I can no longer hold my activated libido in check. It is time for me to make a visit to a quiet flat. I have given them strict instructions. My partner-prostitute is to be 169cm tall, 62 kg, and he is to have blonde hair. He will be my virtual John Watson. I prepare for battle. John's black coat- check. A bottle of John's aftershave lotion-check. John's striped shirt-check. A package of condoms-check. One sex toy-check.

I arrive at the establishment on time. Everything is just as I have instructed. The room is dimly lit in order to deceive me. I take off all my clothes. I then fold them in neat piles. I slip on my long black coat. The door opens. My virtual John comes in. He has been instructed not to speak. He has been instructed not to meet my eyes. He wears John's coat, his shirt and his aftershave.

I can smell John's scent on him as he slips off my jacket. "John," I whisper as his hands roam over my shivering skin. The tips of my breasts are hard. My virtual John presses his thumb in circular motions on them. It hurts, but I beg him not to stop. I feel my control slipping as he ministers to my needs.

"Now," I say and he stops. He slips on a condom. My virtual John then slips one on me as well. I knock him face down on the bed. I slide into my virtual John. I dominate him with my pumping motions. I never tire of the feel of penetration as I bury my head in your shirt. Your scent makes the head of my reservoir full. I scream out in mental agony. "JOHN," I scream out. Then as I become flaccid I weep. I whisper your name over and over.

Then it is time. I am rolled over on my back. Virtual John pierces my nipple. I cry out as he makes the hole bigger. Big enough to fit in a nipple ring. It is the symbol of caduceus. The wings tear at my flesh as it is worked through the small hole. I let virtual John maneuver the sex toy. "Push on the ring at the same time," I order him. "Push it hard, John." The pain is a little too much. You punish me. I punish you, until the sun's rays illuminate the darkness of the room. I roll off the bed. I then take a shower, crying out when the warm water hits my piercing.

Once dressed, I am the master detective again. Baker Street feels cold as I make my way to my chair. I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear your voice.

"Sherlock, where have you been?" You ask.

I yawn. "Out, John."

You are not deterred. "Where? Have you been using?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Take off your coat and roll up your sleeves." You order.

I do so. After a brief inspection you are satisfied, until you see the bruises. Your voice is low menacing. "Sherlock take off your shirt."

"No," I reply.

Then we tussle a little. When your hand grazes my ring, I cry out and hit the floor. Your deft fingers soon have my shirt off. You stare at my white marred skin in horror. Your eyes fixate on the ring-the symbol of caduceus. "Sherlock, Sherlock,…" You whisper as your voice trails off.

I reach down; pick up my shirt and coat. We both stare at your black coat and stripped shirt that I let drop to the floor. As I put my coat on, the small square package of condoms falls to the floor. We both watch its descent. I make no move to pick it up. "I going to bed," I say with a detached coldness.

You look helpless small. "Sherlock, are you alright? What's happened?"

I glance into your eyes, and then look down. I know I don't dare stare too long or I will be lost. "I'm going to bed. I'll leave you to your own deductions."

I turn my back on you and make my way to my bedroom. Tomorrow I will have to start on the herbal mix I had Molly make up. I can still see her doe brown eyes filling with tears as I tell her what it's for.

"Molly, the herbal mix is to assist me. It is all about the work for me. The herbs keep my libido in check. Sometimes my human body betrays me. It is at that this time that I bury it. I will not be ruled by anything but my intellect. Passion is painful, is it not Molly? Unrequited passion is like a cancer, destroying everything in its path." The words hurt her but I don't care. It is all about the work.