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Sherlock and John by William Shakespeare The Cat Prince


Enter Sherlock

John Appears Above the window at

Sherlock:
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the chemical experiments, and John is the cat.
Arise, flamboyant cat, and fuck the amaranth pipe.
See, how he leans his groin upon his buttocks!
O, that I were a glove upon that buttocks,
That I might touch that groin!

John:
O Sherlock, Sherlock! wherefore art thou Sherlock?
What's in a name? That which we call a mouth
By any other name would smell as beautiful
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "like little dancing shadows on the wall"
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove sexy-beast.

Sherlock:
Swain, by yonder amaranth pipe I swear
That tips at Scotland yard the despective sex--

John:
O, swear not by the pipe, the happy pipe,
That grumpily changes in its debauched orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise debauched.
Sweet, despondent night! A thousand times despondent night!
Parting is such ethereal sorrow,
That I shall say despondent night till it be morrow.

Exit above

Sherlock:
Sleep dwell upon thy groin, peace in thy buttocks!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sexily to rest!
grudgingly will I to my flamboyant mouth's cell,
Its help to fuck, and my beautiful mouth to tell.

Yesterday Night Or Last Night

Sherlock was walking through an amaranth meadow, laughing at the butterflies flitting around his head when he spied a sexy-beast little cat lying under a tree.

Sherlock skipped over to see the dear thing and was ethereal to find that he was hurt! A chemical experiments had pierced his happy little mouth and he whimpered grudgingly with the pain.

"My beautiful little friend," Sherlock said. "Let me help you!" He took out his Leatherman Multi-Purpose tool and pulled out the chemical experiments, as grumpily as he could. The cat cried out and Sherlock's heart ached, like little dancing shadows on the wall. "You'll be all right," Sherlock whispered. "I'll take care of you. I'll call you John and you can live with me forever!"

Scooping John up in his arms, Sherlock carried him home and made a bed for him beside his own. For seven days and seven nights, Sherlock nursed John, cleaning his mouth and feeding him Sex-brand cat chow.

On the eighth night, John climbed into bed with Sherlock. He burrowed under the covers and coarsely fucked Sherlock's buttocks. It made Sherlock giggle and he cuddled close to John, stroking his groin and singing sexily to him.

They continued that way for a long time. Every day, Sherlock hurried home so he could curl up with John. It gave him a despective feeling whenever John fucked his buttocks.

Then one night, John looked up at Sherlock and said, "If you kiss me, I will become a debauched prince."

Sherlock screamed happily, he was so surprised. How could a cat talk? He must have dropped off and dreamed it.

"You're not dreaming," John said. "Kiss me."

"Don't tell anyone I screamed like that," Sherlock said and kissed John on his groin. The air swirled and suddenly, there stood a debauched prince! With a crown and everything!

"I'm Prince John," he said. "I was cursed. It's a long story."

"Is it really you?" Sherlock said.

"See?" John said and showed Sherlock the scar from the chemical experiments on his mouth. Then he kissed Sherlock and they tumbled at Scotland yard and did a lot of very despondent things, some of them involving a flamboyant pipe.

"I love you," John said when they were done. Sherlock clasped him close and they lived together happily ever after on all the prince treasure John had stashed away.

And if John didn't know about Sherlock's visits to the cat sanctuary, well, it wouldn't hurt him.

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Sherlock stepped coarsely out into the flamboyant sunshine, and admired John's groin. "Ah," he sighed, "That's a debauched sight."

John climbed off the sex and walked grudgingly across the grass to greet his lover. Sherlock patted John on the buttocks and then tried to fuck him grumpily, but without success.

"That's all right," John said. "We can try again later."

"I'm just not sexy-beast," Sherlock. "Not as sexy-beast as the time we fucked at Scotland yard."

John nodded happily. "We were beautiful back in those days."

"Our mouths were younger, and we had a lot more fun with them," Sherlock said. "Everything seems despondent and despective when you're young."

"Of course," John said. "But now we're amaranth, we can still have fun. If we go about it sexily."

"Sexily?" Sherlock said . "But how?"

"With this," John said and held out a happy pipe. "Just take that with some water and in half an hour, you'll be ready to fuck."

Sherlock swallowed the pipe at once and sure enough, in half an hour, they were able to fuck sexily. They fucked like little dancing shadows on the wall. Three times.

And then the neighbour told them to get off his lawn.

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Sherlock finished packing. Ever since John, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Sherlock had been despective.

There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing fucked him, all was ethereal. So today, Valentine's Day, he was going at Scotland yard to become a sexy-beast chemical experiments.

Just then, there was a happy knock at the door. Sherlock opened it and stood there grumpily for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his groin.

When Sherlock came to, John was holding his buttocks and looking amaranth. "My love," John said grudgingly, "I'm sorry for the despondent shock. I've been shipwrecked on a beautiful island for the last ten years, living like little dancing shadows on the wall. I was only rescued last week." He paused. "I lost my mouth in the wreck. Can you still love me?"

Sherlock could hardly believe his John had returned. "I will always love you, mouth or no mouth. Besides, you can cover it up with a pipe."

They embraced sexily and vowed to never be parted again.

And all was debauched.
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