He brooded. It was his automatic
reflex to do so between cases, a state of being to which he returned
time and again. Without challenges, Holmes made his own; sometimes with
disastrous results, but at the moment he was refraining from anything
too dangerous, having promised both Watson and Mrs. Hudson that he
would behave himself for the time being.
was away; more precisely, he was off enjoying his honeymoon with Mary
in Brighton. Knowing Watson’s prowess with the opposite sex,
Holmes doubted the two of them would even leave their bedroom long
enough to walk Gladstone regularly, let alone take in the sights of the
seaside resort for their two weeks.
tried not to think of it, since prurience wasn’t generally in
his nature, but a touch of envy and arousal hit every time he
considered the situation. He and Watson had each had paramours; Watson
far more than he, but as men of the world they maintained healthy and
discreet appetites. In private company they occasionally shared
intimate information, and both had done their share of pursuing
feminine charms when presented.
were, in short, men who appreciated women, albeit with no interest in
now, Holmes sighed inwardly. Watson had done more than just follow a
pretty ankle this time. He’d allowed his attraction in Mary
to rise higher; moving from the intended goal between her thighs to her
personality, and in the process had become . . . ensnared. Caught up
with her in conversations and discussions and ultimately, future plans.
honey pot to home-y plot, he thought, a trifle unkindly,
it. Watson was happy, and Mary was no reed to bend in the wind. She was
loyal and tough in her own lady-like way; a good match for the man she
had chosen. They were blissful, and despite his envy, Holmes wished
here, in the late afternoon shade of Mycroft’s folly as he
looked out over the lovely countryside, it was difficult not to feel a
touch of self-pity exacerbated by a lack of company. Holmes had taken
up Mycroft’s loan of his house, but wandering around the
empty place did nothing to soothe his irritations. Mycroft himself was
absent, preferring to spend his time unraveling various knots of
diplomatic entanglements in London and leaving the management of the
estate to the housekeeper and staff.
leaned against one of the pillars of the folly and sighed. It was a
graceful rotunda, classically Greek in design, modeled after the one at
Stowe, albeit on a smaller scale of course. Housed in the center was a
marble statue of Venus, seated on a throne and smiling far too smugly,
Holmes thought, for a woman half-exposed to the elements. He had no
particular appreciation for the Goddess of Love at the moment, and was
considering the long hike back to the main house when the sound of a
trap’s wheels coming up the gravel walkway brought him out of
Holmes!” came the gruff voice of Malone, the groundskeeper.
“Yer ward is here!”
this, Holmes spun, staring out at the approaching carriage, alert and
curious. The distance was closing, and he could make out both figures;
Malone’s beefy frame encased in his rough corduroy jacket and
tweed flat cap, and next to him, the boy in the overcoat, wearing a
plaid deerstalker, a few auburn curls escaping from under it.
lad was lookin’ for you, sir, so I offered to bring him out
this way and save him the trip,” Malone continued, pulling
the shay to a stop a few yards from the Folly. “Youngster
says you’ve got a lot of catchin’ up ta
nodded slowly; watching as the boy lightly scrambled down from the shay
and launched himself gracefully, arms outstretched. “Uncle
Sherlock! How I’ve missed you, sir!” came the
Holmes allowed himself to be tightly hugged, and the faintest trace
scent of Parisian perfume both allayed and inflamed his fears in the
same moment. Beyond him, Malone chuckled a bit.
little youth he is; had Maisie the parlor maid all in a tizzy with his
. . . he?” Holmes muttered, taking a moment to turn the boy
away from Malone. “How very cheeky of . . . him.”
no harm done,” Malone interjected. “And right fond
of you, he
is, isn’t he?”
seemed more than apparent, since the ‘boy’ had not
let go of his tight, full-bodied hug around Holmes, who blinked and
squirmed a little at this enthusiastic show of affection. Malone seemed
to take no mind of it, though.
well I’m off to town sir; I’m afraid the two of you
will need to take shank’s mare back to the house when
you’re ready. Good day, sirs---” and with a touch
to his cap, Malone smartly turned the cart, bringing the horse around
in the direction they’d come from, and rattled off again, the
wheels kicking up a little gravel as it departed.
