The Case of the Errant Clergyman - A Holmes and Hove Novella
Chapter 1: Confessions and Souls

Copyright© 2010 by A.C .Dale

Mystery Sex Story: Chapter 1: Confessions and Souls - Holmes goes to the rescue of a Family friend, much to Hove's chagrin. A convoluted case of mesmerism begins to unfold.

Caution: This Mystery Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Fa/ft   NonConsensual   Hypnosis   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Fan Fiction   Incest   Humiliation   Oral Sex   Water Sports   Exhibitionism   Slow  

An October night just before the witching hour; deep in London and still deeper in an autumnal murk.

Hove made his way along the fog-deadened street, his muffled footsteps dutifully followed a sequential glow of street lamps. Tonight was a real peasouper, if he hadn't have known where he was he would not have been able to hazard a guess. Brighton blew on his gloved hands, his breath billowing into the cities freezing night. Finally a cold blue glow told him he neared the meeting point. In another hundred yards or so he would be at Bow police station. A few paces on he noticed a flickering orange glow, slowly it pulsed, dim yet visible near the blue lamp; Hove smiled, Holmes was already there. No surprise in that. Brighton waited for the inevitable welcome.

"Ah Hove, so you decided to join me after all," Holmes quipped.

"I did have a little, further to come Holmes, and I was on your business."

"Our business surely - indeed you were, and you are once more. We have a new case."

Hove scowled, "But Holmes, I am barely started on this one..."

"Pish, old boy this takes precedence, an old friend of the family. Well of sorts," Holmes puffed regally on his pipe, " shall we?" Ned's left arm swept sideways from his cape indicating the steps to the station.

"If we must." chided Hove.

"We must, time waits for no clergyman."

"A man of the cloth? What is he doing here at this accursed hour?" asked Hove.

"He, my dear fellow, is the accused."

Hove's eye glimmered with a hint of interest, "The accused, well I'll be jiggered!"

Ned was already to the top of the stairwell, Brighton made a reluctant dash toward his mentor.

Once inside the warmth of the station was most welcome, as was a familiar voice.

"Mr 'Olmes, I suppose you are 'ere to see the reverend, gawd what a mouthful 'is name is Magdulon-Cholmsee, I don't know 'ow the toff's think 'em up."

Sargent Smythe aimed a clandestine wink at Brighton.

"His name Smythe is Magdalen-Chalmondesleigh; pronounced Maudlin- Chummley; an old, and well respected family in the Shires! Now which cell will I find him in William?"

"'Cell three, next to the drunkard. I thought that might teach 'im not to go around molesting the fairer sex."

"As may be, as may be Smythe; we are here to determine the truth in these allegations."

Holmes stalked past the seated desk sergeant and strode off towards the cells. In turn Hove followed.

"Not one to change is 'e Mr Brighton?" Bill grinned.

"Indeed not Bill, once in a while it would be nice. But I shan't hold my breath."

"A bit out of sorts tonight are we Mr Brighton?"

"A tad Bill, I expect it will pass. It normally does."

Hove ignored Bill's intake of breath and walked on. A minute later he joined Holmes at the studded door.

"If you please constable," Holmes asked.

The door duly swung open and Brighton followed Ned within.


A single, dejected figure was seated at the cells humble table. As Hove's eyes accommodated to the dim light he could make out the shock of white hair atop the bowed head. Brighton winced, he had expected a young inexperienced cleric who had been seduced by a trim ankle. Clearly this case would be one to defy expectations.

Holmes seated himself, then reached forward and placed his hand gently on the reverends trembling fist.

"Fortesque? How are you bearing up?"

The man head tilted upwards to reveal reddened eyes peering from below a heavily wrinkled brow; thick lips trembled and finally opened.

"Please Ned, there is no need for the formalities, call me Forty. I am not the man that Christened you, nor am I worthy of such a task any more."

"Now, now Forty, I'm sure it is not as bad as you think..."

The reverends cracked voice butted in, "It is far worse than you could imagine, far, far worse," Forty whimpered, "I am undone; possessed, as I am, of evil."

Holmes glanced at Hove, and beckoned him to sit.

"Brighton and I are here to help, and to dispell this evil," assured Holmes.

"No man can, and I'm unsure any god can, my sin is unforgivable. I don't know where to start."

Forty slowly shook his head.

"I always find the beginning to be a good place old man, try the beginning," said Holmes.


Forty sighed, "Well the beginning is that I am just a man, subject to the same desires as any. I know I could have taken a wife, but when I was young it did not bother me. Now though, I miss companionship, a woman's touch and ... Most of all ... Well..."

