Strawberries & Cream
The Sherlock Holmes Casebook
By Simone Scarlet
Copyright © 2015 Simone Scarlet
The right of Simone Scarlet to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which in it published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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Strawberries and Cream
Chapter One
From the Diary of John Watson, June 21st 1894
One never knew what avenue of investigation my old friend Sherlock Holmes would lose himself in. On one day, it could be a study of the density of fruit fly larvae in decomposing fruit. The next, it could be research into what poisons could be created from common household materials.
All I knew is that the nature of Holmes’ inquiries would invariably lead him to asking for my input.
I might be married now, and our adventures investigating crime might have been at an end, but my experience and knowledge as a military doctor (and generally well-respected physician) were still invaluable to him.
Which is how I ended up knocking on the door of 221b Baker Street one Saturday morning, clutching my cane in one hand and my leather doctor’s bag in the other.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t the venerable Mrs. Hudson who answered the door. Instead it was Holmes himself – looking lean and pale, in a plain white shirt open to the waist and rolled up at the sleeves.
“My dear Watson,” Holmes nodded curtly. “Come in, come in.” He ushered me inside, holding open the door.
Moments later, we were climbing the stairs to Holmes’ study, and he brightly announced: “I’ve been eagerly awaiting you, Watson. My latest experiment is proceeding very promisingly.”
At the top of the stairs, Holmes opened the door to his study – the room that had once been mine, when we’d shared the flat.
These days, any remnants of my time boarding there had gone. Instead, my old bedroom was filled with a curious mixture of bookshelves and lab-tables stocked with an eclectic collection of scientific ornaments, microscopes and test-tubes.
We didn’t waste any time in there, however. Instead, Holmes led the way towards a door I’d never seen open before – leading to the attic.
“We’ve made some redesigns, Watson,” Holmes explained, as he opened the door and revealed a cramped staircase leading upwards. “Mrs. Hudson was complaining that I didn’t get enough sun, so I had the liberty of replacing some of the roofing with windows.”
Holmes’ eyes flashed.
“It’s more for the benefit of my experiment than the pallor of my skin.”
The stairs creaked as I followed Holmes up them.
“This much-lauded ‘experiment’ of yours,” I asked nervously. “What is it exactly? Why would you need my help?”
Holmes paused, blocking the staircase. Turning around, he looked down at me, square in his eyes, with his icy glare.
“Well, my dear Watson,” Holmes explained, “this latest experiment involves… ahem… a willing volunteer.”
My eyes widened.
“Quite,” Holmes noticed my reaction. “And reluctantly, from an ethical standpoint, I felt it necessary to consult with a physician before proceeding too far.”
“A volunteer?” Watson paused. “What sort of volunteer.”
“Young Pandora,” Sherlock Holmes clarified. “A pretty young thing who was brought to me by her wayward father for… ahem… discipline.”
“Discipline?” My moustache bristled. That sounded suspicious. “And did you say her name was Pandora? As in, the daughter of Mr. Blake, the merchant?”
I was familiar with the pretty young brunette – a rather fetching thing with a cheeky smile.
“I should have considered that you’d remember her,” Holmes said dryly. “I sometimes forget you have an abnormal interest in young ladyflesh.”
“There’s nothing abnormal about it,” I corrected him. “In fact, many would say it’s more unusual that you don’t share it.”
“Well, today I do,” Holmes snapped back. “And before I reveal my experiment,” he continued, “perhaps I should explain a little bit more about why.”
It was cramped and dark in that attic stairway, but I indulged my old friend.
“Proceed.”
“Ms. Pandora offered to assist me in exchange for keeping quiet about a certain, ahem… transgression I had learned of.” Holmes offered conspiratorially.
“Transgression?”
“Her father brought her to me for truancy – but from the strands of hay in her hair, and the creases in her skirt, and the flushed expression on her face, I deduced that the reason for her truancy wasn’t idleness.”
“No?”
“No,” Holmes eyes flashed. “Instead, she’d been with her petticoats around her elbows in the hay barn - with young master Thomson no less.” Holmes grinned wolfishly. “She confessed immediately, of course – and begged me to keep that detail to myself.”
I gulped dryly. My britches were becoming uncomfortably tight at the thought.
“Well, I never…”
“You wouldn’t think to look at her, would you? An innocent young thing like that?”
A tried to resist smiling. Innocent was not the word I’d use to describe Pandora Blake.
“But at her father’s behest, I’ve been disciplining her for the past week and, to her credit, she’s been most penitent during her absolution – and a quite obedient volunteer.”
“But what exactly is this experiment she’s volunteered for?” I demanded.
“Ah!” Holmes’s eyes widened. “Let me show you for yourself.”
With that, he continued up the stairs, and I followed.
I gasped as we emerged at the top of them.
What had once been a dark and abandoned attic was now flooded with sunlight, from a wall of windows on both sides of the cathedral roof.
