Friday, December 31, 2010

Cover Letter To A Jewellery Store

My fics

Little roundup (stolen as usual), and happy new year for tomorrow since I think it unlikely that I will post again within 24 hours:

This year I wrote 31 fics (Original, J&W, Sherlock Holmes and a couple random fandoms such as Sleeping Beauty crossover'd with Snow White - really, WHAT was I thinking?) for a total of 144,168 words. I totally suck, it was 202,000 last year. Shortest fic: "Mattutino II" (283 words); longest fic: "My Infinite Variety. A Case of Identity" (41,410 words, incidentally my longest fic ever). This year proved that my variety is most definitely not infinite, not even notable, we could rather say non-existent, since 99% of my fic was Sherlock Holmes and what can you do about it.

Masterlist, in case you're lazy


My favorite story of 2010 (of my own): "My Infinite Variety", because it's long, has a plot that works, sort of, and is an AU, which makes it as mine as a fanfiction will ever be. It is also rather appreciated around in the fandom, and the lovely [info] took pains to make it look better than it is with her fabulous illustration, so, definitely my fave.

My best story this year: No, not "My Infinite Variety" again. I'll go for "Far from home, elephant guns", which is a long-ish piece about Watson meeting an old comrade-slash-lover and Holmes getting all jealous and annoyed and annoying about it. Verbal nonsense follows.

Story most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: My Bertie/Vince series, but it's just to be expected, since they are OCs in a fandom (J&W) that nobody in Italy knows.

Most fun story: Nothing is funnier for me to write than the Bertie/Vince stories and I think the funniest is "Fishnet".

Most sexy story: I feel like reiterating the concept: I suck at smut. And I'm not normal, apparently, since I think the sexiest one is the tentacle!p0rn in "Blessings of Babylon".

Most unintentionally *telling* story: Blessings of Babylon. "My Infinite Variety" shows pretty well, I think, what's my problem with the Sherlock Holmes fandom, and the Sherlock Holmes character, and how I - and my Watson - tried to overcome the problem out of sincere love for both.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: By now my collection of end-of-year memes show that I only have one big fic per year. "My Infinite Variety", again, was an exercise in turning Holmes into a real person, with all the problems connected to that. It didn't teach me that I don't like him, because I already knew I don't, but it taught me why, and why that's totally ininfluent in the end, and why I love him anyway.

Biggest surprise: Tentacle!p0rn?

Biggest disappointment: "All that is left, all that I hide". Not the fic itself, I think the fic is okay, but the project connected to it and how rudely I was dumped, which hurt me more than a bit.

Worst story: I'm tempted to name one among the tons of useless drabbles, but that would be easy. I'll say "Secret chord" (CHAS what if), because... just because.

Hardest story to write: "All that is left, all that I hide". My god, it never ended. Never. Ended. And I started picturing RDJ and JL towards the end and couldn't stop, which made it feel completely wrong , since those two are as similar to Holmes and Watson as I and a big fat country rat.

Easiest story to write: "My Infinite Variety". Just plot, plot, plot, just get to the end and then stop writing, don't care if it sucks, just do it. It was SO fun.

"Holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: Tent--no, okay, that would be too easy. What about playing with crossdressing stereotypes and then smashing them all in "Fishnet"? No, eh?

Awards:

I don't think I won anything this year. I wasn't eligible at the Italian P0rn Fest #3, after all (which may sound arrogant of me, but it's not my fault if I won all I was eligible for for two years out of two.)



2010 was a bit improductive as to writing. Most part of the year I was busy with my final dissertation (200 pages), which means I wrote little fiction but, on the other hand, my aNobii book count simply rocketed, and reading is - I think - more important than writing. I published a story in a collection, and what else?

Oh yes, I made a serious reflection on fanfiction and writing in general and I reached the conclusion that too many authors I appreciate (some among my friends, some don't even know I exist) in time tend to become self-fanwriters, which means they write fanfiction of their own works. They repeat themselves, and then they become terribly bad at it. You can always feel when an author is self-fanficcing because they don't ring true , they ring like they know what they're aiming at, and that's making you say "oh, yes, that's so X, that's so their style". Which doesn't mean it's purposeful - I don't think it is at all - but it's, nevertheless, dramatic. The next step from that is mediocrity, and the next one from that is pure badfic. I know of people who made the whole cycle: beginner mediocrity, good work, very good work, self-fanfic, irritating self-fanfic, badfic, SPECTACULARLY BAD fic. When you reach the last stage you're fucked, because you know you can write good fic, you have in fact written very good fic, you see what's wrong in others' fic because your judgement skills are still intact, but at the same time you write shit and you can't see it because, well, it's yours and you're good, aren't you?

(This reflection, far from being original as I presented it, it's more or less what Alan Moore says about "having a recognizable style" in his ever so useful Writing for Comics . I just borrowed it and applied it to fanfiction.)

I'll hence devote my future fic (and writing) life to avoiding ever getting trapped into that lethal cycle. That's all, thank you.

Laboratory 1 Osmosis And Diffusion Answers

in 2010 [Sherlock Holmes] Twenty good reasons

Titolo: Venti buoni motivi
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Holmes / Watson
Rating: R +
Word Count: 3386 (W)
Notes: Pre-and post-study. POV Holmes.
Written by: P0rn Fest # 4 , prompt "I've never thought of you as ordinary" .



In his tales of my adventures, as he likes to call them, my friend Watson has more often mystified the reality in favor of a dissolution more in keeping with its strict moral, aesthetic effect of a generally more pleasant, or even only attribute to the merits of more than my share. It is one of his faults, not the most insignificant, and one for which I have often criticized. However, I have tolerated - or should I say ignored - almost all of these misrepresentations because, from time to time, I enjoyed the discrepancy with reality or that there was some useful facts remain thoroughly covered by a veil of prose of way. But there is a large section of our first co-existence that Watson has been silent, at first out of ignorance, out of discretion after, and this is where my lack that seeks to address.

My roommate even a month writing lists about myself, about my qualities and my faults. It has entered into a Studio red, but there were many more, on most of them did not get to ever lay hands. Intercepted one day, happily, a list that could be titled "Sherlock Holmes - Reasons to hate him" and told in detail of my worst habits. A voice, if I remember right, read: "Why torment that violin in the hands of the Inquisition as a heretic when I able to make the angels cry." Overactive imagination aside, I found it very recreational.

What my roommate did not know is that I had written a list on his behalf. As the title had only his name, and summed up all the reasons why any I could afford that cost John Watson left the rooms in Baker Street, and me, in search of a better system. Its sole purpose was to remind me, in the ugly evening following a big fight (the first among us, I believe) that I had no desire to return to the state of affairs that preceded Watson, for a number of good reasons. He said this:


1. Alone because you can not afford the rent.

2. Why should you look for another accommodation and can not afford to take time away from the Perkins case.

3. Why can not afford the rent and could not afford to seek another home, you should seek accommodations in Mycroft, and that is to be avoided.

4. Why tolerate his presence and even his company.

5. Why smoke cigarettes excellent brand and has good taste in liquor.

6. Because he loves good conversation but does not talk too much.

7. Why is not greedy or rude in any way nor actively irritating.

8. Why not a drunkard.

9. Why is not an opium addict.

10. Why has only one vice (gambling) and broke it already convinced to limit it significantly.

11. Why not bring women home.

12. Why not bring men home.

13. Why would a doctor were always handy.

14. Why care about your health, but is too polite to let you weigh.

15. Why has poor powers of deduction, but notes tirelessly. (Four Five lists so far.)

16. Why is reassuring and chaos when he is silent in the room.

17. Because it is by far the lesser evil among the four Stamford that you have made.

18. And because he loved men in the past - at least one army (inquire) - and even if the worst happens, do not sue.

19. Why do not you suspect that complaints in each case.

20. Because it is a good man, as ordinary and predictable to the ridiculous.



got to the point I was 19 when Watson had appeared at the base of the stairs in her nightgown and robe for an excuse to ask that absurd argument. Now I do not remember for what we had discussed and I know for certain that we both had a drink too many, and we both said things which we had already repented. I had shaken hands, and Watson was back in the room. Then I added the last item in a hurry and, satisfied with the list, I had locked in my drawer.


I would not have thought to list up to a year since that night. Since I only had the keys to my drawer, and it was essential to our life together (for this reason, for example, the checkbook Watson lay there and not elsewhere), I had not thought of destroying it. After the list was for me a certain sentimental value. A silly indiscretion on my part, as I soon learned.

Watson was sleeping in my bed. Nothing strange about that, he did it for some time now, ever since, his goodness, had the idea in my foolish to declare an evening full of surprises for which alcohol was not entirely foreign. He slept then, but when I made a movement to take the bottle of water bedside, as cautious, he woke up instantly. My Watson had, and still has, good reflexes as a soldier and a light sleeper. Perhaps I had awakened from a bad dream, because he raised one hand shooting to grab his arm and shook for a moment, before waking up at all.

"Mm," he murmured, letting his hand fall back on the pillow. "Hello."

"Hello," I said, removing the cork from the bottle. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept?" He retorted. "I have not noticed." He opened one eye and nodded a laugh with his mouth closed, a little throaty sound that I filled with silent admiration for no particular reason.

"Did you sleep well, and Russia. I've stopped going to sleep for almost an hour. "

" Now this is certainly a lie. I remember perfectly the time you are referring to, and I was awake. We were both awake. That was the point, I think. "

" Then, "I corrected, giggling silently. "I speak after time."

"I do not follow," he retorted. "What after talking about? Once you've owned up to make you tear the pillow with his teeth, or after you came into my mouth and did not say word for fifteen minutes? The second before the first, I think, therefore we should imagine a one-hour break in between ... "

" Oh, is' Shut up, "I sent him to hell, now laughing openly. I calmed down to drink a few sips from the bottle and passed it to him. Watson sat against the headboard. Her hair was matted and the sign on the back of my teeth, the healthier. "You look lost on a hunting trip," I said, cheerfully.

"I think, but I'm not sure, to give preference to a pack of dogs," consider taking a sip.

"They are less aggressive?"

"affordable."

I put a hand on his chest, slightly to the abdomen in a lazy caress. The day was exceptionally beautiful, or so it seemed. Watson looked at me with one eye, because I was too close, and then cocked his head to kiss me.

"Good morning," murmured on my lips.

"You already said."

"That was a greeting. This is a statement. "

" An optimistic estimate, "I replied, and then:" I was thinking something similar. "

"See, you're not the only one with the power to read minds."

For a moment neither spoke, and ticking in the silence I heard the rain outside the window, beyond the curtains drawn, and saw - clear as if they were open - Baker Street gray and wet under a shower of fine rain. I rejoiced, but at the same time I thought my leg would give him problems as he always did with the wet weather, and my joy is partially dried.

Watson was key between the blankets woven in search of that robe, I remembered I had been there the night before. Then with a sigh of surrender, he dismounted from the bed and gave me a vision of his naked buttocks as he tried the suit under the mattress. She pulled on his pants, contradicting my hopes, and the robe with nothing underneath.

"Where are you going?" I asked first to look better, because sometimes Watson, especially if they are completely naked, has this effect on me.

"Deducilo," he said in fact, going to the door.

"The slipper for me," I shouted back, Watson and I shouted back that I smoked cigarettes honest British or I would have got up to take my burnt tobacco alone.

not immediately returned. Because from my bedroom to the living room there are stairs and cigarettes were in the living room, I did not see much reason to.

"Watson?"

"But where you used them, please?"

"Ah, I finished. I left a new package in my drawer. "

Watson emerged in the doorway. "The key?" I pointed my vest lying on the chair and he retrieved the key and went into the living room, this time leaving the door ajar behind him. I saw it reach my desk and open the drawer, then linger a bit 'too long, and then retrace his steps slowly, cigarette in one hand and a sheet in the other.

