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From: "Yotna El'toub" <yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Strange Case of the Missing Madonna [Yotna El'toub] Chapter eight.
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Date: Tue, 23 May 2006 18:10:02 -0400
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{ASSM}  The Strange Case of the Missing Madonna ~ A Holmes &
  Hove adventure Chapter eight of several) [Yotna El'toub]
     (FF+M,MC,NC,magic. Caution: blasphemous)

****************************************************************
WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit language
of an adult nature and should be read only by those of a legal
age to do so. If you are a minor or object to stories of an adult
nature, LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the author is
18+ please abide to your own local laws.

Please note and understand the content codes for this story. The
characters portrayed in this story are just that, characters in
my story. Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental
and unintentional. The characters and situations portrayed are
pure fantasy; the author is keen to state that in reality adult
sexuality should remain only in the adult world.

Please do not allow or cause this story to fall in to the hands
of minors.
________________________________________________________________

***AUTHOR'S NOTE*** Due to the subject matter this Holmes and
Hove adventure will contain not only sex, but blasphemous
content. I have no desire to upset people or their deeply held
belief's, so if this is likely to upset you; stop reading *NOW*.
If you continue to read despite my warning my conscience is
clear, as *YOU* have made a free choice.
________________________________________________________________



The maid left the room with a curtsey, her cleaning duties
complete.

"Mr Holmes where are my manners, please be seated." Said William,
"How do your enquiries progress?"

"Slowly, with discretion, as always. Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Not at all, please there is an ashtray on the table. Slowly you
say, that is disappointing."

"Is it," Holmes puffed away liberally, "is it really
disappointing to you?"

"What a very odd question, yes it is I had hoped for great
progress. After all, your fee..."

"Is very reasonable, considering the risk Hove and I have been
put to. The reason I ask is that you seem somewhat changed. I
thought you may have altered your mind or allegiances?"

"My only allegiance is to god, and I will thank you not to
question it!"

"You do seem oddly temperamental. Never mind, maybe this will
calm you." Holmes reached inside his cloak and retrieved the
package from its hiding place. Careful to handle it only by its
wrapping he placed it on the Reverend's desk.

"But, it can not be! How can you have the icon..." Pearson's
voice drained away.

"When you used it in a Sabbath only last night?" Asked Holmes,
smiling.

"Yes, but how can you know?" Gasped William.

"I know many things Reverend, but I choose when I reveal them."

William reached forward to grasp the icon.

"I would advise you to wear these first, it is impregnated." So
saying, Holmes threw the membre sancti's gloves on the table, "It
is fresh from the caves in West Wycombe and although its 'power'
may need attending to, it could still affect you through touch."

Blinking his disbelief away Pearson donned the gloves and
unwrapped the icon. When he saw it he gasped. "But how?" Like a
possessed man he tore across the room to his book case, there he
removed a false row of six apparently thick tomes and levered up
the box lid. His trembling hands withdrew the contents, a small
package topped by some familiar looking gloves. He threw the
gloves to one side and took the icon to his desk, there he
unwrapped it and stared in horror at the two identical images.

"How, how? How, Mr Holmes can there be two?" William asked.

"Two? There are many more than two Reverend. There are as many as
are needed." Holmes replied.

"What?" Asked Pearson, his mouth hanging open.

"The icons only exist to persuade the unwary of their power -and
thus the power of the 'Illuminati'. But the icons possess no
power, beyond that which is applied to them."

"Applied to them? In what way?"

Holmes took a deep draw on his pipe and withdrew the vials from
his pocket. He placed them on the Reverend's desk, well within
his reach, but far beyond the pastors. "Plant extracts of the
most dangerous kind. These innocuous liquids are potent mind
altering substances. Swallowed, inhaled or adsorbed through the
skin they will cause hallucination in the sanest of men." The
bowl of Holmes's churchwarden glowed savagely, "Hallucination and
desire is produced by one extract and paralysis by the other,
combine the two in differing proportion and you can convince
anyone of anything."

"So the visions, the passion?" William's eyes widened.

"All induced, and all, but all, false. Of course such powerful
substances are addictive, and over a lifetime highly toxic."
Holmes smiled warmly, "Which is one of the real reasons for the
gloves - protection."

"There are other reasons for the gloves? I thought they protected
the image." Pearson asked.

