An Incredibly Strange Story

An Incredibly Strange Story - Part Three

Once more, we were sitting by the fireplace, and after a rather short recount of my friend's last adventure (which was too boring to provide a story), I finally ventured to talk about our bet. Holmes seemed to be relieved and at the same time excited that I dared touch on the topic myself, and his thoughtful expression slowly gave way to a much lovelier (and rarer) one: I was delighted to see him blush. Of course, he would rather die than admit that the subject made him self-conscious.

"So, my dear," he said jovially, thus betraying his flushed countenance. "Now you have found me a mate. And pray how do you plan to put our bet into action? You cannot possibly expect me to meet her here."

"By all means, no," I replied. "And I must admit that I have not thought about this part at all." I looked at him and found that enticing little smile again, which he had displayed during our last conversation about this topic. "Ah, Holmes," I said. "I see that, in contrast to me, you have already made up your mind about this, too."

"Indeed, I have," said he. He emptied his pipe onto the floor in front of the fireplace, then grabbed for the Persian slipper to stuff it anew. Sucking on it leisurely, he added, "It is a well secluded place, and literally made for actions such as these. Moreover, it will provide a peeping hole for you to watch the proceedings." He turned to look at me, and I felt my face grow hot under his scrutiny. "It is what you wish, is it not, my friend?"

As I found myself utterly guilty and thus did not possess the means to contradict him, I could only remain silent. Of course, I could have tried to convince myself and him that I needed to watch merely because I had to ascertain the outcome of the bet, but this was truly not the case. In actual fact: now that he was holding the knife to my throat, I realized that the whole idea was truly related to my own curiosity, or even baser motives, such as a blatant sense of voyeurism, at least concerning my cherished friend. Yes, I must admit that I was very tempted to watch his slender and so utterly flexible body in action to a much greater extent than I would regard decent.

What is more, I grew aware that once more during our fascinating friendship, Holmes had literally read my innermost thoughts and taken advantage of them. I secretly suspected that he might have set up the whole bet only to please me, but I refrained from asking him. Even if he had, it would be too late to discuss this matter now, and moreover, he did please me, so I did not really want to withdraw. What is more, I had already told Celia about the bet, hence I could hardly call it off.

"A well secluded place," I echoed at last, after all these thoughts had made their round. "What on earth do you mean, Holmes?"

He smirked and continued sucking his pipe. "Engage your mental powers," he finally said.

I recalled his words, and finally realization dawned on me: he had meant a whorehouse. I jumped from my seat upon understanding this.

"Now Holmes," I cried. "Really! I must say. You cannot possibly be in earnest."

"But of course I am," he replied, chuckling softly. "I already arranged a room for next night. Provided your charming lady is still up to it."

And this was that: there was no possible way for me to back off now. Holmes had agreed to this outrageous bet, and now he had fulfilled his part of the planning, whereas I could only go and accomplish it. All I could do was send Celia a note, informing her of our agreement, and hope that she would not think that I had finally lost my mind.

We planned to meet at Baker Street and then proceed to the designated place in the dead of night, lest we were seen by someone who could draw advantage of our situation. This was, after all, a rather delicate bet, and the impact of Milverton's despicable games was still reverberating within our consciousness.

*

The Virgin Mary was not what its name implied. In fact, it was quite the opposite of what a decent human being would have expected of a house running under that name. And yet, it enjoyed a high popularity among the citizens, namely the male ones, especially around lunch and during the later night hours. By day, it had the appearance of a decent little hostel, giving the humble traveller a sufficient abode for the night, but even the most innocent traveller would soon find that the madam only rented out by the hour.

To this sufficiently clean, yet rather conspicuous place we travelled, the three of us, after a very short introduction at Baker Street. Holmes and Celia were apparently getting along well, to the extent that they had even dared look each other in the eye, and the rather formal introduction had led to a smile of relief when they both simultaneously took out their pipes. During the short drive, however, we all remained silent, and once more, I doubted my mental sanity, to have dared involve my dear friends in such a lunatic enterprise. Well, obviously I was the only one to worry, for as I looked at my friends, they were both sitting there utterly relaxed, stuffing their pipes and apparently lost in their own little worlds.