"Physicality?" Holmes interjected.

"Well yes, to be frank, for years I have had it under control, but now as the twilight approaches it seems more ... Desirable than ever."

"And this is what drew you to accost the ladies?" asked Hove.

"No, I'm not nearly that shallow, in retrospect it may have been be better that I were..."

"Please continue," said Holmes.

"So about two months ago a new lady joined the congregation, Sybil Marrows. A very upright, but extremely handsome woman. Over the next few weeks as I became acquainted with her my delight in her grew. Alas so did my distracted thoughts and shall we say frustrations, yes deep frustrations." The reverend sighed deeply, "To be truthful it became too much, prayer did not help, nor did penance. In the end I talked to Miss Marrows, I hoped she would agree to being my wife."

The reverend hung his head once more. Holmes reached across and laid a hand on Forty's shoulder. "I presume she did not agree my friend?"

"No, she did not. She was kindly and advised me that although she was single she could not join with me in matrimony. She did suggest something else though..."

Hove raised his eyebrows, "Surely you do not mean an unsuitable arrangement?"

Forty coughed, "Well yes, but not in the way you are suggesting. Sybil asked me to visit her spiritualist. Of course I was aghast, not only could I not accept, I found it distressing that the woman that I adored believed in such heresy. I asked her to leave; once she had I fell into a black mood. She was lost to me in every way imaginable. What she asked was of course impossible for a man of the cloth."

Holmes lent back in his chair and fished his meerschaum pipe from his frock pocket, "Do you mind?"

Forty shook his head lightly.

Ned took his time cleaning, then lighting his pipe, finally he drew a deep breath and issued a cloud of bluish smoke. He placed his left hand on the table and tapped his fingers lightly, finally he settled his eyes on the seated clergyman.

"Of course such a thing was impossible. However, that did not stop you did it?"

Forty seemed to shrink visibly, "You always were an observant one, even as a child. As you say, it did not stop me. I made the decision that I should visit the spiritualist with Sybil. I told myself I did it for her, out of love; but no it was for me I see that now. I was selfish, and foolish. Now I pay the devil his due." The clergyman wiped a tear from his right eye and continued, "As it turned out Mrs Bellinger was not at all what I expected, she was demure, collected and very respectful of me, and my calling. To be honest, I liked her, I would go so far as to say I warmed to her. For that reason when she made her suggestion, shocking as it was, I instantly agreed. I, Fortesque Magdalen-Chalmondesleigh, agreed to be put into a trance. By a spiritualist nonetheless. To my amazement it worked, my frustrations were gone, vanished. Then she gave me a keepsake ... Here..." Forty handed Ned a collar stud.

Hove watched as Holmes twirled the bejewelled trinket in his fingers, the stone embedded in it twinkled with a delicious green light. Hove felt a little light headed, he cursed the hour, his bed was what was needed; not a gaolers cell. Ned's cough woke him from his reverie.

"May I presume, as we are here that this happy state of affairs did not endure?"

"Your presumption is correct, my desire returned all too soon I was more enflamed than ever ... And Sybil was ... More compliant. How shall I put this; in the end the apple fell from the tree of knowledge." Forty stopped, his emotions heightened by the very memory, "I was tempted beyond my reason, but it did not end there. No, as I fell under her spell I agreed to return to Mrs Bellinger's; together we returned and together we sinned. If anyone had told me such things were possible I would not have believed them, yet I found myself doing them. Now for you to understand such perversity I must explain it, for in that you will see the dangers. I must now ask if your impressionable young colleague would leave. We need to discuss this man to man."

Hove blinked and looked at Holmes expectantly, he waited for his old friend to assure the clergyman that he, Brighton, was more than up to the task. He waited for the affirmation. It never came, Ned just tapped him on the knee and said, "Step outside would you old boy, delicate situation, I will call you back in duly."

Brighton opened his mouth to protest, then changed his mind. Meekly he left, his temper burning as an unseen flame in his chest.


Once the door had shut with a resounding thud, Ned sighed.

"Now Forty old chap I possibly should not have done that, I normally never exclude Brighton from investigative interviews. I hope this encourages you to report what happened to you with some, let's say candour?"

"I am much obliged to you Holmes, as you probably realise this is very difficult for me."

"Indeed I do, but if I am to investigate I need a full disclosure of the facts, however sordid."

It was Forty's turn to sigh, almost instantly his face crumpled and tears swelled at the corners of his swollen eyes. With an apparent effort he fought back his despair. Once he recovered he placed his left hand on the table, his trembling fingers clenched a leather- bound diary. With an apparent effort Forty slid the diary towards Holmes.

