3 comments/ 32418 views/ 2 favorites Holmes & the Blackmailer Ch. 01 By: farfromcd Sherlock Holmes and the Hooded Blackmailer. Part 1. I have had the pleasure and honour of documenting several investigations carried out by my friend Mr Sherlock Holmes and the publication of these accounts has led to him becoming somewhat of a household name. I have on occasion however had need to suppress certain cases and hold their publication for some considerable time for reasons of tact, delicacy and the wish not to cause scandal to some of the most important and influential families of the realm. There are a number of cases however which, although I feel they merit documentation to highlight the excellent deductive work that my friend employed to bring about their most excellent conclusions, I feel will never be published due to the quite explicit nature of the commentaries. My friend was adamant that they be documented however, as examples to future students of the criminological sciences, and I have agreed to do so on the express understanding that they shall be immediately handed over to the official record keeper of Scotland Yard and sealed for at least 100 years so that there shall be no danger of causing untoward distress to those gentlewomen embroiled in these most shocking cases. My friend agreed to these terms. The first of these cases took place in the year 1894 and should the details of the case have been made public then or now a scandal the like of which has yet to be experienced would sweep the country. It was a wintry November day and I was visiting Sherlock Holmes in the apartment that we had shared in Baker Street. He had risen late after some nocturnal adventure and was finishing a late breakfast that Mrs Hudson had prepared when I arrived so I had taken the offer of a fresh cup of tea and a toasted muffin eagerly. He was in an aloof state of mind and I recognised that whatever case he was working on was not going to his liking. He was not in the mood to discuss this however and our conversation, sparse as it was, mainly centred on a play which my wife and I had attended a few nights previously. Holmes had also seen the play and we were discussing the merits of the lead actor when a ring at the bell preceded Mrs Hudson showing in a young lady who was looking most distracted. Her card identified her as Miss Emily Torrington and my friend waved her to a seat which she accepted with a polite nod of the head. Mrs Hudson cleared the breakfast things from the table and, when she had gone, Holmes addressed our visitor. ‘Miss Torrington, pray tell me what brings you to me.’ I watched as the young lady, exceedingly handsome with what appeared to be long dark hair tied up at the back and expensively dressed in a purple dress of the latest fashion, flushed at the cheek. ‘It is a matter of the most exceeding delicacy Mr Holmes.’ She glanced in my direction. ‘Miss Torrington, this Dr Watson, my most trusted friend. Anything you say to me can be said in front of him, he has my implicit confidence.’ Miss Torrington nodded slowly but despite opening her mouth, did not speak for several seconds. I saw the shine of tears forming in her eyes and then she plucked a clean lace handkerchief from her back and dissolved into the most passionate sobbing. There was the merest quiver of impatience at the corner of my friend’s mouth before I leapt over to Miss Torrington and offered her a pull from my Brandy flask. She accepted gratefully and the spirit appeared to calm her nerves slightly but she kept the handkerchief in her hand. ‘Miss Torrington, while you compose yourself let me begin by telling Watson what I already know of you. Miss Torrington here is engaged to be married to Lord Peter Warburton, the first son of the Minister for Colonial Trade to her Majesties Government. The wedding is to take place at St. Hectors on Saturday and the guest list alone marks it out as one of the society events of the year. Miss Torrington should be one of the happiest women in London on this dreary Tuesday morning but as you and I have just witnessed, this is obviously not the case. Perhaps you are now able to tell us why Miss Torrington.’ The young lady took a deep breath and seemed to straighten herself in her chair before she replied. ‘Everything you have said is correct Mr Holmes except that I fear that there will be no great society wedding on Saturday for I find myself at the mercy of a most heinous and ungentlemanly blackmailer. It all began on Sunday night when I received a note from Peter asking me to meet him at a place where we have often met in the past. It is under a particular tree in the great park. It simply said ‘Meet me at our tree’ and was unsigned but on the paper that bears his family crest. I went at the usual time and, I am ashamed to say that I went alone as was our custom but we are so soon to be married Mr Holmes that I beg that you do not look too harshly on our indiscretion.’ My friend signalled his lack of interest in her indiscretion with a wave of his long fingered hand. Miss Torrington paused before continuing. ‘Peter did not arrive at the usual time which is unusual for he is always very punctual. I was about to leave again when I heard a sound behind me. I turned and got a very quick glimpse of a man wearing a black silken hood before he clasped a pad over my nose and mouth and I passed out. When I came to I found myself in a four-wheeler cab and I was nearing the home of my aunt, with whom I am staying at the present before my Father arrives from India for the wedding. Despite regaining consciousness I was feeling rather disorientated and giddy.’ ‘Chloroform!’ I said, horrified at the enfolding tale ‘It can often leave you with those symptoms.’ ‘Quite so Watson, Miss Torrington, please continue.’ ‘I was astounded to discover that it was nearly a quarter past eleven when I entered the house and I had to knock a number of times before Jamieson, the boot boy, unlocked the front door to let me in. I found that my maid, Patricia, had gone to bed and, still feeling a little confused, and not wanting to wake her, I took myself to my room. As I prepared myself for bed however I was shaken from my stupor when I found a note . . . secreted about my person.’ ‘May I see the note?’ said my friend, reaching out his hand. Miss Torrington looked as if she was once more on the verge of tears but, exercising admirable self-control for such a delicate and fine young lady, she pulled herself together and retrieved a small folded note from her bag and handed it to Holmes. He opened the folds and read the note silently then aloud to me. The note said simply ‘Say nothing now but, for your own sake, be sure to open the message for you to be delivered tomorrow morning yourself.’ Holmes pulled out a small magnifying lens from his waistcoat pocket and made a very close examination of the note then, replacing the lens, he raised the note to his long nose and inhaled twice, deeply, half closing his eyes. I could not be certain but I was sure that Miss Torrington flinched as he did so. ‘Tell me about the message the next morning.’ ‘It was delivered by a private messenger, I have it here.’ Miss Torrington pulled an envelope from her bag and handed it to Holmes who removed the note from inside after carefully examining the handwritten address. He read the note to me aloud: ‘You will pay me £8000 before Saturday or your wedding will not take place.’ ‘Was there nothing with the note Miss Torrington.?’ My friend asked. Miss Torrington hesitated before replying in the negative. ‘Miss Torrington, I fear you are lying, and quite understandably so’ Holmes held up a silencing hand as I started to protest at his impertinence at denying the word of a lady, ’however, if we are to get to the facts of the case and ensure that the wedding proceeds as planned I must insist on absolute honesty and disclosure.’ Miss Torrington’s face reddened again and her eyes began to moisten once more. ‘Let me start by telling you the facts that I have deduced so far,’ my friend said as he stood from his chair and moved to the mantle to fill his pipe, ‘Miss Torrington, before you came here today, you were not dressed by your maid as you normally are, instead you dressed yourself.’ A look of stunned surprise showed on our visitor’s tear streaked face. Holmes indicated Miss Torrington’s boots with the mouthpiece of his pipe. They were fashionably high, with a large number of lace holes running up the front. ‘A number of the lace holes have been missed, indicating that they were fastened by someone not accustomed to lacing the boots. No lady’s maid worth her pay cannot lace a boot. I also notice that you are not wearing any form of bodice or corsetry . . .’ ‘Holmes!’ I protested as Miss Torrington moved her hands in front of her in a protective fashion, but he continued unchecked. ‘Your dress is cut without boning and relies on undergarments to provide shape but, despite your trim figure Miss Torrington, the boned support is not there. The original note that you gave me, you stated that it was secreted about your person but the ink was slightly blurred from moisture damage and it held the unmistakable intimate scent of a woman, I therefore suggest that it was actually secreted inside your body, namely, inside your vagina Miss Torrington.’ I was so outraged and shocked that I could not raise a single word of protest but this was increased twofold when Miss Torrington merely nodded her affirmation that Holmes was correct. ‘Furthermore, there is a small rip in the note which was made by a metallic object. This coupled with your lack of undergarments and the photograph which had originally accompanied the second note . . . ‘ ‘What photograph?’ ‘I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me so Watson, but you see, the note, when originally folded, was somewhat smaller that the envelope in which it was delivered, which suggested to me that there was another enclosure and in increasing numbers of blackmail cases these days, that enclosure is some sort of incriminating photographic reproduction. Now if I may continue, the aforementioned facts would lead me to believe that while you were unconscious you have had a number of metallic objects inserted in intimate parts of your body.’ My jaw fell open as I was rendered speechless once again. Miss Torrington’s flushing cheeks were once again dampened by tears as she reached into her bag and pulled out a photograph which she passed to Holmes. He studied it closely with his lens which made Miss Torrington squirm once more and then looked at her kindly, but sternly. ‘This is indeed one of the most distressing cases that has been laid before me Miss Torrington and I shall use all of my considerable faculties to endeavour to bring the heinous culprit to justice, but before the clouds that cover your impending happiness lift, I am afraid that things may get even more distressing. Watson, will you pull down the window blinds and pull across the bolt on the door, Miss Torrington, I am afraid that I am going to have to examine these mutilations that have occurred as the photograph does not show enough detail for me to ascertain some very important facts.’ ‘Surely you cannot be serious Holmes?’ I said reproachfully. ‘I have never been more serious Watson, Miss Torrington; I agree that this may prove most disagreeable to you but there is simply no other way to proceed I am afraid. Watson, the blinds please.’ I pulled down the blinds and closed the bolt on the door so that we shouldn’t be disturbed. Miss Torrington stood and looked at Holmes and I and then nodded and started to undo the buttons that ran down the front of her dress. Holmes looked intently at her chest as she did so, his hands steepled in front of his lips. As a Doctor I had seen patients in a state of undress before but the whole story and surroundings made the spectacle of such an obviously well educated young lady removing her clothing here, in Holmes’ sitting room, very sordid. As Miss Torrington undid more of the buttons of her dress she started to reveal the perfect alabaster white skin of her chest and stomach. When she had undone all of the buttons, which went down to just below her navel, she hesitated. A strip of the milky white skin was now visible but her breasts were still hidden from view. She looked at Holmes once more, almost pleading. ‘Miss Torrington, I would, of course, not ask you to do such a thing if it were not of the utmost importance to the investigation.’ Miss Torrington hesitated a few seconds longer. It is shameful to admit but, having been tempted by a glimpse of her perfect torso and small navel, I was starting to find myself becoming aroused and had to shift position in my chair so as not to embarrass myself or Miss Torrington. With a resigned shrug she pulled the two halves of the top of her dress away and let the garment fall to the floor around her feet. I must admit that I gasped at the vision that stood before me. Miss Torrington was, and once more I emphasise that I insist that these documents will be sealed for the period of 100 years and will never be seen by my most lovely and devoted wife, the most beautiful woman I have ever had the fortune to lay eyes on. Her skin was so milky white that it seemed to shine with an internal radiance in the dimly lit room and as she stood mere feet from my sea,t completely nude but for her mis-laced boots, I could no longer prevent myself from having a strong erection. Holmes, in an astonishingly professional manner, asked Miss Torrington to step out of her dress and picked up the garment, placing it carefully over the back of her now vacant chair and then pulled his own chair to within a foot of her so that his face was dangerously close to her abdomen then, in an act of inspection that made me, a professional Doctor of medicine, wince, pulled out his lens and proceeded with a very close examination of Miss Torrington’s body. ‘Watson, you must come and look at this!’ he cried. ‘I, ah, I would prefer to sit here if it’s all the same to you.’ ‘That you have an erection, ‘he said in a most disarmingly matter of fact manner, ‘is not to be unexpected, Miss Torrington is a most exquisite beauty and I would worry for your humanity if you were not aroused but I require your professional opinion on these piercings.’ I stood and made my way uncomfortably over to where Holmes was making a minute inspection of a silver bar which had been fastened through Miss Torrington’s right nipple. There was a similar bar through her left nipple. Miss Torrington had medium sized breasts which stood proud of her ribcage despite the lack of any support. Attached to each bar was a fine silver chain which ran down across her abdomen and disappeared between her legs. Both chains were held very taught. ‘It is these chains which prevent you from wearing any undergarments Miss Torrington?’ asked Holmes as he examined one of the silver lengths. ‘Ah . . . yes,’ she replied hesitantly, ‘I tried to put on a corset but it pulled on the chains which is most painful.’ Holmes brushed his hand across one of the chains and Miss Torrington curled slightly and whimpered. ‘My apologies Miss Torrington, now if I could ask you to sit back down and, I’m afraid, open your legs.’ Miss Torrington was obviously becoming dulled to the shame of the examination and retook her seat and opened her legs. Holmes leant in so that his head was actually between Miss Torrington’s thighs. ‘I am afraid that I am going to have to touch you intimately.’ He said and then, while holding his lens in his right hand, he moved his left hand between her legs. She jolted slightly at his first touch and closed her eyes. He looked closely at her for a few seconds and then sat up, not moving his left hand. ‘It’s extraordinary Watson, look!’ I glanced at Miss Torrington’s face, but her eyes were still closed and so I bent in to look. Her whole pubic area was smoothly shaven, as good a job as the best gentleman’s barber could have done and I gasped as I saw that the two chains were attached to two silver rings, one fitted through each labium, which Holmes was holding open with two fingers of his left hand. Furthermore, the two rings were connected with an intricate knot of connecting metallic rings which fell across her vaginal opening. ‘Watson, I need to make a quick sketch of the device, if you please.’ He nodded towards his left hand. ‘You can’t mean . .!’ ‘Quickly Watson, we do not wish to prolong Miss Torrington’s embarrassment any longer than is necessary.’ He withdrew his hand and reached for his notebook. I hesitantly and, with all the medical detachment I could muster, gently opened the outer folds of Miss Torrington’s vagina. My memory may have been corrupted by the swirl of emotions running though me at the time but I could have sworn that a shudder of pleasure ran through her body as I did so and the gasp that escaped her slightly parted lips was less shocked than originally so. I watched as Holmes quickly drew a most accurate sketch of the small knot of intimate rings and then he closed his notebook, fastened it with an India rubber band and addressed Miss Torrington once more. ‘I must ask if your genitalia are habitually shaven Miss Torrington.’ ‘Absolutely not Mr Holmes,’ she replied opening her eyes as she did so. ‘And you say that you found the note when you undressed for bed. Had you not felt these adornments before that?’ ‘No, they were numbed, I presume by some surgical chemical. They were very sore the next morning and are still very tender now.’ As she said this I realised that I had not removed my fingers from her vagina and did so quickly, causing the rings to jangle quietly as they were once more enfolded into her warm softness. ‘There is one more onerous task which I am afraid I must perform before I can allow you to redress Miss Torrington, please excuse me.’ As I watched dumbfounded Holmes straightened the long middle finger of his left hand and, without ceremony, inserted its full length into Miss Torrington. She straightened suddenly in her chair, closing her eyes and opening her mouth as her head tilted back slightly. Holmes left his finger inside her for a few long seconds and then withdrew it as sharply as he had put it in and proceeded, to my horror, to smell his finger carefully. He than sat back in his chair. Miss Torrington, to my relief, did not open her eyes until he had completed his nasal examination of his finger, and when she did so Holmes looked her straight in the eyes. ‘This is indeed a singularly exotic and distressing case Miss Torrington but have no fear, there are some chinks of light in the shroud that enfolds you. The first is that, while unconscious, you were not robbed of your virtue, there is no trace of any seminal fluid in your vagina.’ Miss Torrington’s beautiful face at once showed both embarrassment at Holmes’ candour and relief at his message. ‘Secondly there are a number of aspects to this case that should prove that it is simple to clear up.’ He stood from his chair sharply, raising his left hand to his mouth in apparent thought, and turned his back on the naked young women sat in the chair. ‘Dress yourself Miss Torrington and go to your aunt’s. Complain of a headache and retire to your room alone, but confide in your maid that you expect a love letter from your fiancé and that any messages or telegrams addressed to you should be brought, unopened to your room. I shall start work on the matter at once and will send for you when it is necessary.’ Miss Torrington rose and turned to retrieve her dress affording me a view of her beautiful behind which I had hitherto not seen. It was as flawless and exquisite as the rest of her body and as she bent to step into her dress my trouser front tightened even more. I sat down to disguise my discomfort as, with her back turned, she refastened the buttons. When she was again decent she turned back to face Holmes. He was standing by the mantelpiece and was holding the photograph in his right hand. Holmes & the Blackmailer Ch. 01 ‘I am afraid that I will have to keep hold of the photograph for now.’ Miss Torrington started to object. Holmes ripped the photograph in half so that Miss Torrington’s face, eyes closed in unconsciousness, was on one part of the picture and her spread legs on the other half. ‘To avoid any possible harmful disclosure I think we can dispose of this part.’ He said and dropped the part of the picture showing Miss Torrington’s face into the fire where it quickly curled and burned to ashes. ‘Miss Torrington, I repeat, there any many parts of this affair which lead me to think that a satisfactory conclusion is quickly attainable. Please go now and rest for you are obviously very distraught.’ ‘Thank you Mr Holmes, thank you, I pray that you are right.’ She bobbed a very short curtsey which, even my untrained but alerted eye noticed through her thin dress, tugged gently on her unfettered breasts and left, a slight blush on her beautiful face the only sign of the ordeal that she had endured. I blinked as Holmes let up the blinds and then he turned to me. ‘I will need half an hour alone to think,’ he said, his left hand still at his lips in thought, ‘and then I shall need to go out and make some enquiries. Come back at 7 o’clock Watson and bring your revolver, we shall be venturing into some of the less fashionable parts of the city. Until then . . .’ And with that he skipped through the connecting door to his small laboratory and closed the door behind him. Still reeling from what I had just witnessed I grabbed my coat and left, bidding Mrs Hudson cheerio. She had a wry smile upon her face as I went out of the front door and this made me hold my coat in front of my crotch for several minutes as I walked down Baker Street and out into the Metropolis, eager for the adventure that would commence at 7 o’clock. Holmes & the Blackmailer Ch. 02 In the first part of my narrative I gave a full, frank and most disturbing account of the problem that had been laid before my eminent friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes. I cannot bear to write it again so, if you have not already made yourself aware of the incredibly delicate matter in which I was involved I would suggest that you first read Part 1 of this account. I had some small practice matters to attend to during the day and went about these as best I could in my state of shocked distraction. The image of Miss Torrington standing naked in my friend's sitting room while he examined the strange piercings that had been attached to her body while she had been drugged was never far from my mind. In the early evening I called back to my house to retrieve my old Army revolver as instructed and arrived at Baker Street a little before the arranged time of 7 o'clock. Mrs Hudson informed me that Holmes had gone out and that he had left word for me to wait in the sitting room for him. Mrs Hudson had already laid out a cold supper for two and hot coffee which I started to consume while I waited. Holmes arrived back at precisely 7 o'clock, dropping his hat and cane onto the sofa and throwing himself into his chair by the fire. He said nothing until he had retrieved his pipe from its resting place on the mantle and filled and lit it. 'I have had a most instructional day Watson; I believe that the outline facts of the matter are quite clear to me, quite clear. It is a most unfortunate case, one of the most shocking we have had reason to deal with. It remains only to fill in a few remaining details and then I shall be ready to wrap the whole business up.' 'So the wedding is secure?' I asked with excitement. 'It is too early to tell, some things still lie in the balance. I see Mrs Hudson has left us a fine supper. Let us take half an hour to eat our fill and then we will venture out into the grim underbelly of this most refined of cities Watson. All life is here if you look far enough beneath the surface.' We consumed our fill of the excellent supper then wrapped up in warm clothing and hailed a passing hansom cab. 'When I examined the knot of rings that Miss Torrington had been adorned with I was immediately reminded of an artefact known in England as a puzzle ring,' my friend explained as we clattered through the darkened streets of the town, 'Puzzle rings were designed by the expert metalworkers of the orient and, when they sit on a woman's finger they look like nothing more than an intricately designed piece of jewellery but should they be removed from the finger they immediately fall apart and become a loose collection of rings which, unless the specific correct technique is employed, cannot be made to fit upon the finger once more. They were used by jealous husbands to dissuade errant wives from removing their wedding bands to attract treacherous adulterers.' 'And you think that this is what our unknown fiend has had inserted into Miss Torrington?' I asked incredulously. 'Something similar I believe. There have also been stories that the great harem keepers of the Arabian states had similar ornaments made that meant that any tampering of their concubines would be immediately noticeable. It is this variation of the puzzle ring which I think has been employed here.' 'Astounding! So we are looking for some sort of Arabian scoundrel, some foreign blackmailer.' 'Not necessarily Watson. This afternoon I spent a most enlightening few hours in the jewellers' quarter of the city and managed to ascertain that only four jewellers in the whole of London produce puzzle rings in the oriental style. Of course, none of these would dare admit to making an Arabian device of the kind we are most interested in but I'm sure the knowledge would be there for the right price. This means that the ornaments could well have been made in London. My next line of enquiry is to find out who carried out the procedure. A backstreet vendor of piercings is liable to be more readily influenced to betray his clientele than a well-to-do goldsmith I think. To trace our man however, we will have to liaise with some of our more colourful fellow citizens. You did remember your revolver didn't you?' I pulled the butt of my pistol from its hiding place beneath my coat so that my friend could see it and then replaced it securely. He nodded and then sat back in the cab and held his hands up in front of his mouth, the palms pressed together and the tips of his long middle fingers resting under the tip of his long nose. His eyelids half closed and I recognised that he was again running everything through his brain, leaving no mental avenue unexplored. It was my signal to remain quiet and I looked out onto the streets of the capital city. The odd wisp of fog hung around the gas lanterns that were becoming farther between now that we were moving into the poorer areas of town. The ruts in the streets became more frequent and I unconsciously drew my coat tighter against the imagined monstrosities that lurked in the darker alleys that ran off at angles from the main thoroughfare. Suddenly Holmes sprang forward in his seat and with his siler handled cane rapped twice on the underside of the cab roof. 'Here will do driver!' We opened the doors and stepped down. My friend paid the driver and told him that we did not wish him to wait for us and, with a relieved look, the driver turned the cab around in the street and headed back the way we came. 'Come Watson, we have some ladies to interview.' He said in his clipped and sharp manner of speech and then he headed off down one of the dark alleys with a flourish from his cape as he turned. I looked about me quickly once then followed on his heels. The alley proved to be mercilessly short although the stench stayed in my nostrils for some time after we had exited onto a wider street that seemed to run parallel to the main street that we had arrived upon. The sound of raucous laughter and a badly tuned and played piano rattled off the closely packed walls of the half derelict dwellings that lined the streets and it was towards this sound that Holmes walked in the sprightly gait that he used when excitedly following a scent. The glow of gaslight through a smoke stained window at the far end of the street marked out the tavern from where the riotous cacophony came but to my surprise Holmes continued past the door and headed towards a young woman stood in the doorway of a warehouse next door. As I approached I realised that he was actually talking to an older woman who was stood behind the girl and as I drew closer I was amazed when, in the middle of his conversation he turned and indicated me by pointing with his cane. Before I could react he had turned back to the woman and was showing her something. She shook her head and my friend doffed his hat and continued on. As I passed the woman I was aware that she was giving me a very queer look indeed. We continued on through a veritable maze of passages and alleys and every so often a similar tableau would unfold. Holmes would approach a young lady, who would unfailingly be accompanied by an older woman standing behind her and engage her in conversation, in each case pointing me out with his cane and then pulling out an object and showing it to the woman. In each case the woman would shake her head, some of the woman did so quite vigorously, and then my friend would doff his hat and walk on. I would then run a gauntlet of fierce looks as I followed on in his wake. I consider myself a man of the world and I was in no doubt as to the 'profession' of these poor girls and the hold that the older madams had over them and their earnings and I was becoming more than a little uneasy as to what Holmes was saying but I knew by the look on his face that it would not be wise to confront him about it while the hunt was fresh. He had spoken to perhaps twenty women when he seemed to get the result that he was looking for. He again motioned towards me with his stick and then showed an article to the madam who was stood behind a particularly listless and grimy young lady in a decidedly faded and ripped dress. The woman, unlike all the others nodded. 'Mary!' she called loud enough that I could hear her rough accent across the street, 'Show the gentleman your fine jewellery what I gave you.' The young girl turned towards Holmes and bent over and grabbed the hem of her skirt then stood straight up, pulling the skirt up as she did so. I could not see from my vantage point but I assumed that she was exposing herself to my friend and as she did so he looked intently down towards her abdomen. He nodded and held up his gloved hand and the girl dropped her skirt into place once more. There was a brief flash of silver as Holmes passed a coin to the madam and then, prompted by his request, she seemed to give him directions to make for a small alley along the street. He threaded his arm through the girl's arm as tenderly as fashionable sweethearts do when promenading in the park on a Saturday morning and motioned to me to catch up as he headed for the alley. He led the way into the alley and proceeded to a rickety door which he pushed open to reveal a set of stairs that creaked wildly as we walked up them to the first floor. The building was one of the many derelict warehouses that litter the city but in one corner of the large bare room there had been set up a filthy mattress. Some tattered material had been hung from nails in the wall in an attempt to make the area immediately surrounding the mattress look less like the ruin that it was. The girl automatically let go of Holmes' arm and walked over to the mattress and in one practiced move had undone the fastenings of her dress and let it fall to the floor. As she stood in the light of Holmes' lantern, naked but for her street-worn shoes she looked so much like, and yet so much different to how Miss Torrington had done. Although difficult to ascertain she appeared to be much the same age, and her body was of similar proportions but she was dirty and a number of scars and wealds bore testament to the rough life and treatment that this slip of a girl had endured. Had she perhaps been born into a similar social circle as Miss Torrington I wonder if she would have been her equal in terms of beauty but, stood naked and awaiting her fate, in this squalid ruin, she looked quite pathetic. 'Look at her vagina Watson!' Holmes said excitedly. 'I really think . . .' my words of protest were cut short however because as the girl turned in the glare of Holmes' spotlight a succession of flashes issued from between her legs as the light reflected off a number of rings that had been inserted along her labia. 'My dear,' said Holmes addressing her, 'please put your dress back on. I would like you to take me to the man that put your rings in.' His motioned towards her vagina with his hand. The girl however did not move, a confused look sweeping across her face. 'Do I not please you sir? Oh please that I would, I get punished quite severely if I don't please my gentlemen.' 'You will please me a great deal if you can take me to the man that fitted your jewellery.' I moved towards the girl, picking up her sad rag of a dress but as I tried to hand it to her left hand snaked out and slid under my coat, immediately closing around my penis through my trousers. I was shocked and turned to look at Holmes. 'I can be very good for you sir, I do exactly as you please.' Before I even had time to react her trained and nimble fingers had undone the buttons of my fly and she had actually pulled my penis out of my trousers. Despite all my best intentions, the attentions of her practised fingers meant that it was starting to grow firm. Holmes seemed to suppress an entertained grin as he quickly moved to the girl and gently moved her away from me, taking the dress and handing it to her, leaving me to turn my back and fumble with my trouser front as I attempted to regain both my dignity and my composure. By the time I had turned around it appeared that Holmes had got his message across and the girl was once more clothed and Holmes handed her a coin before she led us back out of the warehouse and back into the labyrinth of alleys. 'I am sorry Watson,' my friend said as we followed the girl swiftly through the rabbit warren of dirty walkways and unlit thoroughfares that marked this out as a particularly sordid part of town, 'but I may have given the girl the impression that you wished to avail of her services.' 'What?!' I exclaimed. 'Yes Watson,' a smirk barely visible on his face, 'to obtain the information I required I am afraid that I posed as your butler and advised the Madams that your particular pleasure was a young woman with intimate piercings. I knew that many of them would feign shock and disgust but that we would eventually find one!' 'Well, Holmes, I am indeed your friend but I feel that you have much maligned me!' 'Come Watson, you do not practise in this part of town, however much your skills are needed, and you rarely venture here unless you are helping me in one of my adventures, whereas I make it a habit of moving around all the parts of our city so that at any time I can have an accurate map in my head. It is one of the most important weapons in my mental arsenal. And wait, I think our pretty little guide has brought us to a place that I will make special note of for the future.' The girl had brought us to what, at the outside, looked like a normal, if shabby, public house but, despite the noise of bawdy behaviour that emanated from within, the shutters were drawn and the heavy doors were closed. The girl raised her hand to knock on the door. Holmes quickly moved to her side and gently restrained her wrist with a kind smile then turned to face the door and rapped twice with the silver head of his cane. A small view hoe opened and, from my angle, a most unpleasant face belched out an enquiry. 'Watcha want?' 'This young lady informs me that this is the place where my companion can purchase the particular type of entertainment that he requires.' 'I've never seen you 'ere before' the ogre replied. 'Indeed you haven't' replied Sherlock Holmes, 'but if the service is as good as the reputation then I think we will become regular, and well paying, patrons.' With this my friend retrieved a coin from his pocket and held it up to the grotesque face at the door. The face backed away to be replaced by a filthy hand but my friend pulled the coin sharply away and beckoned for the door to be opened. The sound of a heavy bolt sliding back preceded the opening of the door and a flood of dirty yellow light bathed the cobbles of the street. The raucous noise grew louder and as we all entered the strong smell of thick tobacco smoke, sweat and spilt liquor assaulted our nostril. The doorman was indeed an ogre of immense proportions. He towered at six inches over my friend who is six feet in height and he had the bulk of a prize-fighter, with the accompanying bulk and mean attitude. He motioned us inside. A rotund and ugly woman came up to us in a simpering, ingratiating fashion. 'What can I do for you fine Gentlemen this night, we have many pleasures and all our girls are of the strictest cleanliness, I insist on that if they are to entertain gentlemen of your obvious stature.' Sherlock Holmes silenced her with a raised hand. 'You will give this young lady a fine hot meal and a mug of your best ale, and I mean the food that you keep for yourself, not the slop that you would normally give her. You will treat her well because she is a friend of mine. You will also tell me where I can find the piercer.' My friend has the unerring ability to use the exact tone when he wants information, reading the forthcoming reactions of his source and he knew that if he acted the imperious gentleman this haggard old madam would react as she had be brought up to, with deference and unquestioning obedience. The gold coin in his gloved hand was further incitement for her co-operation. 'I shall feed her the best I have sir, I have a fresh beef joint in the kitchen which . . .' 'Very good, very good, the piercer if you please? I do not wish to be in this establishment all night.' 'Through the lounge then upstairs sir, fourth door on the landing but he has a client at the moment.' 'No matter.' Said my friend who then turned to the girl we had brought with us, placing his hand on her cheek. 'Go with this woman my dear, she will give you a good hot meal. When you have finished you may go home.' He slipped her another coin without the woman seeing him and then led the way into the squalid lounge. The scene that confronted me, I am not ashamed to say, shocked me even though I have been exposed to some heinous sights during my adventures with the world's greatest amateur detective. The lounge was, in basic appearance, the same as any other public house that one may find gracing the lower streets of the capital but the people arraying in it were wholly different. The patrons were exclusively male and, by the state of their clothing, were from all the strata of society from the drunken dock worker to the finest gentlemen who, it appeared, favoured the darker corners and booths for themselves. Each patron had with them at least one young woman in varying states of undress, many of them completely naked. Many of the women were performing sexual acts on the patrons. At the front, on a small raised stage, there was a circus contortionist, her legs twisted up and over her own shoulders. She was completely naked and several of the customers were making lascivious remarks about her vagina which was displayed to them in the most open and vulgar manner. My attention was then drawn to the side walls of the room where four women, two on either side, appeared to be chained to the wall, once again completely naked, with their hands secured high above their heads so that their arms were outstretched and only their toes were touching the sawdust strewn floor. In a state of shock I noticed what I first assumed to be blood running down the lengths of their bodies but a second inspection proved it to be candle wax. The fittings that their wrists were manacled to held three long red candles, the settings of which directed the melting wax to drip down onto the bodies below. As I watched, a long tongue of wax dripped down onto the left breast of one of the girls and ran, as it cooled, down to her erect nipple, forming a stalactite as it fell off the end. Her lack of movement at this hinted at gin dulled senses. At one end there were three card tables set up. At one of the tables there was a game of twenty-ones in operation. There was also another naked young woman kneeling on the top of the table, with her back arched backwards so that the top of her head was touching the felt behind her. I realised with astonishment that the croupier, who was also a naked young woman, was dealing the cards from a pack held between the folds of her vagina. At one of the other tables I was made to look twice as I recognised the unmistakable profile of one of the countries most eminent members of parliament! His table was playing a form of poker it appeared but clearly visible beneath the table was another naked young woman who, as he played his hand, had his penis in her mouth performing an act known medically as fellatio. It appeared that the politician lost that particular hand by the way that he threw in his cards and the winner scooped the tokens for which they were playing. After he had stacked the tokens the victorious gambler then looked under the table and barked something to the young woman. She immediately shuffled around on her knees under the table and took up a similar position at the victor's lap and started to perform fellatio on him. The politician started the next hand without even making himself decent. Holmes & the Blackmailer Ch. 02 'Watson, do come on!' My friend's voice shook me from my reverie and I realised that I was actually stood stationary in the middle of the room, my mouth open in shock. He was stood, perfectly poised, at the foot of the wooden staircase, one foot on the first step. I regained myself and went to join him. 