I shielded my eyes. The towering glass windows were gleaming and clear. The hot sun poured through them with fierce intensity. It damn near blinded me after the darkness of the stairway.
Eventually, as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I was able to look up.
And I gasped.
Of course, I’d heard the creaking of the rope before I saw it – something swinging back and forth from the highest beam in the centre of the apex ceiling.
But what I hadn’t expected was what was hanging from it.
“Good God,” I exclaimed.
“Quite,” Holmes beamed, crossing his arms smugly.
I was aghast. From the center of the ceiling hung none other than young Pandora Blake herself – absolutely naked and shining white in the reflected sunlight.
“Let me down!” She squeaked brattily. “Get me down from here this instant
!”
Chapter Two
The beautiful brunette was bound by her wrists and hauled up high - until only her tip-toes scraped the floorboards. She swung there, back and forth, chorused by the creaking of the rope that bound her.
She looked magnificent as she pouted and squirmed.
“Let me down! Right now!”
My mouth went dry as I saw her.
Pandora’s skin was pale and pearlescent and her body a majesty of feminine curves. Her long, dancer’s legs stretched up to her round, ripe bottom. Her pale back arched upwards to slender shoulders. Her firm, young breasts were thrust involuntarily outward by the angle of her bindings. Her pale, pink nipples were the only spots of color on a canvas of flesh that burnt white in the bright sunlight.
“Help me!” She cried, as she saw me standing there. “He’s had me up here all day!”
And that was when I was snapped from my reverie.
“Good Lord, Holmes! What on Earth are you doing to the poor girl?”
I’ll confess that I was both appalled and aroused. My Victorian sensibilities won out, of course, but I’ll admit my britches were uncomfortably tight at the sight of this nubile, helpless young thing.
“Holmes,” I snapped. “I must insist you cut her down immediately!”
“I shall do no such thing,” Sherlock Holmes snapped in response. “She submit herself to this experiment quite willingly.”
“Reluctantly, more like,” Pandora wailed, as she swung back and forth. “He’s being so cruel.”
“Well, more or less willingly,” Holmes shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I’ve barely had occasion to use this.” The ‘this’ he referred to was lying on a bench near the stairs – a long, leather riding crop with a flat tip.
“But, but, but…” My mouth opened and closed. This was more depravity than I expected even from the genius madman Sherlock Holmes.
Besides, this was the first time he’d shown interest in a woman since I’d known him.
“Relax, good Doctor,” Holmes insisted. “She’s being quite rightly punished for her indiscretion with the Thomson boy – and assisting my research at the same time. Don’t think she’s being abused in any way.”
In contradiction, Pandora howled: “You wouldn’t believe what he’s put me through! He’s a monster!”
Rolling his eyes, Holmes crossed the room until he was just two feet away from Pandora’s dangling body.
“Now, now,” he hissed sternly. “What did I tell you about speaking out of turn?”
“Let me down!” Pandora pouted. “I’ve been punished enough.”
“I shall be the judge of that,” Holmes warned. “Now will you bite that pretty tongue of yours?”
“Will not.”
“Are you sure?” With a carefully aimed flick of his wrist, Holmes slashed a bright red line across one of Pandora’s round, firm buttocks. Crack!
Pandora squealed with erotic intensity – arching her back and lifting her toes a full foot from the floorboards.
“Now will you behave?” Holmes asked smoothly.
Panting, Pandora hung her head in shame. Her hair covered her pretty face.
“Y-yes.”
But as soon as she’d quieted down, I felt the need to speak up.
“Sherlock Holmes,” I barked. “I must insist on an explanation. What on Earth kind of ‘experiment’ is this? It’s appears just like wanton perversity to me! This poor child!”
“Quiet yourself, my dear Watson,” Holmes insisted. “Take a deep breath and examine the girl.”
I narrowed my eyes and did as instructed. I was a doctor, after all.
My cheeks burned shamefully as I looked Pandora’s nakedness up and down – and in my trousers, I felt an uncontrollable rush of blood. Pandora lifted her eyes up, meeting my gaze with a look that was almost challenging.
Once again, I remembered Ms. Pandora wasn’t quite the innocent girl she tried to pretend to be.
“Did you really submit yourself willingly to this?” I demanded, out of duty to the poor thing. To my surprise, Pandora sniffled pathetically and nodded.
“I’ve been a bad girl.”
“Well, I say…” I straightened up, and stroked my moustache. “I must say I do not approve at all of this, Sherlock. Both as a gentleman and a physician.”
“Actually, it was on that latter count that I asked for your opinion,” Holmes purred.
“Well my opinion is that the poor girl’s cooking.”
And at a glance, that’s exactly how it appeared. Poor Pandora’s pale body was glistening with sweat. Perspiration beaded on her breasts. Her taut, stretched torso was gleaming with a sweaty sheen. She was dripping – literally dripping.
