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From: "Yotna El'toub" <yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} An Unfortunate Event at Deddington Manor[Yotna El'toub](MM,F-solo,NC)Pt5
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Date: Sun, 08 Oct 2006 16:10:02 -0400
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       {ASSM} An Unfortunate Event at Deddington Manor ~
         A Holmes & Hove mystery story) [Yotna El'toub]
         (MM,F-solo,NC,magic.) Part five of twelve.

****************************************************************
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.
________________________________________________________________


Chapter five:


Holmes awoke refreshed and much more in control of his emotions.
His analytical mind swung into action. Why had he panicked? What
was the source of his infatuation with Jane? The latter question
exercised him for some time, he still had feelings that much was
true. But the urgent intensity that had thrown him so far off
centre the previous day had vanished like the early morning mist.
It reminded him of something, something recent, and something
suppressed.

The words, his words, came to him in a blinding flash." Yes,
drugs can cause a lot of side-effects, loss of voluntary muscle
control - without affecting involuntary control." What if he had
been drugged? But how?

The answer had to be in his proximity to Jane on the evening
preceding the attack. Surely she had not drugged his food or
drink? No of that much he was sure; he had for his own reasons
been most attentive to her every move. So it must be some
substance on her very person had influenced him.

That thought made his blood run cold; if he of all people could
be so affected what of the weaker willed? The answer was all to
clear. This could have serious implications. Soon Jane and her
entire family would be the centre of a large gathering of the
Countries most influential people!

Maybe they were planning to subversively control them. He
virtually dismissed this out of hand; it was inconceivable. The
Grey's were one of the Nations most respected. They would never
voluntarily undertake such a venture. He frowned deeply, his
expression froze for a second before turning to one of utter
contempt. He muttered one hated name as if it were a curse. "Lady
Daphne!" Holmes rose and dressed with a desperate urgency.


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


Dawn had broken minutes earlier in London than in Derbyshire, but
still Hove slumbered. His head hung low. The stubble on his chin
just brushing the silk shirt each time his chest rose in its
relaxed cycle of breath. He grunted. His head shot up, eyes
unblinking, but wide open.

"No, no Scarlet, it is sinful!"

Slowly through the fog of waking he realised he was alone; this
bird had flown. His eyes focussed on the fine Norwegian table in
front of him, the grain fascinated his fuddled brain; he gazed at
it lovingly for long minutes.

Eventually the chill of the room brought him to his senses. He
shook his head to banish the last cobwebs cluttering his mind. It
was then his eyes alighted on his exposed organ and the
dishevelled state of his britches. Swiftly he adjusted his dress,
ignoring the repugnance of having to touch the slightly damp
cloth. He raised his fingers to his nose and sniffed delicately,
the scent coupled with the  interested twitch in his weary but
carnally inclined manhood left him in no doubt.

"The devil's work! But why?"

Seconds passed before the realisation trickled into his
consciousness. When it did, he reacted with typical resolve.
Ignoring his cramped body he rushed to the writing desk. The
notes were gone! Crestfallen, Brighton hung his head once more;
this time in shame. He had been duped! Due to his foolishness
someone, presumably Madame Joan knew of Ned's suspicions. But
how could those ramblings assist anyone. His head shot up.
Unless, unless - they could be true!

He regarded the clock; a quarter past nine. He still had time. He
grabbed Ned's original notes from the waste bin. He sat down and
set about transcribing them once more. This time he concentrated,
realising the true importance of his urgent work.


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


Bertie was already awake, he lay comfortably in Raymond's
caressing arms. Gently he stroked the short golden fur that
covered Raymond, he wondered at his love for this 'thing', for he
was at a loss for what to call his partner. Raymond was clearly
more animal than human but he was too close to human to be
defined as any animal. His touch when it came was certain and
direct in its nature, pure in its single purpose; pleasure.
Bertie resisted the paw-like fondling of his manhood.

"No Raymond, I am too tired. You have drained me."

The effect was immediate, like a scolded puppy Raymond yapped his
protest softly. But then he did something unexpected, he moved
sliding his form alongside Bertie's. This brought the head of his
shaft between the young squire's buttocks. The process smeared
liberal quantities of liquid desire dangerously close to Bertie's
passage. The lord tensed his body immediately, attempting to
repel such a rude intrusion. He felt no desire to consummate
their love in this way.

Raymond sensed this intuitively and withdrew. However he slithed his
furry form down Bertie's body. His long tongue then extended and
lapped warmly at the Lords thighs. Bertie sighed and relaxed.
Encouraged the tongue flickered higher washing the hanging sacks
of flesh that nestled between muscular twitching thighs.