"Protection from that applied to the false icons, and as weapons.
The gloves gave you have been impregnated on the outer layer with
one extract at high dose. Held over the face so the victim has to
inhale the noxious fume, once done for sufficient time - the poor
soul is temporarily paralysed."

"Good grief, that is barbarous! You mean, all I was promised -all
I saw, was illusion?" Pearson asked.

"Indeed, just smoke and mirrors, dear Reverend."

"And these substances are addictive and toxic?" Asked William his
eyes hardening.

"I have this on the good authority of my friend, Dr Oliver Thomas
of the Royal Society. Even in small quantity, if the exposure is
frequent these extracts are fatal."

William's mind flew back through the years, to the image of his
father abusing himself, one hand on his organ - and the other
bare hand on the frame of the icon. He shuddered with revulsion.

"The most important side-effect for the illuminati is however, I
believe - paranoia. This they use to create an unholy lust
for..." Holmes did not finish the sentence, the Reverend however
did.

"Power... Tell me one thing Holmes, if you were to imbibe these
substances unknown to the illuminati and without guidance?"

"I think they would most likely slowly drive you to insanity."

"As they do. I have seen it. My own beloved father," William
raised a hand to wipe away the tears forming at his eyes, "tell
me Holmes - how can I help you stop these monsters?"

Ned thought for a second, for his decision now could prove vital.
He decided to trust William, not on the basis of logic -but
purely on the hatred he now saw burning within the Reverend
Pearson.


             -------------------------


Hove lay spread-eagled on the undulating bed, silently berating
the women who so efficiently divested him of his clothes. He
heard their giggles of delight when finally they exposed his
throbbing manhood. Then the fingers fell upon him, feather light
touches from many soft female hands. Internally he writhed
wishing the poison had taken away the sensations as efficiently
as it had the movement.

A face appeared above him, it was Mary. She smiled warmly and
brought her soft lips down upon his frozen ones. The very warmth
of her embrace melted his heart, and yet fuelled his desire. He
felt the warmth of her pudenda slip over the top of his pounding
member, and the delicate lips dragged against his stalk in
frictionless abandon; he was fully home.

In a graceful arch Mary swept her body away from him and began
her undulating dance of desire. Despite the poison, or maybe
because of it, Brighton could feel every soft, wet detail of the
young woman's body even as it ground unwanted passion out of his.
A butterfly tongue hovered, lapping, dancing between Mary's quim
and his stiff shaft. Hove opened his eyes in wonder, this was a
truly new sensation, he struggled to hold on to his seed. His
determination was strong he would not spill it again, under such
a foul trance.

He screwed his eyes tightly closed and breathed hard, the moment
passed. When he opened his eyes he saw only one thing. He stared
directly at an open quim, he had never seen one in such detail.
The beauty astounded him, perfect symmetrical lips glistened
before him, between them a dark coral passage beckoned - luring
him. Fingers descended and drew the crenulated lips far apart
exposing the most delightful pearl nestled high betwixt them. The
thighs descended, all was darkness, pungent flavours mixed with
delicate perfumes. Ambrosia rained down to fill his thirsty
mouth.

Brighton lost his desperate battle, his mighty organ began to
twitch and deposit the first blast of his seed deep within Mary.
He could feel her own response, she reached crisis - he marvelled
at his odd sense of pride. He had made his mistress spend. That
was his power.


             -------------------------


Two sets of eyes watched the Reverend avidly from their separate
locations. Wherever he was headed, two things were clear, his
haste and the determination in his step. Neither man felt
inclined to prevent his passage. One then made his move, in his
haste the Reverend had been negligent, the door to the manse was
ajar. Thomas watched as the dishevelled man broke from cover and
headed for the door. This was one passage he would challenge.

Thomas tore his way through the bushes and thrust his pointed
staff deeply into the crouched man's behind.

"No, yea do not demon. I have you now, yea will not assault Mr
Holmes nor stop his noble crusade. Feel the disgust of Thomas
Green, yea foulest of beasts." With this final word Thomas struck
the interloper once more, much as he would skewer a suckling pig.

