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Summary
Holmes stood in the corner with his back to me, twisting this way and that in front of his dressing mirror. He had removed the outer layers of his costume, and the elaborate wig, paring himself down to corset, combinations, and stockings. He was a vision in white lace and whalebone. His lips were as rose petals, his eyes lined with kohl, and when his reflection smiled at me I felt my heart stutter. “I was wondering if you might help me out of this contraption, my boy.”