Chapter XIV

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The Lady in Question

As I recall, it was one of those warm autumn days in early September of 1896 when our humble lodgings were once again graced with the presence of Lady Hilda Trelawney-Hope whom Holmes had previously assisted during that business of the Second Stain and who had subsequently aided us with our own most private celebration.

Holmes greeted her most warmly and after Mrs. Hudson had brought up some tea Lady Hilda explained to us the true purpose of her clandestine visit.

"It is... a rather delicate matter, Mr. Holmes, and I know that you may be trusted fully where such matters are concerned."

"As may you, dear lady.  Now pray tell me how may I be of service?"

"It is my friend, Lady Marie-Louise St John.  You have no doubt heard of her husband, Alfred, who is a member of the House of Lords. It is, unfortunately, a matter of some rather indiscrete photographs taken some years ago before she married her husband."

"And the identity of the lady's blackmailer?"

Lady Hilda smiled briefly.  "That is one of the things that I admire about you, Mr. Holmes - you come straight to the point.  The identity of Marie-Louise's blackmailer is a Mr. La Rothière."

"Louis La Rothière?" Holmes inquired, his interest piqued.

"Why, yes, Mr. Holmes.  You know this man?"

"Let us just say that his name is a familiar one!  Watson, would you be good enough to look him up in my A to Z index?"

As I rose to do his bidding Holmes inquired, "Why did the lady not come to me herself?"

"Marie-Louise has informed me that any attempt to communicate with the police or a private inquiry agent on her part would result in the photographs being immediately sent to her husband.  Poor Marie-Louise!  She is in a terrible state!  I implore you, kind gentlemen and dear friends, to leave no stone unturned to help her.  You will, of course, be reimbursed for all expenses incurred on my friend's behalf."

It was obvious that Lady Hilda was greatly moved by her friend's plight.

Holmes gave the lady the briefest of smiles.  "Of course, Lady Hilda."

Upon finding the correct page in the index I handed it to Holmes.

"Ah, yes, here is our man.  ‘Mr. Louis La Rothière, Campden Mansions, Notting Hill,'" he read.  "‘International espionage agent, frequently resorts to common blackmail'."  He closed the index and put it aside.  "Now, give me a description of your friend, Lady Hilda."

"She is small, petite you would say, with golden blonde locks of hair, a very pretty face and large blue eyes.  Her mouth always reminds of a painted doll's mouth."

"Indeed?  And what age would you say this very attractive lady might be?"

"Well, she admits to eight-and-twenty..." as Holmes gazed at her somewhat quizzically she continued, "...but I should be inclined to say five-and-thirty."

"I see.  And is the lady by any chance French?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Holmes!"

"You intrigue me, Lady Hilda!  So I gather that your friend is considerably younger than her husband."

"Well, yes, but they seem very happy together."

"And how long have they been married?"

"Almost six months now."

"Ah, yes, I remember the wedding," I remarked.  "Lord St John was a widower and the wedding was a rather large affair at St Paul's."

"Yes, that's right, Doctor Watson."

"Tell me, Lady Hilda, when will you be seeing Lady St John again?" Holmes inquired.

"I am giving a ball tonight for the new French ambassador.  Marie-Louise will be there with Lord Alfred."

"So they will be at your house tonight," Holmes mused.  "Excellent!  And will Mr. Louis La Rothière also be in attendance?"

"Good heavens no!"  Lady Hilda sounded positively scandalised at the very notion.

"A distinct oversight on your part, dear lady.  I would advise you to invite him post-haste!"

She gazed from one of us to the other in complete dismay.  "Let me see if I understand you correctly, Mr. Holmes: You wish me to invite Marie-Louise's blackmailer to my ball tonight where my friend and her husband will also be guests?"

"Correct, Lady Hilda.  Of course, you will also issue invitations to Watson and myself, if you would be so kind."

"Ah, I see!"  She smiled demurely.  "Of course, Mr. Holmes."

"Now tell me, just what is the going rate for these very interesting photographs?"

"Ten thousand pounds."

"And can your friend get her hands on such a sum?"

"Not without her husband's consent.  She asked if I could lend her the money myself, however, such a sum is out of the question."

"I see.  Well, well, well!"  Holmes rubbed his hands together in that way he had that indicated to those who knew him well that he was ‘grasping the nettle' so to speak.

"Mr. Holmes, if this man comes tonight, will he recognise you?  At the very least he will surely know your name," Lady Hilda continued in some consternation.  "And then there is my husband whom you both know.  Naturally I would prefer that he not know that I have been to see you today."

"You need not be concerned, Lady Hilda," Holmes reassured.  "Although your esteemed husband will indeed recognise my good Watson, he shall not recognise me."

For a moment the lady seemed puzzled.  "I...  I don't understand, Mr. Holmes.  Do you mean that you will come... in disguise?"

"Oh, Holmes is a master of disguise, Lady Hilda!" I remarked.

She smiled.  "I see."

"Tell me, Lady Hilda," Holmes continued, "did Lady St John specifically ask for my help, or was it your own idea to consult me?"

"It was my own idea, Mr. Holmes.  Marie-Louise is too frightened and, as you both well know, I am not unfamiliar with such circumstances."

"And did you inform the lady that you were going to consult me on her behalf?"

"No.  I thought it wise to say nothing for the time being."

Holmes smiled at her.  "Most wise, Lady Hilda.  Your information has been most helpful.  For now, I would advise you to say absolutely nothing to your friend of your visit to me today."

Lady Hilda seemed perplexed.  "Very well, Mr. Holmes, if you say so."

Holmes rose to his feet and paced up and down in front of the mantelpiece with his hands in his pockets before once more turning to Lady Hilda.

"Lady Hilda, I will do all that I can to assist you."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Holmes!  Thank you!"  Her relief was palpable as she held out her hand and Holmes took it and kissed it.  "And you, dear Doctor Watson!"  I, too, bowed and kissed the lady's hand.  "You are both so kind, but now I must go.  I have a lot of preparations to make for this evening and no one must know that I have been here."

However, Holmes interrupted the lady's flight.  "One more thing, Lady Hilda."  He turned to his desk and scribbled on a piece of paper.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes passed the paper to Lady Hilda as he walked her to the door. "If you would you be so kind as to issue invitations in these names?"

"Consider it done, Mr. Holmes.  I must go.  Thank you both again and goodbye."

No sooner had Lady Hilda left than Holmes announced that he was going out and would be back later.  He was back some two and a half hours later bearing a large box under his arm.  Thereupon he promptly disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him.

As it was now half past four I thought that I had better bathe and change in preparation for the evening ahead, after which I returned to the sitting room and poured myself a brandy.  Shortly thereafter as I stood by the mantelpiece, there was a knock on the sitting room door and Mrs. Hudson entered bearing a card on a silver salver.

"A lady to see you, Doctor Watson," she announced.

When I read the lady's identity I could not help but smile.  Oh, ho! I thought, more than pleased at the prospect of a visit from this distinguished and fashionable lady.  "Lady Sarah Hawthorne?  Excellent!  Show her in, Mrs. Hudson."