This final insult was too much for Hans, he abandoned his quest
to turn savagely on the elderly man. Smashing the staff to one
side, he brought his knee up violently and accurately under
Thomas's chin. Thomas crashed to the ground like a felled oak,
insensible. Hans stood over his crumpled form and raised his
large boot over the fallen man's head. He never brought it down.

"Why should I give you an easy death Thomas Green? I doubt you
would do the same for me. No, I shall remember you and return.
Your death will be one I relish." So saying Hans turned and
limped towards the door that swung invitingly in the breeze.

With some difficulty he mounted the steps and dragged himself
into the hallway. Hearing a door open, he hid behind a large
potted aspidistra and waited. A man whose form he recognised
emerged into the hallway, he glanced this way and that before
speaking in a raised voice.

"Hove? Brighton, old chap, are you around? I have finished with
the Reverend, we should leave now and examine St. Peter's!"

Hans growled inwardly, if only he had known that this was the
detective - he would not have prevented his demise. His scholarly
master had warned him of this man and his meddling ways. Well he
would put an end to it, here and now. Hans flew out from behind
his cover and rugby tackled Holmes to the inlaid floor.

"Today Mr Holmes, is your last on earth!" Snarled Hans.

"I see a night in the cave did not improve your countenance, or
temper." Holmes joshed, before swinging his elbow in a wide arc.

Hans ducked, but too late - Ned's elbow ploughed resolutely into
his left temple. It sent him flying back into the welcoming
branches of the aspidistra. Before he could recover Holmes was
away, vaulting up the stairs three at a time.

Dizzy and cursing Hans followed in a plodding pursuit. Painfully
he made his way to the first floor and he diligently searched it
to no avail. Grimacing he continued his unwanted ascent.

             -------------------------


Holmes edged his way along the roof with caution, for some reason
he felt insecure at heights. He would find an open window, then
find Hove and then tackle this brute. He tried to convince
himself this was a workable plan, as he nervously edged around
the corner of the manse. Hopefully his subterfuge in taking a
diversion through the landing window would hold his pursuer for a
while. He froze momentarily, as he remembered that on his flight
he had neglected to close the sash behind him.
Uncharacteristically Holmes uttered a silent curse.

Ned approached a window and carefully peeked around its edge.
When he saw the bedroom occupant's activities, he almost lost his
grip, heart thumping Ned glanced down at the solid flagstone's
below, that was just too close. He positioned himself more
securely and looked back through the window. A group of women
were ravishing some poor chap, while Dashwood gazed on, and a
black-clad woman bounced actively on his extended pego.

One of the women shifted and realisation hit Holmes like a
hammer, if that was Mary then the man must be...

"Hove, Hove - help, let me in!"

Hove turned and looked directly at Ned, his eyes oddly
unconcerned. The fool even waved to him, before burying his
resplendent organ back into Mary. Holmes heard a noise behind him
and turned, to his dismay he saw his assailant breeching the apex
of the corner. He was no more than three yards away. The large
man puffed a repeated threat.

"Today Mr Holmes, is your last on earth!"

Ned scurried away as best he could, but he was not as sure-footed
as his pursuer. The distance between them closed. The large man
was now level with the window. Suddenly the sash flew up and a
hand emerged to grasp his ankle. He teetered and slumped, his
back and shoulders now hanging over the roof's perilous edge.

"You! Must you follow me everywhere? This is your last mistake,
my fine fellow..." Snarling Hans drew back his heavy boot ready
to deliver a fatal blow. Before he could, the hand released his
ankle, and for an instant the membre sancti hung in mid air. Then
as all heavy things must, he headed downwards, for a rendezvous
with the flagstones.

"Bye old bean, nice knowing you." Quipped Brighton, before poking
his cheery head through the open window, "Sorry Ned, I was a bit
distracted, are you quite well out there?"

Ned edged his way towards Brighton's extended hand, and soon he
was inside; facing Dashwood eyeball to eyeball.

The game was afoot.


             -------------------------


To be continued...



____________________________________________________________


Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub May 2006
________________________________________________________________

I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my
only payment for my work.

Please address comments to yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com

This story is copyrighted by the author and as such may not be
published, posted or archived on any newsgroup, website, or
server, other than ASSM and ASSTR, without the EXPRESS PERMISSION
of the author. Any reader may archive a copy of this story,
provided the warnings and copyright information is attached in
full.

_________________________________________________________________
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