A/N: I know, kinda short and cliffhangey. I seem to be unable to finish anything these days.

I did regret a good many things.

I regretted leaving Holmes for Mary, although I was unsure if I would have acted differently had I been given the chance to do it over.

I regretted not being as involved with my dear friend as I could have been.

And I regretted, most of all, the day I allowed Holmes to retire without me.

The day Holmes had revealed his plan to me, I was entirely taken aback. I knew that, as eccentric as he could be, Holmes would eventually retire from the fast paced life of a consulting detective. His thin frame couldn't take the strain of the chase for that long, and Holmes knew better than to push himself over the edge of his abilities. But I hadn't been prepared for this.

I knew I was aging. I knew that I wasn't the same young man that had agreed to share our modest rooms on Baker Street so many years ago. But age had snuck up upon me. One day, it seemed, I was sitting by the fire, reading a newspaper and expecting either Holmes or Lestrade to come waltzing through the door with a new case at any moment. The next, I was listening to my companion inform me that he was to retire in the country presently, and that he was most grateful for my assistance in so many things over the years.

I took the news quietly. I, too, had retired from medicine only a few years prior, and supposed that it might do me some good to move away from the grimy streets of the smog filled city I'd grown to love.

"Alright. Have you told Mrs. Hudson?" I had asked in response.

"Not yet," came the reply.

"Ah. Where in the country do you suppose you'll go to?"

"Sussex. I've made arrangements already," he paused, "I'm going to keep bees."

"Bees?" I asked in disbelief. I could imagine the great detective doing a great many things in his retirement, but the keeping of bees had never crossed my mind. "Why bees?"

He sighed, turning slightly away from me and shifting his gaze to avert my eyes. "Have you ever looked in a beehive, Watson?" asked Holmes. "The similarities between bees and the citizens of London are strikingly numerous." I saw his eyes shine, the all too familiar thrill of knowledge lighting up his pale visage. "What appears to be untamed chaos to the untrained eye is really a complex organization of the winged insects, each knowing instinctively where to go and what to do at all times. It truly is marvelous, Watson," he continued, looking back up at me. "This city functions very much the same. Have you ever sat upon the window sill and watched the pedestrians below?" His eyes still bright, he stood and gazed down at me expectantly. I hesitantly rose as well, the shock of the news still weighing heavily on my mind, when Holmes grabbed my hand in a hearty double handed shake. "Once again, thank you, my dear friend. You have no idea the immense help you have given me over the years."

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving me to my thoughts.