Moments later our good landlady ushered in a most regal and graceful lady whom I knew well.  Her rose-pink lips bore a soft, secretive smile and I observed a small glittering tiara in her upswept, dark hair while an extravagantly costly gold and diamond necklace glittered at her throat.  She wore a low-cut, claret-red velvet gown, its soft folds clinging to her slender figure and emphasising her gentle curves.

As she glided towards me I smiled at her in welcome, openly admiring her as always.

From the time Holmes had first donned female attire ‘Sarah' had become a very special part of his repertoire of characters and, more so than any other part, he literally became the character to the extent that by the time of her second visit Sarah had developed a unique personality of her own with a complete past history.  Her graceful mannerisms, her soft, husky voice with its Anglo-Gallic accent, her walk, her scent, her coyly flirtatious manner and, most of all, her love of dancing - for she simply loved to dance the night away - were an integral part of her character.  I long ago ceased to think of her as a member of the male sex, even though I knew she was, for she was much too feminine and too beautiful, so it was easier by far - not to mention less confusing - to simply consider her female.  When Sarah came to visit I knew that I was in for a night of adventure, danger and, most of all, fun.  All I had to do was play the part of the lady's amorous suitor - a part to which I was ideally suited.

"Why it is Lady Sarah!" I exclaimed in delight.  "I am so pleased to see you again, my dear, and how lovely you look!"

She smiled sweetly at me.  "Enchanté, dear Doctor Watson," she murmured, holding out her gloved hand to me.  "We meet again, no?"

"Indeed, dear lady, and may I say that you look simply divine!" I declared, kissing her hand and inhaling the lovely lilac fragrance of which she was so fond.

She gazed at me from under long, black lashes.  "Oh, merci, monsieur!"

"Forgive me, dear lady, but I find myself enchanted by your grace and gentility, captivated by your many charms and bewitched by your exquisite beauty!" I brazenly proclaimed.

She giggled girlishly.  "Mon Dieu, monsieur, you are too bold!"

"Yes, I am," I agreed, "and you, dear lady, are simply ravishing!"

Unexpectedly she took my hands and touched her rose-pink lips to mine.  "Premiere le mystère, ensuit l'amour, non?" she murmured, echoing our firm's unofficial motto.

"Oh, yes!" I enthused, returning her light kiss.

"Dear and handsome doctor," she murmured, "will you be my escort tonight to a soirée at Whitehall?"

"With pleasure, madam!" I declared.

"Merci, kind sir.  My carriage awaits."

As we left 221B Mrs. Hudson farewelled us and wished us an enjoyable evening and Sarah thanked her for her trouble.

On arrival at Whitehall we were greeted by the Hon. Trelawney Hope and Lady Hilda, the latter resplendent in a dark blue gown.  It would be fair to say that Lady Hilda got quite a shock when she saw Holmes's disguise, however, she is an excellent actress and managed to hide it well.  Hope rather gaped at Sarah and seemed somewhat puzzled but did not appear to recognise her.  However his wife greeted her like a dear friend and promised to get together later to talk over ‘old times', much to her husband's perplexity.

"Sarah, you must meet my friend, Lady Marie-Louise.  She, too, is from France and I am sure that you two would have much to talk about!"

"Oui, Hilda, I would love to meet her!" Sarah enthused.  "And she is French you say?  Then you simply must introduce us!"

"I will be sure to let you know when she arrives."  Lady Hilda winked at Sarah.

As we mingled with various ambassadors, members of the government and foreign dignitaries I observed many people turn to admire the very attractive Sarah.  As I handed her a glass of champagne I, too, could not help but admire her and held up my glass in a toast.  "To you, dearest Sarah, the bell of the ball!"

She smiled coyly at me.  "And to you, dear and handsome doctor, for being my escort at such short notice."

As we sipped the excellent champagne I murmured, "See anyone you know?"

"Not yet, but the night is young."

"Do you know what this La Rothière looks like?" I whispered.

"Indeed.  He is small and slenderly built with black hair and a waxed moustache."

"Do you really think he will come?"

"Oh, indeed!  He is chiefly a foreign agent but lately he has been turning more and more to common blackmail.  The opportunity for both at a gathering like this with members of the government and foreign dignitaries, not to mention their wives, would be too good to pass up.  I am counting on La Rothière and the lady needing somewhere private for a tête-à-tête.  Then we shall get to the bottom of this business.  Of course, there is always the unknown element so we must be on our guard.  Now let us circulate, chéri."

So tall and graceful a lady did not go unnoticed and many men turned to look at my elegant darling.  Some twenty minutes later Sarah was deep in conversation with a group of people when I glanced toward the door and, to my very great surprise, saw Harold arrive with none other than Mycroft Holmes.  Harold, in his high office, was obliged to attend all manner of diplomatic functions, so that it was not beyond the realm of probability that he might be here, but to see Holmes's reclusive elder brother at a ball, well, it simply beggared belief.  It also seemed likely that both Mycroft and Harold would meet up with Sarah at some point during the course of the evening.  I groaned inwardly.

Right there and then I made a decision to inform them now, rather than later, and get it over and done with.  I glanced at Sarah but her back was to them and she had not yet seen them.

Harold was already surrounded by several men as I made my way over to Mycroft.  After we exchanged pleasantries he casually remarked, "If you're here, then Sherlock must not be far away."

"He's... uh... close by," I muttered.  "In disguise."

"Oh, indeed!  Now, let me see, which gentleman is he disguised as?"  He gazed around the room.

"Shh!" I whispered frantically.  "He... isn't a gentleman!"

"Ah, a servant!  Sherlock was always good at that!" he proclaimed.

"Uh, he's... not a servant," I stammered.

"Not a servant?  Come, come, Doctor Watson, if he is not a guest and not a servant, then just what is he?"

"I... didn't say that he was not a guest."

"He is a guest then, but he is not a gentleman?"  His eyes widened in puzzlement.

Just then Sarah turned and saw us.  Excusing herself, she made her way over to us, champagne glass in hand.

"Why here she is now!" I exclaimed to Mycroft's utter astonishment as Sarah came to stand beside me and slip her arm through mine.

"Ah, mon petit chou, there you are!" she murmured in a husky tone, giving me an affectionate look.

Mycroft, to his credit, said nothing, merely gazed in complete astonishment at this graceful, bejewelled lady in deep red velvet while I performed the introductions.

"My dear, allow me to present Mr. Mycroft Holmes.  Mycroft, this dear and enchanting lady is Lady Sarah Hawthorne, recently returned from France to grace us with her presence."

Sarah smiled prettily and gave him her hand to kiss.  "Enchanté, Monsieur Holmes," she murmured in her gentle manner. "I am most pleased to meet you."

Mycroft took her hand but paused.  "Uh... charmed I am sure, dear lady," he managed to reply.  However, he still kept hold of her hand whilst gazing at her from head to foot.

"Monsieur Holmes, are you going to give me back my hand?"  She gazed coyly at Mycroft.

"Uh?"  Mycroft actually appeared quite startled.  "Oh!  Forgive me, dear lady.  I was... quite overcome... uh, by your beauty of course."

"You are forgiven, kind sir, and my friends call me ‘Sarah'.  I would be honoured if you also would address me thus."

Mycroft did not miss the meaning of Holmes's words and realised that it was essential to his plan, whatever it might be, that, at least for now, he address his younger brother as ‘Sarah', whether he personally approved of it or not.  He was still holding her hand as she gazed guilelessly back at him, knowing that he would have to play the game and kiss her hand.

