That woman

This story was written for the "About Love" contest, the rules of which required staying within 999 words. The title was included in the count. This text contains 999 words. Enjoy your reading.

That Woman.

Based on the series "Sherlock".

The famous detective Sherlock Holmes was murdering a cat. At least, it wasn't violin playing, but a chaotic scraping of the bow across the strings. Dr. John Watson, the detective's best friend, looked up from his laptop.

— Sherlock, please, stop.

— I'm thinking, John, — Holmes dismissed him.

— You're not thinking, you're torturing the damn violin! And in general, your behavior is disgusting. To break a girl's heart,

from whom you managed to extract a confession of love!

— Twice, — the detective clarified.

— What?

— Broke it twice. You're right, John. I'm a damn egoist, — Holmes ended this nightmare and, putting the instrument aside, returned to his armchair by the fireplace.

— No, you're not…

Watson didn't finish, because he was interrupted by a sound imitating a woman's moan.

— What?! Again? — Watson stared in bewilderment at Holmes's mobile phone.

It was the sound notification for an SMS, once set by a woman, Irene Adler, whom Holmes never called by name.

— Drop it, John. She texts me constantly. It doesn't mean anything.

— Oh yes! Of course. You're a machine! Even a DOMINATRIX is in love with you! Oh, if only I could get Mary back!

— She's dead, John. Don't delude yourself. Although…

Holmes read the message in front of Watson for the first time. And immediately answered his friend's silent question:

— Usually she doesn't stop at one. She sends and sends. But this time… See for yourself.

Watson took the phone and read the text:

— "It's a wonderful day today, isn't it, Mr. Holmes? And that's why I'm standing at your door. Oh my God! Sherlock, she's here!"

— Curious, isn't it? By the way, what holiday is it?

Giving the detective a reproachful look, Watson answered:

— Valentine's Day.

— ?

— And? It's the day of all lovers!

— Is that so? Didn't know such a holiday existed.

— I can't take it anymore, — poor Watson jumped to his feet.

There was a coded knock on the room door. The men said in unison:

— Come in, Mrs. Hudson!

The head of their landlady appeared in the doorway.

— Boys, I'm sorry, but I think there's a very distinguished and beautiful young lady standing outside our house.

— The Dominatrix, — Holmes said calmly, though Watson didn't miss the gleam that appeared in the detective's eyes.

— Her? — Mrs. Hudson was amazed.

— A woman who prefers to dominate in sex, — Holmes explained.

— Do you really think, Mr. Know-it-all, that I don't know what a dominatrix is? I asked if it's really her?

— Don't pay attention, Mrs. Hudson, — Watson tried to smooth things over, — and finally let her in.

Mrs. Hudson left, snorting in farewell.

— And he still turns up his nose. What could be better — a dominatrix and the great detective, — a remark came from the hallway.

— See! Even Mrs. Hudson thinks so. I'm leaving, Sherlock. I'll leave you alone.

— Why do you need to leave, John? — asked Holmes, but Watson read a completely different question in his eyes.

— Yes, for a long time.

— What "for a long time"? — Holmes didn't understand.

— You wanted to ask "for how long am I planning to leave"? I answer — for a long time.

— But how… Ah, dear John. I shouldn't tease you sometimes.

Putting on his jacket, Watson opened the door and was about to leave, but bumped into her. The scent of expensive perfume, or rather, the scent of an expensive woman, seemed to knock him out. Their eyes met.

— Oh, Dr. Watson! How are you? I heard… Well, never mind. Is he there?

— Yes, Miss Adler, — at the sight of this woman, Watson always got a lump in his throat.

— You are mistaken, Doctor. Mrs. Norton. Hasn't Mr. Holmes told you anything? Though, that's so like him.

Passing by the stunned doctor, the woman entered the room and slammed the door behind her.

— To what do I owe the pleasure? — Holmes immediately rose from his armchair at the sight of the dominatrix.

The woman was dressed in a long man's coat, buttoned up all the way, under which no clothing was discernible at all. On her beautiful, shapely legs were gorgeous high-heeled shoes, thanks to which they were practically the same height.

— It's surprising that your friend doesn't know that you recently became a witness at our wedding, my husband's and mine.

— There's nothing surprising about that. Something else is far more interesting.

— Such as?

— Why you're not wearing any clothes.

— I am wearing clothes.

— Really?

The woman smiled, looking into the piercing eyes of the consulting detective.

— My husband is a lawyer and a very respected man. He's far from stupid. But my God, compared to you… How did you know?

— The cold. Being in a warm house and in warm weather, you're buttoned up…

— Enough. Or I'll have a premature orgasm. I came on business.

— What business?

— Today is a holiday.

— So what?

— I want to do something. I want to confess.

— To what? — Holmes gestured towards the client chair.

— To my feelings, — the woman ignored the invitation.

— What does that have to do with me? — Holmes put his hands behind his back.

— You are my feelings, — the woman came right up to Holmes.

— Mrs… Norton. You are a married woman.

— And that should stop me?

— I told John, a woman is an unpredictable thing.

— Mmm, how sexy, — the dominatrix bit her lower lip, painted with bright scarlet lipstick. — A woman is a thing.

— In your line of work, — Holmes tensed.

A few inches separated them.

— Back then, at my place. If it weren't for that damn phone, would you have fucked me?

Holmes swallowed.

— I prefer to abstain…

— Oh, Sherlock! You are the password to my heart! You are the only man I want! And the one to whom a dominatrix wants to submit!

The coat fell to her feet. The perfect naked body of a femme fatale. Velvet skin seemed to magnetically attract. Hair, curled into black locks, cascaded over shapely shoulders, intoxicating with a magical scent.

— Battle attire. I'm flying away tomorrow, Sherlock. To…

— Switzerland. I found out, — Holmes answered hoarsely.

He stood as if hypnotized. This woman drove him crazy. And no matter how far he pushed thoughts of her away, she still surfaced before his eyes. Every day since their first meeting.

— And you, Sherlock, won't see me again. Ever. I beg you, take me! Please.

This woman pressed her lips to the detective's. And… Holmes was overwhelmed by feelings. His arms embraced the perfect waist and responded with a kiss full of real passion.

Holmes woke up. And immediately heard a woman's sigh. The text read:

— "Goodbye, Mr. Holmes. God knows, we are not meant to be together. Know that with you, I lost my virginity for the first time. Spiritually. You fucked me morally. But I deprived you physically. I am the only one who managed to subdue you. Yours forever…".

by Alex Almazov