The Lure: "Do You Have What It Takes?" He prowled the club like a big jungle cat, reeking of pheromones and sex appeal. Every woman and most of the men watching wanted him. Too bad he was already taken but of course they wouldn't know that. Not unless they could read the runes on his dog tags, which was extremely unlikely as few living souls spoke Asphodelian and even fewer had ever seen it written. Except for his beloved, whose native tongue it was. Yet another precious secret of the famous Consulting Mage that none but Watson would ever know. Speak of a secret, speak of the Devil. In this case, the blackmailer who was pressuring Lady Augusta Milverton's grandson, William Charles, into betraying his country by demanding state secrets as payment for silence about a most unsuitable liaison. The frightened young man had gone not to the police, who were useless in these matters, but to Baker Street pleading for assistance. Which he promptly got; few villains were more despised by Holmes than a blackmailer unless one counted the latest pretender to the title of Dark Lord of Crime now that Moriarty Senior was dead. Fortunately for the cause of Justice, this particular scoundrel had a taste for exotic dancers who performed in military costume. What better lure to reel him in with, Watson had argued, than the genuine article? It was well known that Her Majesty's Royal Commandos, even those who came with medical degrees and other non-standard parts, always got their man. So he strutted across the dance floor as if he were the star attraction instead of a last-minute substitute. Licked his lips before giving the fat, balding middle-aged man in the far corner a saucy little wink then tugged suggestively at his outfit. The pale piggy eyes of the blackmailer smoldered with lust. No doubt he was anticipating more. A lap dance that ended with the Doctor clad only in his combat boots. Maybe even a private performance in one of the rooms upstairs before the night was over. Right. He had about as much chance of that as Irene Adler becoming the next Catholic Pope. Sherlock Holmes was nothing if not thorough in both his methods and his magic. And ever since the Moriarty mess, absolutely fanatic about the safety of his Consort. So that G-string John was wearing? The one he kept teasing his audience and his drooling prey with? Had more protection spells on it than the Yanks did on bloody Fort Knox! ******* Rendered in Poser 10. Minor post work (contrast, text & border) in Photoshop CS2.