Mycroft, for his part, appeared distinctly reluctant to kiss his younger brother's hand, but realising that he simply had no choice in the matter, he gave in graciously and kissed Sarah's hand with quite a flourish as she smiled prettily at him.

At that moment Harold decided to head our way and Mycroft took it upon himself to introduce both myself and Sarah to the esteemed gentleman.

Harold, who was, of course, a dear friend and knew us both intimately, had also never met Sarah before and seemed to be positively mesmerised by her.  However, he kissed her hand with a flourish as I explained that Sarah had lived in France for many years.

"Come for a walk on the terrace with me, dear lady," Harold proclaimed. "And you must tell me all about your life in France for I once lived there myself many, many years ago."

Mycroft looked as if he were about to have an apoplectic fit as Harold offered Sarah his arm and led her out onto the wide terrace.  I could not help but smile as I watched her walk daintily beside Harold, her grace and poise serving her well.  I was quite sure that the astute Harold recognised the good lady as Holmes, but I had not anticipated his appropriating Sarah for a walk on the terrace and hoped that it would not put a crimp in Holmes's plans for the evening.  I decided I had better keep an eye out for La Rothière's arrival.

Having ascertained that no one was likely to overhear our conversation, Mycroft demanded to know just what Holmes thought he was doing.

"Well, you have not met Sarah before," I hedged.

"Indeed not!  And just why are you calling my brother ‘Sarah'?"

"Because when he is dressed thus he is ‘Sarah', not ‘Holmes'," I explained in a whisper.

"Good Lord!"  Mycroft's eyes widened.  "You mean he does this regularly?"

"Oh, only when a case warrants it," I replied casually.  I was not about to reveal the nights that Sarah appeared in a beautiful satin nightgown.  "He enjoys it.  Personally, I'm of the opinion that it gives him a chance to let off steam.  Anyway, don't you think you ought to rescue Harold?"

Mycroft almost choked on his champagne.  "Rescue Harold from my little brother!" he expostulated.

"Shh," I whispered hurriedly, looking around to ascertain if anyone had heard us.  "You don't know Sarah, and she is a terrible flirt!"

Mycroft shook his head.  "Sherlock has finally flipped his wig!" he muttered ruefully.

"Oh, let us pray that that does not happen tonight!" I fervently wished, or the game would indeed be over.

"Huh!  Very well then, to the rescue!" Mycroft announced.

As we strolled out onto the long terrace I saw Sarah and Harold talking animatedly in the far corner.  I also observed Harold to kiss Sarah's hand.

Mycroft, strolling beside me, muttered under his breath, "Well I never!"

"I did warn you!"

Sarah smiled sweetly as we approached and I could not fail to notice that Harold seemed quite taken with her.

"This delightful lady was just telling me that she was widowed only four months ago.  Is that not right, my dear?" Harold murmured sympathetically, patting her hand.

"Oh, yes, and I still miss Monty terribly.  Without him, there seemed no reason to stay in France any more, much as I love it.  So I am glad to be back in England once again.  It is a great comfort to me to be among friends once more."

"Ah, yes, friends are important!" Harold mused, gazing fondly at each of us in turn before once more turning to Sarah.  "And did you know, my dear, that I, too, have lost my spouse?"

"Ah, mon ami, no!  How sad for you, but we must go on, no?"

"Oh, indeed, dear lady, indeed we must, and you must come to visit me at my home in Kent.  It is only a small place but very cosy and I am sure that you would feel right at home there."

"Oh, monsieur, I am humbled that you should think to invite me to your home, but I have my reputation to think of and, after all, you are now a widower and I am now a widow!" Sarah demurred as Mycroft glanced heavenward.

Harold turned to me.  "I say, Doctor Watson, you simply must persuade this lovely lady to come to Kent for a visit.  I find her utterly enchanting."  Mycroft gazed heavenward once more as Harold turned to Sarah again.  "My dear, you must promise to come and visit me at the very first opportunity!" he insisted.

"My dear Sarah, I would be honoured to escort you to Kent!" I proclaimed chivalrously.

"Oh, merci, mon cher!"  She touched my arm affectionately.

"Excellent!" Harold enthused.  "And now, my dear, let us go in to dinner."

Harold gave her his arm and together they strolled back inside.

Mycroft stood shaking his head.  After ascertaining that no one else was within earshot he murmured, "Tell me, John, are you ever tempted to put Sherlock over your knee and give him a thorough spanking?"

I laughed.  "Oh, frequently!  Shall we join them?"

Finally, with many apologies for a broken shaft on their carriage, Lord Alfred St John and his wife, Lady Marie-Louise, arrived and were seated opposite Sarah and myself.  Lady Hilda had certainly planned the seating well, I reflected, with Harold on Sarah's other side and Mycroft next to him.

Lady Hilda performed the introductions and Sarah and Lady Marie-Louise seemed to have much in common.  Lady Marie-Louise was indeed petite and attractive with pearl-strewn, upswept blonde curls and a powder-blue velvet gown with pearls at her throat.  Her husband, a man in his late sixties and a Member of the House of Lords, was a jovial enough fellow and, not surprisingly, seemed quite taken with Sarah.

Dinner went smoothly and Sarah and Lady Marie-Louise struck up a lively conversation about France.  It was not until after dinner that I saw a man arrive by himself.  His appearance matched the description Holmes had given of La Rothière.  I noticed Sarah take note of his arrival, as did Lady Marie-Louise.  In the case of the former, the look was calculating as Sarah assessed the man.  In the case of the latter, Lady Marie-Louise betrayed herself by blushing, palpitation, elevated breathing and a state of nervous anxiety that caused her to drop her fork at one stage during the course of the meal.

Lady Marie-Louise's reaction to La Rothière's appearance was, I must confess, not quite what I had expected.  I had anticipated that she might pale, perhaps even faint at the sight of him.  Although it was obvious that the lady was personally acquainted with La Rothière, her response, to me, seemed one of nervous excitement rather than fear.

As we rose from the dinner table Sarah whispered, "Watch La Rothière like a hawk, mon cher, especially if you see Lady St John go upstairs.  If she goes upstairs he is bound to follow - and we shall follow them!"

However, at that moment Harold proclaimed, "Ah, I hear the orchestra tuning up!"

"Have I mentioned that Sarah loves to dance?" I ventured.  Mycroft Holmes simply gaped in astonishment.

"Splendid!  So do I, and I have not danced for an age!" Harold declared.  "Dear and gracious lady, would you do me the honour of sharing the first dance of the evening with me?"

As Harold whisked Sarah off to the ballroom I checked the room for Lady Marie-Louise and saw her in conversation with Lady Hilda.

As the orchestra began to play the first waltz, Harold led Sarah onto the dance floor.  Other people who had also been in the act of adjourning to the dance floor simply froze at sight of the esteemed and distinguished Harold, a widower who had lived alone for many years, taking to the dance floor with this strikingly tall and graceful woman.  Definitely a sight to behold!

"Sarah is such a wonderful dancer," I remarked to Mycroft.

"Well he damn well ought to be - he had the best tutor!" Mycroft retorted unkindly.

