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Valentine's Day massage turns erotic.

"Well Mister Holmes it appears you have been seen through the artist's deception to the room beyond."

"What is it Vilis?"

"Why it is the Kodesh Hakodashim, the Holy of Holies, the Inner Room of Solomans Temple. That is where the Israelites God lives, behind the curtain."

Holmes looked hard at Vilis. Solomans Temple was something he had often heard mentioned in the days of his childhood.

"Your Father himself had great knowledge about the temple and its mysteries, as have all your antecedents before you. You will come to have answers to all your questions in time, but now it is important that your rehabilitation proceeds directly."

Vilis stepped to blue and white marble sideboard that took up much of the wall to Holmes' right and reaching into a nook withdrew a silver hand bell. Having rung three peels He opened a drawer and moved to stand by the bath steps carrying two large white, very absorbent looking toweling sheets.

"Your attendants will be here shortly. Please step out of the bath at your leisure and take ease upon the marble massage table. I will leave these towels here on the steps for your comfort. Please feel free to use anything you need or as your pleasure demands."

Stooping just long enough to place the sheets upon the steps Vilis again backed a few steps before with his usual polite bow turned and left. Holmes felt slightly uneasy, he was full of questions now and had the strongest suspicion that it would be considered very improper to press for the answers he sought to early.

"Patience Sherlock, patience. How often must you be told? Be patient."

The remark was made to the ceiling and sure enough the response came back with due vibrato.

Rising to his feet he shakily mounted the steps formed into the baths base and climbed out. He caught sight of his reflection in a mirror. Sure enough he was bright pink from toe to neck.

"Look at the fresh channel lobster."

Chuckling gleefully Holmes wrapped the warm toweling sheets around his slim but muscled frame and padded the few steps to the marble slab. Laying one sheet across the chilled surface he stretched face down along its length and pulled the other sheet across what would have been his otherwise exposed nakedness. The temperature in the room seemed to remain a fairly constant seventy degrees or so and did not accumulate any of the anticipated condensation making it very comfortable and just right for rest. Reaching down he managed to stretch to a small pillow by the tables pedestal legs and placing it between the right side of his face and the hardness of the marble closed his eyes.

Holmes stirred as the towel covering his back was folded back carefully to the waist. He felt the smooth oily touch of the masseurs hands begin to gently knead his shoulders and sighed happily. The digits worked deep into the aching muscles so recently relaxed by the heat of the bath and Holmes felt the tension of the last few days begin to melt away. He had learned from past experience that often the most skilled masseur was also the most physically unappealing. Once he had been perfectly rubbed down by a soul whom could only be described as a wizened and hunch backed dwarf. Holmes took great care not to judge by appearance or physical deformity but sometimes the fact of not knowing made that ethic simpler. The hands were perfect, both in knowledge and pressure, the appearance attached from the wrist up was at this moment totally irrelevant.

"Some pomegranate juice Sir?"

The voice was male, youngish, the English stilted with a heavy accent. Holmes rolled his eyes up as far as possible but was unable to see who addressed him.

"Please if that is possible."

"For you all things are possible Sir."

The sentence ended with slight snigger and Holmes felt a straw pushed against his mouth.

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