I was having writer's block. So what do I do when I have writer's block, I chat. This was inspired by a conversation I was having with KrisKenshin. There was a mention of the word "buzz", I said "buzz buzz buzz" and the idea of John as a bee and Sherlock as a human popped into my head. She said she'd draw the art if I wrote a fic. Here's what came out of that. Adorable fan art by KrisKenshin Please go check it out: image/37010329304
John buzzed happily through the window. As expected, there was a small jar of honey open on the table and he landed on the rim. Taking a long drink, he looked up and fluttered his wings at the face greeting him across the table.
Sherlock had his arms crossed on the table and was resting his chin on them. John loved Sherlock. Sherlock was his special human. Sherlock fascinated him with his eyes the color of hydrangeas, deep voice that made his little wings hum, and, most importantly, Sherlock understood him. John would visit him every day to talk about the hive and answer the questions Sherlock had about what it was like to be a bee. Sherlock always had the small jar of honey waiting on John. What was so fascinating about Sherlock was that it had only taken him two days to find the apiary where John's hive was. It pleased John immensely that Sherlock's small offering was from his own hive. Bees usually would take what they could get; food wise, away from the hive, but every bee preferred his or her own honey. It was made just for them and they were raised on it from the time they were wee larva.
"How is the hive today?" Sherlock asked.
And John replied, in his own special bee way of dance, wings, and buzzing.
"Ah, I see," said Sherlock, "It's always good when the hive is happy. It makes for better honey."
John buzzed in agreement.
Some days, after he answered Sherlock's questions, John would fly up and sit on his shoulder while Sherlock worked. He enjoyed the warmth of the man who looked like moonlight on the meadow. He would hum his little bee song while Sherlock bent over his microscope and Sherlock would smile. It was a rare, genuine smile that he only had for his bee. He'd reach up and stroke the downy insect and hum along in tune. Today was one of those days. They both hummed in contentment until John had to go.
The next day, John didn't come in through the open window. Sherlock begin to worry. He loved his bee and was concerned that something had happened to him. He ran out of his home without a second thought to proper wardrobe, in just his pyjamas and robe. He made his way to the apiary without a second thought. As many times as he had bought the honey, he never deduced which hive was John's. He walked around asking the humming bees for John. They didn't seem surprised that this particular human could understand them. John must have been talking about him. It made Sherlock grin a tiny grin.
The bees directed him to the field behind the apiary. "John! John!" Sherlock called. Immediately a bee rose out of the field and flew unerringly his way.
John buzzed his question to Sherlock.
"Why am I here? I was worried when you didn't show up," Sherlock answered.
John buzzed and twitched his wings in slight indignation.
"I'm not daft nor an annoying git!" huffed Sherlock, "I just didn't think YOU'D have to work like everyone else."
John hummed and his little eyes lit up with bee laughter. He flew over to Sherlock and snuggled into him.
"Fine. I forgive you this time, but don't ever worry me like that again," Sherlock said as he smiled down at his best friend.