[Edited Version] "We only read erotica," Fiona said with a straight face. "Come again?" I asked, clutching my copy of Jane Eyre to my chest. I suddenly felt like a girl who'd come to a fancy-dress party dressed as herself. "Oh, come on, Janelle," Fiona smiled, pulling my hand and leading me into the room. The light in the library was dimmed to a dull glow, and then I heard a man's voice reading: "I entered her from behind, squeezing the taut skin of her buttocks and driving myself even deeper, until..." Somewhere in the dark, I heard moans of pleasure and the unmistakable yowl of a climax... [Cover by @headfullofstars]

Sherlock Holmes always keeps his cool. Always. He's like a machine, never showing any emotion, and completely in control. So when he bursts through the door in tears, clutching a bloodstained shirt, something has got to be very wrong indeed. Hedgehogs, hysterics, and a highly-strung detective. What could make John Watson's day any better?

When a certain madman with lots of power slips some special medicine into the tea of Sherlock, John, and Mycroft, strange things begin to happen.