"What?" I asked.

Watson clicked his tongue against the palate. He seemed amused, and entertainment, along with a dressing gown open to the bare chest, made him a vision. "You tell me. 'John Watson. One. Alone because you can not afford the rent '. What is the list of reasons why you take me to bed? "

Fun, open robe, her hair disordered evidently a fierce lover and now that language from the house of ill repute would certainly have lost me, if my attention was not captured in large part from the list.

"Stupid question. If observed, would know that paper has more than one year, "he said, holding out his hand to take, but Watson filed there instead of cigarettes and matches. Sat sideways on the bed, bending his leg on the mattress.

"Who is Mycroft," he asked, without looking up.

"A friend."

"I did not know I had."

"You're right, 'friend' is not the best definition."

He looked up. "Lover?"

"My God, no," laughed. "Do not you think if I knew him."

"I gladly will I know if I present it," he said, sweet.

"One day," he promised.

He returned to light, a faint smile. "I say, Holmes, were in no mood for compliments when you wrote this list. I'm not ... I read right? ... 'Actively irritating'? "

" I might reconsider this remark, "I replied. The two wings cast a shadow of her gown on her abdomen pointed. I slid closer, the sheets on my legs.

"'Why not bring men home'. A year ago, you said? "

I studied his expression. "I would have known."

"Oh, yes, definitely. I was already clear at this time. "

" Why are you smiling? "

" Mm? Oh, nothing, nonsense. I was so infatuated that I would not have noticed if a guy brothel in the pants I had marched out on the street, let alone get someone at home. "

was one of the most romantic things I had ever said, in a way not quite conventional, but on the other hand are not usually respond to conventional romance. The lips rested on his shoulder, the sign of the bite, going back from there a slow progression to the neck. Plunged his hand between the wings of her robe, stroking with your fingertips the gap between the pecs.

"Oh, glad to know that I can always come in handy," said Watson, read on. Tilted slightly head to let me access to her throat, and really for a moment I compared it to win a prize that is offered for the final blow to his attacker. My fingers went down on the abdomen, touched the hem of the woolen pants and crossed.

"'The chaos when they are silent in the room'? I have no idea what ... ah, Holmes ... what you mean, but I think one of the most romantic things I have ever said. "

I lifted my head. After a year, sometimes under the illusion I have now seen everything there was to see John Watson, and then things like this happening and I was forced to rethink all of my beliefs. It was a glorious moment in his own way, and I had give me a small private celebration taking his face in her hands and kissing until we were both hot and panting against each other. At this point, Watson had placed the list on the bed and it would perhaps be forgotten if the take off the robe, I had not dropped on the sheet itself, which crackled.

"Let me finish," said Watson, fished with dexterity. I climbed on the wreckage of the sheets in the legs, and resumed exactly where I left off a moment before his throat. So I did not see his expression change, but felt it stiffen beneath me.

"Watson, what is it?" I asked instantly Fearing for an absurd moment of hurt him, maybe hit a nerve, because the wound to the thigh was still new. But it was the wound; Watson was still looking at the paper. She lowered her eyes and closed along the fold, leaving him to fly to the farthest corner of the bed.

"Nothing. Where were we? "He asked with a smile that convinced me, leaning his hands on his hips.

My eyes darted to the list, and his follow my avoided. "What have you read? I do not remember ... "

He pushed me flat on my back, I left one thousand miles from the nonsense that I wrote without thinking a year earlier, and without thinking I decided to keep.

"You're right," he murmured in my mouth. "I am a very ordinary person. And predictable. I've never made any secret, and anyway I can not be more than what they are. "

" You can not because you can not, "I said quickly. "It would be an unprecedented achievement for mankind. Watson, really, those things ... "

" I'm not offended. I seem to be so? I swear that they are not. I love you. And you're awfully right, and we both know that is true, so what good is it offend me? "

" Why is not it, " I said, now truly alarmed. "I was drunk, and I knew for a month. We had a fight. I thought you'd apologize first, and he did it, and I was so drunk that the thing I liked and I added that line. Watson, I never thought an ordinary person. Not you, would be idiots. "

He kissed me, gently. "I'm not offended," he repeated. "Stop talking."

"And you stop repeating it, if it is true. Do not believe a word of what I said. "

" No, but no matter. So why am I here, and even though you do not understand why there is - apart from the fact that I do not drink and do not harbor prostitutes at home - I always knew that your reasons were to be completely different from mine. I know that you could not stay with a great guy. This does not mean that I would not be something better. For you. But I can not, and indeed, Holmes, are not ... "

" A perfect idiot, "I muttered. "This is what you are. And I worse than you, for not having that thing burned the night I wrote it. Watson, will you allow me to never waste my time with someone who's not worth it? "

" Holmes ... "

" There's a line that I wrote a year ago, when I barely knew your name and thought have knew everything there was to understand. And I'm here, here, and I tell you that I kept it in the hands of a week I knew I could never write idiotic bigger than that, and I must imperishable reminder of how dangerous it is to theorize without data Working as a general rule, especially when you're in the middle. "

smiled, bowing her head in the most exquisite of creation, and a lock of hair fell on the weary face as the stem of a flower.

"Do not believe a word, is not it?"

He kissed me again. Watson is not a little loving person, usually, but not in the habit of using his body to avoid a speech.

"Do not believe me," I repeated, away. I was starting to irritate me and the thing would not have led nowhere, but the consciousness of having three imprudent, to have wounded, and being forced into the position of having to disprove myself got on my nerves.

"You, an error of assessment so rough?" Watson objected, gently.

"I commit to one hundred days."

"Do not bet on one."

"This is why not look at it."

"tirelessly, you said."

"When it comes you do not do anything but fall into contradiction. You have a deleterious effect on my brain. "

" Oh, no, "she whispered, joking, and I saw the bitterness that was slowly fading.

"Oh, yes. Your presence is highly damaging. "

" This is not the most comforting thing that I have been told. "

" I'm sorry, I have little practice. But no one else has this power over me. None. "I paused to watch him absorb the information. I seemed to see it physically penetrate into the pores on the cheeks and spread in the form of a faint blush. "Kiss me like you have, do you mind?" I suggested.

was in the middle of the kiss that really knew what kind of situation I had gone to hunt, beginning this liaison with John Watson. I had chosen, for the indefinite future, but as long as possible, to accompany me to a man who would die without remorse at my command, but would suffer terribly (and as far as I could not know) a thing of no importance that I had pinned during a hangover ; I worshiped as a deity but refused to believe that a person wanted by my side just as exceptional, who knew nothing of me but he sent me in confusion for the simple fact of its existence, a man who still, after a year, I knew hardly anything more preferences in terms of tailoring.

It was a bad idea, I decided. Certainly it would kill me before the end of the summer, I left for ol'avrei not see that look that said, I love you . I'm not offended, because it would be stupid of me, and I can not, I must not under any circumstances ever let you think I'm stupid, because that is the day I leave for a better person.

Something had to be done, I thought, fighting to keep oxygen to the brain while Watson took me in the mouth with furious greed, and the room was shaking on its foundations. Something drastic. Something that would prevent him to kill me and leave me. It was necessary; I could not take the risk.

"You're an idiot," boccheggiai, cruelly twisting the strands between your fingers. "It's obvious. Even a child would understand. I would not, would not be here. "

Watson drew back slowly, carrying on as if he had not heard, but I felt his hand shake on the side.

"John," gasped, prayed, stifled a groan.

Watson welcomed me whole again, made me feel the surface of the palate and then the walls of the gorge. I sat up in a spasm of pleasure as strong as a thrill, arching his back, and now I let myself fall back on the pillow.

"I love you," I confessed. "I love you and God, is the worst idea I've ever come. You will be my death. It is clear. "

were the last sounds I was able to articulate coherent, Watson before I took off the power completely. I turned off in her mouth, unable to resist, to tell him to wait in bed because Watson is a soldier that a doctor, and there is a perverse pleasure, known to many men, being dominated by their partners.

"Do you have fun, I bet," mumbled a few moments later, when she lay down beside me with a vague smile.

"Oh, thank God I thought I would have to wait another quarter of an hour."
The
leaned a hand on his temple, clutching thin hair in a firm grip. "You," I repeated, "you will be my death."

"Yes, I heard." He kissed me, the feeling is not pleasant, but then it was not the first time. I took her hand between her legs. "Thanks," she whispered, letting slip rough five fingers on my back.

It was not an ideal situation, of course. Sooner or later I would have killed, or would let me, so I had to find someone else to pay half of the rental or - God forbid - ask for help from Mycroft. I chuckled at the thought. The last time I had read him all marks the passing of John Watson, I knew from the way he looked away abruptly.

"Why are you laughing?"

"None. Nonsense. "

I tried to make it last as much as possible. Within a month or two, Mycroft would stop to look away, and within a year or two I could submit to it. Calmly. With a good excuse. If John Watson was still there.

I had a long list of reasons for hope.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Poem For The Money Tree

Happy holidays for you!



Dear my!
wishes all a Happy New Year!
I wish you luck, success, happiness and inspiration.
Love and be loved.
God bless you:)
I will try even appear until the end of the year.
Your milav.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Ghost Sightings Maryland

P0rn Fest, and those who live without?

my times table for P0rn Fest, to be updated when PHP will stop haunting me.

SHERLOCK HOLMES Fem! Holmes / Fem! Watson, leather address book purple ribbon, piece of pomegranate
SHERLOCK HOLMES Fem! Holmes / Fem! Watson, disguise
SHERLOCK HOLMES Holmes / Watson, bearskin
SHERLOCK HOLMES Holmes / Watson, "I've never thought of you as ordinary "Twenty Good Reasons
SHERLOCK HOLMES Holmes / Watson, Tobacco powder
SHERLOCK (BBC) John / Sherlock, The internet is for porn


2 /??

Acrostic Poem On Canada

The Square 2010! The bloody victory of the dictator.

Originally posted by [info] dmitrij_kr at The Square 2010! The bloody victory of the dictator.
evidence of wrongdoing and violations during the выборов
http://burbalka.livejournal.com/895 570.html
http://lighti.livejournal.com/146322.ht ml
http://ihrachyshka.livejournal.com/ 7 98.html
http://ihrachyshka.livejournal.com/1 321.html
http://meliashkevich.livejournal.com/ta g /% D1% 84% D0% B0% D0 % BB% D1% 8C% D1% 81% D1% 8B% D 1% 84% D1% 96% D0% BA% D0% B0% D1% 86% D1% 8B% D1% 8F
http: / / community.livejournal.com / by_pol itics/2708557.html
http://euroradio.fm/by/1436/reports/586 69 /
http://www.svaboda.org/video/2254297.ht ml? IsArticle = 1 - manipulation of the ballots at a polling station in Minsk

Pictures from the protests on 19 and 20 December 2010 Mr.
http://hermanpol.livejournal.com/5953.h like
http://community.livejournal.com/minsk_ by/7010339.html
http://community.livejournal.com/pressp hoto_by/110856.html
http://community .livejournal.com / by_pol itics/2663547.html + репортаж
http://kp.ru/photo/gallery/28675/
http://news.tut.by/elections/208944.htm l
http://blogs.sacbee.com/photos/2010/1 2/west-decries-flaws-violence-in.html - там же фото насилия против мирного пикета 20 декабря
http://www.bbc.co.uk/russian/multim edia/2010/12/101220_belarus_protests_pic s.shtml
http://mmet.livejournal.com/52828.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/12/2 0/belarus-election-violence_n_798939.htm l
http://square-2010.blogspot.com/se arch / label /% D0% A4% D0% BE% D1% 82% D0% BE
http://dranik80.livejournal.com/99831.h etc. # cutid1 - замначальника минского Police beat up photographer in person during the dispersal of peaceful picket on Dec. 20, 2010

Video protests
http://nn.by/?c=video - there is video of a provocateur, initiating "Storm", interviews with victims of beatings and many others. etc.
http://nn.by/?c=ar&i=47681 - one of kits videos on the site of "Nasha Niva".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrM8pdXe O68 - scum of the special forces battered women
http://www.svaboda.org/video/2253202.ht ml?isArticle=1 - избивают журналиста
http://community.livejournal.com/by_pol itics/2674329.html - репортаж НТВ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZhiSJoBV Bh8 - репортаж РЕН ТВ
http://square-2010.blogspot.com/sea rch/label/%D0%92%D0%B8%D0%B4%D0%B5%D0%BE

Свидетельства очевидцев
http://www.svaboda.org/content/arti cle/2252428.html + много фотографий, видео и аудио репортажей.
http://charter97.org/ru/news/2010/1 2/20/34834/ + фото
http://community.livejournal.com/minsk_ by/7044467.html + фото
http://www.nv-online.info/by/137/news/2 5323/%D0%90%D0%BD%D1%82%D0%BE%D0%BD-%D0%9 2%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%BD%D0%B8%D1%86%D0%BA%D0%B 8%D0%B9-%D0%AF-%D0%BE%D1%82%D1%87%D0%B5%D 1%82%D0%BB%D0%B8%D0%B2%D0%BE-%D0%B2%D0%B 8%D0%B4%D0%B5%D0%BB-%D0%BA%D0%B0%D0%BA-%D 0%BF%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%B5%D0%B3%D1%80%D1%83%D 0%B7%D0%B8%D0%BB%D0%B8-%D0%B4%D0%B2%D0%B 0-%D0%B3%D0%B5%D0%BD%D0%B5%D1%80%D0%B0%D 1%82%D0%BE%D1%80%D0%B0-%D0%9D%D0%B8%D0%B A%D0%B0%D0%BA%D0%BE%D0%B9-%D0%B2%D0%B7%D 1%80%D1%8B%D0%B2%D1%87%D0%B0%D1%82%D0%BA%D 0%B8-%D1%8F-%D0%BD%D0%B5-%D0%B2%D0%B8%D0%B 4% D0% B5% D0% BB.htm - как захватывали машину Некляева
http://community.livejournal.com/minsk_ by/7008041.html
http://intex-press.by/ ru/834/1/5799 / % D0% 9C% D1% 96% D0% BD% D1% 81% D0% BA% D0-% 9F% D0% B B% D0% BE% D1% 88% D1 % 87% D0% B0-19122010.htm
http://222.by/ya-byl-na-ploshchy-golliv ud-s-house
http://dmitrij-kr.livejournal.com / 5 8154.html
http://dolka777.livejournal.com/50873.h like - It has gone through Belarus by the Gestapo.
http://czerniec.livejournal.com/12 6399.html , http://czerniec.livejournal.com/12 6523.html - another past dungeons

Beaten candidates
Vladimir Nyaklyaeu
Andrew Sannikov
Vitaly Rymashevsky

dastardly provocation against peaceful protest
http://www.svaboda.org/video/2254780.ht ml? IsArticle = 1 - provocateur strikes glass methodically and thoroughly; police не мешает
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFXaC7Dh nkU&feature=player_embedded - Виталий Рымашевский о провокаторах
http://topbloger.livejournal.com/515426 2.html - гэбэшный провокатор детектед
http://www.belaruspartisan.org/bp-f orte/?page=100&backPage=13&news=73484&newsPage=0
http://zmagarka.livejournal.com/107 7296.html - a complete dossier on provocateurs

Journalism
http://msk.kp.ru/daily/24610.5/780345/
http://kompromatby.com/2010/12/20 / k rov-na-snegu.html
http://skalinkina.livejournal.com/12498 4.html + wonderful photo busily working agent GB.
http://www.novayagazeta.ru/data/2010/14 4/00.html


Alotta Fagina Shows Breasts

Maza Help save Christmas hares and take them with you in the new 2011 year!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

High Heels Bunion Surgery

[Sherlock Holmes] purple ribbon, piece of pomegranate (fem! Holmes / fem! Watson)

Title: purple ribbon, piece of pomegranate
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: fem! Holmes / fem!
Watson Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3959 (W)
Written by: P0rn Fest # 4 , prompt leather address book.

Sharlene Holmes closed his eyes, close the pipe gently between thumb and forefinger of his right hand and an outstretched arm over the arm of his chair, surrounded by a cloud of smoke like an idol oriental incense. The robe, which is also a depressing color smoke, but who knows whether by design or by consumption of the dyer, the waterfalls on the nightgown as a miserable lot, wrapping all the creases in the wrong, tobacco-stained front and with more than a frayed seams. I

withdrawn from time to scold on the subject, since I had never made a laugh of scorn, derision and sarcastic and cruel, like the warbling of a picturesque tropical bird. Over time, though not approved, I had resigned outrage that that rag unseemly made day by day on the features of my friend, wrapped in a shapeless mass of fabric and sad. As I drew, however, some small pleasure. It was surprisingly good, for example, to see the profile of an aristocratic foot emerge from under the hem of her nightgown, the elegant curve and immediately swallowed up by the pot-bellied white slipper winter. When a leg was crossed over the other, as in that afternoon, her nightgown retreated to expose the ankle and shin, showing in all its grace one of the most beautiful parts of the body of Holmes.

Or when such luck extended to the owner unaware of his rudeness, until mid-calf, revealing the muscle strong and well-turned, trained by long walks ...

My eyes went up, of their own will, the thin stretch of his belly and that, slightly less dry, breast. I thought take without thinking about the bizarre speech of Holmes in the first month we had known: what was the fundamental lack of breastfeeding for his disguises, he said, and how little would wished that his chest looked like mine, he added. The bandages were too tight, he explained. They hurt, they would leave red lines on the sternum and belly, and still could not hide much of Mother Nature's intentions.

Holmes had small breasts and thin like a girl, but round and pointed, made to fill the hands of small size.

I felt my cheeks warm and resolutely averted gaze. I had to stop thinking about the body of Holmes, and reflected the decision by holding the two halves of my notebook and forcing them to back to win the elasticity of the leather cover. This, as a sign of protest, let out a nasty crunch.

I made a mistake. Holmes opened her eyes a crack and smiled briefly, but the shadow of a ghost, now eaten by the thin straight line of his mouth.

"The inspiration escapes you?" He said, as far as I know without seeing me, but with the air to absorb my every move in the gray pearl that was visible between the eyebrows.

"I thought he did not want to be disturbed for two pipes," I replied, ignoring the question.

"I did not want, but you're a heavy companion."

"I am mortified."

"You should. I'm glad. "

almost burst to laugh at the absurdity of that exchange, but almost, but changed to be the laughter in a puff and I felt the vague resentment, ineffable as the first snow, the endless solitude of my ruminating on the features of my friend, as I was terribly alone, only to watch her when she could not put me in my place with a look, only to rethink the things he told me to read different meanings, alone, finally, to grow hot to the thoughts that were only in my head, while Holmes was still, quiet and above, to devote himself to his puzzle.

But after all, who did evil? It was not my right to recall how many and which images I liked, when and how long I liked it? And why would I be ashamed to remember things that their own proprietary I had freely offered to the view ( the ditch barely visible between the breasts, the tiny neo incisovi the center, the thin flat muscles and snappy like a man ), without worrying that I might shock or disturb, and besides why would he have ( degrade the curved sides of the dense dark down from the laundry in the triangle of the world's most exquisite, personally designed by the finger of God ), unaware that I looked so different from all others ( thighs athletic contracted ), unaware that my view constitute danger ( your butt, oh Lord, the buttocks to kiss and bite ), unaware of what kind of person was asleep upstairs and eat at his table el'avesse touched and touched more times than they could now count on, always with those obscene thoughts in my head, with that terrible proliferation of images and details, and body parts that were running and did not give peace from morning to night, when sleep finally I returned to myself. The address book

creaked painfully in my hands, and I realized that I had twisted again, without realizing, too taken by the madness that was taking place in my mind.

"Watson," Holmes said, with a certain air of controlled exasperation. "I can not tell you how the noise is irritating when you try to think . On the other hand, I do not expect you to be familiar with the practice. "

Oh, I could tell her what was wrong.

"Holmes," I said instead, piccata. "I can not tell you how your rudeness makes you look like an old maid. On the other hand, I do not expect it any way you thong. "

" You're right, "Holmes said, opening his eyes. He put the tip of the long pipe with cherry lips and those beautiful lips terribly masculine, trying to draw but now finding it a shot off. With indolent gesture, threw the bowl on a sheet of paper on the table open, dropping debris pile of burnt tobacco on their own kind, and stretched out his left hand toward the Persian slipper resting on the armrest of the chair. While he filled his pipe, looked in my direction.

"So," he said, lighting it, consonants deformed by cherry torch between his teeth. "Since I've distracted, you might as well tell me."

"What can I say?"

exhaled Holmes, stretching his long legs over the head of the bearskin and crossing her ankles. "Oh, for me it makes no difference. Although the completeness is always preferable. Start from where you think fit, my dear, and do not neglect the details. You know I love them. "

seemed to me that one of the longest perfect hands of Holmes I went through the flesh and was close to mo 'claw around my stomach. I felt a surge of fear as bile acid and then, in order, a shudder and a hint of nausea. I felt an arch of teeth slide on the other with a squeal.

"I do not understand," I said with all the calm I could muster.

Holmes smiled, tilting her head to one side. She had long, beautiful hair that she hated blacks because, in its say, too uncomfortable. We would have liked wearing shorts as a boy, and tell those who asked him coming out of a long illness, but would have been unrealistic in society, and Mrs. Hudson would not have frowned upon. Not being able to cut them, carried them rolled up in a bunch of luck and fixed at the center of the neck with a pencil or pen or any other necessary arrangements. I had searched for hours, my favorite pen, a fountain pen that was my father's first surprise of the glitter in her hair Holmes.

"Come here," said my roommate now, clapping his hand on the armrest of the chair.

I got up before thinking that I should suspect. The woman with whom I shared rooms Baker Street was, after all, supremely intelligent, and when he wanted, until the pure cruelty. He could get me to pieces with an eye and control my every desire with the touch of a finger. I should be wary, of course, would be the right thing to do. But I got up and joined her without a moment's hesitation, lifting their skirts with their hands against the edge of the armrest, not just sitting, not quite standing.

"It is fortunate that the last pipe is no longer necessary," Holmes said, extending his right arm behind my back and brushing gesture in the lower back.

"Then why did you on?" I replied, rigid.

"We bother?"

I shook my head. The tobacco Holmes gave off a pungent odor and dense that clung to clothes and hair and sometimes I had to redo the bathroom just to take off. But I never complained.

"Ah, Watson, Watson," Holmes muttered. He leaned toward me, resting her head on my legs, a gesture so sudden and unusual that I did not have the slightest chance to predict nor to defend. I felt the warmth of his breath as a relic of the sinking of my crinoline skirt and sink like a punch in my legs, thought no doubt, but no less shocking.

"Holmes ... Sh-Sharlene, "I stammered, his name never used that, who knows where, I went up to the hours I stumbled on the mouth and tongue.

"Do not tell. I hate, "he said. "It's so coy."

"Not true," I replied instinctively.

"Jean," he continued, slowly raising his head to rub his face against my stomach, like a cat as a pet of course, as a diabolical creature sent to lose. 'So clear. Martial. One syllable. No frills, no complications. It would be John, is not it? You'd be a wonderful man, a beautiful John. "

The pain His words caused me blinded me. I took her face in her hands, to stop its rapid ascent over the protective armor of the corset, feeling that even an inch and I would be totally lost, I would not have survived her mouth between my breasts, not even a hundred thousand fabrics in the middle .

"I know it would be better," I muttered, feeling the agony to die. "It would be all right, then."

"What a fool," Holmes said, trying to get closer, but kept my hands. "What am I supposed to do a man? Would hear me, man? Accompany me when I needed? For he would never have anything more than a cow riding? "
Startled that expression
horrible, and Holmes noticed it, because now softened the severe bending of the mouth. "You're so delightfully out of the Puritan," he smiled, "that a poor consultant investigator no less than five months to see what burns inside. You're a horrible person. I would have hated for what you made me suffer. "

" I-I? You? I made you suffer ? "I replied, letting go for the surprise, promptly repaid by the pressure of his lips on my burning throat.

"Be my lady," said Holmes, stepping back to look in my eyes. "You want a man to follow. A man to be protected. A man who absorbs all your energy and your attention. I can be that man. I will not be kind and do not hold you by the hand and will not tell you that the stars pale in the splendor of your eyes, but I can swear to me you'll never be an animal for riding. "

My head was spinning, I rested my hands on his shoulders to keep in touch with reality, and went immediately to his gird up your loins, strong and possessive as male hands, but infinitely more delicate.

"I do not want a man," I said, misinterpreted what I said, thinking to reassure her, and instead I saw his eyes and felt her veil be taken slowly.

"Then it's over, because I can not change. If this disappoints you ... "

" No, no. Please, no, "I hastened, stealing her face in my hands and kissed her, desperate to lose it, you have ruined everything. "I love you, love your body. You are right, they are such a hypocrite ...! Do not say that it's over, please do not say that. "

Holmes grabbed my hands, he found that trembled and shook in her to hurt me, until the thin bones of the fingers do not overlap and the pain becomes confused the fear in my brain, but now both were washed away when Holmes left me to unbutton my blouse and kiss me between the breasts from tight bodice, touching the small central groove with the tip of the tongue.

Holmes moved sideways in the seat of the chair is too wide and I will I fell in on the slippery fabric of her skirt, her arms, tobacco and intoxicating smell of his body. Tobacco still felt bitter with his tongue in my mouth, and then eager hands surrounded me to get under her blouse and be right laces of her bodice, pulling them by forcing them, trying to open them in any way. Holmes grunted half triumph in my mouth, and the constriction around the chest is released abruptly, leaving me to take a deep breath. A hand, emerging from the corner of my dark back and seat of the chair, undid the buttons on the front and between the two wings of the folded fabric bodice tamed, leaving it out ill-treated by a breast corset.

"My God," gasped when her mouth closed around you, when the rough surface of the tongue rubbed mercilessly over and over again, against the tip of the nipple, and I had to press a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Fighting the crowd of colors that clouded my eyes, grabbed the hem of her gown of Holmes and torsos over his shoulder, enjoying the sharp sound of the tear and then the slip of cloth. Then, wearing only her nightgown as ever I had seen, Holmes seemed terribly funny, and I think I laughed, caught his eye question.

"Take it away," commanded, drunk with the power that gave me to be wanted by this creature of all, the feeling of his rough fingers clutching her breasts that I wake up to impress reddish. "Take off everything, like the time stands naked."

The contemplated, half sunk in his chair, pointing his elbow against the arm to lift me in his direction. Holmes performed without words, without looking, without a tremor, as beautiful as I remembered it without the multiple layers that disfigured. Theses hands to pick it up, amazed at his waist so thin, her buttocks so thin, more than I imagined. I kissed her belly and navel and Holmes sighed and opened her legs, put your fingers in your hair and pulling away furiously all the chopsticks until the mass dense and heavy I fell on my shoulders.

laid my cheek on the soft triangle at the end of its basin, savoring the smooth texture and bristling at the same time, but when approached his lips to the little fold of flesh between the groin and thigh, Holmes took me away. Her eyes were open, slightly grainy, which the sun was bright and dull, almost a gray pearl.

I rode him, Holmes, thin and nervous as a hunting dog, rustling of my clothes rustle of a foreign cloth on skin, skin on cloth. He grabbed a handful of skirts and lifted, pointing below the knee, and drove a cool hand against another of my bundle of linen, with mastery by dissolving all the tapes that I shook him. With both hands under her skirt, now, knickers pulled down, leaving them trapped me naked ankles and knee, and offered to the naked eye, bare breasted and a carousel of fabric around the belly. Instinctively, I brought a hand to his right thigh, to cover the horrible scars of shrapnel that had compromised my health forever.

Holmes clicked his tongue against the palate in an obscene gesture, which made me blush.

"Jean, Jean," he murmured, by attacking the throat and face with kisses with an enthusiasm that really reminds me of that of a predator. "I did not even show him who you are." I pushed the hand and raised it to his mouth before disappearing with rapid momentum behind the screen of my skirts. The accartocciai by hand to follow his movements, to prepare to his intentions, but his mouth reached my most secret while the fabrics I resisted and sharply Startled, colliding with her, the fresh tip of his nose.

His hands went to unlock the legs, snapping one on the other arm on her shoulder. So open, I was relieved from his seat and pressed my back against the hard core of the chair under the padding.

Never, not even in my wildest fantasies, those relegated to the secret of my bed, I imagined that it could be. I had wanted Holmes - Sharlene, in my dreams - in every way, with the fantasy I had folded my every wish, every practice I'd suggest that memory and imagination, but if this was no exception, on the other hand not I had never dared to compose a scene so deeply, exquisitely obscene. With the mouth of Holmes under my skirts, dream scenes and fragments of reality are mixed in my mind, intertwined with shock of pleasure and thick liquid that burned me between her thighs. The language of Sharlene - Holmes - cruelly struck once, twice, five times before going to own and do it again, deaf to pleading yelps that I trembled in his throat without finding strength to get out, curling the tip inside me for not leaving a corner it was inviolate. A spasm had to close my legs, another soon to reopen, but they will not let me move Holmes, had his fingers cut into the pit of the knee, the nail short of thumb I was digging the meat on the back of the thigh. His mouth went up and imprisoned me in his mouth, sucking noise with obscene and fingers were not working to keep me strong I penetrated, two and then three, until it touches the soul. I gave up

off against her, forcing me to muster the strength to remove him, to ward off the stimulation had become unbearable. I was trembling all over, jerky, my body turned into a single nerve fiber that I traveled from his forehead sweaty fingers curled toes. I saw that I had a flat sock with the toe, and as always after the pleasure I felt ashamed to mount a wave of blinding.

Holmes emerged from the sea of skirts with an air of safe, lips, chin, cheeks shining with humor, brutally wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and contemplating what he had deposited with detached curiosity. I dreaded the moment where his eyes would meet mine, and maybe she had to draw some concern, because it seemed to me delay it until the last, first committing to gently caress a breast swelling and bending down to kiss each other. Then, when silence had made ice cream around us, looked up slowly, with unusual timidity.

Oh, it was so beautiful, so outrageous, so beautiful. Why did he want me, I was not at all?

"I would take her to bed in her arms," he murmured, kissing me with awe the veins of the wrist. "But you have to work together, I'm afraid." He said with an air of regret, with the air of hate himself for his weakness. "This chair has made a ditch a foot."

Then, for the first time I saw her fragile, I saw her vulnerable, and I felt myself drowning in a sea of sweetness. The stroked his cheek and mouth moist folded into a bitter grimace, trying to erase it with your thumb and not succeeding.

"You'd make a great man," I whispered. "But not so good. You insult me for saying so? I'd be your own though, I know, I feel. "

" What a fool, "he muttered in my hand, his voice broke for a moment and immediately reassembled. "You're a fool with a head full of romantic fantasies, Jean Watson. I do not know why you hate. "

"I know. I love you, "I pleaded.

"I know you love me. You are a fool, I told you. "

" If you do not love me you must not fool me. I do not deserve. "

He raised his head. "I've never cheated."

"So tell me. Just this once. "

" My God, I have grown so badly? If I could go back I'd be already regretting. "

The rested a hand on her neck, twisting my hair and pulled me to kiss her. "But you can not, you can not, I knew, I was right," I muttered, delirious with happiness. "Kiss me. If you are my man, Say you love me and kiss me. "

" How silly, stupid, "he said instead, but - yes - I kissed passionately. "Do not you ever tell. Now bring the facts to bed and fuck like a good wife. You look like a slut, "he murmured with soft voice, running his finger in a caress on her knees open, shoulders bare, her cheeks burning.

not really know how I agreed to strip me of everything and then bring her up, naked as the Lord had me on the stairs leading to my private bedroom. Holmes deposited me on the bed with the infinite care of a husband and locked the door with ease, leaning against my back.

"What's your name?" I asked out of bed, wiping a trickle of sticky inside thigh. His eyes followed the movement off without a moment. "Da man. I know you've thought it. "

Sharlene raised a finger to his mouth, absently stroking his lips. "It would be a bad name, but not as bad as mine, who knows how to lace and meringues. No, it would always be ugly, but not smooth. It would be hard as a snap and a man would think of all the bones and muscles, too tall, too thin, with an ugly nose. "

" Your nose is beautiful and gives you tremendously, "speak, but I ignored it.

"Sherlock. Horrible, is not it? It seems the usurer jew of Shakespeare. "

" Sherlock, "I repeated. I found it ugly, ugly, just as she had intended, and just the way she had thought, but also found that, like his nose, might give him terribly. Half-closed eyelids, imagining a man named Sherlock, and the vividness of the image struck me.

"Sherlock," I said again. "And you still want me, fuck me, yes, just like I said, I discovered," if I were a man and a woman? "

Holmes left the door, advancing slowly in my direction. I kept my eyes half closed and I saw a male belly, a flat chest, sides carved in the rock. "Yes," replied a deep voice, a single syllable choked.

"I would be a veteran and a doctor," I muttered, taking his hand to take her breast. "Stupid as all men, but I take a hundred bullets in my heart for you."

"Oh, my God, what have I got in bed," Holmes gasped, mounted on. "What is obscene and perverse you are, Jean Watson."

"It's my bed," I found yet to be replicated, raising his revenge in the form of a light bite and shoulder pain. "I could write to us," he added, at the ceiling, running his hands possession on your back. "I'm good. I could write about Sherlock Holmes, the man better and wiser and with the worst character in the world, and John Watson who would kill for him. "

" Only a stupid and saccharine little woman like you could write a crap like that, "Holmes muttered. "Now shut up, will you? I can not give you what you deserve if you're always talking. "

obeyed, because I like John Watson asks nothing better than to be controlled and owned by my man. I told her not, therefore, that as was his masculine jaw, as alive and wonderful vision of her as a man, what my senses were wiped his scent of a woman, the perfect combination of edgy and soft all its angles, and vibrant high notes of his voice. If she were a man, I'm sure I would have found other items that sacrifice of reason, but it had not, and I'm not complaining.

With these thoughts in mind, I embraced my wife and kissed her for an infinite time, until my ears are muffled and began to vibrate with a light tinkle.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

First Birthday Invitation Requestfor Money

My baby kimi ga inai yoru....

This time I will write in Italian. I'm sorry for those four that know it (use goggle translator for today and I promise not to call more Amewarashi).

are some days that I suffer dinuovo of nightmares, dinuovo spiders.
But you were not there the first time it happened, but this time the cause is you.

keep looking out the window and every day that passes, the clouds thin out on horizon. You told me I was strong, yes I am ...
"I have suffered a loss. The injured persons are dangerous. They know they can survive ... It's survival that makes them ... because they have no mercy. They know that others can survive, as they ... "
Yet I still have compassion .... so I'm still human?

I never believed in destiny, you cowards who use the excuse to avoid facing their own lives and accept the consequences of their choices unconscious ...