"It is all detailed in here, I cannot bring myself to utter the truth."

Ned picked up the diary, it fell open on a stained page; one that had clearly been the subject of repeated examination. Holmes read.

"Sunday 12th of October 1873, Sermon on the twin virtues of truth and chastity, seemed well received. Mrs Greyson had the usual concerns about the church flowers, I assured her that even the Lord would not have thrown pure beauty from the temple, and that they were not an expression of earthy delights. I expect I shall do the same next week; just as I did last. Gave a groat from the collection plate to Mr Simms to cover the grave digging this week, another five souls less for the parish, confounded illnesses. I blame the vermin, that and of course the gin; vermin and gin, a potent combination.

Pleased to see a new member of the congregation, a most handsome woman with fine auburn hair. It was the elegantly pinned hair that I noticed first, it seemed to add a glow to the church; a glow that reached out to my lonely pulpit. I found it hard to concentrate on the sermon for a long moment, and I made a mental note to acquaint myself with the lady. I felt something stir within me. Most unsuitable it was too, considering the subject of my sermon, this truth I could not speak, and it was far from chaste.

At the end of what seemed like an eternity the service ended. At last I stood at the door wishing my flock well, I watched as slowly the auburn tresses approached me through the patiently queued congregation. As I mumbled "Bless you" the muted replies were lost in the loud pounding of my heart. An instant later she stood before me a vision of loveliness she was; pale skinned, long necked and a delight of innocence personified. I knew then I had to possess her. My attention was drawn to the unsuitability of my condition by a shocked glance from my verger who stood at the far side of the vestibule. Hurriedly I made my excuses and withdrew to the sacristy, I threw water from the sacrarium on to my heated face and neck. A spasm hit me and to my eternal shame I soiled my cassock with a mighty spend.

I rested for the rest of the day, claiming I had become unwell."

Holmes flicked his eyes up from the page, he studied Forty for a second.

"Did you know the identity of this temptress on the 12th?"

"No, I knew only her form, to my shame all that happened was due to my want for it."

"I see ... She did not speak?"

"I cannot recall all I remember is her hair..."

"You mention pins, her hair was pinned."

"Why yes it was, is it important?"

"Time will tell," muttered Holmes. Ned flicked to the next page of the Diary that held an entry.

"Tuesday 14th of October 1873, Another disturbed night; I have taken the precaution of slumbering atop a towel. I cannot risk one of the servants seeing the evidence of my nightly emissions. My mind is full of her, or rather her body as I am not formally introduced to my lady. I wonder if I am bewitched, but it is impossible, I cannot think ill of her. I dress and walk to the church, alone I stand in the vestibule. I cherish the moment I saw her, closing my eyes to better recall.

"Reverend, Reverend are you well?"

I jump at the unexpected interruption and my eyes flash open. She is there - she stands before me. Is this an apparition?

"Dear Reverend are you still unwell. I do hope the fever is not claiming your good self too?" she asks.

"No, no my dear I am quite well, I was ... Contemplating ... Yes contemplating, nothing more. How may I assist?"

"During your wonderful sermon I lost something close to my heart, I wondered if it had been found?"

"Nothing that I know of, what was it you lost Miss..."

"Marrows, Sybil Marrows," So saying Miss Marrrows extended her gloved hand.

"Enchanted Miss Marrows," I replied and grasped her hand warmly. The contact stunned me momentarily.

"Sorry, what was it you misplaced?"

"My hair pin, a silly thing really, but it means so much to me."

"Ah, and do you recall where you sat?"

"I am afraid I do not..."

"Fortuitously I think I do, come let us go and look."

Side by side we walked down the aisle, at the third row of pews from the front I stopped and I walked in several feet. A second later I found the offending pin. Turning I walked back and returned it into Miss Marrow's waiting hand. Delicately her fingers grasped the pin and twirled it this way and that.

I was awoken two hours later by the verger, I drew my cramped body up from the pew.

"Where is Miss Marrows?" I asked.

"Miss whom," the verger frowned, "no one is here, nor have I seen anyone this day." The verger paused, his face a mask of concern, "I think you are still unwell, you must go and rest. We cannot afford to lose our shepherd."

I withdrew, the rest of the day slipped by without event."

Ned sat upright and puffed on his pipe, he leant his head back and puffed out a blue plume of smoke.

"Do you mind if I take this home with me? I apologise Forty, but the night draws on. I will need to read further in the morrow."

"Of course - dashed inconsiderate of me." said Forty.

Holmes picked up the collar stud and slipped it within the diary as a book mark. Forty rose from his chair and reached forward to grab the diary back.

