The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

him on his physical attributes.
    I had been more fortunate. My first male lover had had a frank, open appreciation of my body that had worked perfectly to ease my initial awkwardness and to teach me that slow, gentle seductions were not something that one did only with women. He had been a most kind and adored instructor, and while he had caught me young, I saw no reason to doubt that I should try to apply his methods to Holmes, whose body, whatever great heights his mind ascended to, was still only nine-and-twenty.
    I hoped that time would erode his reserve. When I touched his arm or the small of his back in passing, or stole a kiss from him in our rooms, I wanted to know he felt the freedom to do the same. Once or twice, I had recently caught him reaching out for me before checking himself, and thus I had reason to anticipate that all that was needed was time.
    The mirror told me that, while I should not like to set foot outside, I was at least presentable enough for our visitor and I ran a hasty hand through my hair as I left my bedroom and descended to our sitting-room.
    As I descended, I heard Holmes climbing the stairs from his visit to Mrs. Hudson, and we met in front of the sitting-room door.
    "Ready?" he asked me and I nodded, muffling a yawn behind my hand. He smiled faintly and I saw his eyes dart to the open collar of my shirt, his fingers twitching as though he wanted to touch, but he only said, "I asked Mrs. Hudson to send up a large pot of coffee," before turning the handle and walking into the room.
    As soon as I saw our new client – for I had no doubt that whatever motivated her to contact us so early would be interesting enough for Holmes to accept her case – my own concerns evaporated.
    She was in a pitiable state of agitation, her face all drawn and bloodless, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature gray, and her expression was weary and haggard. Holmes ran his eyes over her with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances.
    "You must not fear," said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. "We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see."
    With that, he was utterly absorbed in our new client and her story, almost to the extent of forgetting that I was in the room, and even Mrs. Hudson's arrival with the promised coffee drew barely a murmur of thanks from him.
    I did not mind – I loved watching his brilliant mind at work, and the young lady's tale was a peculiar one by anyone's standards. The mysterious and tragic death of her sister, the strange noises which the young woman claimed to have heard shortly before her death and, looming over the whole affair, the sinister presence of her stepfather.
    For my part, I had already made up my mind to help her even before Holmes took her wrist and gently pushed back the frill of black lace to reveal livid fingerprints, making Miss Stoner colour and cover her wrist again.
    Holmes met my eyes and I did not need to ask what he was thinking.
    "This is a very deep business," he said at last. "There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?"
    The lady replied that it was, and in a few moments more it was settled that we should take the first train out to Stoke Moran after Holmes had concluded some enquiries of his own in town.
    Miss Stoner took her leave, already seeming much lighter of heart, and Holmes leant back in his chair.
    "What do you think of it all, then?" he asked.
    "It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business."
    "Indeed."
    "Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end."
    "True. But consider– What in the name of the devil!"
    The exclamation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand.