Sherlock Holmes, Baker Street to Mycroft Holmes, Whitehall
Here is your proof. I knew he would pursue. Prepare to be quite nauseated, I know I am.
Shall we set next Tuesday for our first visit to the Hellfire? Do you wish me to meet you there or will you send a carriage? I don't know the protocol for such things. Do let me know. One likes to be prepared.
SH
My most dearest, most succulent, most luscious, most adored Sherlock,
Forgive me for succumbing to the pleasure, or shall I say the necessity of writing you so soon. I beg you to let me see you again. I am half mad with desire. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat since that afternoon in the greenhouse. The pleasures you gave me, the promise you made of more pleasures, I can't even think. I scarce knew that such pleasures could exist until you, don't you know. I know they say that such things are a crime but I cannot believe that anything you do could be a crime, my angel, with the face of an angel, the skin of an angel, the body of a God! But for you, I should still be, not happy, but tranquil. I have seen you, repose has fled far away from me, and my happiness is insecure. Send me but a word and my devotion will be yours!
I am here in London. I could not bear to be in Hertfordshire knowing you were here. Losing the sweet habit of seeing you every day, watching you as you moved about the house. But perhaps here is better. I cannot see you at all times, but then I need not hide behind indifferent looks when I gaze upon your beauty. Please, please, I am begging, panting after you like a hound after a fox. You are like a bitch in heat to me. I could sniff at you all day.
Tell me but when and where and I am there.
Your, humblest, supplicating, desperate servant,
Francis (Lord D_)
Author's note: There's quite a bit of original de Laclos text in the enclosed letter.