The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

braced on the rug. I could feel him shivering against me, and when I rocked my hips down against him he moaned.
    " Oh, God ."
    "I know," I gasped, finding myself suddenly short of breath. "Oh Christ, I know, that feels..."
    He withdrew slightly and then pushed back into me, and at the apex of his thrust I shuddered with pleasure.
    "Yes, God, yes," I panted. "Just there."
    He leaned down to catch my mouth in a kiss, and I squeezed my thighs tighter around his waist, lifting my hips and moaning when his next thrust sent another jolt of pleasure through me. I wrapped my arms around him, one hand in his hair.
    How he lasted, I have no idea, for if it had been a while for me then it had been even longer for him. In a remarkably short time – which despite what Holmes would say, spoke more about his skill as a lover than about any stamina that I possessed – I could feel myself tensing.
    "Oh fuck," I groaned, sliding my hands down his back to clutch at his hips. Holmes, recognising the tone in my voice, leaned up enough for me to work a hand down between us and grasp my cock. "God, I think I'm going to come again."
    In response he leaned back, took a firmer grip on my hips, and drove into me in a rhythm that he knew would bring me swiftly to my finish.
    It was all I needed.
    My back arched, and I gave an incoherent groan as I pulsed onto my stomach for the second time.
    I was only dimly aware that Holmes had bent forwards to stifle his groans against my shoulder as his thrusts stuttered and he buried himself fully inside me. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, holding him tightly to me as he shuddered and gasped, only loosening my hold when I felt his muscles unclench.
    Gently, he eased himself away from me, and then shifted his weight to lie next to me with a deep, satisfied groan. I tugged at his arm, coaxing him to lie with his head on my shoulder so that I could work my fingers through his hair.
    I caught my breath and considered myself to be the luckiest man alive. I daresay that other men are content to merely lie with their lovers and revel in their good fortune at such moments, but I was the lover of Sherlock Holmes, and my attraction to his body was only exceeded by my fascination with his mind.
    "This may not be the most romantic question to ask at this juncture," I said, when I could keep silent no longer, "but how in the world did you work out what we had to face?"
    He answered me, body still tucked warmly against mine, and I could hear the lazy amusement in his voice that was doubtless at the incongruity of my query.
    "I had," said he, "come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data. The presence of the gypsies, and the use of the word 'band,' which was used by the poor girl, no doubt to explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty