I was washing dishes when I heard the door to the upstairs master bedroom slam shut. The head maid rushed down the stairs, her face white as a ghost.

"Call the police!" she cried as she reached the bottom step.

I calmly dried my hands on my apron and walked out of the kitchen.

"What is all the commotion about this time, Mrs. Worth?"

"There's a man in the master's bedroom!" said the flustered maid.

I laughed. "Surely you are mistaken. The Master and Mistress have been gone all week and aren't due back 'til tomorrow."

"I know what I saw!"

Mrs. Worth was a short, plump middle-aged woman who had worked for the household some thirty-something years. Though smart and extremely tidy (no one but her was allowed with the dusting) she had a wild imagination. She was always confusing shadows and household noises for burglars and hobgoblins.

"Mrs. Worth," I said, "you know your eyesight isn't what it used to be. Your eyes were probably playing tricks with your mind."

"How dare you accuse my aging eyes! Just because you're the new favorite around here doesn't mean you're better than me!"

I shrugged my shoulders. True, I had only been an assistant housekeeper for a few months, but I had already won favors with the Master and Missus. It was probably because I always did my work quietly and efficiently. The Missus greatly appreciated that. Why she put up with Mrs. Worth, I didn't know. Probably had something to do with the aging maid's loyalty to the family. Rumor was currently going around that the real reason I had become so popular was because the Master had taken a fancy to me. That was fine by me. No, I wasn't a ravishing beauty, but I was young and pretty enough.

"Emily, are you listening?" cried Mrs. Worth.

No, I hadn't been. She could carry on like a magpie when she was agitated.

"I'm going to the police station. There is a man locked inside the master bedroom, and I'm going to turn him in. You stay here and make sure he doesn't escape!"

There was no use arguing with her.

"Yes, Mrs. Worth. I'll make sure."

She shook her head and mumbled something about young people and took off. It was just me now in the house. Me and the man locked in the upstairs bedroom.

Naturally I had to investigate. I slowly climbed the stairs and stopped just outside the door to the master bedroom. I put my ear to the door, but couldn't hear anything. That was probably because there wasn't anyone in there. Using my skeleton key, I unlocked the door and went inside.

I gasped in shock. There was a naked man handcuffed to the bed!

"I tried to explain myself to the maid," the man said, "but I'm afraid I scared her off."

I giggled. "You surely did."

The man was gorgeous! Dark unruly hair, dusky complexion, and smoldering chocolate brown eyes. His muscles bulged against the strain of him trying to free himself from the handcuffs. I couldn't help staring at him. This was the famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) Sherlock Holmes.

"May I ask how you got yourself in this predicament, Mr. Holmes?"

"Ah, well, that is a rather long story. Could you please help me? The key to my release is under the pillow."

I had said that he was naked, and in truth he was. The only thing protecting his modesty was one of the throw pillows from the bed. I lowered my eyes and reached behind me to close the door.

"What a coincidence," said I. "The key to my release is under that very same pillow."

He chuckled as if I had said something humorous. The smile soon froze on his face as I strode boldly toward him.

"Really?" he asked looking me up and down. He seemed surprised, but at least he wasn't repulsed.

"Really," I said, reaching underneath the pillow.

"Oh, God," Holmes moaned as my right hand wrapped around his penis.

My left hand quickly snatched up the key to the handcuffs. I held it up for him to see before placing it inside my brazier.

"And here I was thinking I was going to have a bad day," Holmes said as I straddled him on the bed.

"So was I," I whispered as I bent my head down to kiss him.

He returned the kiss, deepening it as I felt him harden underneath me. I sat up and took my apron and blouse off over my head. Holmes grinned as I sat up on my knees to pull my undergarments down.

"You are a lovely girl," he said. "How old are you? Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-six tomorrow."

"Happy early birthday."

"I certainly hope so," I said settling back down across his thighs. My hand gripped his erection and placed him inside me. The immediate pleasure cause me to buck violently, enabling him to thrust himself deep inside me.

"Please," he gasped. "My hands. Please."

I cannot tell you how much it empowered me to hear him beg. It was also a major turn-on. I quickly retrieved the key and freed his hands. He gripped my hips and lifted me so he could sit upright. He then pulled me back down with my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He set a rhythm and I was quick to match it. His arms held me so tightly his muscles were once again bulging.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Holmes whispered huskily. "It's been a while."

"It's all right," I replied. "I'm just glad you get to be my first."

"I never would have guessed." He then laughed. "I'm seldom wrong you know."

I laughed with him. "I promise I won't tell."

We were both spent after twenty minutes of passionate (and vocal) lovemaking. I laid my head on his chest and listened as his heart returned back to its normal pace. After a few moments he began to laugh again.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I believe I've solved the case."

By the time Mrs. Worth arrived with the policeman, Holmes was long gone. I had stripped the bed linens and made it up new. The handcuffs were in my apron pocket. I apologized to the Inspector, explaining how the man had broken free and overpowered me. By the time I came to, I had discovered that he had fled out the window. Everything had happened so fast. I apologized again for not being able to give an accurate description. The Inspector took down every word I said before leaving. Mrs. Worth glared at me, but she didn't speak.

"I'm so sorry for doubting you," I said to her. "I shall never do it again."

That seemed to pacify her. She smiled, patted me on the arm, and told me never to speak of the matter.

The following morning I arrived for work wearing a brand new necklace that I had fashioned myself. Around my neck, on a strand of lavender lace, hung the key that had released Holmes. The very same key that had released me.

I still see Sherlock Holmes from time to time. Lately it's been about once a month, whenever he as having trouble solving a difficult case. It seems that making love to a passionate young woman such as I clears his mind, enabling him to solve any case currently challenging his brilliant mind. His words, not mine.