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Sorry to Knock You Up Watson	By : GalaxyD Category: S through Z > Sherlock Holmes (2009) > Sherlock Holmes (2009) Views: 1035 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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- 1-Sorry to Knock You Up Watson
- 1
Sorry to Knock You up Watson
From the wastebasket of Doctor John H. Watson, MD
It was in the gay spring of 83’ shortly after that adventure that ended with Holmes beating that snake in Miss Stoner’s bedroom at Stoke Moran in Surrey. Despite the hideous fate of the scoundrel behind that escapade, I can’t help experiencing satisfaction when the villain gets it in the end.   But I digress.
Holmes and I had celebrated our victory at Stoke Moran by going on a picnic. We had a gay time but I had a touch of indigestion from swallowing too many wieners. After that we went gambling and after failing to turn the trick we found ourselves up Queer Street. This was early in our careers and I hadn’t established my practice yet so we were desperate to satisfy any demands a client might ask of us.   Indeed we were in danger of being so far up Queer Street that we feared we might never find our way back.
Feeling shagged out from our worries we had a rough time in bed that night. I awoke that morning to find Holmes extending himself into my bedroom apologizing for intruding himself upon me.
“Holmes!” I ejaculated.
“Very sorry to knock you up Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has just knocked me up, after being knocked up herself.”
“It seems that everyone is being knocked up this morning,” I said after a pregnant pause. “Are you going to expose it or will I have to resort to desperate measures to get your tongue working?”
“We have client who desires intercourse with us,” Holmes said. “A Miss Fanny Bottom.”
“I admit I am aroused,” I nodded as I rose.
I admit when I am subject to this arousal I have no keener pleasure than being at Holmes’ back, and soon the two of us were in the sitting room having mutual intercourse with Fanny Bottom. She was a handsome woman and I must confess an attraction to young girls.
“Sorry to molest you gentlemen at this unwholesome hour,” the young woman apologized.
She was shivering and I moved to the fireplace. “Holmes where are the faggots?” I asked when I saw the fuel empty. I had expected bundles of sticks, a lump of coal, or at least a few splintered logs.
“Have no fear Watson,” Holmes chuckled as he sucked on his pipe. “I still have wood. I moved the faggots to the washroom to make room for my experiments. Kindly pull a log out of the toilet will you?”
“I’ve got better things to do than handle your wood,” I said with some annoyance. I entered the toilet anyway for in the short time I had lived with him I learned that when Holmes had his desires it was better to surrender until his obsession reached its climax.
“There’s a white fellow, not niggardly in the slightest,” Holmes smiled kindly in apology. “Hate to pull a boner as the Americans put it. Still a flaming faggot should put us in heat wouldn’t you say?”
“You’re off your nut,” I said shaking my head as I emerged from the toilet with a faggot in my arms. “Why I let you molest me in this fashion is beyond me.   For what perverted reason do I let you use me?”
“How else can you show your love my dear fellow?” Holmes sucked arrogantly on his pipe.
Once the faggot was flaming we turned our attentions on the girl.
“Oh Mister Holmes, I’m desperate!” she ejaculated.
“Calm yourself madam,” Holmes purred. “It is morning yet already I can see that you’re fagged out.”
“Yes, I came straight away on my bicycle!” she gasped.
“That must have been a challenge given your long skirt,” Holmes observed. “Why did you choose that way to come?”
“It’s bisexual,” she assured him. “I do love vigorous exercise.”
“Madam,” Holmes said. “You do like to beat around the bush. Pray don’t force me to pump you thoroughly.”
“My apologies Mister Holmes,” she bowed. “I should know better than to waste time with such a dashing genius as yourself…
“Madam have you come for my services or to make love to me?” Holmes asked sharply.
“I can see where your reputation precedes you,” Fanny Bottom huffed. “Is my sex so offensive that no woman can satisfy you?”
“I don’t need a woman to stimulate me,” Holmes informed her.   “The affairs of women are not necessary in his house. If I desire companionship I have my bosom companion Watson here.” He turned to me. “Watson my dear fellow, what could a woman do for me that you cannot?”
“I cannot conceive, Holmes,” I shrugged, embarrassed at the misogynic misanthropic nature of my queer companion, who sneers at those who make love with their fellow beings.
“Doctor Watson I must confess that you live with a very queer man,” Fanny Bottom stated. “How do you get on with such a man? Surely you must look forward to seeing the back of him.”
“A man who fills the flat with foul smelling fumes, puts holes in the wall and stores faggots in the toilet?” I shrugged. “It’s hard between us at times but we love each other in the end. We’ve had some gay times together, shared a fag or two but I must admit there are times when he can be queer even to me.”
“You take advantage of me Watson,” Holmes scolded. “Have the two of you conspired to abuse me?”
“Forgive us for being two boobies, Mister Holmes,” Fanny Bottom apologized. “The things we throw at your face must seem very obscene.”
“Not at all, madam,” Holmes purred. “I admire a woman who lets it all hang out.”
“Alas, but if I had only come for a more pleasurable purpose,” she sighed melodramatically. “I fear I shall be exposed by my disclosure.”
“Please explain, madam,” Holmes said.
“I am the bride of Richard Bottom, the renowned architect,” said she. “You can see his erections all over the country.”
“You must be proud to be the wife of a man who can create such impressive erections,” I interjected.
“Oh I am Doctor Watson,” her bosom swelled with pride. “I can’t tell you how happy I am with my Dick!   Sweet, sweet Dick always leaves a smile on my face! Alas, if only his poor Fanny wasn’t such a big booby I wouldn’t let him down, and my Dick could stand proud forever!”
“Continue Madam,” Holmes murmured. The lady seemed hesitant to give to Holmes and he was forced to prod her.
“My sweet little Dick had a wonderful scheme for his latest erection,” Fanny Bottom continued. “One night he had invited his friends over: Woody, Rodney, Heinrich, and John Thomas over for a game of craps. He was going to unveil my bust that he was going to adorn his latest erection with.”
“I’m sure they all were interested in seeing your bust,” I commented.
“Indeed it was a marvelous thing to behold,” Fanny sighed. “My Dick gushed and swelled with pride. He was fit to burst! Rod and Heiny were jealous my little Dick, but Woody and John Thomas were behind him!”
“Let me get this straight,” I said as I wrote on a piece of foolscap. “The party was Dick, Woody, Rod, John Thomas, Heiny and Fanny, am I right?”
“And Mister Whiskers, my darling pussy,” Fanny added, “and Rover, Heiny’s dog. He was the only male out of an entire litter of female puppies and was nearly run down by a carriage that day. I suppose that dog was quite fortunate to emerge unscathed. ”
“It sounds like Heiny’s Rover was one lucky son of a bitch,” Holmes drawled while lighting his pipe.
John Watson pulled the sheet from his typewriter and read it. After a snort of horror he tore it up and threw it in the wastebasket. When taken out of context, this appeared to be a tale best left untold.
- 1
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Sorry to Knock You Up Watson