Someone very important to me one night told me that unlike other people I am aware ...
I understand that the love the affection and feelings of which mankind needs so much are just momentary delusions, I thought, I thought you had need of my affection, that was the best thing to feel that you needed me, because I meant that you wanted in your life .... because I was part of my the world is light years from that of others, whoever they are ...

For every wish you pay once a pledge is made

I have always had one desire, that desire that I confessed that night while she hugged me and told me that I was your hero ...
Now I'm a hero without a princess to rescue ....

why I asked you to leave me alone, to forget that I exist, because if you do not need me it makes no sense, because I do not want to hear the stories of those who took my place, because I do not want to hear what you makes me happy, I do not want you to feel guilty, I do not want to worry me because if you did the first is unnecessary and painful now ....

cancellation will not be easy

With each new "contact" I feel pain in the sternum, as if someone took me to punch him right there, and I miss your breath because
your sweetness is not for me is like a chocolate biscuit that I can not touch because it is not mine ....
I should have made us the habit in this world have nothing of my own, I believe even myself ...

You're not my princess
and I am no longer your hero

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Fotos Gay Do Jack Cruise

[Sherlock Holmes] My Infinite Variety (A Case of Identity) 5 / 5

Title: My Infinite Variety (A Case of Identity)
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Holmes / Watson
Rating: R
Word Count: 41,410 (W) Part
: 5 / 5
Warning: Slash, what if, something else that comes to mind now
Notes: What if EMPT up.
Written by: [info] bigbangitalia , second edition.


1 so to speak, since no one was ever caught in practice, but all they did, and quite another thing in a stable relationship between two adult men in London, and two not exactly unknown to the public. My widow played in our favor, but it was necessary the utmost discretion and caution. I have learned with difficulty to always close all the doors, to consider the presence in every moment of my household and their location are more likely to calculate the thickness of the walls and floors to make sure that no noise would reach the wrong ears. I learned the correct position of the lamp because you do not cast shadows on the curtains closed, and that the windows were not our friends. I learned to take a neutral stance whenever I spoke affectionately of Holmes, and to speak neither too much nor too little, with the proper posting of a friend. There is no doubt that the benefits of repaying the hardships, but I welcomed the change with relief. France was a friendly country, a Paris beauty. I would not have given up in London for the world, but comforted me for a few days, you can stop worrying. Holmes gave me the first evening demonstration, involving them in a rather adventurous interlude in an alley of Montparnasse. was he who opened the letter. Beth had me on the desk to find the mail of the week, meticulously neat in accounts payable and letters personal, but quite honestly, when I had other thoughts come to mind. The pleasure of being at home, the little rediscovery of all things familiar, albeit after a short period in a foreign land, had done wonders for my mood slightly irritated from the trip. I was sitting at the table to attend to what was there to attend to, reluctantly, and then Holmes had joined me there and opening the mail had been delayed. "You got me distracted," I said some time later, pleasantly exhausted in my chair. I had to compose myself, but the door was shut and Holmes sat, still half-naked, in the chair opposite me. I do not know how he desperately stylish look with one leg thrown over the armrest, his shirt open to his navel and the member out of his pants. One day I would have applied to seek the answer.

"rudeness on my part, I admit," said Holmes, stretching his arm behind the back. "I must say, Watson, with all your distaste for secrecy can not remember a meeting like this ... is significant in all the time we spent in Paris, where we could do what we like."
"It is a reproach?"
"Not at all. Anything else would be disastrous - if rifiorissi to life only one or two weeks a year, when going on holiday. "

"In all honesty continues to seem a reproach. Do not spare my feelings, please. I was so terrible, in Paris? The man's face it, "swore solemnly.

"Terrible?" Instead of continuing in the ironic, Holmes' tone changed dramatically. He pulled down his leg from the arm and stood up, impossibly sensual in

that would seem to put anyone else an idiot. "My boy," he said, half sitting on the edge of the desk, the other foot on the floor, leaning toward me in a slow down, "you ignore the very definition of 'terrible'." The

rested a hand on her neck. Holmes was right, Paris was not the case. I always wanted, but most of all I wanted in my house, among the objects that were familiar to me, where his presence was not striking contrast, but the culmination of everything. I felt a slight tremor of desire, and premature away like an echo of the one just consumed, but Holmes pulled back.

"Later," he muttered, pulling off my hand from her hair.

ributtai me back in his chair. "Help me, then," I said pointing to the match so beautifully ignored. "If you keep at home that still have gas and running water ..."

"I thought that paying a rent frees me from having to manage the house for the landlord," said Holmes, but he took the first bag from the pile of bills and opened with two strokes of the knife sharp.
was true that I was paying a rent, because I had failed in any way to convince him not to. In the end, because my refusal to accept the money had been resolved in a fight in three days of silence and obstinate on both sides, we reached a compromise: the money would be set aside for the needs of the house. They were kept separately, and I care not to use them for something he never, directly or indirectly, it did not benefit too.
We started with the accounts, dividing them by type, and in this way we finished them in no time. That left the personal letters. Those addressed in Holmes, Beth had taken care to leave the ex-ante hours adapted to a consultation room, and Holmes had already opened and peeled before coming to 'distract'. Now he got up, intending to leave the discretion to my business, but I took a bag and threw it to him in her lap.

"I do not want to be here to consider post until tomorrow," announced by opening up another drawn with the emblem of the Medical Society of London.
And you can read my mail, if you like, because I have no secrets and if he had I discover them all, I have no fears, take everything you need to take, I'm offering.


Holmes stood a moment and said nothing, but it touched my fingers to take the opener. While

read, comment out loud the content or identity of the sender. Holmes believed that the letters do not concern me the past announced the author. "Illegible signature. Probably a doctor. "" Miss Violet Farnsworth. "" Oh, Mrs. Whitaker. "" Doctor. "" Mr. Wilkinson. '"Mr. ... No, I give up. Doctor. "

Then silence fell. After some time I looked up curiously. Holmes was extremely pale.

"Holmes?" When I answered him, he rested a hand on his knee. "What? What does it say? "
Holmes dropped the paper on the desk and spun around, reaching the library in the far corner of the room.
The letter said:



Dear Dr. Watson,

I am writing in response to your advertisement in the number of

Times of May 7 this year. The person you describe matches in every way with my poor brother William, who fled in late April by the pious institution from which we had found a welcome. The poor man is no longer severely disturbed: it is not in itself the most of the time, can not remember the names of his family and thinks he is strange characters, none lasting more than a few months. Doctor, you do not know that I have brought joy to read your ad, although with so much delay! It was surely the hand of Providence in guiding my attention to that old newspaper, as well as to conduct by William Lei

If you have recent news of my brother, please, tell me. My husband and I are terribly sorry for his fate.

Sincerely,

Henrietta Chapman

Now I understood how he must have heard Holmes when the world was crazy about him. It was a terrifying vertigo, an agony in the chest, a trickle of reason, was dropped from a height and infinite knowledge that there would be a bottom. It felt so horrible that I would do anything, whatever, just to drive it away. And Holmes had lived all this, but luckily had passed, and now these people ...
I turned away, arms outstretched and hands clasped around the edges of the library, her knuckles white from the effort, as the cross.

"I know I've never known any Henrietta Chapman."

"Holmes ..."
"Do not meet them. And I forbid you to answer. Do you understand, Watson? I forbid. "

" Holmes. "

He turned. The posture was controlled, his arms stiff at his sides, and his mouth was firm and tight in a line. But the eyes were altered. The eyes of a madman.

"Do not meet them," he repeated.

"Okay," I muttered. "Okay," I repeated, louder. "I will not let these people. As far as I care, you may be the queen with all the imperial court and would still take you away over my dead body. "Resumed confidence, seeing that my words had some positive effects, which seemed to calm him down. "But we to be rational. If your relatives are, it is important that we meet them. "

" Why? "He said. "I'm not quite as isolated phenomenon

? I need an entire family tree to keep you interested? "

With a sigh, I brought my hands to the eyes and rubbed them until you see flashes of multicolored light behind his eyelids. "God knows if it looks like a nightmare," I whispered. "Do you think I would prefer not to tear the letter, pretend not to have ever received? Do you think

happy? "

" I think your damn sense of honor we lose both, "he said, teeth tight.

"I will not let you go, Holmes. But is your family
. We have been trying for months, I felt about you. Imagine how you would feel if tomorrow I vanish into thin air. "
" I do not need to imagine, "said Holmes.
"Well," I said, "then you know that we can not pretend nothing happened."
"And how do you explain that these souls in torment, these relatives caring, have not thought about putting an ad missing person or to review columns looking for a listing as yours? How do you explain that Mrs. Chapman has stumbled

by chance in an old newspaper three months? "
" I do not know, "I said, tired. "You like you explain it?"
"I do not mean, and that is precisely why I do not like."

"Okay," I admitted. "There are some unclear points. It is one more reason to meet these people? Just think how good it could be drawn. We might discover your past, your roots. Not because I'm interested in your genealogy, Holmes, but because every man is entitled to his past and you're not the exception. I can only imagine that your condition is terrible, and I think it destroys. I can not be your only link with the rest of humanity. If we can somehow overcome this lack, I think we should do it. "

Holmes grabbed the armrests of my chair and made her turn toward ninety degrees, so that now we were facing one another. I took his head in his hands.
"Why?" He asked. "Why were you scared when you wrote your friend and you're so quiet? Why do you talk to me meet people who could ruin everything, that could throw me in a sanitarium for life? I have not explained clearly enough that this would be death for me? Why, in God's name, because
knowing all this you even meet them? "The

rested her hands on her cheeks. I had never seen him so frightened and against - in spite of the horrible feeling of having an empty space where once was my stomach - I had never felt so polished.

"It was not fear, was disgusted with myself. Holmes, you have my word that will not get you anywhere. If you are caring people who seem to see for themselves that it is much better for you to stay here rather than spend the rest of your days in an asylum. And if not, I will use other topics. If necessary, I'll pay your weight in gold because it will leave us in peace. In one way or another, the situation we will accommodate, and in return we will know who you are now. I know this has value for you, even if you try to deny it. You who can not tolerate an unsolved enigma, really want me to believe does not want to melt your? "

His hands slowly retreated from my temples, and so I took my slowly from his face. He straightened to his full height.

"If that woman is my sister and I have been declared of unsound mind, then it is my legal protection. If you decide to apply to a judge to let me take away, you will not do anything. Nothing, Watson. "
" On the contrary, "I said with determination. "I could go to a friend and get a certificate, stating that apart from amnesia, you're perfectly sane. I could say that Napoleon Bonaparte and give me a cell next to yours. We could escape to France. As you can see, there is a wide range of alternatives. "
" The curiosity to find out my name and my father was a notary or a farrier does not apply any of these monstrous alternatives. "

" The worth all, and beyond, "I said softly. "Holmes, listen, why do not we sleep on and I'll talk about tomorrow? For one reason or another, these conversations always come when we are both exhausted. "

nodded reluctantly and I can say that it was a good idea, because the next morning, Holmes was himself again, calm and controlled, without that look awful, as if about to fall apart at any moment.

"We will write to Mrs. Chapman," he told mo 'greeting, while still struggling to emerge from sleep.

"Oh, really?" I muttered. "Magnificent. Good morning to you too. "

Holmes I lifted her chin with his thumb and I pressed a kiss on the lips. Oh, must be in excellent spirits.

"But since I have no intention of ending my day with a straitjacket nor change of nationality, we will things my way. "

The rested a hand on her neck. "Okay."

"Watson, I have not even told what it is."

"It does not matter. Whatever it is, okay. "I closed my eyes. "Love, do not believe that I do not care, but that clock marks the five and a half hours and another hour and a half hours of sleep would make a big difference to me," I muttered into the pillow. "For good."

I heard him huffing and the weight on the mattress shifted abruptly, but was already asleep again before Holmes began to fumble around the room. Tuttavia è probabile che il suo buonumore mi avesse contagiato, perché wonderfully rested and woke an hour later in great shape.

