Staggering Desperation
Mary believed Holmes would prevent Watson from marrying her and so she attempts to frame him and ensure Watson walks in on them having sex so she can claim that he raped her.
Holmes lifted his tea to his lips. The steam was warm and damp on the end of his otherwise cold nose and he cupped his hand around the mist to focus it on his face. It was frigid outside, the snow was falling and the deep damp cold seeped through the stone walls. He thought tentatively about getting up from his armchair and fixing a fire but the thought never materialized. His limbs felt inflicted with intensified gravity and he thought consciously attempting to relax the muscles in his neck. Shutting his eyes, he let a deep sense of stillness set in as he stared vacantly at the fireplace. The room grew colder and colder and his feet which were bear in his slippers lost feeling but he felt no inclination to move or to wrap himself in the warmth of his bed. When the tea was long gone he continued to sit, his index finger through the frail cup handle, his other hand beneath the saucer, attempting to force all thought from his mind.
He woke some hours later to the touch of warm fingers shaking his arm. He had drifted in and out of sleep a number of times and so he did not open his eyes but waited for the disturbance to end.
"Holmes…" said Mary quietly, trying to wake him gently. She stepped over his discarded clothing and tugged him once again with an air of concern.
"You are morbidly cold" she said pulling his arm forward as she coaxed him up and out of his chair. Initially he sat, unresponsive waiting for her to go but pulled his house coat tight around his frigid frame. He did not want to open his eyes or look at her but cast her from his mind eternally. Holmes swallowed hard, turning his face as the muscles in his stomach clenched and his breathing stuttered. He drew a long deep and staggering breath as painful vibrations moved through his abdomen.
"Holmes, come with me…you are cold and I should only want to see you put to bed and then I will leave" she said maternally as she tugged once again on his arm. He rose and followed her toward his bedroom and to his bed where she lifted the cover and bade him to enter. In the dark, his hands sought out the cold crisp linen and his hand slid across its taught flat surface.
"By tonight, Holmes you will feel at peace. Once a decision has been made and or perhaps made for you in some instances, there is an opportunity for peace." Mary sat on the side of the bed and pushed his hair back of his forehead. He heard scuffling behind him and his cocaine bottle was beside him. Holmes could see it sitting there at eye level and a syringe was placed next to it. Reaching for it he held the glass bottle in his hand and lowered it to the mattress beside him and then picked up the syringe letting his numb finger scramble around on the surface of the nightstand beside him.
"Mary, what are you doing?" She didn't honestly know what she was doing, and felt instantly sick to her stomach but was thinking only one thing, that Holmes at home with a syringe in his arm was better than Holmes at her wedding where only one of two things could happen: Holmes sits there with this expression on his face effectively telling John not to leave him or he sits there like a good friend and John regrets his decision to marry her. She could no envision a scenario in which John left that church with her. Then she head the door slowly creek open.
"Holmes, I, old boy are you in?" he said and then looking at his pocket watch he realized what time of night it was. Panicking Mary looked through the commodities in Holmes' herb cabinet. She could hear the squeaking of floor boards as he drew nearer the room. She grabbed the syringe and plunged it into a bottle of boiled cannabis solution. Then the squeaking stopped. Mary froze as the steps retreated once again hoping that John was leaving.
Holmes, exhausted and still feeling immobilized by his emotions looked once again at the cocaine bottle in his hand and then back at Mary. As he tried to pull himself upright and exit the bed, Mary pushed him backward resulting a large creek of the bed and the sound of food steps as they reentered the apartment. Panicking, once again she pulled down her undergarment and ripped his robe open. Her skirts pooled around her as she climbed upon him, aligned her self and then bore pushed down on him inching dryly over him as he grew beneath her.
"I am not without a knowledge of medicine myself, Mr. Holmes" she said as he gasped in horror. She rocked back and forth and they both groaned deeply as she slid uncomfortably over him. Her stomach muscles clenched and a strong and violent quiver reverberated between her legs causing her to arch her back and push farther onto him.
"You, are, stimulated, by, cannabis" she breathed with each thrust forward. She skirts pooled around her body and she pitched forward as Watson entered the room. She pressed her hands against his chest and pulled backward violently screaming at Holmes to desist but shuttered as she neared climax. Watson, unable to bear the sight turned vehemently from the room and fled the apartment.
Gasping for air Holmes was unable to scream out until he climaxed. He screamed out Watson's name as the doctor thundered down the stairs and then sunk back into the mattress. Mary attempted to dislodge herself from Holmes to follow Watson but wracked with convulsions she was unable to move and by the time she reached the street below, she saw only handsome tracks in the falling snow. Holmes did not move but turned over in his bed, grabbed the syringe lying beside him and slid his fingers through the sheets in search of the cocaine bottle.