Sherlock's Scandal by Suz DeMello - Romance>Contemporary eBook
By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.
An Excerpt From: SHERLOCK’S SCANDAL
Copyright © SUZ DEMELLO, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Though A Scandal in Bohemia was one of my friend Watson’s most popular stories, I feel compelled, now that I am in the sunset of my life, to correct the numerous falsehoods he willfully published.
Forgive me. I had assumed you knew my identity. I am Sherlock Holmes, formerly of 221B Baker Street, London. My not-so-faithful chronicler, physician John Watson, described me in flattering terms as history’s most famous consulting detective.
But, forced by the mean, narrow confines of the Victorian age to censor his chronicles, he never spoke of or alluded to my relationships with the gentler sex. However, as the nineteenth century turned into the twentieth, conventions changed. Now, in the freer year of 1922, I can reveal the truth.
Watson did write of my fondness for a seven percent solution of cocaine I occasionally used to ease my boredom between cases. But he never breathed to a soul, not even to his beloved wife Mary, a word about the dalliances in which I indulged due to both the influence of cocaine and my natural inclinations. Though I am not a naturally gregarious man, I have always enjoyed the company of women. I must say that my desire increases to uncontrolled randiness when I use cocaine.
I sampled the delights of many females, but never found one with whom I wanted a permanent connection. My attitude hardened and became somewhat cynical, which was reflected in Watson’s writing. ‘Tis true that I rarely referred to the softer emotions save with a gibe or a sneer. Looking back, I realize that the Victorian woman deserved my pity. She was expected by society to present a stern face of propriety while men want a Maenad in the bedroom. And unlike most of my fellows, I prefer my companions to provide intellectual stimulation as well. I despaired of finding a woman who could tickle my cock as well as my mind.
In A Scandal in Bohemia , Watson reported that on the evening of March 20, 1888, he stopped by to visit me at 221B Baker Street, London. He had moved out some months before, upon his marriage to the former Mary Marston, but would occasionally stop in for a cigar and a chat.
We were visited by a peculiar man who insisted upon wearing a mask. I quickly deduced that he was none other than the King of Bohemia, who brought to our attention a most important and delicate matter. The king wished to marry a Scandinavian princess, and her family was quite strict. The king, however, had engaged in many misadventures while he was a bachelor. One of them involved Irene Adler, an operatic star residing in London.
When I heard her name, I involuntarily started. The king in his arrogance did not notice, but told us that a photograph had been taken of him with Miss Adler.
I winked at Watson and said, “Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion.”
Watson bit his lip to keep from laughing, while also trying to scowl with disapproval.
I continued, “What does the lady want? If it is money, it must be paid.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew the solution would not be so simple. Irene Adler could not be bought.
“Worse,” the king said. “She wants revenge.”