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Holmes desperately needed a new case. Twenty-three dead Indians. The last nearly so. "I buy, you fly," Holmes told Watson. "How many pounds Sterling in a Euro?" Watson wondered to himself as he took the notes from Holmes and headed to a Paris bottle shop. They were vacationing on the continent and francly were having a hard time staying current with the currency. But Watson secured the case. Ice-cold Budweiser was Holmes' current brew du juor. The famous consulting detective was trying to train himself to think like an American, because he had a meeting with the US Secret Service at midnight at the entrance to the Louve. Holmes loved the Louve. He moaned while Watson sucked his cock under the cafe table, often referring to his companion, in his throes of near-ejaculata, as "Lisa, Lisa, Lisa!" Holmes never bemoaned his luck that Watson had learned to cross-dress from the great American pioneering detective, J. Edgar Hoover. ***** Internationally, the crime fighters had finally cum together to investigate a most singular curiosity, why most detective agencies were mostly full of fags. As Holmes popped the cap on the fresh case of Bud, his bud popped into Watson's mouth in a spasm so loud it almost caused a scene on the Seine. Holmes was at the top of is form, and he was sure glad Watson was a bottom. It was J. Edgar himself who had given Holmes the stimulating insight on how a detective could have such stimulating insights while being given a really stimulating blow job. Watson was not quite as good as Hoover (super-sucker vacuum cleaners were named after him, of course), but Watson was there. ***** As the great sleuth's semen hit the roof of Watson's mouth, the great solution hit Holmes. The two answers were right there between his legs. Castration was the solution! And when I mentioned "two" solutions, I was not making the obvious observation that most men have two balls that should be cast off. I was observing Holmes' great deduction that the implementation of the castration solution could be performed by one with special qualification of profession. Again, the specification: Dr. Watson was there! Watson could sure Suck Cock, but damn, he was also an medical doctor. He was trained and licensed to also be able to Cut Cock! ***** The Secret Service agents were authorized by Washington to perform whatever method Holmes would prescribe. His prescription was the conscription of his loyal friend and damn-good cock-sucker, Dr. John H. Watson. So under the Paris moonlight, and in the courtyard next to I. M. Pei's pyramid, Watson did not descend into the Louve, but his scalpel did descend into 20 American scrotums. Now the Scecret Service agents really had a secret. Being fags, they HAD left their hearts in San Francisco, but now they were saying good-bye to their gonads in France. Refreshingly transformed from fag to eunuch, each agent could finally focus without constant thoughts of fornication, the great distraction. And the world-famous French chefs had a new delicacy. A new Julius Caesar salad, "Gonads in Europa Est." **** So, the great success of the enlightened world is due because of Watson's great sucking of Holmes' essence. Often it took Holmes all night and at least three cock-sucked orgasms ("a three pipe problem" is the polite term he used to use) to make his deduction. This solution in Paris was one of the quickest and most successful of the Holmes-Watson collaborations. Now you know why the good guys will always have the edge, a knife edge so to speak. Because of Holmes' great Castration Deduction, the free world has super-sharp agents -- because they are freed of the torment of testosterone. The bad guys will always, ultimately, fail the test, because the evil nuts, usually, keep their evil nuts. ***** ***** ***** Classy Bitch enjoys talking with and about eunuchs. She thanks eunuch.org for its courage, insight, and foresight on circumsizing more than just foreskin. She says bravo to those brave enough, those with balls enough, to sing "Bye Bye Balls" in soprano. She'll even play the piano.
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