An Incredibly Strange Story

An Incredibly Strange Story - Part Four

When I had recovered from my initial shock that Holmes would indeed go much farther than I had ever dreamt, I felt that I needed arrange myself with this new aspect of my cherished friend. I once more realized I would never fathom how dark a horse he really was, and I equally doubted that he would ever cease to surprise me. Sitting confined to this small dark room like a hermit crab in its shell, I was forced to not only mull over the present situation, but also over our future relationship, as I also grew aware, to my utter dismay, that I was not at all immune against jealousy. Well, how on earth would I know? Never before had Holmes given me any reason to find out about it.

The light had been extinguished, and my eyes could scarcely adjust to the virtually complete darkness that engulfed my two friends in the adjacent room, who presently seemed to be rather enjoying themselves. I was somewhat grateful for the lack of sight, as the sounds carrying to my ears were enough to make my soul recoil. There was a lot of busy rustling, and I cursed my vivid powers of imagination for the images they generously created in front of my mind's eye.

"I believe there is a conventional position," I eventually heard Holmes say. "We might try this first."

Celia's voice sounded strangely different, to a certain degree softer, if I was not very much mistaken, as if she was presently playing the role of the subservient girl. "First?" she said, and apart from the new docile note of her voice, I could also discern the tingle of amusement.

"If it fails, we can try something else," Holmes retorted.

This made me smile. Always the practical thinker, Holmes seemed to put no little effort into this ridiculous matter, as if he was completely determined to continue this to the bitter end, no matter at what cost. I would have loved to withdraw from my peeping chamber and interrupt their intercourse before it began, in order to remind him that it was a mere bet and not a matter of life and death. But it seemed that to him there was no difference, and thus I once more refrained from interfering.

Celia merely laughed, the familiar, slightly hollow laughter. Some groping in the dark ensued, which did not comfort me. As I had made up my mind to stay, however, I could once more only remain sitting there, and try to calm my breathing, and bear it. When I was just getting adjusted to the situation, a soft cry made me start. It was Celia's voice.

"Ouch."

Immediately afterwards, Holmes' voice rang out, still rather matter-of-fact, yet also surprisingly soft. "Sorry," he said. "I was expecting something to be there."

I blushed deeply when I realized about just what detail they were presently talking. And my torments continued when I heard Celia answer, "Whereas I... oh my. It isn't always that hard, is it?"

"Goodness me, no," Holmes answered, somewhat bemused. "Sorry to be so obvious."

There was a little break, filled with laboured breathing.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Celia finally asked.

And Holmes replied, "It is rather a delicious agony."

This was the moment when I wished I had not decided to stay. I must admit that I yearned for quite a number of things. First and foremost, I longed to be able to undo our bet, magically turn back time, make everyone forget about what had happened, and last but certainly not least, to have the power to intervene right now, and after tearing the two apart to also extinguish their memories. While I was literally biting on my handkerchief in order not to give myself away, their voices mercilessly went on carrying to my ears, and it almost seemed as if the lack of air had heightened my senses, so that the dialogue relentlessly rained down on me like hot lead, reverberating in my mind, and endeavouring to drive me mad.

"May I...?"

"Of course. That's why we are here, after all. May I?"

"Certainly. But softly... ah, not bad."

"Fascinating."

"This isn't all, right?"

"No, I suppose not. Now that you mention it."

"Well..."

"Maybe if I shift... If you'd oblige to shift in... that position."

"Oh this is so strange."

"Indeed. And if I recall things correctly, this is how things should... ah."

"Why, you're in... oh."

"So far so good."

"Yes." Celia's voice sounded rather muffled. "Would you do me a favour? Two, exactly."

"If it is at all in my power."

"Would you... move a bit. And shut up."

"Certainly."

This, I recall exactly, was the moment when I actually considered eating my hat. The only sound I could hear after Holmes' final remark was the squeaking of the bedsprings. Moreover, this went on for quite some time. It was a good rhythm, I had to admit, in- and decreasing lovely, yet that was certainly not the point. The point was that I had lost my bet. And to my utter chagrin, I also feared that I had lost my friend, even though I tried to convince myself at the very same time that, only because Holmes had finally discovered a new country, this did not mean that he would ever leave me. I had made him do this, it was my fault entirely, and thus, I would fail him if I held any grudge against him because of that.

At last, I was relieved when Celia's voice rang out after what seemed a lifetime.

"Goodness me," she said. She was breathing heavily, and by the tone of her voice, she had undergone a magical change. Now she sounded like I had never heard her before: relaxed, strangely enticing, exotic, the way I had imagined her in my wild dreams, back then, when I first met her. I grew aware that I was getting jealous of more than one person.

"In complete agreement." Holmes' voice was also altered, yet in a way that was already familiar with me - a fact that did not improve my mood.

And yet, I was suddenly stirred. After all, Celia was certainly the only woman whom I trusted to deal with the matter with appropriate care. I could not tell whether it was this revelation, or the brightness of the nightstand candle that was suddenly lightened again that drove tears into my eyes. When I adjusted to it, I could see my two friends sitting on the bed side by side, and only the ruffled bed sheets would have told any spectator of the proceedings. And I must also admit that they both looked rather lovely, Holmes with a slight flush that spread over his otherwise pale skin, and his hair ruffled, and Celia with the masses of her red locks falling freely over her prominent shoulders. I realized that her skin was some shades darker than Holmes' and for the first time I wondered where her ancestors might have come from. This was enough to momentarily distract me from my former dismay, and allow me to calm down.

"Give me that pipe," I heard Celia say and once more concentrated on the spectacle in front of me.

As desired, Holmes handed her the pipe, and they smoked in silence. Apart from the blatant fact that they were both undressed and in the previously described state, one could have assumed that they were merely sitting there after a lively discussion, or a night out at the theatre. After a while, however, Holmes finished his pipe, and with an elegant gesture of his slender hand also took Celia's in order to put it back on the nightstand. He held on to her hand for the fraction of a second before letting it go, and I discerned that he was coming to a decision.

"Madame," he said. "Would you consider indulging my curiosity once more?"

Celia looked at him without surprise, as I would have expected her to react, but with a sparkle in her eyes. "Well," she said. "There were other positions you have been talking of..."

I rubbed my eyes, as I must have missed out on some vital parts of the conversation, and once more the sinister feeling crept up at me that I would pay dearly for this night, this fatal bet, this whole revolting incident. Meanwhile, the relaxed conversation in the adjacent room went on, and destiny took its toll.

"Precisely," Holmes said.

"And we paid for the whole night," Celia said.

"My thought exactly," Holmes said.

At that point of time, I felt that I had to retreat, for I could no longer bear watching the proceedings. they had proved that they could keep a bet, and what is more, they had obviously forgotten about my presence, so the latter was no longer required. I left my little room with my heart pounding and my ears hanging, like a beaten dog, and I went back to our rooms in Baker street without waiting for my friend. My hands were still shaking when I dragged myself upstairs, and after hesitating for only a moment, and against better knowledge, I withdrew to Holmes' bedroom, snuggled up in his sheets, and finally gave in to the tension and unreservedly sobbed into his pillow.

To be continued...