When the carriage came to a halt, they both threw me an almost amusingly similar look, a mixture of stern determination and light bemusement, before descending the three steel steps. Holmes actually turned on his heel and helped the lady out of the carriage, while I dismounted behind her. It felt very much like a secret party, and in a way, it was just that. We were smuggled inside by the owner, and I waved my friends good-bye when we reached the rear staircase. I could have gone up the stairs with them, but the concept of watching them from an adjacent room was embarrassing enough; I did not feel the desire to indulge in it any further than I had to, and thus I sneaked upstairs a short time later, and with my heart beating that loudly that I feared it would be heard throughout the house, I found the right room and hurried to get inside. It was no more than a cubicle, reeking of sweat and dust, and it would be an understatement to say that I merely felt uncomfortable. And yet, I could hardly get out of this tight spot any more, as Holmes and Celia had already retreated to the other room, and they knew that I was supposed to be watching them. And through the peep hole I did see them, indeed.

They were sitting next to each other on the spacious bed, obviously rather uncertain as to what they were supposed to do next. Well, I must admit that I would have been more than happy, had they done nothing but talk. And that was what they did - initially. Suddenly regretting my bet, I could only hope the night would go on like that accordingly.

Celia was the first to break the silence. "Well," she said.

"Any suggestions?" Holmes said in reply. I realized that in contrary to his apparently relaxed pose in the carriage, he now seemed rather tense.

"Not really." Celia darted a look at Holmes, then continued watching the opposite wall.

"Please enlighten me," Holmes said. "What is the most normal procedure in such cases?"

Celia looked at him and smirked, shrugging her shoulders. "I do not know. I've never been in such a situation. Do you think we can smoke here?"

"Most certainly."

Almost in unison, they took out their tobacco pouches and pipes and prepared them. Then they smoked in silence. After a while, Holmes made another start.

"I am afraid I am under a sort of obligation, however enjoyable this is," he said.

"I know," Celia said. "So am I. I think." She raised her eyebrows and looked at her pipe, then drew in another mouthful of smoke. Apart from that, however, she said nothing.

Holmes, however, seemed to come to a resolution. He put the pipe on a plate and rubbed his hands, as if he was on a trail. "It might be a good start to undress," he said. "Should I turn out the lights?"

I could feel my face grow hot. I had expected quite a number of things, but certainly not this kind of boldness. Moreover, I had hardly thought of warning Celia in advance.

As I had expected, she seemed to be slightly ruffled. She blinked several times, which made her look more fragile than usual, then she cleared her throat. It was certainly a rare sight to see her that gobsmacked. "Mr Holmes," she said, obviously endeavouring to keep her voice from trembling. "You should know something..."

"Such as?" His keen eyes met hers, and I winced at the memory of how this felt: it was an experience reminiscent of being struck by lightning. Celia did a remarkable job of withstanding his stare.

"I have never been with a man, nor did I ever intend to be," she said.

"The reverse is true for me also," Holmes stated.

Celia's eyes grew wide, however I could not fathom whether she was truly astounded, or merely taken by surprise because of the unexpected confession.

"Indeed?" Her lovely face seemed to relax, until she actually started to laugh. I liked that sound a lot. It surged up from her chest like hot bubbles and was indeed the most contagious laughter I've ever heard, and even though it did not make Holmes join in (which would have been too rare an occasion), it at least made him grin.

"I suppose we shall both have to improvise then," Holmes said dryly, pursing his thin lips. He looked at her again, but this time without the piercing quality, rather as if he were taxing her.

I could not divest myself of the feeling that he had gained a profound knowledge of her before they met, as he seemed to pull all the right stops. A slight feeling of jealousy rose within me, but I was presently much too excited to attribute any further attention to this sentiment.

"Ah, yes," Celia answered, and grinned.

"If I recall my basic anatomy, undressing would certainly help," Holmes said with an astounding amount of composure.

Celia looked at him with a wry smile. "Well, for a man who doesn't like to spend his time with a girl, you are indeed rather forthcoming."

"Madame," Holmes said. "My honour is at stake."

"I suppose so," she said, her voice slightly tingling with amusement. Then she took off her hat, extracting one needle after the other and carefully depositing them on the nightstand. It was merely the beginning, but my mouth had already gone dry.

"And no disrespect intended, but I would rather that this encounter be as short as possible," Holmes said.

"My position entirely," Celia said.

"Capital." He took off his tie.

This was the first moment when I took out my handkerchief in order to mop my brow.

Meanwhile, Holmes had begun to take off his boots, while Celia started to unlace hers. "I appreciate the sacrifice, by the way," Holmes said.

Celia chuckled. "Well. First of all, I didn't originally intend to oblige. I actually planned to get away before we even met. And now I don't know what's bitten me."

"Indeed. What made you change your mind?"

