likewise discomfited. And so I allowed a small noise to pass my lips as I settled myself in my chair, and hid a smile when I saw him twitch slightly.
    I gave him enough time to begin to grow lost in the music before I shifted again in my seat and murmured slightly. The timpani were loud enough to cover my noise, but I knew from the glance Holmes flicked in my direction that it had not escaped entirely unnoticed. I crossed my legs and uncrossed them, and allowed my hips to shift against the chair, a slow slide that might almost be called a squirm and the small moan that broke from me was not entirely feigned.
    A hand seized my knee with a grip of iron.
    "Are you quite comfortable?"
    Holmes's tone was solicitous, but I even in the lowered light I could see that he was glaring at me.
    "Yes," I whispered meekly. "I apologise for disturbing you, but I am afraid I am unaccustomed to sitting in public for long periods of time while wearing a–"
    "Watson, I would imagine that there are few men in