"Ah, I see.  Perhaps that's why everyone tells Sarah she's as light on her feet as a feather."

"Oh, stop calling him that!" he expostulated.  "It's bad enough that I had to kiss his hand, but to have you, a sensible medical man, constantly calling him by that name, well, it is just preposterous!"

"I have to," I defended.  "It gets too confusing otherwise.  Besides he... I mean she... insists, and anyway it's vital to the success of the case."

"Huh!"

Glancing around, I noticed that Lady Marie-Louise was now standing alongside her husband and Lady Hilda as they watched Harold and Sarah dance.

Earlier I had noticed a photographer and I wondered now if he would dare to take a photograph of Harold and Sarah, but then I spied him over in the corner just near the orchestra and he was ready to take a picture.  As they whirled by him the flash went off but they never paused in stride.  Perfectly in tune, Harold and Sarah had the dance floor to themselves and made full use of it while everybody else, including Mycroft and myself, watched in admiration.

When the waltz finally ended Harold bowed to Sarah and kissed her hand and she curtsied graciously to him amid much polite applause from their enraptured audience.

As they made their way back towards Mycroft and myself I could not help but notice that Sarah was now the centre of attention.  I overheard two women passing by to remark, "My dear, did you see those divine diamonds?" to which her friend replied, "Oh, yes, and her gown was simply gorgeous, but who is she?"  I smiled to myself.  Male or female, my dear Holmes was simply sensational.

As the St John's adjourned to the dance floor Sarah watched them.  Over in the far corner La Rothière also kept a keen eye on them and now and then I saw Lady Marie-Louise glance his way and I began to wonder if there was more to this case than simple blackmail.

"Mon chéri, tonight you shall be my hero!" Sarah announced.

"What must I do?" I asked eagerly.

As she began to explain in detail I realised the importance of the part I would have to play for in this case I would be virtually on my own, Sarah preferring to play the part of the naïve witness who is predisposed to fainting.

"I have my small pistol, mon cher, but I will only use it as a last resort as I do not wish to give myself away, nor do I wish to be called as a witness at the Assizes.  Comprehendre vous?"  I nodded.  "Merci, mon amour, and be careful.  There is always the unknown element," she warned ominously.

For the fourth dance of the evening Lady Hilda's husband, Trelawney Hope, asked Lady Marie-Louise to dance and I decided that now might be a safe time for Sarah and I to dance.

My beautiful lady walked daintily by my side as I led her onto the dance floor.  The orchestra played a lively gavotte and as we took our places and began to dance I was so very proud of her.  As we stepped back and forth and whirled around, the diamonds at her throat reflected and refracted the myriad lights from the chandeliers and I was mesmerised by the sight of her lovely gown and the soft smile on her lips.  I loved to dance with her and she knew it.

When the dance was over I sighed regretfully as it would probably be the only opportunity I would have to dance with Sarah, not only for the evening, but for quite some time.  As we left the dance floor amidst the throng of people I put my arm around her waist and momentarily touched my lips to her smooth cheek in gratitude and pleasure and she leaned close and whispered, "Sweet lover!" in my ear.

Although I was closer to the door, we both saw it at the same time - a glimpse of powder-blue gown ascending the stairs, and sure enough there was La Rothière exiting the ballroom and also heading in the direction of the staircase.  Sarah leaned close and whispered, "I'll go first.  You follow in half a minute."

She disappeared through the door and I prayed that she would remember to take the stairs one step at a time and not at Holmes's usual bounds that encompassed two or three steps at once.  However, I need not have worried as she glided swiftly upstairs, lifting her gown a little in a ladylike manner whilst I counted the seconds and waited.

Moments later I rapidly ascended the stairs to the first floor but did not immediately see Sarah or anyone else.  The corridors leading off the landing seemed to be deserted.  I sauntered casually onto the wide terrace but it, too, was deserted as everyone was now in the ballroom, so I strolled slowly down the first corridor that I came to, listening keenly at the doors.  The third door on the left proved useful as I heard low voices and stood listening for a moment until, nerves stretched taut, I almost jumped as without warning I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to find Sarah behind me with a finger to her lips, commanding silence.  She took me into the room next door and quietly closed the door before leading me in semi-darkness over to the door of the adjoining room.

From the adjoining room we could hear voices, La Rothière and Lady Marie-Louise, if I was not mistaken.  I bent down to peer through the keyhole and, to my astonishment, saw them embracing and kissing passionately.  Although this development had apparently been anticipated by Sarah, it dismayed me greatly for I could not help but see it for what it was - a betrayal of her husband - and I wondered why Lady Marie-Louise would possibly be in league with her blackmailer, unless, of course, it was all some kind of underhanded scheme to get money from her husband - and I did not like the sound of that at all.

Taking out my revolver, I removed the safety before returning it to my pocket.  It was at that moment that we heard the sound of a door opening in the adjoining room and St John's thin, reedy voice inquiring, "My dear, are you...?" followed almost immediately by, "What is the meaning of this?  Take your hands off my wife!  How dare you, sir!  My dear, are you all right?"

"And that is the unknown element," Sarah whispered ominously.

"Yes, Alfred, I am fine."

"Who are you, sir?" St John demanded.

"My card, sir.  My name is Louis La Rothière and I am a stock broker and international financier."

"Are you sure you are all right, my dear?"

"Of course I am all right!  Why did you follow me, Alfred?  You are spying on me again!"

"But, my dear, this man had his arms around you!  What is going on here?"

"You can not guess?  You stupid fool!  You English are all so stupid!"

"My dear, what are you saying?  I don't understand."

"I mean that he is my husband."

"Your...?  Your husband?  Marie-Louise, surely you are joking.  You are married to me."

"Hah!  Married to the great Lord Alfred St John!  You are an old man!  You are useless!  You can not even father children!  You are impotent!  You are a joke!"

"No!  No, that's not true, my dear!  The doctors will find a cure!  They will!  You know I am having treatments with the electric fluid all the time!  The doctors assure me that success is just around the corner.

"Hah!  You are pathetic!  There is no cure for what ails you!  There is no cure for old age, old man!"

"But...  but, Marie-Louise, why?  Why did you call this man your husband?"

"Because he is, and always will be."

"I don't understand.  What do you mean?  Were you married to this man?"

"Yes, we are married and I still love him, and he loves me."

"But I don't understand.  You married me!  If you... love each other as you say, then why?  Why did you marry me?"

"Ah, you English are such imbeciles!  Don't you understand?  Louis and I are not divorced, therefore I am not legally married to you! Your marriage is a fake, a sham!  Think of the scandal - the great, rich Lord Alfred St John, decorated soldier and statesman, a cuckold illegally married to a woman who is having a child by her real husband!"

"A child?"

"Yes, Alfred!  My husband is the father!  I am carrying his child!"

"But... but when you asked me for the money I... I was afraid you were being blackmailed.  I... I wanted to save you from your blackmailer.  I wanted to show you that your past was of no consequence and I would never allow it to affect our happiness.  I... I would have forgiven you anything, my darling."

"Don't call me that!  You have no right to call me that, you pathetic excuse for a man!  And now, you will write out a cheque for ten thousand pounds to my husband, or your English newspapers will find out that the child I am carrying is not yours!"