'Mind that you have one hand upon your wallet and the other on the butt of your pistol, we are going into the very middle of this web of debauchery dear friend.' And with that, he leapt up the stairs, and I followed in his wake. He moved quickly to the fourth door of the dark corridor and without hesitation burst through it and I was close at his heels. Despite having experienced the scene in the lounge the scene in the squalid, ill-lit room, was possibly more sordid. In the middle of the room was an old examination table not unlike the one I had in my own consulting room. On the table, lying on her back with her legs in birthing stirrups, was a young lady of the type my friend had engaged in conversation previously that evening. Her genitals were not in view however as a man was hunched over on a stool between her legs, the movement of his shoulders telling us that he was doing something with his hands. Sat to one side, drinking from a bottle of cheap gin and smoking a cigar, was one of the most hideous examples of the female race I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. At the sound of the door opening the man swung round to face my friend with a stream of the most unpleasant and foul oaths. On seeing my friend he immediately grasped at a large and wicked looking knife on his tray of instruments and rose to brandish it. In a blur of movement my friend spun his cane, the silver handle catching the man's wrist and wrenching it so that the knife clattered to the floor. Continuing the movement and taking one step towards him, Holmes then twisted the man's arm behind his back and turned his face to the wall. All this happened in the time it had taken me to draw my pistol. The displeasing woman was slower to react due to her alcoholic state and rose with a similar vile outpouring of gutter language but I stood between her and my friend and a sharp stare and a brandish of my service weapon quickly dissuaded her from interfering. Homes, without looking at her, spoke sharply. 'Madam, go downstairs and join your fellow citizens in the lounge before I am forced to call the assistance of a constable.' She, rather sheepishly, obeyed by friends command. 'Watson, please see to the young lady. Please make her decent and help her downstairs and advise the owner of this establishment to treat her the same as the other young lady whom I brought in.' 'Certainly Holmes, but will you be alright here on your own.' 'Without doubt Watson, I don't think Mr Fletcher here will attempt to do anymore harm to me now.' I moved to the examination table and pulled the young lady's dress down over her exposed vagina. Her pubic hair had been shaved completely smooth like that of Miss Torrington but the one ring that had thus far been inserted into her labium was of a much coarser manufacture than the fine rings that adorned the lovelier body of the graceful young lady that we were on a mission to help. The young woman was very drunk, presumably as a form of pain relief during the vile procedure so I had to exert considerable effort to get her safely down the stairs and through to the landladies' small kitchen, where our original young lady was already hungrily consuming a hearty meal. The landlady, despite the type of establishment that she ran, was good to her word and the meal that she had provided was of surprising quality. I relayed my friend's instructions and passed back into the lounge. There was now a group of three dancers on the stage doing a naked rendition of the dance made notorious by the Parisian dancers of the Moulin Rouge and the famous politician was now nowhere to be seen, although a burning cigar in the ashtray next to his place at the card table suggested that he had perhaps only left for a short time, perhaps for some carnal interlude. I was about to make my way to the stairs when my friend descended in his rapid fashion and, without pausing, walked passed my as I turned to follow. 'Come Watson, we have plans to make and telegrams to dispatch before morning. Everything is now clear to me and, with some skilful manipulation and a little luck we will be able to settle this whole sorry matter before lunch time tomorrow. I suggest that you sleep in your old room tonight for you have an early errand in the morning, I would trust no-one else with the care of the lovely Miss Torrington.' And with that we left the den of vice and strode out into the street to look for a hansom back to Baker Street. Holmes was in excellent spirits on the journey, humming one of his favourite violin movements, while I realised with shame that I was relishing the fact that I would be meeting Miss Torrington again tomorrow morning. Holmes & the Blackmailer Ch. 03 Scotland Yard Archivist's note: It is with some embarrassment that I must report that the papers of Dr John Watson became scattered amongst the archives. It has taken some years to piece them together and I am now pleased to present the third and penultimate part of this record. I am currently transcribing the last of Doctor Watson's hand written account and should be in a position to present them soon. It is with more than a little embarrassment that I must admit that I was somewhat excited at the prospect of meeting with Miss Torrington once again. I had stayed in my old room for the night and Mrs Hudson had prepared an excellent early breakfast which I ate alone as Holmes had risen and left before me. He had left me a note reminding me of my instructions and telling me to make sure to bring Miss Torrington back to our rooms before 10 o'clock. I picked up my trusty Doctor's bag, as instructed, and went down to the street to find a cab. When I arrived at Miss Torrington's Aunt's house I introduced myself to the boot boy as Miss Torrington's private physician. The boot boy, who was a little surly in my opinion, took my card and ushered me into the hall but did not offer to take my hat or cane. I left them on the table and waited until Miss Torrington's maid appeared and showed me to her room. 'Miss Torrington has asked me to show you in while I wait out here.' the maid said a little coldly. Of course, the Doctor's bag leant some respectability to the situation and putting on my best medical manner I entered. I was surprised to find Miss Torrington still in bed. She was sat up, wearing a nightdress and with the detritus of her breakfast on a lap tray. Next to her toast rack was an opened note upon which I recognised Holmes' hurried hand. 'Doctor Watson, come in. It's so good to see you again. Mr Holmes has sent word that you were coming and that he should have a solution to my problem by lunchtime. He has sent you to collect me, you are my knight in shining armour.' 'Your mood has certainly improved Miss Torrington.' I replied, trying hard not to stare at the silhouette of her perfect breast which was visible through the thin fabric of her night attire by virtue of a candle on her bedside table. 'It is true what they say about a problem shared Doctor Watson. Since I placed my problem in the hands of Mr Holmes a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And you of course, my good Doctor.' I looked at the bedside table nearest to me and Miss Torrington's better mood was explained - a brass syringe, obviously used recently, sat in a silver dish. I walked over and picked it up. 'Miss Torrington, have you been administering drugs to yourself?' She looked up at me with an embarrassed smile, and dilated pupils. 'The boot boy got it for me, it's just a little opium for the pain, and it does lift my mood a little too.' 'Miss Torrington, as a physician I must advise you not to proceed with this course of action; I've seen what an addiction to this can do to perfectly sane human beings.' 'Oh Doctor Watson, please don't lecture me. Anyway, haven't you come to take me to Mr Holmes? Here, take my tray and put it on the side table over there please.' I did as I was asked but as I turned around I saw that Miss Torrington had thrown back the bed clothes and was stood at the side of the bed. She started to stretch but this obviously put strain on the delicate chains connecting the bars through her nipples and the rings attached to her labia. She winced slightly and dropped her arms again. 'I do hope Mr Holmes is right that this will all be over today Doctor.' she said then amazed me by swiftly untying her nightclothes and letting them drop to the floor. As she stepped out of them I was once again looking upon the beautiful naked form of the young socialite. Her pure alabaster skin, her beautiful breasts and shaved pubic area. Of course, there was also the delicate but wicked jewellery that her as yet unknown blackmailer had forced upon her under sedation. Despite my embarrassment my penis started to stiffen at the sight. To my utter amazement Miss Torrington proceeded to move her right hand down to her crotch and started to manipulate her labia. She saw my mouth open in amazement. 