Lord Grey bucked and pressed down against the warmth of Raymond's
breath. When the furry paw writhed its way to Bertie's stalk this
time it found it firm and upstanding. Raymond let out a low howl.
An instant later he shifted and resumed his earlier position. His
erection found and stretched the resistant muscle.

"No, Raymond I don't..."

Bertie stopped talking abruptly as Raymond's erection forced its
entry. He drew in his breath and to his own surprise pushed back
impaling himself more securely on Raymond's shaft. He groaned
with pleasure and genuine shock; he could have never have
anticipated the feeling of being taken. Raymond was a part of
him, he possessed him - in the most fundamental way. As the
pounding rhythm established itself, Bertie fell into a world of
desire previously unimaginable. He found the joy of giving; to
him an unknown.

As Bertie felt his own crisis approaching he became aware of a
deep growl rumbling in Raymond's heaving chest. They spent
together as Raymond's thighs slapped into Bertie's buttocks with
one final, savage, thrust.

As the alien seed filled Bertie's body he sensed a change. For
eternity something of Raymond was within him; joined with him
inseparably. He now had the power! Burgabiter had surely never
intended this. What would he do with it? Bertie grinned
lasciviously; the possibilities were endless.


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


Brighton swallowed hard and then rapped the knocker firmly on to
the door of 221B Baker Street. Presently the door was opened.

"Hove! My dear chap. It seems an age since we met."

"Indeed it does Watson, how are you?"

"In fine fettle as you would suspect, I wish I could say as much
for Holmes."

"Sherlock is ill? Do I call at a bad time?" Hove asked.

"Ill? No he just imbibes too much of that laudanum for my liking.
It makes him maudlin and disagreeable."

"Ah, it is much the same with Ned and the accursed pipe. If only
I could understand it."

Watson frowned sympathetically, he lowered his voice to a
conspiratorial whisper. "I think only the addict can
understand this fascination. Still enough of this; we shall become
as depressed as them. Do come in my dear chap."

Hove followed Watson through the hallway and towards the sound of
a frantic violinist. As soon as the study door opened the music
ceased.

Holmes lay down his instrument and turned to face Brighton.

"Why yes. I have quite forgotten. What do you have for me Hove?"

Watson made a move to leave the room.

"No Watson stay. We may have need of your medical opinion on
this." Said Holmes.

Watson smiled briefly and then crossed the room to take a seat
beside Hove. Without any more ado Brighton explained the
situation and handed the notes to Sherlock.

Long silent minutes passed as the detective examined the papers
in excruciating detail. Finally he spoke. "Well I do not
understand it..."

In frustration Hove voiced his bitter disappointment interrupting
Sherlock.

"That is most unfortunate. I was hoping that you..."

Sherlock silenced him with a schoolmasterly wag of his finger.

"If you would do me the inestimable favour of letting me finish
sir, you will learn much."

Brighton paled a little and nodded. Holmes stood and placed one
hand behind his back before swinging the other hand into its
palm. He paced the room thoughtfully before beginning again.

"While this preposterous name is clearly a construct, it does not
tell me as much as it should," Sherlock paused, eyed Brighton
severely and continued, "something is missing. I get the allusion
to the first and indeed the second but not the last. Hove are you
sure your transcript is accurate? It is exactly what Ned said to
you? The name is precisely as written?"

"Why yes, I was most careful. I am entirely certain. I transcribed
it faithfully from Ned's own writing."

"I see. And do you have Ned's original notes with you?"

"No..." Brighton confessed.

Sherlock returned to his desk and wrote in capitals the name in
question ALPHONSO BURGABITER. He turned and held the paper aloft
so both Hove and Watson could see it clearly.

"The first is ALPHA, the second is BETA. But my friends we can
not form the last."

"Omega?" Muttered Watson.

"Quite so. No omega." Sherlock paused for effect, "So I ask you
once more. Is this exactly the name - as Ned wrote it?"

"One second, I recall something," it was Hove's turn to pause,
"in Ned's dream Burgabiter teased him by saying, 'I am the first,
the second and the last; your very nemesis. I, Alphonso M.
Burgabiter. Fool! It is all there for you to see - yet you are
blind.' and that is the only difference. One solitary letter."

"Yes. And yet in that one letter is everything. For now we have
the last."

"M. OMEGA!" Gasped Watson.

"So the first, the second and the last. Now we know everything."
Sherlock grinned.

"Well it makes no more sense to me. Please, do explain." Asked
Hove.

"The letters in the name can now spell out the first, second and
last letters of the Greek alphabet. This tells us something of
this man. But it is what is left behind that tells us the rest."

Sherlock struck out all the letters contained in the three words.
Then he held up the paper once more.

