I saw the open box before I saw Holmes.

Just back from a weekend in the country, I was not surprised to find that Mrs. Hudson had been doing some cleaning in the attic. I was surprised, however, to find Holmes curled into a miserable ball on the settee with one hand covering his face. This was not among the characteristic poses wrought by his ( Read more... )

Sherlock Holmes was not a sexual creature. At least, that’s what he had believed since the time when he was fourteen and an unattractive schoolmaster awkwardly explained the mechanics of human reproduction. It had sounded so vulgar and undignified, and was certainly nothing that held any interest for the aspiring chemist.

In adulthood, Holmes ( Read more... )

There was something particularly sensual about the warm summer breeze that wafted through the open window and gently rustled the curtains. Perhaps it was the seductive glances Holmes kept casting in my direction that evening, or the fact that he had, for the first time, invited me to one of his small refuges on the other side of the city to assist ( Read more... )