"Call it curiosity: you are Sherlock Holmes, after all. And, by the way, once I've taken off my boots, the sacrifice will be yours." She laughed and playfully tugged at a shoelace.

"Curiosity has always been my greatest flaw," Holmes retorted. "Besides, having seen what I have seen, there is little that can shock me. No offence."

Now it was me who had to choke back a chortle. Celia seemed to be equally amused. "What a charming compliment."

"I try," Holmes sad straight-faced.

A moment later they were both boot-less. Celia wiggled her toes. She had surprisingly big feet, yet of a rather masculine attractiveness. "There."

Holmes carelessly threw away his shoes and socks. "Indeed." And then he wiggled his toes, mirroring her playfulness. I could not believe my eyes.

As if her courage suddenly left her, Celia sighed and dropped her hands in her lap. "I fear this won't do," she said, looking at her naked feet. "Do you really want to proceed? I am not so sure that I do."

Holmes looked at her, then followed her glance, so that they were now both staring at Celia's feet. They looked a bit like schoolboys, but with a rather less boyish exterior. "After we have come so far, it will be rather embarrassing to withdraw now," he said.

"That's true," she said. And started to unbutton her shirt.

Holmes took off his waistcoat. "Besides, if all else fails, we can just close our eyes and think of other things," he said, unbuttoning his shirt in return.

Celia looked at him and smiled, and I found that her lower lip was trembling slightly. Then she took out her pipe. "Before we continue, I need another shag."

"Is it wise to drag this out?" Holmes asked, his slender hands still on the lapels of his shirt.

"Call me a coward," Celia replied and grimaced.

"I should never do so in your face."

"Why, thank you, Mr Holmes."

He bowed his head. He took off his shirt.

Celia slowly turned her head towards him and gave him a thorough once over. Then she quietly put her pipe away again and took off her shirt, too, revealing the impressive female underwear of our times. Holmes stared at her, his expression a mixture of curiosity and thoughtfulness.

"Isn't this rather restricting?" he finally asked.

"Yes, it is," Celia replied dryly. "Would you be so kind?" She turned his back on him and wiggled her shoulders.

"Certainly," Holmes answered, standing to the ready. Then he swiftly opened her garments, including the corset, as if he had been doing this numerous times before. I suspected that he had done so, indeed - for his various costumes.

"Thank you," Celia said when he was finished, then turned to look at him. After scrutinizing my dear friend for what I regarded an almost shameless amount of time, her formerly contemplative expression changed into one of admiration. "You're less skinny than I thought."

Holmes raised an eyebrow. "And you are less shapeless than I thought," he said. "Knowing what I know about the effect of corsets."

"I bet you do." She grinned amiably.

Realization dawned on me that they seemed to have come to some sort of agreement, or even a strange kind of sympathy, the foundation of which I could not grasp. I started to wonder what the hell was going on there. Had I not personally chosen Celia in order to prevent this kind of thing from happening, alas! in order to win our bet? And now she seemed to have changed her mind. I felt betrayed, and wisps of jealousy started flailing at my conscience. Their voices, carrying to my ear over the pounding of my heart, sounded strangely muffled.

"Shall we go on then?" I heard Holmes ask.

And Celia answered, "Yes, sir." And then she simply undressed, peeling away the layers of clothing that had still been concealing her lovely figure. I could hardly trust my eyes, as I recalled clearly that this was one of the many things she had assured be, back then, would never ever happen in front of a man. As if she remembered her own words when the deed was done, she was standing there, suddenly rather shyly, and trying to cover herself up.

Seemingly oblivious to this circumstance, Holmes undressed, too. Then he chanced to look at her, but he somehow managed to keep his composure, even though they were now both standing there as naked as the day that they were born.

"Shall I put out the light now?" Holmes said, gesturing towards the single light on the nightstand. His voice was slightly hoarse.

"Please do," Celia answered.

Holmes put out the light.

I realized that I had been holding my breath for quite some time. Trying to exhale as silently as possible, I sat back. In spite of the darkness, there were stars glittering in front of my eyes, and I wondered where they came from. I felt unable to comprehend what was going on here. It was certainly Holmes' right to do everything possible to win the bet, but I had hardly believed him able to go that far, let alone continue on the chosen path. What is more, I felt utterly betrayed by Celia. What on earth had gotten into her? This sentiment aroused a new kind of curiosity within me, and it is no exaggeration to say that it was the only thing that kept me from leaving. I had to find out how far they would go.

To be continued...