Holmes was in the living room, sitting in front of his breakfast, but he had lifted a lid or a cupful, and instead he smoked thoughtfully with his feet on the edge of your seat and knees against the table. The boundary of the gray robe, too long on one side, hanging on the floor.

"Hello." I touched his shoulder in the next pass. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm-mm."

took place and I need, without ceasing to look at him sideways. "Eggs?" I offered.

"No, thanks, nothing for me," he murmured, taking the root of the nose between your thumb and ring fingers, the cigarette between the index and middle finger. "Watson, we must talk."

nodded. "I'm glad you've changed your mind," I said to mo 'debut.

"And to me that you were listening to. While you were sleeping, I have perfected the details in my mind. It surprises me that you never have thought to put a chair there, "he pointed," the window. Before Sunrise is an ideal place to meditate. "

" I do not often before dawn to meditate, "I admitted. "What conclusions did you come?"

"Three points, and a number of secondary. A: Mrs. Chapman or someone you will never see me. Two: for them and all those like them, you do not know where to find me, you are not in touch with me, you do not hear from me recently. Three: Your friend Sherlock Holmes is out of town and do not know when he comes back. "

" Wait, wait, "I interrupted. "What does it matter that has to do ... Sherlock Holmes Sherlock?"

"Maybe nothing," he said. "But if they are in place, decide to make the tour, I want you to clarify that the beast is not rare at home."

sighed. "Holmes, I understand your point of view, but consider: it makes no sense
I
meet your relatives. Want to seeing you again, is that you must recognize. "

" But it so happens that I do not have any desire to see them, "he said. "I admit that is an elegant solution, Watson. You'll have your answers, I mine, and they - within certain limits - their own. If necessary, we will later consider a meeting. Under certain conditions. "

" What are you afraid? "

" Oh, please. Do not make me repeat the list. "

" All right. Rephrase the question. Why will not you see? I understand that you do not feel safe, but it would be only natural to want, even if you do not remember them. I mean, "I hesitated," is really what I think or do it for my benefit? Because if so, I assure you ... "
" What? "I asked, blankly.
"What I have every confidence in you, and I will support whatever you decide. So I want you to decide freely. Do not intend to be your friend obstacle. "

Holmes with deliberate slowness crushed the butt in the ashtray. "Do you think that our life, the only thing I own and I hold dear, myself could stand in the way?" In spite of the sweetness of words, voice was surely devoid of inflection.

"could," I replied, not be misled. "I do not want you decide to make hasty decisions."

"Do not you ever decide to make hasty, Watson. I've got to analyze it from all angles while you drooling on the pillow. "

" Thank you. Anyway. "

" We talk about the real problem, however. You feel guilty about the fact that my idea of happiness includes tea rather than mental health, and now you have a way to relieve the conscience you feel relieved. Want to have a chance to heal, but do not want me to go. Want to stay, but do not want to have any part in the choice. "

Serrai the jaw. "I love you and want you to be happy. I do not know how you can make them seem like something so horrible. "

" It's horrible, "he retorted. "Really, it is not. But it is not running unnecessary risks that emerge from this
cercle vicieux
. Just you, you talk about making snap decisions, you should think more calmly. "

" Well, "I said, trying with all my strength not to sound petulant or wounded," then just tell me what to do and I will follow the instructions. "

" Ah, Watson, "she sighed, as if I said anything incredibly stupid and incredibly sweet at the same time. I went back to my bacon not to be compelled to answer or look at him.

We were silent for a few minutes, I aim to breakfast, just nibble Holmes, but it was a tense silence, full of thoughts. Holmes was right on my guilt, but this did not make more bearable the things I had said. And there was the specter of this meeting on the horizon, of course, to make it more heavy.

"I have a feeling," he finally said, cautiously. He said it as if the word 'feeling' was biting an animal to be treated with the utmost care.
"I thought that Sherlock Holmes not rely on feelings, "I said, unable to hold back a bit 'of sarcasm.
"No, in fact," he confirms. "But nevertheless I feel it, and do not like. No, I should be more precise, I do not feel at all. It is an absence of feeling, an emptiness where there should be something. "

" I do not understand. What?

you chew the inside of the cheek thoughtfully. "These people. You're right, of course, is not it natural that feels no desire to see them. But it is so. There is nothing. "

" But you did not even met. Perhaps, seeing them ... "

"I miss my brother at times. Atrocious. And Mrs. Hudson. Sometimes it seems to me that even Lestrade, if only once came through the door ... But these people, not so much that I do not know

who they are, but not

hear anything? I do not like it, Watson. I would never do anything which tried to drive every trace of my existence from the mind of another. I can not even conceive of a thing. "

I considered the thought for a moment. "It seems a little 'just to follow that they are unworthy."

"not derived anything, Watson. I just know that if they have never had a place in my heart, lost without trace. "

not said with a sad voice or affected, in all honesty, as if he did not say what caused him nothing but a deep perplexity. But it seemed to me a terribly sad thing to say. I stretched a hand on the table, palm upwards. I was angry with him, but not so much to offer not comfort me whenever I seemed to need it, and some more for safety.
Holmes did not smile, he was still thinking, but he took my hand and turned it over, stroking his knuckles. "It would be stupid of you to believe that I can not evaluate your opinion. Or do not listen. "
" Ah, it would be stupid

by
my
, "I said, smiling despite myself.

"Yes, because I spend a lot of attention to one thing and another. I know that once ... "He hesitated. A slight wrinkle of disappointment appeared on the front. "Let's just say that I remember other occasions when I have not struggled so much to convince you of my point of view."

"I was more malleable, before '91," I suggested politely.

Holmes I just reserved a quick glance, check. "I suppose so. I wish you would trust to leave anyway and that we do things my way. Should we determine that there is danger, we will always be time to find out our cards. "
We agreed, because it defines the details and before lunch I sent a telegram to Mrs. Henrietta Chapman, a concise message in which I asked to meet at my studio if she was comfortable, and to propose the date and time according to his needs. The answer came before dinner, and the meeting was set for two days without other pleasantries after eleven. Holmes confiscated the letter and the telegram and all the next day I saw him at all. Part of the morning remained in his study to see old newspapers, asking not to be disturbed, then went out. He had to do research, but I do not I asked and he did not tell me anything. Not heard back. Late at night I scontrai with her body in the darkness of the bed, his arms and legs were cold, as if he had just slipped under the covers, and even though it was a rather warm night.
I heard him crawling on my pillow, a strand fresh touched my cheek. Then I seemed to hear him hold his breath, as if to say something, but no sound came out. Took a breath for a second time, and then whispered: "Russians tremendously in this position," a strange voice from the route that I took for laughter, but could have been a hiccup.

I embraced the dark and sank back into the darkness from which I had emerged, bringing down with me my prize.

Mrs. Chapman was accompanied by her husband. She was high and dry, a bit 'over forty, with an aquiline face and clear eyes. There I found many similarities, except for the thin lips, the fold demurely, that reminds me of my friend. Her husband, however, was a stout man with ruddy cheeks, under his wife in his ways, but not harsh or rude in itself. They were indeed both the epitome of kindness and good manners, in that way that it is spontaneous and free of the petty bourgeoisie, just a few spans from the lower classes.

I made them wait in the lounge. I felt anxiety squeeze the stomach, but as I could see I was not alone. Mrs. Chapman, although it controls which are admirable, appeared fragile nerves and often touched her husband's arm as if to take from him the necessary strength.

"Beth, tea for gentlemen."

"No, doctor, please do not waste any more time," he began Mrs. Chapman. "The telegram was awfully vague ..."

"It did not seem the case to entrust important information to the post," I said. Expected that Beth had left the room and closed the door. "Unfortunately, gentlemen, the help I can give is very limited. I have not heard from your cousin before the summer. "

The face of Mrs. Chapman is composed slowly nervous anxiety to curiosity slightly tinged with disappointment. "Tell me everything, please."

told them the story that I had agreed with Holmes. Around the beginning of May I had come across in man corresponding to the description during a round of visits: he was alone, without documentation, fever and clearly not in itself. I had given him hospitality in my house for some time, during which I tried to trace his relatives with the famous ad in the Times

, but as soon as the fever was down and my host was able to get back on their feet had not been able to restrain him. He had not even left my house after ten days, in the middle of the night like a thief. I thought that I would see again, so the gentlemen could imagine my surprise at receiving a letter from him less than a month later, in which informed me that he had found a job as a man of hard work on a farm at Norbury.

"My brother, a man of hard work," said Mrs. Chapman, covering his mouth. "Oh, excuse me, Doctor. But if you knew him understand my surprise. William has studied, has the manners of a gentleman and the bearing of a prime minister. Men's hard ... "

spread my arms. I could not imagine Holmes in the role of a worker, except in one of his disguises, and therefore fails to see why his sister. "I am sorry to upset her, Mrs. Chapman. The'm just telling you what I know. "

" Sure, sure, "he hastened to the lady. "Continue, please."

"I do not have much else to say, unfortunately. I've answered my time with a letter, but I came back some time later with a notice of 'recipient unavailable', and I have not heard from him again. "
Mrs. Chapman dropped his head on his chest, clasping hands . With trembling fingers she opened the bag, drawing a sheet of thick paper, in small format. She looked stricken for a while with air, then handed it to her husband and they got up to him.
"An impression of Will," he said, speaking for the first time. "Oh, they will be twenty years ago. You say, dear? Them twenty years ago? "

" Moreover, "murmured the woman, smiling bravely. "Twenty-five at least. I'm sorry not to have a better picture, doctor, this is all consumed. But my poor brother did not like being photographed. He had an aversion to this sort of thing. The only other picture which could be found throughout the house, grabbed him and pulled it out in a fit of rage a decade ago. He said that we do not recognize. "

The press was very worn, in fact. We stood out, with some difficulty, a teenage boy dressed in the uniform of any school. The face was a blur, but the body was slender and agile Holmes.

"It looks like the man I knew, yes," I admitted cautiously.

"I think I should tell you something about us, Doctor. She was kind enough ... My husband has a small business pledge just outside London. I have been for many years secretary and typist, before getting married. We are certainly not rich, but we have our means, but it recently, the disease of Will ... "He sighed painfully. "The specialists, as you know, have a price. We were ready to give our resources to fund every penny, but it was only after five years of consultations and treatments that a doctor told us honestly that there were no prospects of recovery. The only thing we could do, he said, was to find my poor brother, a quiet place for the crisis worse. Because maybe you have not had time to notice it, Dr. Watson, but my brother is subject to periodic crises, violent. When this happens it is really a distressing spectacle. Can remain in control of himself for months, once even almost a year, and then suddenly an insignificant detail, something bothering him for no reason, led him to destroy everything in its path. "

nodded gravely, feeling as you sink into an abyss more and more black and threatening. I tried to say something. "It is not unusual in such cases."

"But tell me, doctor," she continued, "when William ... I mean, when this man met her for the first time, how it is presented? Who said it? I know that may seem a strange question, but doctors have told us that there is a method in his madness. Shortly before fleeing the institution, had taken a new identity, if we can say, and if it were to coincide ... "

was the question that Holmes and I had considered more carefully. "Sometimes it was in itself, and admits he does not remember much," I said quietly. "But a couple of times said he was an explorer of northern European origin. A Sigerson. The reason I mention the strangeness of the name struck me right away. He also had a trace of an accent, Norwegian or Swedish, I do not know. "

" Did you hear? You hear that, Eddie? "Mrs. Chapman said, sounding excited. "I knew it, Doctor. I knew it had to be him! "

" match? "I asked, feel faint voice. Sigerson was an invention Holmes, moreover, was the identity that he had chosen for himself during his travels (real or imagined that they were) for Europe. Holmes had been

Sigerson. And if Mrs. Chapman said that his brother, one day, had assumed the identity ...

