Under Holmes' instructions I handed Miss Torrington over to the care of Mrs Hudson immediately on arrival at 221b Baker Street and she was helped upstairs by our faithful housekeeper. Mrs Hudson's disdainful look at my trousers instructed me that I needed to go to my room and change. Holmes told me to hurry up with a tone of despair and told me to call into his room before returning to the sitting room to check that Miss Torrington was being cared for adequately.
Having quickly changed trousers (and sponging off my leg) I came back downstairs and went into my friend's room. Unprepared for what to expect I was shocked to be confronted with the sight of Miss Torrington lying naked on a table in the centre of the room, her opened legs towards me, her lower legs hanging from the knees over the edge. Her pierced labia were vulgarly displayed and as my gaze followed the delicate but cruel chains up to the bars through her nipples I noticed for the first time that her face was covered by a thick silk veil. Mrs Hudson was stood at her shoulder, holding her hand and stroking the back of it while whispering soothing words to the frightened young woman.
'You Doctor Watson?'
I was addressed in a rough voice that was trying to appear cultured and I looked to the side of the curtain darkened room to see the vile piercer that my friend and I had encountered in the back room of the hideous back alley den the night before.
'That I am' I replied with frosty detachment.
'The gen'lman said I was to wait upon your arrival to commence the . . . uh . . . proceeja.'
I signalled him to start with a contemptuous wave and he retrieved some tools from a decidedly second-hand looking doctor's bag and moved over to the table. He started by clipping the chain from Miss Torrington's right nipple. She gasped as it pulled her breast.
'Blast it man, be careful. Have some respect.' I stormed.
'Beggin' yer pardon sir I'm sure.' He replied but his lascivious sneer told me he was less than sorry.
He reached over and snipped the other chain no more carefully and Miss Torrington gasped again and I detected some relief in the gasp as, for the first time since her ordeal began, her nipples were no longer connected to her labia. While she had been lying down the chains had been held taut and her breasts pulled slightly. Now free they sat naturally and I was mesmerised for a second by their youthful and beautiful plump curves. Miss Torrington was bewitching in her perfect beauty and it was this enchantment that caused me to neglect my duty and miss that the piercer kept hold of the chains in his hand as he moved to the end of the table to clip the other ends and as he did so he kept them taut and tugged them gently. It wasn't until I noticed Miss Torrington arch her back off the table and moan that I was snapped out of my reverie.
'Doctor Watson! You are worse than useless!'
Mrs Hudson had left Miss Torrington's shoulder and was stood next to me.
'Go and help Mr Holmes in the sitting room and leave this odious little man to me. And you,' she jabbed her finger at the piercer, 'any more antics from you and you will have me to answer to, and I've been looking after these two gentleman for long enough to know how to deal with the likes of you. Now finish what you are doing quickly and carefully.'
Chastened, I nodded agreement to the now fearsome looking Mrs Hudson and left the room to join Holmes in the sitting room. As I entered he was standing over a gentleman in expensive but shabby clothing who was filling in a cheque with a tanned and shaking hand.
'And be sure to sign it!' said my friend, his commanding voice tinged with barely suppressed anger.
The man did so then handed the cheque to my friend who examined it then folded it once and placed it into the pocket of his waistcoat. The man sat at the table looked up at Holmes' with trepidation, like a cowed dog awaiting his next command.
'Now, leave and return to Arabia by the very next boat. I will know if you do not. I suggest you stay there and only communicate by letter. It is only my concern for Lady Warburton's honour that I have not handed you to Scotland Yard. If you are not out of Baker Street in the next two minutes I may change my mind . . . or even shoot you where you sit!'
The man sat dumbfounded at the last remarks, delivered quietly but with unimaginable menace.
'GO!'