"A first instalment, Marie-Louise?"  St John sounded resigned.

"I'll take that cheque now, monsieur!" La Rothière demanded.

"Alfred, what are you doing with that pistol?" Marie-Louise demanded, a note of alarm in her controlled voice.

"Monsieur, I would advise you not to do anything rash."  I tried the door handle but it was locked.  "Monsieur, I beg you to put down your gun before someone gets hurt!" La Rothière pleaded.  "No, monsieur!" he shouted in alarm.

As I stepped back to kick the door in, from within the adjoining room came the sound of a single gunshot.  As the lock gave way with a splintering of wood we burst into the room.  Expecting to see La Rothière wounded or already dead, we were surprised to see St John bending over the dead body of his wife, the smoking pistol in his hand.

"I am a doctor, sir," I announced.  "I may be able to help the lady," I lied, for I could see from the stillness of her body that she was already dead, the stain of blood on her breast shockingly red against her pale skin.  None the less La Rothière allowed me to examine her as Sarah stood in shock holding her hands to her face and moaning, "C'est horrible!  C'est terrible!  Oh, poor Marie-Louise!"

After ascertaining that Lady Marie-Louise had died from a single gunshot wound to the chest which almost certainly would have penetrated the heart muscle, I noted that poor old St John seemed to be in a state of shock.  He looked at the gun in his hand, then at the dead body of the woman that he had thought of as his wife.  As he glanced my way it was as if he was seeing right through me, his eyes unfocused, glassy and I could not help but feel that I was looking into the eyes of a dead man.

"She got in the way, you know.  I didn't mean to kill her," he said woodenly.  "I would never have hurt her.  She got in the way.  She should not have got in the way.  I didn't mean to kill her," he kept repeating.

Uttering soothing words, I managed to get the gun away from him and led him to a chair.  However, at that moment I was alerted to La Rothière's attempt to escape via the open door to the adjoining room by Sarah calling out, "Monsieur, you can not think of leaving at such a time!"

St John's pistol was still in my hand and it had one more bullet left in the chamber as I quickly turned and aimed it at La Rothière.

"That's far enough, La Rothière.  I am detaining you under my personal custody until the police arrive."  Ordering him to a chair, I made him sit there before turning once more to Sarah.

"Sarah, my dear, this is no place for a lady," I gently admonished.  I knew that, once outside, she would be able to send for the police and inform a worried Lady Hilda of developments.

"Oh, I do feel faint!" she moaned.  "I need air!"  Removing her small fan from her bag she proceeded to fan herself.

At that moment there was a loud banging on the door to the hallway which was still locked and Hope's voice could be heard demanding that someone open the door.  Sarah went to unlock it but she did not admit him, instead exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

Some fifteen minutes later the police arrived and it was none other than our old friend, Inspector Bradstreet, who seemed rather surprised to see my humble self in such august surroundings.

"No offence intended, Doctor Watson, but I wouldn't have expected to see you at such an exclusive soirée."

"I am here as a guest of the Trelawney Hopes."

"Ah, I see.  And where's Mr. Holmes tonight?"

"Working on a case."  Well, at least that much was true, I reflected as I proceeded to quickly explain the situation to him.

Naturally the gunshot had been heard on the floor below where the ball was in full swing.  I learned later that it was Lady Hilda who had calmed everybody down and assured them that the situation was under control and that they should continue to enjoy themselves while Hope had sent for the police.

After the body of Lady Marie-Louise had been discretely removed via the servant's entrance Bradstreet questioned all concerned, except for Sarah whose name had been discreetly omitted, and took La Rothière into custody.

When I returned to the ballroom I saw my lovely Sarah in conversation with Lady Hilda.  Poor Lady Hilda appeared most upset and Sarah had her arm around her.  Together we took her into the morning room where we could be alone.  On the way I told Bates to inform Hope of our whereabouts once he had finished seeing the police out.

In the morning room I poured us all stiff drinks and shortly we were joined by Hope, demanding to know just what had happened upstairs.

As I explained the situation and how Lady Hilda's friend had died there was considerable consternation.  "Oh, for God's sake, this is just hideous!  What a scandal!" Hope declared.

I turned to Lady Hilda.  "I only regret that I was unable to save your friend, Lady Hilda."  She nodded miserably and Hope put his arm around her as I turned to Sarah.

"Sarah, my dear, are you feeling better now?"  I went to her and slipped an arm around her slim waist as she leaned against me.

"Merci, mon cher, I am well."

I tilted her face up toward me.  "Are you sure?"

"Oui, much better.  Ah, mon cher John!  My knight in shining armour!  I was so proud of you the way you kicked the door in and took charge!"

"And what about you, my dear?  Are you all right?"

She gazed at me most fondly.  "Now that you are once more by my side I am fine, mon amour."

Unexpectedly, she deliberately leaned closer and kissed my cheek before pulling back a little to wink at me, a tiny, playful smile on her pink lips.

At that moment I realised just why Sarah had kissed me in front of the Hopes.  At the time of that affair of the Second Stain, an affair with which Lady Hilda was intimately acquainted, I had complained that Holmes and I could never hold hands or share an affectionate gesture in public as the Hopes had done when the letter was found.  This selfish grievance, and Holmes subsequent wish to appease my unhappiness, had led to the singularly joyful circumstances of our uncommon wedding ceremony.  Now, here in the Hopes' morning room where they had once fondly embraced before us, Holmes had deliberately demonstrated that we too could openly display affection in front of others.

Returning Sarah's wink, I briefly squeezed her, but when I looked up, it was to see Hope staring at us, or more precisely, at Sarah.  Of course, he had met both Holmes and myself during that Second Stain business and therefore knew well what Holmes looked like.  The man was astute and I had the distinct feeling that he was putting two and two together.  Hilda was watching her husband as he frowned and ran his eyes over the long and elegant Sarah with her husky voice and large grey eyes.

"Excuse me, Lady Sarah, but I could swear that we have met somewhere before," he remarked.

"Oh, I think not, monsieur.  I am sure that I would recall meeting a man as handsome as yourself," Sarah demurred.

Hope had the good grace to blush.  "Forgive me, but I could swear..."

"Oh, please do not, monsieur!" Sarah interrupted.  "I find it most offensive."

"Trelawney, you are embarrassing Sarah," Lady Hilda admonished. "It's high time that we rejoined our guests.  They will be wondering what on earth has become of us."

"Quite right, my dear," Hope responded, none the less still eyeing Sarah curiously.

Offering my lovely lady my arm, I solicitously inquired, "Are you fatigued, my dear, or shall we dance?"

"Chéri, you know that I love to dance!" she responded with enthusiasm.  Lady Hilda, who, of course, was fully aware of the true nature of my relationship with Holmes, smiled at me in a most secretive manner.

As we exited the morning room I saw Hope literally pull Lady Hilda back inside the room and close the door.  I had no doubt that he was going to demand explanations but equally I had complete confidence that the shrewd and once-more-composed Lady Hilda could handle the situation - and her husband - very well indeed.

As I once more led my gorgeous, bejewelled darling onto the dance floor she gazed at me so fondly that, had we been alone, I would have immediately kissed her.  Later for that, I vowed.