"Absolutely," confirmed the woman, her eyes shining.

"... It is a wonderful discovery," I managed to say. I cleared my throat. "Mrs. Chapman, Mr. Chapman, I wish with all my heart to find your relative. I am sure that ... "

" Doctor, to tell the truth ... ", his cheeks were painted by Mrs. Chapman of a delicate blush, "to tell us the truth, my husband and I were hoping to be able to ask the help of Mr. Holmes for this."

I tried with all my strength, and I think I succeeded fairly well, to keep friendly and neutral expression. "I fear that when it is not possible. Holmes is gone. "
" Party! "Repeated Mrs. Chapman, her voice hoarse and pained, full of disappointment.
"Yes, and unfortunately I can not tell when ..."

It was then that the drawing-room door opened, and Holmes appeared at the door with the more casual air of the world.

"Oh, you're busy, Watson, "he said with a glance at my guests. "I beg your pardon." He leaned against the frame, lifting the index in my direction. "If you can give me a minute when you're done, I have very important things to discuss with you."

"Certainly," I agreed, checking the lords of the corner of Chapman. "When you come back?"

"Just a moment ago."

"Sometimes, um, turn in your investigation?"

"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Chapman openly now looking into his eyes. "A not entirely unexpected, but which I appreciate. Gentlemen, with permission. "

" William, "cried Mrs. Chapman, jumping up.

Holmes turned slightly, her fingers already on the handle.

"Do not you recognize me?" Insisted the woman. "William, I am your sister. And that's Eddie! Do not ... do not remember? "

Holmes's expression hardened, just for a moment, and then broke into a faint smile gently mixed. "My dear lady, trust me, I remember I had a sister," said a voice from which every trace of courtesy had been forcibly removed and poured with the dropper. "They will certainly remember a sister like her."

Mrs. Chapman marched in his direction, place your hands on the arms. "My dear, dear William," she murmured, her voice broken. "You do not know ... can not imagine how we felt about you!"

"Why did you lie?" Mr. Chapman said, standing up in turn. It took me a while to understand that he was addressing me. "And she would be a doctor? Coward! "

The situation seemed about to degenerate, but Holmes was quiet and self-possessed. He put a hand on that of Mrs. Chapman, beating a reassuring pat. "Certainly she confuses me with someone else, my dear lady." He smiled briefly, a horrible smile, predation, which could not in any way to explain. All of Holmes seemed to me incomprehensible at the time, from the fact that he had decided to appear after vehemently stressed the need to avoid it. "Wonder how many times I happened to be mistaken for someone else. A mistake is quite understandable. If I were you, I would accept the possibility. "

Kindly but firmly led her to the couch and made her sit, separated from their arms. Mr. Chapman also sat down slowly, without losing the spirited and hostile. Calmly regal, Holmes sat in his chair.

"Gentlemen you mind if I smoke? No? Thank you. You have a match, Watson ...? I think I lost somewhere on my train. "

Of course all that time was in the adjoining room, and I had no doubt that he had heard every word. I took the opportunity to exchange a quick glance with him on his cigarette. In spite of a loving, Holmes's eyes were steel. He put his hand on my guide for the cigarette, exhale, and let the first puff of smoke.

"Dr. Watson," said Mrs. Chapman, with barely controlled anger. "I ask for an explanation. What does this clown? He told me he had no news of my brother, and now I discover that her famous friend 'Sherlock Holmes' is none other than him! He wants to explain? "

I was short of words, and so much more than explanations. Holmes crossed his legs, bringing the cigarette to his lips idly.

"My dear lady," he said slowly, lovely. "I find it annoying enough that she persists in her unpleasant misunderstanding after having been advised of the error. But attacking the doctor in a way is far too rude. I have more than half a mind to put her and her kind to the door. "

shadow of doubt passed into the faces of Mr. Chapman, but it lasted only a moment. Mrs. Chapman seemed to gather energies and then I asked, sounding claimed: "She wants to answer, Doctor?".

looked Holmes. Did not give me any indication.

"I'm afraid I can not," I admitted honestly.

"denies that this is the same ad?

Holmes exhaled loudly, with a sigh, but said nothing.

"No."

"Then you all this time has kept my brother, he indulged in his madness and made it ... My God, a freak," said Mrs. Chapman, the vibrant voice indignation. "Not ashamed? Not even a modicum of dignity? He took advantage of my brother William ... ... for, what made you this man? "

" A number of things, "Holmes said, absently rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumbnail. "Last but not least, give me a home and a bed and a study to return to practice my profession. It is difficult to get back in business after a long period abroad. "

" Abroad? "Repeated the woman. "William, you never set foot outside England."

"But she did, is not it?" Said Holmes, sharply. He had not moved, but suddenly he had completely abandoned that air lazy and bored that did not belong.

"I ... What does this mean?"

"It means, my dear lady, that she is my sister more than it is Dr. Watson."

"William!" She knelt beside his chair, taking him his hand in hers. "William, my darling, you're terribly confused. The doctor told us that it was possible, remember? We talked for a long time when you felt better at Christmas. We had warned that such a thing could happen again. What is this madness believe Sherlock Holmes, eh? Not see that it is absurd? I wonder what made you believe this man ... "

" Absurd? "Holmes said again, pulling with his hand from his decision. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. "Grotesque, rather. The situation is extremely ludicrous. I dare say that tends to farce, a bad comedy of errors written by a mediocre writer. I'm not Sherlock Holmes, that is clear, she is my sister because I have no sisters, and neither she nor her husband is called Chapman. The only part of himself is Dr. John Watson, as he also sometimes has other names. "

The woman blanched. "W-William? What do you mean? "

" Isa and Margaret Harding, of Winchester. Wanted for robbery, fraud, kidnapping, circumvention of an incapable, and not the least of a sordid little affair that prostitution might be whether or not an accusation of murder. "He drew from his pocket a bundle of papers held together by a paper clip and threw it on the floor in front of him. There were newspaper clippings. "I know we have the same hobby, madame. I, too, you see, are a lover of old newspapers. They are used to fill my store. I went back to work for a short time and unfortunately it is still quite baked, but luckily I can count on the help of an inspector or two. "

Behind woman, the man who had called Harding Holmes reached into his jacket and pulled out a small revolver from his pocket, opening against my friend.

"Holmes!" I called, getting up in my turn, but Harding pointed his weapon at me.

"Good, doctor," said the criminal. Margaret Harding got up quickly, bringing with her husband. He was livid with rage, his lips contracted into a grimace. You are not the slightest resemblance to the more elegant and understated mouth of my friend, at that time slightly stretched in a sardonic smile.

"She is the mind, this is clear," said the woman. "Sincerely, Madam, I admire. If I had not started working months ago to you, maybe you would have fooled me. Maybe. Of course, the letter would require some minor attention, as well, is it? "

" You're just a poor fool, "hissed Margaret Harding.

"Yes," Holmes admitted, with absolute calm. "I know." He reached under the lapels of his jacket, but followed the shot gun menacing dog Harding. Holmes looked at him with a slight sigh of impatience and ended in peace gesture, pulling out his cigarette.

"So," he said, carefully choosing, "Where were we? Ah yes, the letter. "He closed the container with a metal snap, still talking about the cigarette. He raised just look, back down immediately afterwards. "It can lower the gun, Harding. The Doctor is helpless and I'm not going to attack me. I do not know how to wash my hands afterwards. "

" Breed ... "

" The letter, then. I have here with me. "He put back his hand under his jacket, drawing from a folded sheet. "An admirable example of epistolary prose, give him action. And yet I always recommend to wash their hands when handling certain trinkets. "He pointed the gun. "It threatens to leave incriminating stains."

lifted the sheet, indicating a low point. You could see, crystal clear, a small halo askew, like a fingerprint, which makes the paper translucent.

"Cooking Oil? Furniture polish? Ah, but the grease to polish the weapons have this peculiar smell. On the other hand, is not a crime to keep weapons at home. Most of us do. Do not our women, though. When I see a letter written by a woman so clean-cut, so fine on paper, with writing so elegant, grease-stained arms ... honestly, I can not help but think that there is something strange. On the envelope I would not surprised - the envelopes pass from hand to hand, God only knows how many times before reaching its destination. But the letter?

"It was just a suspicion, but it was worth a check. In all honesty, I think I would have done anyway, but it's always good to have an incentive. So I took the address of the sender and I have booked a visit. The lady - if I pass the exaggeration - may remember a postman with a bad cough that has asked for a glass of water. "

" You! "Growled the woman. "It was you! You just have not wanted to remove the bad habit of crawling behind, eh? "

Holmes looked at her coldly. "I have excellent memory for useful knowledge, and all the rest are unaffected. So when I saw it, I could not quite remember it's already met her, because her face and that of her husband are less than nothing to me. But on the other hand I perfectly remembered having seen her photograph in the newspaper. Oh, it's changed a lot, of course, a different hairstyle, a different color, and makeup is excellent. Almost unrecognizable. But that nose is unmistakable. It was in my store, under the H Harding. "

I was speechless. Holmes's hand, squeezed in a fist over the edge of the armrest, trembling slightly.

"So I did some investigation in neighborhood. It was not too hard to find girls. Finding that it lacked one was even easier. That's the problem with respectable neighborhoods, tend to be much more talkative than those who have something to hide.

"And the rest came by itself. I smelled acidic chemicals in the house - your area, Harding, is not it? Certainly not in the hands of an agent to pledge them. Ex tanner, perhaps? A solid foundation of chemistry useful to the criminal always returns to a good standard. And of course the story of disguise is not something I could have learned alone. Streak behind is not a natural attitude. Someone has to resent
taught
.

Holmes sat up in his chair. Her voice completely gave up the light tone and bored that he had used until then.

"Stop," growled Harding, adjusting your aim.

"Oh, do not shoot me."

"Oh yeah? And why not? "
" You have two good reasons not to. The first is that, despite all the evidence is against you, you have not killed anyone. The second is that this unit is at the door with three or four agents strong, and just waiting for a signal to storm. "
Harding and his wife exchanged glances, then I saw the man's eyes Notes on the window. Holmes also noticed.

"But please, accertatene yourself," he said, pointing behind him.

"If you put into it well you're finished," said Margaret Harding, while her husband went to the window to glance out and threw a terrible curse. "Are you finished well," she repeated, her voice tense. "It's over the free ride! This beautiful life you've had with this poor fool, puff!, You can the dream. You put in and we do everything we say to the cops of the things you did with us. "

"

For you, "Holmes corrected. "Oh, I suppose you have made all sorts of things, not having to go without a name, a purpose, knowing that no one else would give me the only thing I need: to solve problems. Yes, I can imagine the things I did. A gentle soul from long memory in Winchester gave me the exact measurement. But luckily I do not need, because they were made by another person, I do not know and with whom I have nothing to do. We can go together to tell the inspector, your version and mine, and we see those who believe. "

" You're crazy, "said Margaret Harding. "You're sick. People like you should lock them all and throw away the key! "

"Curious," said Holmes, quietly. "I said the same thing to you."

"You are an ingrate. All that we know you taught us! Without us you'd be out on the street! "

" Yes, "said Holmes. "And that is why you see, that will make you a favor, despite the idea disgusts me. We will fulfill the charge of murder. Believe me, no one else will go to the trouble. "He shrugged. "If you know what is best for you, get out the door and follow the inspector without much fuss. But if you prefer you can always groped flight. In this case we hope good luck sincerely. There are agents from here to Holland Street. "
rested his elbow on the arm and hand in his face, as if the energies were finally abandoned. Harding crossed the room to go near his wife. They did not speak, only exchanged a long look. Harding then lowered his gun and slowly put it back inside his jacket.
closed above the door behind him, quietly.