"These letters form the real name of Herr Professor. Now I defer
to Watson and his skill with the crossword puzzle. Watson one
further clue I believe he will be a well known medic, oh and do
not forget the M. Our man is an egotist."

Watson looked confounded for a second, then his eyes widened in
surprise.

"Surni! Matthias Surni. But the man is a genius and a
philanthropist."

"He is also Alphonso M. Burgabiter!" Said Holmes triumphantly.

"Ah so we have him." Smiled Hove, "But what of the Greek thing?"

Sherlock's smile vanished. "In that is the true danger, Surni is
the most dangerous of madmen." He sighed, "Tell me Brighton what
do you know of the Holy Trinity?"

"Well the same as any Christian, father, son and holy ghost..."
Hove blinked, "the first, the second and the last!"

"Precisely so Mr Hove, and our Professor Surni believes he has a
power equal to them all. What does that tell you Brighton?"

"That he is a fool, a madman." Stated Hove.

"That he believes he is the Devil incarnate!" Said Watson.

Sherlock simply nodded gravely.

"Satan."

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


Lizzie the kitchen maid sighed as she sat down. With cook gone to
the butchers and Joe busy with the silverware she could at last
relax. She reached out and grasped her steaming cup of tea. Just
as her lips sipped the door to the outside flew open. It was
master. "Begging your pardon Lord Bertie I was just taking a
rest. Can I be of 'elp?"

Bertie looked at her with an odd glint in his eye. "Why girl I
believe you may. I would like to conduct an experiment."

"No sir. Please no, I is a feared of yonder farmhouse. I have
heard the oddest of squeals and cries."

"Calm yourself Lizzie, we can conduct this experiment here. If
it works you may even enjoy it."

"You means you will pay me summat?"

"Oh yes. In kind at least. Here, just hold my hand."

Lizzie stretched across the table and grasped Bertie's fingers
unsurely.

"Do you feel anything?"

"You are cold from the outdoors." She sighed.

"So that is all?"

"Yes. What am I supposed to feel?"

Bertie grinned widely. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated
hard. "And now? What do you feel now Lizzie?"

"Nothing just your cold hands. Uhhhnn, huh - 'ow did you do that!
That is so dirty... So gloriously dirty."

Bertie held her hand tighter and let his power flow. Lizzie
jumped as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Her free hand clawed
at the neck of her uniform. The buttons sheared from the cheap
fabric and pinged onto the hard slate floor. Her fingers then
wriggled down under the fabric to her right breast. Bertie
watched as she fondled it shamelessly.

"Show me." He croaked.

Savagely Lizzie yanked her hand downwards splitting her uniform
apart from bosom to groin. Her generous breasts swung forward,
the hard pink tips providing a feast for Bertie's eager eyes. Her
hand returned to cup and then caress her right breast. Succulent
portions of bulging flesh goaded Bertie from between her rippling
fingers. The nipple stiffened impossibly and turned from virginal
pink to deep cerise. Lizzie lowered her head and tongued its rude
prominence with gusto.

The lord let go of her other hand. Would she continue? Or now the
link was gone would his servant girl change back from the wanton
hussy before him to her normal self? He was answered in an
instant. She grabbed her hand away and sank it deep into the
folds of clothing deep in her lap.

"Show me." He ordered.

Without hesitation she raised her feet from the floor and planted
her heels far apart on the kitchen table surface. Her hand pulled
her darkly stained drawers to one side and plunged in to plunder
her liquid quim.

Silently Bertie watched the young woman frig herself. He ignored
his rampant manhood. He was simply too fascinated by the
spectacle to bother partaking. Her hand ran around the very rim
of her core lovingly before moving on to polish the contracting
walls. First a single inquisitive finger, then two and finally
all four; expanding and exploring the wide open expanse of
wantoness.

Her left hand fell leaving her pouting swollen teats to the
tender mercies her lips and tongue lavished on them. The hand
slid down and insinuated itself at the top of her cleft, pulled
the lips wide and gained access to the solid pearl hidden within.
Lizzie writhed and moaned in her blatant self abuse. Her cries
becoming ever more urgent. A moment later she spent. Wetting both
her hand and the polished kitchen table with her copious fluids.

Bertie moved to join her, but was stopped by the sound of
footsteps approaching the kitchen door from the hallway. In an
instant he turned and bolted back out whence he had come. Even
from 50 yards distance he heard Mrs Beresford's scream.

"For the love of GOD! Elisabeth! What have you bin doin' in MY
kitchen!"

Laughing with glee Bertie ran on, his erection bobbing from side
to side. At each bob a large a globule of secretion formed and
dripped into the young lord's soggy britches.


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


To be continued...

________________________________________________________________


Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub October 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
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