The rest of the evening was spent most pleasantly.  Of course, I did not have my darling Sarah completely to myself for she was exceedingly popular and danced with several distinguished gentlemen. When Sir Bernard Soames asked Sarah to dance I had a very hard time keeping a straight face for he is quite rotund and short of stature being only five feet one.  When Sarah rose to dance with him, well, it would not be an exaggeration to say that she simply towered over him and I know that I was not alone in finding the sight quite comical.  I also could not fail to notice that Sir Bernard's eyes were level with Sarah's breast which, to my consternation, he seemed frequently to notice.

As I sipped my wine and watched them dancing one gentleman whose name I did not know and who was much the worse for drink, came over and nudged me.  "I say, old boy, that woman of yours is quite an armful," he muttered conspiratorially, his voice slurred with drink. "Pity about her height though.  Still, they're all the same length in bed, eh what?"

Being a gentleman, I did not wish to cause a scene before our hosts.  After all, they had had scandal enough for one night.  However, I dearly wanted to flatten the cad.  Instead, I contented myself by venting my wrath.

"The lady you refer to happens to be Lady Sarah Hawthorne, a lady of refinement and delicacy and a very dear friend.  See that you stay well away from her or you will answer to me!"  The man gaped at me in astonishment as my words sank in.  "Consider it a promise!" I added, patting my pocket where I kept my revolver.  He saw the gesture and retreated post-haste.

Later, as Sarah was dancing with the new French ambassador, who had only arrived in England the previous day and had come to the ball sans wife owing to the lady still recovering from the rigours of their trip, Mycroft came to sit at our table and demanded to know what had happened upstairs.  As we watched Sarah dancing and talking animatedly in French to the ambassador I quietly explained the nature of the evening's dramatic events to him.  His reaction was predictable. "Women!" he muttered scathingly, and glanced around the room for Harold who was in animated conversation with Hope and three other gentlemen whom Mycroft informed me were the Swiss, Italian and Dutch ambassadors.

Later, just before his departure Harold came to join us and insisted that he simply had to have one last dance with the delightful Sarah.  He, at least, was tall enough to look her in the eye, I reflected, as Mycroft and I watched them dance together.

Mycroft left not long after Harold had departed and Sarah danced the last three dances of the evening with me.

It was after midnight when we finally made our exit.  As we waited for our carriage to be brought to the entrance, Hope watched as Lady Hilda and Sarah exchanged kisses and promised to see each other again soon.  From the expression on Hope's face it was apparent that Lady Hilda had told him of the true nature of this evening's events for he appeared as though he was not quite sure just what to make of the whole business - his wife hiring the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, who arrives disguised as a titled widow with his friend and biographer as overly-fond escort and they then fail to prevent the tragic shooting of Lady Marie-Louise St John and spend the rest of the evening dancing.  Since Sarah's sexuality was highly questionable, I also had the distinct impression that he may have felt uneasy with regard to his wife's open affection for Sarah and no doubt wondered why they bothered with the charade now that the evening was over.  Or was it pretence?  Now I wondered too since Sarah seemed to get along so wonderfully well with other women while Sherlock Holmes was generally inclined to avoid them unless they were clients.  Ah, well, I reasoned that if dressing up as a woman enhanced his understanding of the ladies it might also make him more inclined to be tolerant towards them.

As we departed I placed Sarah's cape around her shoulders for the evening had grown chill.  Hope shook my hand, smiled sincerely at us and thanked us for coming while Sarah and Lady Hilda embraced fondly and kissed in the French style.

"I only regret that we were unable to prevent the death of your friend, Lady Hilda," I apologised once more.

She shook her head.  "You did all that could be done and you both have our gratitude."

"Lady Sarah is quite a remarkable person," Hope remarked sotto voce with a meaningful glance in my direction.

"Indeed, quite remarkable," I agreed.

As Sarah and I rode home to Baker Street I slipped an arm around her.

"Ah, mon cher, not the most successful of nights," she sighed regretfully.

"No, though it definitely had its moments, did it not?" I glanced at her slyly.  "After all, you did enjoy dancing, did you not, my love?"

"Ah, yes, mon amour, I love to dance - only now my feet are aching," she added.  "I can not wait to get home and take off my shoes."

Tenderly I stroked her cheek.  "Perhaps you will allow me to remove them for you?" I dared to suggest.

She smiled and gazed at me from beneath her long lashes.  "Ah, merci, mon petit chouchou!  What would I do without you!"

"And would you like me to also rub your feet for you, my sweet?"

"Oh, that would be heavenly!" she sighed, resting her head on my shoulder.

Once back in 221B I removed her cape for her and encouraged her to sit on the settee.  Kneeling in front of her, I removed her shoes as she gratefully stretched her long, silk-clad legs and wiggled her toes.  There was nothing worse than breaking in new shoes and they could really make one's feet ache.  In this regard I decided that a gentle foot massage was just what the doctor ordered.  Taking her left foot I began to massage the sole, manipulating it gently as she sighed with relief.

"Is that good for you, my sweet?"

"Mmm, yes!  Wonderful!  Don't stop!"

"I have no intention of stopping, my dear."

As she seemed to be enjoying it so much I took my time, working on each foot in turn.  Gradually I began to work my way a little higher, my hands guiding her ankles in circular movements.  Growing more bold, I dared to slip my hands under the velvet of her dress to rub her calves, my hands gliding over the soft material of her petticoats as she sighed again, enjoying my gentle ministrations and gazing on me solicitously through half-closed eyes whilst I quite shamelessly indulged her.

It never failed to amuse me that, from the first time he had dressed up as a titled lady, Holmes had stayed in character after we had returned home and even made love in character.  I know that he did not do it just to please me, although he knew that I enjoyed variety in our sex lives, and, of course, I was not averse to being seen in public with an attractive lady on my arm, but rather he was indulging his softer, feminine side.  I am of the firm belief that this was not as difficult for him as it might seem for his ego was such that he required frequent flattery which, as the winsome and delightful Sarah, he was wont to receive.  He simply adored being pampered and indulged and I was only too happy to oblige him.  Also, it was not onerous for him to have to act feminine for he was most graceful in his ways, although the effort it took to transform himself into a lady of means was most exacting.  No doubt to other people it would have seemed ludicrous, even bizarre, but it was not so for us.  It was illusion, it was harmless and, most of all, we enjoyed it.

At that moment Sarah sat up and cupped my face, caressing me in the fondest manner.  "You are too good to me, mon amour."

"Hush, my dear Sarah, for it is my pleasure to please you.  Am I pleasing you, my love?"

"Oh, yes, merci beaucoup, mon petit chou!"

She proceeded to kiss me lightly, delicately, soft pink lips as light as the touch of a bird's wing while all the while gazing into my eyes with such rapturous affection that my ardour was ignited, my temperature instantly rising.  "Mon coeur," she whispered, touching her sweet lips to mine yet again.

"My darling," I whispered.  "My dearest sweet Sarah."  I caressed the soft skin of her neck and felt the hard muscles of her shoulders.  Femininity and strength - an intoxicating combination.  "Truly, you own my heart, dear and beautiful lady.  It is yours.  Do with it as you will," I sincerely proclaimed, sealing my heartfelt words with a light touch of my lips to hers.