“Not cooking,” Sherlock Holmes corrected. “Baking. It’s hot in here, but I assure you she’s merely being roasted, not grilled. The windows themselves are shielded for ultra-violet light. That’s how poor Pandora’s stayed so pale despite hanging like this all day.”
“You’ve kept her there all day?”
“Indeed – since sun up this morning.”
“But heavens, man. Why?”
“Well, that takes a little more explanation.” Sherlock rubbed his hands together. “This is why I called you here.”
Crossing to the other side of the sun-drenched attic, Sherlock Holmes opened a cupboard and revealed the contents – punnets and punnets of strawberries.
“Dear Pandora’s been eating them all week,” Holmes explained. “Nothing but, in fact. Approximately ten punnets a day. I had to have them shipped in from the Isle of Wight especially. Strawberries and water, of course. Gallons and gallons of it. Keeping her hydrated is very much the point of the exercise.”
“What exercise?” My head was reeling. “I must insist you tell me, Holmes!”
“I’ll do better than tell you,” Holmes insisted. “I’ll show you.”
Chapter Three
With that, Sherlock Holmes crossed the room, bent his head and licked a line of sweat from Pandora’s breast-bone - right up to below her ear.
“Oh, my God,” the dangling girl groaned as she felt Holmes’s tongue rasp wetly across her skin.
I blanched. I could barely believe my eyes.
“Wh-what on Earth, Holmes!”
Holmes looked up, his eyes gleaming. He smacked his lips. “You should try it!”
“T-try it? Good God, man. That’s revolting.”
“It’s absolutely nothing of the sort,” Holmes insisted. “Quite the opposite in fact. Come on, Doctor. Try it.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Oh, but you must.” Holmes looked down excitedly. “Oh, come now! There’s a lovely bead of sweat just hanging off her right nipple.”
And there was.
I noticed, with the uncomfortable bulge in my trousers growing, that a droplet of sweat was dangling off Pandora’s pert, pink nipple – threatening to plummet to the floorboards at any second.
“Come on, quick!” Holmes insisted. “You’re going to miss it!”
To this day, I will never understand what inspired me to do it - but I reluctantly crossed the room – standing just inches away from Pandora’s spread-eagled, sweaty, glistening body.
I looked up into Pandora’s defiant eyes.
“M-may I?”
She turned away, hissing: “Do whatever you must, you beast.”
“Oh, ignore the little slattern,” Holmes smiled. “She promised to submit herself to me body and soul – and whomever I decide to share those with.”
In gulped.
I peered at Pandora’s upthrust breasts – her pink nipples challenging me.
I’ll admit it. I groaned in desire.
“Do it,” Holmes insisted.
So I did.
Closing my eyes and sticking out my tongue, I bent forward and licked Pandora’s glistening breast – my tongue rasping wetly across her nipple.
My God! Her sweat literally flooded my tongue – she’d clearly been perspiring all day.
But it wasn’t salty or musky. Instead it tasted sweet. Delicious, in fact.
“Good God, Holmes,” I exclaimed, smacking his lips. “Strawberries.”
Sherlock Holmes beamed with pleasure.
“Exactly, Doctor! She tastes of strawberries! She’s eaten nothing but strawberries for an entire week and now she’s literally sweating them.”
“But she’s delicious,” I exclaimed. “Simply sublime.”
“Go ahead. Have another taste.”
And my Victorian sensibilities forgotten, I did exactly that.
Chapter Four
Now hungry for her taste, I opened my mouth wide and latched onto Pandora’s other nipple, sucking it obscenely.
Her strawberry-scented sweat flooded my mouth like sweet candy. It was both erotic and delicious, both at the same time.
And yes, I’ll admit it, an erection now threatened to burst my trousers open completely.
As I suckled at the tit of this helpless beauty, Sherlock Holmes watched me with approval. Pandora was moaning now – my lips and tongue hungrily nursing her pert, pink nipple. She writhed against her bonds.
“Oh, you beast,” she murmured hotly into my ear. “Oh, you’re disgusting.” But the tell-tale jerks of her hips suggested the girl doth protest too much.
Eventually, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I separated from Pandora’s breast. Her nipple sprang from between my lips with a wet ‘pop.’
I straightened up – not an easy thing to do when sporting an erection almost eight inches long.
So this was it. I’d succumbed to Holmes’ depravity. I was now as much involved in this ‘experiment’ as he was. And my curiosity demanded to be sated, just as my thirst had been.
“So I must ask, Holmes,” my reticence had been replaced by an earthy need – but I still had questions. “Why would you do this?”
“Why?” Holmes crossed his arms.
“Yes, Holmes. Why? Why string the girl up? Why make her taste like strawberries?” My mouth was already watering again. “Sweet, delicious strawberries.”
Strawberries and Cream: The Sherlock Holmes Casebook #1 Page 1