To Bee or Not to Bee
...
He might as well do it today, he decided.
But as soon as he thought it, he scowled. His sitting room was a mess of old case papers, notebooks and all sorts of papers and books lying around – crammed under the couch, obscuring the carpet from the human eye, and bursting off bookshelves.
He, the world's greatest detective and bee keeper, was going to attempt to tidy up his living quarters. But was it possible?
Mrs Hudson, before her death, had often said cleaning his rooms was impossible, and she swore to Mr Holmes she had lost several dusters amongst the mess he had. They had both been glad that Doctor Watson was allergic to feathers.
Speaking of Watson, Holmes missed his friend sorely. They had not seen each other very much over winter- save for Christmas. Holmes had been bitterly disappointed when his dearest companion could not make it to Sussex for his birthday, but he did send a kind message, and a promise to visit as soon as he could in the spring.
"How would Mrs Hudson handle this mess?" He asked himself. "Ah, yes- she would probably threaten to charge me for losing the dusters unless they were recovered, and also she would sell my books and burn my papers for the sake of seeing an inch of carpet."
Suddenly he heard a knock on the door. Groaning, with both relief and foreboding, he shuffled to the door, walking carefully so as to avoid his papers. He hoped his neighbours weren't looking for honey from him, as he hadn't seen his bees yet, but they were due out any day now.
But the face was a lot more familiar than that.
A broad shouldered man with greying hair and a wrinkled face was at the door. His moustache dropped a little, but it was still recognised. He had the widest smile Holmes had ever seen from him in his lifetime and he instantly felt his heart soar.
"Watson." He breathed.
...
The other man just laughed.
"Come on old man, surely you didn't miss me that much!" He exclaimed jovially.
"Of course I missed you, my dear Watson! We haven't seen each other since Christmas, and I've been lonely- err, I mean, alone afterwards." The former consulting detective told him.
Watson pulled him in for a warm embrace.
"I did miss you too, old friend. I'm sorry I couldn't come and see you on your birthday."
"Well, at least the sitting room would have been in better condition for guests, my dear boy. Do excuse the mess."
The retired army doctor looked at his friend, shaking his head.
"You never change, do you?" He asked wryly.
"Only in appearance and age," Holmes replied dismissively. "I see you have been riding horses in your considerably advanced years."
"How the deuce did you know?" Watson inquired.
"Well, the inside of your trousers have black polish on them, presumably from a new saddle, and you have the imprint of horse's reins on your fingers. You have a patch of oil on the left breast of your shirt, so your car has obviously broken down- therefore, the reason why you had travelled by horse."
"That's astounding, old boy!" Watson marvelled. "You never cease to amaze me."
"It's elementary, my dear Watson." Holmes smiled. "May I offer you some tea? We could have it out in my back garden, if you like."
...
Watson agreed, and so they prepared tea and sat themselves outside. It was a beautiful and warm day, and the birds sang sweetly, accompanying the conversation between the two old men.
"I do apologise for turning up unexpectedly Holmes. I was meant to send you a letter to let you know I was arriving, but I got distracted and forgot to post it."
"It is no matter, my dear Watson." Holmes replied dismissively. "It is only a letter about a visit of leisure – not a matter of life and death."
"I'm glad of that." The doctor replied.
"Besides, you did surprise me today, my dear fellow. I thought it would be my neighbours wanting some honey from my hives."
"Ah. I see your bees haven't emerged from their hives yet."
"They are meant to come out around now." The ex- consulting detective replied. "I have missed my bees, Watson. They do provide company for me when I feel lonely."
Watson put his teacup down, reached across the table carefully, and patted his friend on the shoulder kindly.
"They'll come." He said reassuringly. "I may not as much about bees as you do, but I'm sure they'll come out again soon."
Holmes said nothing, but he gave his companion a small genuine smile.
"You are right, Watson. I am just not a patient fellow."
For a while, they didn't say anything. They just drank their tea admired the garden, and listened to the birds singing.
Just then, they heard a buzzing sound. It was low and melodic, and Holmes' ears pricked up.
"Did you hear that, Holmes?" Watson asked.
"Watson, look at your saucer."
A surprised Watson did, and he was astonished.
A large bee was crawling on the doctor's saucer. It was slow moving, and it moved with an elegance of its own.
"That's a queen bee, Watson." Holmes said, in a quiet voice which betrayed excitement. "She is called Vezir. I named her after the Turkish word for queen."
"Fascinating," Watson murmured. "Any reason why?"
"Oh yes. You see, on my travels round Europe, I met a man who found that his wife had suddenly gone mad for no satisfactory reason. She thought she had killed a queen in disguise..."
Slowly, one by one, the little bees from Holmes' hives emerged, and they began their production once more, whilst the two friends of old talked about their past years...
...
A/N: This is just a quick oneshot I wrote up. I found the original idea in a notebook, so here it is now! I hope Watson and Holmes were in character. Please review if you liked!