one trap pulled away, Holmes turned his attention to the other one in
his arms. “I already have a reputation as a difficult
misanthrope, Irene; I do not
need the label of sodomite added to
it,” he grumbled.
late,” she whispered, hands sliding down to grip his
backside. “Mmmmm, you’re full of avuncular lust, I
Holmes hissed, as ever, torn between two courses of action. It was
always like this with Irene; the war of mind and body, always a contest
to see which would triumph. At the moment, body was gaining the upper
hand, or at least the upper advantage, even if the member in question
wasn’t the hand, precisely.
me, have you ever done it upright in a Grecian folly?” Irene
murmured, bending her head to lick a particularly tender spot just
under his ear, “Uncle?”
he warned, all too aware that they were within distant view of the
house, and certainly if Malone turned around, he’d see far
more affection going on than could be construed as normal for a boy
take that as a ‘no,’” Irene purred, and
let her small white teeth ever so gently nip at his skin. The effect
was instantaneous and Holmes cursed himself for it, stiffening yet
again. He slid his hands to catch Irene’s slender wrists,
peeling them off of the small of his back.
to me! I’m sure Mycroft’s staff are willing to
overlook any number of eccentricities, but this is not one of them! We
are not in a position to do anything more than nod, and smile and
create the impression of friendly, non-erotic,
And that hat is ridiculous, by the way.”
love this hat,” Irene protested, “and
you’re being overly-sensitive. Just because your bow is
poised for the first overture is nothing to be ashamed of, you
just because you
have a peculiar fetish for improprieties that
aggravate common decency and . . . and . . .” Holmes hissed,
losing his train of thought as Irene rubbed one thigh between his, the
caress of cloth and heat and pressure a thing of blackly exciting
pleasure. He swallowed hard, eyes closed.
always nice to know you’re up for seeing me,” Irene
sighed. “Far side of the folly, I want you,
didn’t say anything; he allowed himself to be towed to the
back side of the edifice, where Irene then pushed him up against the
base of Venus’s throne. He tried once more for reason, hands
trying hard to catch hers. “Beds,” Holmes muttered
hoarsely. “Mattresses of down, thick with silk brocade
duvets; goose feather pillows---”
fingers nimbly undid the buttons of his bulging fly as she pressed up
against him, cooing. “But you’re so lovely and hard
for me right here,
darling, so eager for my touch . . .”
muffled a moan, his hands shifting to her shoulders, pulling her closer
to him and sending a pleading look heavenward. “Chaos,
that’s always been your legacy . . .”
me and shut up,” Irene ordered, her own voice strained now as
she lifted her face to his. Holmes did wetly, his hands sliding under
her overcoat to wrap around her waist, tugging at her shirt and pulling
it free to reach the soft skin underneath. He grunted, rocking forward
a bit as Irene cupped his straining erection, her cool, talented
fingers caressing the heavy veins along it, and stroking him.
uncle you are,” came her hungry whisper, “Come
teach me a very private lesson here, oh please--!”
words made Holmes choke a bit, but his hands shifted, moved to tear at
her fly buttons, popping them open one after another in quick
succession. Under the cover of her overcoat it was easy to push
Irene’s trousers down to her knees and slide his hand to cup
a slightly calloused palm along her fluffy mound.
to believe that the gates to perdition could be so . . .
soft,” he growled, fingers toying with her curls even as
Irene licked the corner of his mouth and rocked against him eagerly.
she corrected him with a little whimper. “Worry about your
soul later; I want to get laid.”
you shall, although I prefer the naughty niece over nephew,”
Holmes admonished with a slight groan. “What am I saying?
Irene, I refuse to be drawn into your twisted little games--”
gave a little giggle, feminine and impatient. “Shall I get on
my knees and draw this out?”
of replying, Holmes twisted with her, scooping Irene up and dropping
her bottom on the edge of Venus’s dais. Startled, Irene
instinctively spread her knees for balance, and Holmes surged against
her, one hand tugging her trousers down, the other swiftly guiding his
impatient shaft. She gave a low, sweet keen as he thrust thickly into
her, his kiss against her delicate ear.