She smiled at me and, with one hand at the base of my neck, pulled me a little closer.  "John!  Mon petit ami," she murmured.  "My handsome physician.  Kiss me, mon cher!"

As I sat beside her on the settee and took her in my arms she smiled at me, her manner so appealing, her expression so fond that I obeyed her wish at once for I considered kissing to be one of life's greatest pleasures.  However, I did not kiss Sarah the way I kissed my dear Holmes.  Oh, no, one simply did not use one's tongue in so forceful a manner with a lady of refinement and breeding - and Sarah was nothing if not a lady - for, in my experience, they simply did not appreciate it, at least not at first.  For the moment I used only my lips to please her and she gave me lovely little closed-mouth kisses that were indescribably sweet.  Only gradually did she part her lips a little as I licked delicately at them, wanting so much to please her and pleasing myself in the process.

Such sweet kisses we shared, my lovely Sarah almost purring with delight as I pushed my tongue slowly, and gently into her mouth and she sucked daintily on it, stroking it so tenderly with her tongue. Ah, but the pleasure was exquisite and I pulled her closer, my hands wandering over the velvet smoothness of her gown, the soft richness of the material so sensuous to touch, the warmth of the flesh beneath even more enticing.

After long, delicious moments the desire to prolong was overcome by the desire for more, and I tore my mouth away from hers to cover her cheeks with kisses and murmur in her ear, "Sweet darling, your kisses turn my blood to molten steel!"

"Tell me more, chéri!" she whispered in my ear.  "Tell me about this ‘molten steel'."

"Oh, sweet darling..." our mouths found each other again, "...there is this small vessel it pours into..." I kissed her again.

"Oui?" she asked most eagerly.

"...and it fills it..." our lips met again, "...stretches it mightily..." and again, "...moulds it to the shape you desire, my love..." and yet again, "...the shape, and the size, that will please you, my dear..." such lovely kisses, "...that will bring you sweet delight, my dearest..."

"Oui!" she murmured breathlessly, kissing me once again.

"...and thrill you with the most exquisite of raptures, my gorgeous darling!"

"Ah, c'est viril!" she gasped.  "C'est romantique!  Oh, you take my breath away!  Such tender passions you have, mon cher amour!  Oh, let me see this small vessel that grows larger!  Let me see for myself if it will suit me!"

"Oh, yes, my sweet love, yes!"  I shifted to kneel on the settee beside her and proceeded to hastily unbutton my trousers and underpants, my distended member springing free of its imprisoning clothing at last, swelling even more as I held it in my hand.

Sarah gazed, fascinated, at my engorged manhood as though she had never seen it before.  "Pour moi?"  I nodded.  "Mm, chéri, you flatter me!" she remarked coyly.

"And do I please you, sweet Sarah?"

"Please me?  Ah, mon chéri, très agréable!  Truly it is wondrous! How delightful!  What a stallion you are, mon cher!"

"You are too kind, fair lady," I demurred, blushing a little as she continued to gaze on my swollen member.  "If it pleases you, you may touch it, my dear."

"Oh, may I?" she asked wide-eyed, reaching to run one long, manicured finger along the full length from base to end, her light touch stimulating me even more.  "I would not wish to hurt you, chéri.  Now you must tell me if I hurt you," she admonished.

"You could never hurt me, my dear, and your touch is... most pleasing..." I sighed.  "If you push back the flesh like so," I demonstrated with my own hand, "you may see the tip."

"Oh, yes!  Oh, what a pretty object!  Why it's all rosy pink.  May I touch?"

"It would be my pleasure, my dear!" I murmured slyly but sincerely.

"Ah, yes, chéri!" she murmured, running her forefinger over the tip and the small aperture there.  "Truly it is a lovely thing - and so slippery!" she added, her finger circling slowly while my own excitement only increased.

Her pleasure and her own dawning excitement were plain to see as she continued to gaze avidly at my member, her finger caressing the sensitive tip.  "Chéri, you are so wonderful I find myself wanting more.  Oh, mon cher ami, j'adorer!" she sighed, leaning back to recline on the cushions on the end of the settee and pulling me closer until I was straddling her and my eager member pointed at her sweet pink lips which she now licked in anticipation.

"Oh, chéri, you tempt me so!  Come closer, petit ami," she whispered, pulling me down until she could touch my eager appendage with her lovely lips.  She smiled up at me, one hand reaching to fondle my testicles.

"Oh, my dear!  My dearest Sarah!" I moaned as she licked softly at the already-weeping tip.  "Oh, my sweet, you excite me so!"

"Ah, such a treat!" she exclaimed, using her tongue and lips in the most delicate manner until I had to beg her to cease for I was becoming much too stimulated and was forced to pull back from her sweet mouth.

She begged me to loosen her stays and, after so doing, allowed me to lower her gown so that I might kiss more of her lovely pale flesh and work my way lingeringly down to her lovely little pink nipples.

Oh, but she sighed with such voluptuous pleasure as I sucked gently on them, her fingers running so tenderly through my hair and her lips whispering my name over and over.

Thereupon I helped her out of her under-garments, pushing her gown and petticoats up to her hips, at the same time petting and kissing her strong, silk-clad thighs.  As I moved higher she lifted her skirts so that I could pay homage to what we laughingly referred to as her ‘hidden assets'.  She would cover my head with her womanly garments so that, with my head resting on her firm abdomen and the lower part of her corset, inhaling her lovely lilac perfume, I was yet fully aware of the musk scent of her hidden sexuality which I now began to worship most avidly with lips and tongue.

Covered as I was by her garments, I could not see her face, but I could tell from her elevated respiration, the slow writhing movements of her hips and her soft moans that she was enjoying every minute of my tender assault.

Taking my time, I worked my way lower, sucking lovingly on swollen testicles until my tongue licked at the rosebud entrance of her long, lithe body and, like a delicate flower, she gradually opened to me. From her lips came soft sighs and the most tender of endearments.  Ah, but this gentle loving was to be savoured and treasured!

When, finally, my sweet darling could stand no more of my loving ministrations she pleaded, "Oh, entrer moi, mon cher ami!  I am ready for you, bien-aimé."

My loins afire, I needed no more prompting and, as she removed her skirts from my head, I lifted her hips and pushed a velvet cushion under her.  Positioning myself, I slowly breached her tender entrance and sank deeply into her wonderful, welcoming heat as she imprisoned me with long, silken limbs.

How beautiful she was!  How marvellous she felt!  Somehow this tender loving seemed even more forbidden than was our normal loving and this only served to add spice to our ardour.  In fact, just the thought of making love to my dear and lovely Sarah, a lady with intriguing hidden assets, always excited me strangely and I now ceased all movement lest I put a premature end to these delicious proceedings.

She reached up now to stroke my face and whisper, "Sweet lover."  I remembered how she had whispered those same words in my ear as we had left the dance floor at Whitehall.

"Oh, my dear and lovely lady, I am honoured to be allowed to love you.  Truly, you are the sweet one, my dearest," I murmured sincerely.

She bestowed on me the fondest of smiles and ruffled my hair.  "Ah, chéri, kiss me!"

Eagerly, I leaned down to kiss her, to adore her delectable lips and pay tender homage with my tongue, putting every ounce of feeling I had into that one long, remarkable kiss, while the blood sang in my veins and I fought the urge to thrust strenuously into her singular warmth and tightness.