"What is the matter old man? Would you rather I left this with you?" Ned twirled the stud between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yes, I apologise for my manners Ned, I do not know what came over me."

"No matter," Ned smiled, "I can see it means a lot to you."

"It does, it is all I have of her."

"Of Miss Marrows?"

"Of course, who else?"

"No matter, sleep well and above all do not have nightmares."

Forty nodded back as Ned rose to leave.

Back at the desk Ned enquired of Hove.

"Mr 'Ove he left, seemed a bit out of sorts to me..."

"Ah, I see." said Ned, He glanced at the Station clock, it was twenty past one o'clock, "Good night Sergeant."

"Night Mr 'Olmes."


Brighton strode down Baker Street; his mood ill-matched to the unseasonal sunshine. Silently he mused on the delights of Indian summers, but despite his best intentions he seethed inwardly. Hove came to an abrupt stop.

"Now old man, this will never do. Get a grip!"

A woman walking towards him eyed him with suspicion. Hove immediately touched the rim of his hat.

"Good Morning Madam."

Just as immediately she found the railing of the house nearby fascinating, at least in comparison to meeting his eye. She passed by ignoring him as if he was a lunatic. Hove's heart sank, even his charm had deserted him; no wonder really, after all, pride was one of the deadly sins. If only he'd not felt so excluded by Holmes last night. Brighton harrumphed, and strode off once more. When he arrived at the familiar residence he halted and waited a while before ascending the steps.

It was Nancy who answered his resounding taps on the door.

"Mornin' Mr 'Ove. Mr 'Olmes is expecting you," she paused, "'is bed weren't slept in last night. I reckon 'e's on one of 'is big cases again." Nancy winked in a very unservile way.

Despite Hove's attraction to Nancy he knew better than to discuss his friends habits with the domestic staff. He simply nodded, gave his hat and cape to the girl and asked.

"The library I presume?" Nancy just curtsied and returned his curt nod.

Brighton knocked lightly on the polished door.

"Come!"

"Ah Hove, capital - and well rested I hope?" said Ned

"Quite so, why do you ask?"

"Well I was taken a bit aback when Smythe told me you had departed last evening." Holmes cocked an eyebrow.

"It was of no consequence Holmes, just a sudden weariness," replied Brighton.

"Weariness you say, well, as long as it has passed. I need you in fine fettle for our new investigation."

"So you are still intent on assisting your errant friend in advance of our other cases?"

"I am so minded; you sound as if you do not approve?"

"It is not for me to approve or not, but as your friend, I wonder about our priorities..." Hove never finalised his sentence.

"Priority!" Holmes seemed to stifle a grimace, "Our absolute priority is to stop an abomination."

Ned picked up the diary from his desk and waved it in the air.

"Just listen Brighton, and pay heed."


"Friday 17th October 1873.

Little of note to recall, I felt more myself and resumed my pastoral duties. Clarkson the verger even commented on how well I looked. I felt more at peace. Alas it was not to last.

Around seven in the evening there was a knock at the vicarage door; it was Sybil and with her was Bellinger; my heart sank. I allowed them to enter the vicarage, against my full knowledge of what was likely to follow.

Sybil spent little time on niceties. She asked me if I recalled our recent sin; I could do no other than softly mumble and nod. She then assured me this would not happen again. I raised my head in hope only to have it dashed in the most foul way. Sybil explained that she and Bellinger were members of a secret sect, the 'Daughters of Sappho' and that the sect were desirous of new members. Sybil rose from her chair and walked across to where Bellinger was seated; to my astonishment she slipped her hand down the front of the reclining woman's dress. Before my widening eyes she wantonly fondled Bellinger's charms, the woman for her sins seemed to melt into the chair. After much caressing and with an audible sigh from Bellinger Sybil withdrew her hand, nestled in it was a charm that glinted with a glory that seemed to wash the room with serenity.

The spell was broken by harsh words, "You are nought more than a conduit. Our route to suitable new members." Only when I questioned what type of members was the true horror revealed. "The young chaste women of good standing and better looks in the parish. Not for them the brutal ordeal of consummation with the beast that is man; no for them the tender attentions and pleasures of the Daughters of Sappho." I felt myself blanch; these monsters were intent upon the corruption of my tenderest wards. My duty was clear. I stood and shouted. "I vow to stop you; I will not permit you to pervert the lambs that the lord has guided to my flock. Begone witches; I cast you and your spells asunder."

At this, Bellinger stood. She spoke in a quiet but commanding voice. "You will sit and watch, you will say naught. In the end you will understand, and ask for your salvation!"