Holmes rasped, “and madness, all in one--”
kissed him frantically, her tongue against his as she clutched him,
pulling him deeper. The trousers sagging around her slim ankles
prevented her from wrapping her legs fully around Holmes, but she
managed to bring her knees up around his hips, gripping them tightly as
he drove hard into her, their bodies surging together and finding a
frantic, lustful tempo. Irene gasped against his questing mouth, the
deerstalker tumbling off to reveal a messy bun about to fall apart with
was breathing hard, eyes half-closed and hands clenched around the bone
of each of her hips; Irene shuddered at the sheer power of his
lovemaking, the primal pleasure of his corded muscles and sinewy body.
It wasn’t easy to seduce him, but the rewards made every
effort worthwhile, she knew.
he tipped her hips, shifting the angle, and now his every stroke rubbed
that lovely shivery spot deep within her. Irene felt the rush begin to
build, like a wave rising to crest; inevitable and full of unstoppable
Holmes grunted, “--first, little niece.”
cried out again; their heat and frenzy laced with risk and just the
right amount of wicked fantasy sent her off the edge with a breathless
rush. She shuddered hard, fingers digging into the shoulders of his
jacket as pleasure wracked through her frame.
tried to slow himself and draw out the exquisite pleasure of taking
Irene, but his impatient body refused to concede on the matter, and
responded to the quick clench of her by pounding harder. He strained to
hold back, but the sheer magnitude of lust throbbing through him
defeated the attempt, and with a growl, Holmes erupted deep between her
thighs, the mindless gratification washing through him.
was difficult to keep standing, so he leaned heavily against Irene,
nuzzling the damp length of her throat, tasting the sweetness of her
sweat. The scent of her was lush and contented; he took pride in being
the cause. Lightly Irene stroked his hair, and murmured gently.
that’s the proper way to greet a
loving relative, darling. Next time I can be your youngest aunt, just
back from Paris, and—”
the things I find most intriguing about you is this indefatigable
streak of sexual insanity,”
Holmes muttered against her
cheek. “We have just engaged in an act of public indecency
which if reported to the authorities could have us both arrested, not
to mention your sartorial subterfuge which at first glance would get
you pegged--if you’ll pardon the gross pun--as a saucy
catamite . . . darling.”
Irene murmured dreamily. “Oh that could be so lovely . .
gave a little, lost groan. “Say nothing more, I beg
easily enticed down the primrose path, Sherlock,” she
whispered with a hint of earnestness. “Honestly. If it
wasn’t for the fact that you’re very good at . . .
.” Irene slid a hand between their bodies and gently
disengaged them, her hand caressing his sticky and softened shaft.
blushed as he fished out a handkerchief and presented it to her.
“Flattery. Even as I deny your words, I am suspicious of
them. Why are you here,
wiped the traces of their coupling from her mound and flashed him a
quick smile. “One last and lovely tangle before I set off for
the Continent. And to confirm precisely where your brother’s
estate is, of course.”
bolt hole for your collection?” he sighed, doing up his fly
buttons and then tugging up her trousers and buttoning hers as well,
although his fingers lingered on the latter action.
gave a shrug. “I have prospects, and you have your cases.
Better to enjoy ourselves in a few memorable trysts than attempt
anything deeper that could be disastrous.”
Holmes agreed, looking away for a moment. “I don’t
suppose I could persuade you to at least stay the night, even if it
must be as my . . . nephew.”
laughed, and when her eyes met his, the twinkle in them held equal
glints of affection and daring. “Give me two hours, and I can
present myself as Watson’s niece, just in from New York.
Wouldn’t it be the vilest evil to seduce a prim and shy young
girl like that? So much
temptation to a worldly man such as yourself,
so many naughty tricks to teach a sweet innocent in her boudoir after
the household has gone to bed.”
hesitated a moment, then caught her chin, lifted it and kissed Irene
hard before muttering, “Not a folly; clearly a folie
. . . a good madness though,” Irene told him, tenderly
cupping his face and smiling into his eyes. “It will have to
hold us for quite a while, if . . .”
hours,” Holmes nodded tightly, his melancholy gaze on hers.
eyes were bright as he watched her run lightly across the lawn into the
woods along the edge of the property. Holmes drew in a deep breath, and
absently patted the goddess’ foot as he turned down the
long path to the manor house, debating whether or not to tell the
housekeeper to lay another place for dinner.