Holmes had not moved from his position. When I touched his shoulder, stood perfectly still as a statue.

"Do not touch me," he whispered.

"Why should not I?" I replied, with all the kindness possible. I shook his hand around the wrist, pulling it gently from her face.

"Because I believe that in a moment transmit breakfast," murmured Holmes, livid.

There was a slight commotion outside the parlor, we heard the voice of Inspector Brooks declared in Harding's arrest. I deduced that Holmes was giving precise directions to Beth, and I took a mental reminder to increase the salary. What the poor girl was forced to endure a few months in that part ...

"The 'just a word and I'll stop too," Holmes whispered, staring somewhere around my shoulder, but never met my eyes.

"Do not be ridiculous," I replied.

"I could understand if not longer tolerate. I swear I'd understand. My God, I can not understand anything else. "

" Then I'm afraid you'll have to get used to extreme stupidity in this. "

" Thou shalt not ... "She looked up suddenly, with an anger that instant died within a second, like a flame without fuel. "You do not know what it means."

"No," I admitted. "But you could tell me."

"I do not think I can be."

"You, incapable of anything?" I kissed his knuckles. "Forgive me if you do not believe so."

At that time we heard footsteps approaching the door and jump shooting in both feet. Holmes had a sickly complexion was pale and frightened to do seemed about to collapse at any moment. Inspector Brooks seemed to notice it right away, and for a moment I feared that he would comment, but he refrained him and I was immensely grateful.

"Well, Mr. Holmes," he said practical. "They are the Harding, no doubt."

"Yes, Inspector, and the sky is blue. It has something to tell me that it is not entirely clear, or should we resign ourselves to continuing this pleasant exchange of obviousness? "

replication, although his usual shade of sarcasm, and cutting off a lot harder than was necessary.

"Why, Holmes," I said placing a hand on his shoulder. I felt him relax, albeit marginally.

"I expect that arises in the police station tomorrow," Brooks said, passing the hat from one hand to another. "To give a complete testimony of what he knows."

"It will be done," Holmes assured. "Anything else?"

"I expect that also tell us why

Harding's were in his house."

"A extraordinary coincidence, "he said. He exhibited an intolerable smile, the smile of a benevolent creator deity as stupid insects you have created. "I do not believe it, Inspector. They believed that a relative had escaped from a mental hospital months ago. "

" Who knows why, "muttered Brooks," I find it less than many other amazing things. "

" This is because, in spite of the category, is a man with the greatest gift possible, that of the imagination. I will not hold it over, Inspector. "

shown the door, however, Brooks straightened his shoulders with a remnant of dignity. "Tomorrow," he repeated. "At ten. This is not a story in the Strand, Mr. Holmes. I want a witness
complete, or as sure God in the slam with his two friends. "
Holmes shut the door behind him, always with that same, ugly smile on the lips, then leaned against it with all its weight, exhaling a long sigh exhausted.

"God help me, it's a nightmare," she murmured, her eyes closed.

"Do you really want them to acquit of murder?"

He opened his eyes. "It's untrue."
"Yes, but it is not the point. "
" What is it? Disgust me. I think the world would be a better place without them. But there are two killers, and if I can prove it I will. "

I took her face in her hands, just touching it. Holmes started to instinctively retreat, but stopped in mid-gesture.

"What do you remember?"

"None. This is the terrible part. Whatever, Watson. No matter what, and I'll never know. "

" You're not a murderess. "

" No? I know I could kill. And anyway, is not the only indignity that I could have done. "

" Do not you're a criminal. "

" Oh, yes, I remember saying that. I remember having believed. "

" You're not a criminal, "I repeated, slowly. "I've been at war, Holmes. I saw how he becomes a man after the army pulled out of the criminal in him. I saw that look. You are a better judge, no doubt, but this time only grant me to tell you that in you there is no such thing. "I looked at it honestly, wanting desperately to believe me. "You would not be here otherwise," I said firmly. "You have my word, Holmes, who would not be here."

"Maybe I'll be there tomorrow."

"This," I said, "will only happen if we'll be together somewhere else."

Holmes leaned his head against the door with a thud and closed her eyes dry. First let alone kiss, her lips tightly against mine, but then I felt his hand crawl through my hair and his mouth to answer.

"What if tomorrow forget everything?" She murmured, her fingers full of my hair and a glimmer of the morning sun in your eyes that faded irises in a silver blind.

"I'll be here to remind you."

"And if you believe it to be someone else? An explorer? An Italian painter? "

"Oh, great. I've never been in Italy, "I replied. "And in ten or fifteen years I'll try to convince you to believe a senior and we will buy a house in Sussex or anywhere else in the country, where you can believe what you want for the after ten or twenty of them."

"What prefer? Even something extremely ridiculous? "

" Absolutely. Do your worst. "

" A veteran in retirement? "

" That I find ridiculous? Thank you. "

" On my person, of course. A pervert who has transferred his unmentionable vices in the countryside? "

"Oh, much better. We are almost farcical. "

" A beekeeper with a bad temper and a knighthood in his desk drawer. "

" Perfect. Perfect. "

At the end we laughed, and even though it was a slightly hysterical laugh neither tried to stop it. The case investigator forgetful was closed, and therefore gives us a lunch Mancini, gallantly insisting both to offer (I won myself, but honestly only because Holmes was exhausted). And that evening we had dinner early and we retired early, moving around each other in circles ever closer, touch and urtandoci in every way more awkward, until I asked Holmes if you prefer to sleep alone, and I told him that I preferred not to sleep at all.

There were no other questions.




+



The interrogation went for long. Since Holmes was trying to exonerate the Harding from a double murder charge, and because he had given to Scotland Yard in two dangerous wanted hunted for years, he was allowed a number of private talks. Holmes bartered his services as an investigator with information about his past, but I get a lot. Whether they would not cooperate, whether they really knew little or nothing, knew only inform the Harding the short period he had spent with them.

Apparently, Holmes had been the planner of the group. When they think of a robbery or anything criminal, Holmes had to deal with the details. He knew the city of London, all the streets and alleys as the palm of his hand, had a good knowledge of the routine of Scotland Yard, he knew the paths of preferential CIT and so on. He never went home, and everything he did when he was left to himself he was reading newspapers. Tons of newspapers. It was his only vice. He spoke very little, and the girls said that gave them the shivers. One of them, who had found beautiful, was rejected in a manner so sudden and violent that we no longer had rejected. As for the scars of the needle, they had never seen him take a drop of any substance. They called him William

not because it was his name, but because they had to even call it in some way, and Holmes had not raised objections. When they had found a year earlier, had no memory, wearing modest clothes and maybe a shilling in his pocket. Others did not.

Holmes returned exhausted from each of those talks, and if I had not lobbied for news is certain that she would never taken the initiative to speak. His mood went worse day by day, and night found him slumped in a chair, sleeve turned over to the arm, seriously intent on fixing the scars point in the crook of his elbow.
I did not want to give the impression that he was spying, because it was so, and certainly I had already heard from the corridor ol'avrebbe done now if I come back. So I continued on my way and went to sit in an armchair. Holmes pulled my sleeve down slowly and continued to smoke thoughtfully.

"I met with Richard Woodley, this morning," I announced.

"Oh, really," he replied, absently.

"He returned to London these days and thinks that will remain at least until Christmas. Carstairs does not offer great attractions, apparently. "

" I have already suggested a drink at a club or another? To Mulberry Street, for example? It is well known. "

" Oh, no, "I replied, chuckling. "The boy knows that I'm not interested. Also, I'm too old. "

" My God, what nonsense, "said Holmes, in a tone of endearment.

"It is nonsense. I spent forty. I'm not too old for adventure escapades and relationships of so much per pound. I need certainty. I need to know that the same face will always be waiting for me when I get home. "

" It sounds like a nightmare, "he said. "How can you tolerate?"

"Married life has its merits. Wait, let me remember why I told you. Ah, yes. Woodley asked me if I thought I would go back to writing. "

" I asked if you thought

to go back to writing? "

" He asked me

to go back to writing. "

" And you, intoxicated by young admirer of your devotion and the not insignificant appeal of his beautiful little face, so you swore? "

" Nothing like that. No, I have no plans for now and I told him. But Woodley felt the need to let me know that Lady Constance was in favor of a little record of the case involving his son. He argues that would feel ... vindicated, in a certain way. "
" The trial of Colonel Moran is not finished yet, and anyway I do not esporrei talking about for some years. "
" That's what I thought, "I agreed. "In a few years. I did not hurry, but ... I also have other notes, for the truth. The case that lawyer of Blackheath and the manufacturer of Norwood, for example. "
" I would call the Blackheath
's lawyer, I hope. "

" I thought
The Norwood Builder
. "

Holmes put his hand to his face, laughing silently. When pulled back, however, was the expression of new thoughts.

"What do you say to Sherlock Holmes? As has emerged from that terrible abyss in Reichenbach? "
" I will say that there never was. It's the truth, after all. And then I will say that he spent three years in some ridiculous place, like Tibet, or - what was it? Marseille? - No, Montpellier, doing research on something equally unlikely, so those who wish may refuse to believe that is the same as Sherlock Holmes and an inch closer to the truth. "
smiled, and Holmes smiled with me more for not feeling sorry for unadulterated fun. I put a hand on his. It was hot.
"I thought ..." he murmured.
"Oh, I hope so."

She gave me a dirty look. "I do not remember ever having tried most abject unhappiness and complete than I do at this time, except for those horrible days when the world came off its tracks."

"My dear ..."

"Yet they are perfectly master of myself, and I no desire to stun me with cocaine or morphine, as I have not had the time. And then, "he raised his left arm, with a nervous gesture," Look at this, and I wonder what I should be miserable in those years. I can not imagine doing something so stupid for the mere pleasure of feeling. "

" But you're not more, "I said, gently.

"No," he admitted. "After this reflection, everything appeared to me strangely scaled." Hint of a smile. "I know you were worried tremendously in recent days."

"It's not your fault."

"I know. But still know that it is past. Melancholy is inertia and inaction not apply to me. "

" I'm happy to hear that. "

" And I have work to do. "He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "The next woman who comes to ordering a detailed report on the infidelity of her husband will put it on the door, I swear."

"You could accept only cases that interest you," I suggested. "You must not keep us both, and I personally do not like expensive gifts."

"What nonsense," he said. "You do not send home patients with chronic uninteresting. I would be a poor professional do not you think? "

I stopped looking at him with curiosity. I did not think I would have never heard him say one thing less to Holmes, and for a moment there I was almost afraid. But then he lifted a corner of his mouth and added in a veiled gently: "Go to bed, Watson. Keeps me from thinking. "

I retired laughing to myself, deriving a perverse satisfaction from the fact that he looked at me with concern, not even imagine the reasons for my happiness.

"A pipe," contrattai the door.

"Three."

"Two. There are thirty pages of my William James. I'll wait. "




+



Thus ends an incredible story of the detective with no memory, not written for the pleasure of the audience but to my memory private to the major points of interest - Holmes would say, the puzzles, I tell you, the exceptional nature of history itself - should not be completely lost when my memory is dim and rust. Even for these restricted pages in the dark of my discreet drawer, however, I had the courage to use the real names of the persons involved, except, of course, for myself. Caution is essential, especially when it has to do with the secrets of others.

On this silent. The task of the prose is carry on the past, and yet the same distance. The prose is an inert thing, and memories, and photography, while the present is alive and knocking at our door at any moment, impossible to reduce it to its suggestions impression while still pervade us. No, I'll stop here, however: the steps of Holmes in September of 1894 slowly ascend the stairs to my dim gas lamp that shines against the page, slight bump to the closed book, which coincides with the creaking covered handle. I will stop here, the wonderful and terrible suffering in the world to be born a second time, and there will be other words.