Bemused I felt my own legs crumple and I crashed back onto my chair. I was unable to move a muscle. Before my distressed eyes Sybil began to divest Bellinger of her outer clothing. When she was down to her corset and stays, my love turned to face her female friend and proceeded to kiss her in a most lascivious way. Despite my paralysis I felt one muscle respond, my unruly member reared its head pushing against the resilient fabric of my cassock. Whilst Sybil's lips were busy, her hands started to rove all over Bellinger's body with apparent delight and abandon. She broke her passionate kiss and twisted her panting partner around. At once her fingers found the lace that held the corset closed and loosened it impatiently. I tried to avert my eyes, but wherever I looked my eyes were surely drawn back to the spectacle unfolding before me. Bellinger's hard tipped breasts swung free and fell into warm, cupped hands. Sybil grasped the undulated quivering flesh sending the perked nipples ever more taut. The charm swayed and its soporific waves pulsed into the room. A fresh flow of tidal light was released with every movement of Sybil's urgent digits; with each wave my pleasure crested higher. Darker and darker grew my desire, yet there was no sign of release. My heart rattled violently in the cage of my chest.

By the time my attention returned to them they were both naked; Bellinger opened her legs wide and she twisted her face in knotted pleasure at the ministrations of Sybil's hungry tongue. A tongue that was buried to the hilt in the woman's flooded quim. Despite my pain in seeing Miss Marrows so occupied with debauchery, my pego gave a mighty lusty spasm; but there was no spending it. I was a prisoner to passion. A beast with no hope of release. I cursed and closed my eyes, they soon betrayed me and flickered open; I observed my love humping her open quim against Bellinger's, the intensity of their unholy desire rang around the room in guttural howls. A moment later they spent together, writhing in their mutual unnatural sin.

A moment later Sybil rose, unclasped the charm from around Bellinger's still gasping form and walked towards me with the accursed amulet, she stretched her hand towards me.

"Release neck."

My head fell forward onto my chest; I was horrified by the size of my wicked erection. Worse still, my cassock was soaked with fluids, emphasising the savage head and its weeping eye. Tears formed in my eyes, but there was to be no time for pity.

"Look at the charm, Fortescue. The charm!"

My neck snapped upwards in response and green pulsations filled my vision.

"Do you now understand?"

My head nodded of its own will ignoring my moral plea.

"Do you wish release?"

Again the betrayal of a nod.

"First the names and addresses we require of you. We trust you to pick not only the most comely, but also the purest. We have no desire for the worldly ones."

I tried with all my might to hold my traitorous neck still. I failed.

"Release hand."

Smiling, Sybil placed a quill in my hand. At once my hand twitched and began transcribing a list. Tears of frustration flowed, tears for my will and more-so tears for my lambs; at their unreadiness for the slaughter. I filled the quill with one more load of ink and scrawled the final details.

"Good boy, now for your reward. You do want it do you not?"

With a supreme effort I flicked the quill towards Sybil; it hit her left leg and left an impotent trail of ink. Sybil simply smiled and slipped her hand under my cassock.

"Ready?"

Dumbly I nodded.

A warm hand gripped my turgid organ, a few delicate strokes and my passion was upon me. Suddenly my paralysis was lifted and I convulsed in requited passion.

By the time I recovered they had left; I was left to my guilt, my betrayal of my flock. However my own hands manipulated my rod back to resplendence. I spent once again. The darkness of hell fell on my soul. I collapsed."


Holmes looked up from the diary.

"Now Brighton, do you understand the imperative?"

Hove stood open-mouthed.

"Holmes, I have been a fool to doubt you. I will undertake my investigations immediately."

Holmes nodded sagely; he reached over to his pipe rack and selected a meerschaum. He loaded a scoop of tobacco into the pipes depth and struck a match. Smoke billowed upwards.

"Good if we are agreed..." began Holmes, he was cut off by an impatient Brighton.

"We are; and I have learnt well. I will start with the medium. I have contacts that will lead me to her. Always begin with the accomplice, follow the logic."

With that said, Hove dashed from the room keen to start the delayed mission.

"Wait, Brighton. Brighton!" Holmes called to the closing door, "Sybil is not the mesmerist, I'm sure she is but another thrall. Bellinger is the instigator." Holmes slumped back into the chair from his half standing position. He banged his pipe in anguish, sending a shower of sparks across his leather-topped desk.

Meanwhile Brighton raced up Baker Street heading for the Volunteer. Twisted Mary would know, and for a handful of copper soon he would know. Then he would find Bellinger and make her talk. He would stop this; or his name was not Brighton Hove.

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