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 The Framing of Dorian Gray

Barry Lowe

Classic Mystery

A Bramwell Holmes Mystery: Book 1

On the outside he was pretty as a picture, but on the inside...

Sherlock Holmes is called in on one of his most personal cases ever when his young nephew, Bramwell, disappears. Has he been kidnapped by his own father and forced to marry against his nature or is something more sinister afoot? In his search for answers Holmes and Watson will cross swords with the angelically beautiful Dorian Gray and be forced among degenerates and rapists at Soho’s notorious Pandemonium Club. But the truth is more evil than anyone could have suspected.

eBook Cover Price: 0.99

Length: 11400 words

Gay Mystery Group / Orgy / Ménage

Heat rating: 4


The number we were looking for was on the third floor, tucked at the end of a shabby corridor most of whose gaslights had been sealed thrusting the landing into a soupy gloom. Holmes, whose eyesight has always been razor sharp, found the number he was seeking and rapped sharply at the door with his cane. A languid voice, raised barely loudly enough to be heard even in the quiet recesses of the creaking old establishment, called “Come in.”

We entered a room that had all the outward appearance of a Middle Eastern harem decorated as it was with swathes of diaphanous fabric that hung from the ceiling in huge swirls, gathered like giant curtains or else floating limpid-like to a floor liberally littered with a number of outsize cushions. Save for the pictures that adorned the walls, that was the total decoration.

Pushing aside the tulle drapes to find the issuer of the invitation to enter, Holmes almost stepped on a young lad dressed only in harem pants, transparent enough that his manhood could be easily seen, but who seemed to be unconscious.

“Just push poor Toby to one side,” the languid voice instructed. “Nothing will wake him after he’s been kissed by the green fairy.”

Holmes did as instructed with his boot and continued into the room. I quickly examined the comely young lad to discover he was merely sleeping off a drink, probably absinthe. I positioned him more comfortably and by the time I had caught up to Holmes he was seated an effete young man, also dressed in harem pants, again diaphanous enough to reveal his masculinity, who was posing lethargically while sucking on a narghile.

The young man offered the flexible stem to Holmes who took it, drawing the smoke into his lungs as the contraption bubbled, before handing it to me. He cast me a look which brooked no argument. I inhaled the bare minimum I believed I could get away with to establish my bona fides, for that was what I believed Holmes was doing.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” the languid youth greeted us. “What is your pleasure?”

“Bramwell Petherbridge,” Holmes said.

The languid youth examined us more closely, then lay back among the pillows. “Ah, a splendid choice, but I hate to disappoint. He is unavailable.” He looked about as if he were about to impart a major secret. “Just a word of advice, he has taken Holmes as his family name. He wishes to be addressed thus.”

“Because of his admiration for his uncle or to irritate his father?” Holmes asked.

“A little of both, I would hazard.”

I felt something crawling on the back of my neck. I brushed at it to dislodge it from my person only to have my hand gripped by another. I half turned to be confronted by a smiling Toby attempting to kiss me. I moved my head quickly to one side and Toby fell face down, unconscious into my lap.

“Pay him no heed, although he does admire older gentlemen such as yourself and there’s no finer sodomite in all of London than young Toby. He has earned and spent a fortune from the gentlemen that use his arse for their pleasure.”

“On the other hand, Bramwell, favors rough trade. Working class lads, soldiers, sailors, that sort of thing, so I don’t think you gentlemen would have much of a chance there.”

“You mean he’s not for sale?” Holmes asked. I could see he dreaded the answer.

“Good lord, no. He’s not like those post office boys or members of the Horse Guard. He does it for pleasure.”

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