'Sometimes, after I've slept, I have to adjust the rings to make them a little more comfortable.' she explained, 'Would you help me dress Doctor, it can be painful dressing myself with the chains.' She slipped behind a dressing screen and then reappeared carrying a fashionable dress. She dropped it to the floor and stepped into it then bent at the knees and pulled it up, slipping her arms into the sleeves. She turned her back to me and asked me to do up the back of the dress. I moved closer and noticed that the dress seemed to have a hundred small metal hooks which slipped into corresponding loops. The fastenings started below the gentle curve of Miss Torrington's buttocks and, unaccustomed as I am to dressing women, as I fumbled with the fiddly closures my hand brushed her soft buttocks a number of times. I blustered an apology but Miss Torrington, in her opium induced reverie, merely giggled. With much frustration at the job in hand I finally finished. Miss Torrington turned around and thanked me then sat gingerly on the bed and asked me to pass her boots and help to fasten them. The boots fastened with a similar mechanism so the process was somewhat quicker after which Miss Torrington rose and looked at herself in a full length mirror. 'I fear my lack of undergarments is apparent Doctor, I must present a somewhat slovenly appearance. My lack of a corset is plainly obvious.' 'Trust in Holmes Miss Torrington, I feel confident that this sordid business will soon be at an end.' Miss Torrington turned to me sharply, her cheeks reddening and moisture forming at her eyes. 'You think me sordid Doctor Watson?' I felt brutish in an instant, reproaching myself for my careless turn of phrase. 'Oh no, my dear Miss Torrington, you are the innocent and virtuous victim of a wicked villain. It is the merely the situation that is sordid and not you. Forgive me if I implied otherwise.' 'The pressure is hard to bear Doctor, truly it is. I hope and pray that your faith in Mr Holmes is warranted and I shall soon be free of these adornments.' 'Come,' I said, regaining my composure, 'I have a four wheeler waiting outside to take us to Baker Street. The sooner we leave, the sooner this will all be over.' I took my case in one hand and Miss Torrington's offered forearm in the other and we left the room. Outside in the street I helped Miss Torrington into the cab and instructed the driver to proceed with all haste to Baker Street before joining her inside. We heard the driver shout and the crack of his whip and the cab lurched out into the crowded streets of the great metropolis. Miss Torrington had sat facing forward so I had taken the bench opposite. My young companion did not seem to want to talk and was looking out of the window so I did the same, looking out over the world's greatest city as is passed by us. As they have a habit of being at that time of the morning the roads were thronged with delivery drays lumbering along the streets and small, more nimble cabs, skittering across the cobbles between them. Our progress was slower than I hoped and after a few minutes I became aware that Miss Torrington appeared to be succumbing to the strain of the situation once more. Even though she kept her face steadfastly facing the window I could hear that her breathing was starting to become shallower and swifter and I could detect a flush starting to spread across her cheek. My heart reached out to the girl and leaving my bag on my bench I moved to sit beside her and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'Miss Torrington, I know this must be difficult for you but . . . ' She swung round quickly and put her head on my shoulder and grabbed my thigh with her hand. 'Oh Doctor Watson, I apologise, but the cobbles, the vibrations . . . Oh!' Her hand tightened on my thigh and I suddenly realised that I had completely misunderstood Miss Torrington's symptoms. She was not upset but rather, the motion of the cab over the cobbled streets was causing her unsupported breasts to move and in doing so was causing the chains connected to her labia rings to excite her womanly folds and clitoris. Miss Torrington, far from being distressed, was sexually aroused. The combination of this realisation and the presence of her hand high up on my thigh caused my own genitals to react and, once again in the course of this adventure, I found myself becoming stiff. As the young woman's breathing came in gasps her hand started to knead my leg and her hand started to rise up my leg as my penis lengthened down my trouser leg. I tried to extricate myself from the situation but Miss Torrington was lost in her reverie and was now clinging on to my arm with her free hand. I jumped as her hand first made contact with my now fully engorged member. 'Miss Torrington I really must . . .' My words were cut off by my own breath. Miss Torrington, in her swoon, grasped my member through my trousers and started to rhythmically squeeze it. As her breath shortened and came in ever increasing gasps I found myself, I must say, thinking back over the occurrences of the last two days and finding myself unable, and, I'm afraid to say, unwilling to remove myself. With the intoxicating memories coursing through my mind like the opiates burning their way through Miss Torrington's veins it was a very short time before I pumped seed down my leg but Miss Torrington continued grinding her hand until it was almost painful on my softening penis. I was thankful when, with one final and prolonged squeeze, her own feelings came to a crushing climax, a long moan escaped her wantonly parted lips before she finally released her grip. 'Oh Doctor Watson, I'm so sorry.' she managed before she turned and, looking out of the window, started to sob. My heart reached out to the beautiful but stricken girl and I reached out a hand to hers. She turned and buried her head in my chest, her tears wetting my collar. I put a comforting arm around her shoulder and, although her crying slowly subsided, she remained thus until the four wheeler slowed outside the door to 221B Baker Street. Holmes & the Blackmailer Ch. 04 Under Holmes' instructions I handed Miss Torrington over to the care of Mrs Hudson immediately on arrival at 221b Baker Street and she was helped upstairs by our faithful housekeeper. Mrs Hudson's disdainful look at my trousers instructed me that I needed to go to my room and change. Holmes told me to hurry up with a tone of despair and told me to call into his room before returning to the sitting room to check that Miss Torrington was being cared for adequately. Having quickly changed trousers (and sponging off my leg) I came back downstairs and went into my friend's room. Unprepared for what to expect I was shocked to be confronted with the sight of Miss Torrington lying naked on a table in the centre of the room, her opened legs towards me, her lower legs hanging from the knees over the edge. Her pierced labia were vulgarly displayed and as my gaze followed the delicate but cruel chains up to the bars through her nipples I noticed for the first time that her face was covered by a thick silk veil. Mrs Hudson was stood at her shoulder, holding her hand and stroking the back of it while whispering soothing words to the frightened young woman. 'You Doctor Watson?' I was addressed in a rough voice that was trying to appear cultured and I looked to the side of the curtain darkened room to see the vile piercer that my friend and I had encountered in the back room of the hideous back alley den the night before. 'That I am' I replied with frosty detachment. 'The gen'lman said I was to wait upon your arrival to commence the . . . uh . . . proceeja.' I signalled him to start with a contemptuous wave and he retrieved some tools from a decidedly second-hand looking doctor's bag and moved over to the table. He started by clipping the chain from Miss Torrington's right nipple. She gasped as it pulled her breast. 'Blast it man, be careful. Have some respect.' I stormed. 'Beggin' yer pardon sir I'm sure.' He replied but his lascivious sneer told me he was less than sorry. He reached over and snipped the other chain no more carefully and Miss Torrington gasped again and I detected some relief in the gasp as, for the first time since her ordeal began, her nipples were no longer connected to her labia. While she had been lying down the chains had been held taut and her breasts pulled slightly. Now free they sat naturally and I was mesmerised for a second by their youthful and beautiful plump curves. Miss Torrington was bewitching in her perfect beauty and it was this enchantment that caused me to neglect my duty and miss that the piercer kept hold of the chains in his hand as he moved to the end of the table to clip the other ends and as he did so he kept them taut and tugged them gently. It wasn't until I noticed Miss Torrington arch her back off the table and moan that I was snapped out of my reverie. 'Doctor Watson! You are worse than useless!' Mrs Hudson had left Miss Torrington's shoulder and was stood next to me. 