Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Virgin Bride
Copyright© 2014 by Belinda LaPage
Epilogue
Erotic Sex Story: Epilogue - Sherlock Holmes' incredible intellect is without limit. There is nothing he does not know about poisons, footprints, criminal behaviour. you name it. His one flaw is women; Holmes just doesn't understand them. Their desires, their bodies. nothing. So when a wealthy lord engages the great detective to discover why he cannot penetrate his bride. well, it's lucky Holmes has a friend like Watson.
Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Fan Fiction Humor Cuckold First Voyeurism Slow
Palmerston had secured a private compartment for Holmes and me on the return train to London.
"Well, Watson, an unusual case," he smiled at me around his pipe. "Though not one that should probably ever see print in your infernal memoirs."
"Very true, Holmes," I smiled ruefully. "Though I may still write it up for my own records." I considered the case silently for half a minute, enjoying the anticipation of reliving the experience in writing. "It was an interesting diversion for a physician," I mused. "I wonder whether a professional might make a career from such cases?"
"Hardly, my dear man," Holmes laughed. "Lady luck was with you on this occasion, but you could scarcely hope to achieve those results with every client."
"I don't see what you mean, Holmes?" I said, slightly taken aback. "Did I not achieve exactly what I set out to do."
"Indeed!" He replied, laughing. "Indeed you did. But you forget my detective's eye, Watson," he waved an admonishing finger in the air. "I am not so easily fooled as Lord Palmerston. Although you dilly-dallied about quite a bit, the mechanics of your final breach of Lady Palmerston were identical to those of his Lordship. In fact, I would hazard that his Lordship approached the matter entirely more efficiently than yourself."
"I see," I smiled.
"Yes. A very fortunate outcome, I think." He drew again on his pipe, puffing out a noxious cloud of smoke. "In fact, it would surprise me not at all to find them knocking us up in Baker Street in a week's time complaining of a relapse. Lady Palmerston may even demand another treatment! At your cost, no less! What would you say to that, Watson?"
"I don't know, Holmes," I said, crossing my legs and looking out the window. I imagined Victoria on her stallion, racing beside the train with hair and skirts billowing out behind. "Perhaps my luck shall hold."