How lovely!  How marvellously good it was to feel my manhood full- buried in her heat whilst with my hips I made circular grinding motions, at the same time echoing those same actions with my tongue in her lovely mouth.  Mmm, how beautiful!  My hands wandered where they would, touching and fondling her warm flesh and hard little nipples. But then she was urging me on, imploring me to move, to love her deeply and, since I was her willing slave, what could I do but obey, thrusting repeatedly into her heated and perfumed flesh until we were both so consumed with lust that our every thought, every movement was centred on the fire in our loins which was pushing us ever higher, blazing a trail before us and leading us inexorably to the summit, the peak of perfection.

"Oh, God, sweet love, now!" I groaned.  "Come with me now, my love!"

Frantically, I rubbed her sex through the satin material of her petticoats, a sensation which she had frequently proclaimed was exquisite, and with my heart seeming to pound in my throbbing member, my orgasm screamed through me in glorious rainbow colours that swam before my vision whilst the most blissful of sensations filled my being with rapture.  Simultaneously, my darling came in my hands, the evidence of her pleasure soaking through the material of her petticoats as she cried out my name.  For those too-brief, delicious moments, truly we touched heaven.

My euphoria left me drifting, my head resting on her breast as her fingers gently stroked my hair in soothing caresses.

"Ah, mon amour, how tender you are!  How passionate!" she whispered.

"Sweetest angel," I murmured, wanting nothing more than to drift off in her arms.

After long moments of torpor my darling insisted that we had to move.  "Come, mon cher, we must bestir ourselves."

As I sighed with regret my much-shrunken member slid gently from her wonderful warmth and was exposed to cool air while my darling stretched her long legs.  Even after making love she still managed to look immaculate, I thought, watching her stand and straighten her gown.  Picking up her shoes, she tiptoed into Holmes's bedroom as I gathered up my own garments and headed for the bathroom.

Later, desiring as we both did to keep the illusion, I would lie in bed in semi-darkness with only a small amount of light coming through the window from the street lamps below and there would come a soft knock on the door.  "Chéri?" a soft voice would call as she opened the door.

"Come to me, my darling!" I would murmur in the darkness, sitting up and folding back the bedclothes for her and she would slip into bed beside me, smelling fresh as a daisy and wearing a lovely satin nightgown.

"Ah, my sweet lady!" I would murmur, taking her in my arms and embracing her.

"Mm, you are so warm and so wicked, chéri!" she sighed settling against me whilst I cuddled her and pressed kisses to her cheeks, now washed clean of make-up.  Warm and secure we would fall asleep in no time.

When I awoke in the morning Sarah was always gone and I would don my dressing gown and go down to breakfast to be greeted by Holmes reading the morning papers and drinking coffee.

"Well, Watson, you certainly had a late night last night!" he remarked on this particular morning.  "How goes our case?"

"Alas not one of our firm's most successful cases," I admitted with some reluctance, anticipating a typical Holmes tirade.

"Huh!"  After depositing his paper with a decided slap onto the table he took a sip of his coffee.  "Well, you certainly made the papers this morning."  I winced, imagining the headlines.  "From what I have heard - and read - you not only failed to prevent St John from drawing a pistol but you compounded your error by also failing to prevent him from accidentally shooting his wife - if she could be called that," he added somewhat caustically.  "However, not withstanding these tragic events, you then proceeded to dance the night away with that coquette and made absolute spectacles of yourselves."  He gazed on me most sternly.  "Really, Watson, it won't do!  You and Sarah will simply ruin this firm's reputation for excellence!"

I sipped my coffee.  "Sorry, Holmes, but I believe we did the best we could in the circumstances."

"Huh!  A six-year old child could have foreseen the outcome!" he declared peevishly.

"Well, it might have been helpful if my partner had disclosed his suspicions that Lady Marie-Louise was really La Rothière's wife - in advance!" I retorted with some pique.

As he gazed at me his whole expression softened wonderfully.  "Touché, my dear Watson.  Touché.  You managed very well, my dear, and Sarah has asked me to give you this."  To my surprise, he removed a small cream envelope from the breast pocket of his dressing gown and passed it across the table to me.

As I opened the enclosed note I reflected that the paper and matching envelope were of the highest quality.  The note stated merely:
 

Lady Sarah Hawthorne Hawthorne Manor Surrey    Mon cher,      Merci beaucoup for another unforgettable evening.      Until we meet again, mon amour, be assured that you are always in my thoughts, and forever in my heart.              Your Sarah.  X X X

Inhaling the distinct fragrance of lilac, I smiled to myself as I read it.  Ah, what a lady!

Holmes observed my reaction.  "She also asked me to give you this."  To my surprise, he rose and came around the table to stand beside my chair and, seemingly from nowhere, produced a small, red rose.  "And this," he added, leaning down and pressing his lips to mine.  "And I am to say ‘Merci'."

As I inhaled the lovely perfume of the rose and beheld the affectionate gaze of my dearest Holmes, I truly considered myself blessed by fate.  Smiling up at my dear one, I drew his lips to mine once more.  "Thank you, my dearest Holmes."

*   *   *

After this little adventure, Sarah, with her beautiful gowns and gracious manner, was invited to a great many other soirées of note, most of which she declined, Holmes joking that he had locked her away in the cupboard.  For instance, after making the acquaintance of Lady Angela Davidson that night at Whitehall, Lady Angela subsequently invited Sarah to all her seasonal balls.  Also, the French ambassador, with whom Sarah had danced that night at Whitehall, was quite smitten with her and kept inviting her to dinner parties at his residence.  However, only when it suited his mood, or a case warranted it, would Holmes accept an invitation and once again Sarah would step daintily forth gowned in silk and precious stones for an evening of fun, frivolity and more-than-a-hint of danger.

What never failed to astound me was Holmes's total transformation whenever he played the part of Lady Sarah Hawthorne for, as Sarah, he was the soul of graciousness and charm.  Men found Sarah strikingly attractive and simply loved to dance with her and all the ladies wanted to know where she had acquired her glittering jewellery.  She admitted to me that for the latter she had had to make up a list of suitors including, of course, her late husband and myself, as one simply never admitted to purchasing such baubles for oneself.

The very fact that Sherlock Holmes could literally transform himself into a woman of elegance, attraction and poise only made me respect him - and love him - all the more.  Besides, Sarah was wonderful company and the fact that I knew her real identity and loved her as both Lady Sarah Hawthorne and Sherlock Holmes only made her more exciting to be with, or perhaps it was simply her veneer of graceful, fragile femininity that concealed a dominant masculinity.

Perhaps because Sarah was so feminine no one ever seemed to question her sexuality.  The only thing they questioned - and frequently - was when we were going to tie the knot, to which Sarah would smile a little sadly and say that she could never get over the memory of her first husband, Montgomery, or ‘Monty' as she fondly referred to him, and had vowed never to marry another.  Of course, these frequent utterances only caused more gossip and it became generally ‘known' that there must have been a clause in her late husband's will to the effect that she would lose her fortune if she remarried.  In the meantime she played the part of the gay widow, laughing on the outside and crying just a little on the inside and I, of course, was perfectly cast as her enamoured suitor, always there to protect my fair lady from harm.

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