'Go and help Mr Holmes in the sitting room and leave this odious little man to me. And you,' she jabbed her finger at the piercer, 'any more antics from you and you will have me to answer to, and I've been looking after these two gentleman for long enough to know how to deal with the likes of you. Now finish what you are doing quickly and carefully.' Chastened, I nodded agreement to the now fearsome looking Mrs Hudson and left the room to join Holmes in the sitting room. As I entered he was standing over a gentleman in expensive but shabby clothing who was filling in a cheque with a tanned and shaking hand. 'And be sure to sign it!' said my friend, his commanding voice tinged with barely suppressed anger. The man did so then handed the cheque to my friend who examined it then folded it once and placed it into the pocket of his waistcoat. The man sat at the table looked up at Holmes' with trepidation, like a cowed dog awaiting his next command. 'Now, leave and return to Arabia by the very next boat. I will know if you do not. I suggest you stay there and only communicate by letter. It is only my concern for Lady Warburton's honour that I have not handed you to Scotland Yard. If you are not out of Baker Street in the next two minutes I may change my mind . . . or even shoot you where you sit!' The man sat dumbfounded at the last remarks, delivered quietly but with unimaginable menace. 'GO!' My friend's sudden shout shook the man from his trance and grabbing his hat and pushing past me with a look of fear and, strangely, some other emotion I could not place, on his face the man left, clattering down the stairs and slamming the door behind him. 'Holmes?' I enquired, aghast. 'We expect one more visitor before the game is finished Watson so help me square the room away slightly, we are expecting nobility. I will explain while we work.' I moved to help him as he unfolded the story. 'That, Watson, was Mr Alexander Torrington.' 'Miss Torrington's father? But he isn't expected in England until tomorrow.' 'He has been here for two weeks Watson. I ascertained this from the records of the shipping lines. It was he who drugged his own daughter, had her mutilated and blackmailed her.' I stopped still, a pile of papers slipping from my hand. 'Hard to fathom I know Watson, but when I read that his fortune came from trading spices from Arabia but that his company was doing badly due to heavy competition from emerging rivals I began to suspect a hideous twist to our plot, especially considering the Arabian history of Miss Torrington's Harem Knot adornment. A few hasty telegrams and some sincerely delivered threats got the truth out of him. The man is verging on bankruptcy Watson. He cannot afford to pay for the wedding or provide a dowry for his Daughter, but to admit as much would be the final nail in his company's coffin so instead he hatched a brutish plan to scupper the wedding through either his Daughter's or his would-be Son-in-Law's part.' I was aghast, I simply could not believe what I was hearing. 'But you said you were letting him go to save Lady Warburton's honour, how is she affected?' 'I was referring to his daughter, but refuse to give her his name, he does not deserve her, but I hear the approach of a carriage so some subtle timing is now required. Go back into my room and see that the piercer leaves, but not before our new arrival is safely in this room. It would not be becoming for them to meet on the stairs!' I moved back to Holmes's room but found that the piercer had already left. However, any surprise at that was eclipsed by what I saw. Miss Torrington was still lying naked, but for the veil, on the table but Mrs Hudson was between her legs, manipulating her vagina and gently blowing on it. The veil over Miss Torrington's face alternatively billowed away from her faced then was sucked into her mouth as the young lady's breathing caused her breasts to heave on her chest. Her back arched again from the table and a staccato breath erupted from her as I witnessed her climax once more before she sagged back on the table. 'I'm sorry my dear but this cream will soothe you and bring the swelling down quickly and I had to make sure I got it in all the folds my love.' Said Mrs Hudson with genuine concern before moving away from the table to retrieve a dampened cloth from the side stand. As she did so I noticed that one of the rings was still in one of Miss Torrington's labia. 'He left without finishing?' Mrs Hudson turned quickly, she had been unaware that I had entered the room. Her face was flushed. 'Oh no, Doctor, no, Miss Torrington asked that he leave one in, she thinks her husband may like it as a wedding gift.' She dropped her voice, 'if the wedding is still going ahead but she trusts Mister Holmes and says we must too.' She turned back to the side table, retrieved the small pile of rings and chains and handed them to me. 'Mister Holmes said to give these to you and that you were to give them to him when everything is done, now, you go and let me and Miss Torrington get her looking presentable again, Mr Holmes' visitor has arrived, he'll be wanting you.' I went back to the sitting room again, my head spinning and my trousers slightly tighter after the heady eroticism I had observed but I controlled myself in front of our guest, a handsome young man, impeccably attired and presented. 'Lord Peter Warbuton, this is my friend Doctor Watson.' He rose to shake my hand and I had to quickly switch Miss Torrington's jewellery to my other hand to return his gesture. 'Watson, I have explained to Lord Peter that Mr Torrington has been detained on business overseas due to the unfortunate nature of his luck of late and the problems surrounded the finances of the wedding but Lord Peter is truly one of the better examples of our nobler youth and is, if I may paraphrase you M'Lord, marrying Miss Torrington for the purest of reasons, his deep love for her.' 'Emily is my world Mister Holmes, we will be ever happy in each other's company, and my Father has agreed to step in financially to see me and his daughter happy.' 'Mr Torrington did send a small donation towards a wedding gift for his daughter Lord Peter, I can trust you to choose wisely I am sure.' With this Holmes retrieved the cheque from his pocket and handed it to Lord Peter who placed it in his own waistcoat pocket without looking at it. 'Trust me Mister Holmes, I will not let Emily down.' 'Of that I am most certain Lord Peter, but look, here is Miss Torrington now. She has been somewhat upset after learning that her Father cannot attend the wedding but I am sure that you will cheer her up and, acting as her Father's agent, and somewhat prematurely I agree before Saturday's ceremony, I will hand her over to your care.' Miss Torrington entered the room looking fresh but tired but as her gaze fell on Lord Peter her face brightened with adoration lifting her beauty to a level that surpassed wonder. She flew into his arms and then drew back with a touch of embarrassment at the public display of affection. Turning to Holmes she tip-toed to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. 'Thank you Mister Holmes, you are an angel. You have saved my life. And Doctor Watson,' she turned to me and blessed me likewise with a kiss, 'you are my guardian. I will be forever in your debt Gentlemen. Now Peter, please take me home, I must prepare for Saturday.' Lord Peter look a little bemused at the strength of Miss Torrington's gratitude, unaware as he was, of the true nature of Holmes' assistance to his fiancé, but Miss Torrington grasped his hand and flashed him a smile that would make any man fall in love all over again and they left as happy as any two people could be. 'That's a fine young man, and a beautiful and courageous young lady Watson, they will make a fine couple.' 'That they will Holmes, he is a very fortunate young man, but in for a shock on his wedding night!' I handed Holmes the jewellery the piercer had removed and his quick eyes surveyed them instantly. 'There are two rings missing Watson!' 'Yes Holmes, she made him leave them in as a 'wedding gift' for her husband.' Holmes arched an eyebrow before placing the rings in his drawer ready for filing into his library of crime and I was never sure if his deductive powers were good enough to work out that I had secretly palmed one of the rings before handing them to him but after a visit to a local jeweller with a special commission, every time I ran my hands along my watch chain and felt the centre link, slightly larger than the others and once an adornment of Lady Emily Warburton's beautifully perfect secret folds my cock would twitch with the memories.