AN-I am so sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter up. I had one personal crisis after another that I was working through, and this sort of fell by the wayside. But I'm back, and I am determined to see this through to the end for anyone still following this story. I promise I already have the rest of the story outlined and ready, and the next chapter is already in the works. Sorry again, and I hope you enjoy.
"You're taking her where?" John asked, not sure if he had heard right. All month, he had listened to Sherlock try to come up with a plan to torture Molly as much as she had tortured him during their last encounter. The detective had spouted out countless ideas nonstop, yet none of them seemed to be evil enough.
"To an apiary, John. Weren't you listening?"
"That's it? You spent an entire month plotting, planning, and scheming different ways to get back at her, and that's what you come up with?"
"We'll be outside in the summer heat wearing bulky, stuffy beekeeping suits surrounded by bees and other insect life. Women hate that sort of thing. Don't they?" Sherlock explained.
"I don't know about Molly, but I certainly wouldn't want to spend an entire afternoon doing that with you," John conceded. "Where is this apiary exactly?"
"It's on the Sussex Downs. I know the owner. I helped him determine who was stealing his honey from the formation in which the bees were flying, and he said that I could come visit any time."
"So you're going to drive all the way out there just to make Molly look at bees?" John cocked an eyebrow at his best friend. This seemed like a pretty absurd plan, but Sherlock was the genius, so perhaps there was something he was missing. "Alright, if that's the best you could come up with. Best of luck to you and your 'trying to torment your soulmate' scheme. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home to wife, whom I love and would never subject to such treatment."
Molly blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes from drying out. She had been on the road with Sherlock for what seemed like an eternity, and Sherlock had refused to put the top of the convertible up.
"Where exactly are we going?" she shouted over the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind.
"You'll see when we get there," he answered, staring straight ahead.
"Can you at least put the top up?" Molly huffed as she tried in vain to pull her hair from her face.
Sherlock didn't even try to hide his satisfied smirk. The fact was he was quite uncomfortable. His lips were chapped, his normally perfectly tousled hair was now a tangled mess, he was sweating so profusely his shirt was now clinging to his back, and no amount of blinking could restore moisture to his severely dried eyes. But it was all worth it as long as Molly was just as uncomfortable. Sherlock was determined to make her suffer as much as possible.
Molly rolled her eyes seeing the pleasure Sherlock was getting out of the situation. She also knew full well that the detective was suffering just as much as she was. Talk about cutting off the nose to spite the face. Such self destructive behavior could not be healthy.
After a while longer spent in silence, Sherlock pulled the car to a stop in front of a quaint, little cottage. While it was obvious that the little house was old, it had been well cared for. It had been freshly painted a soft yellow. The grass in the yard was neatly manicured. There were fresh, brightly colored flowers everywhere. Molly couldn't help but feel warm and welcome. As soon as the exited the car, an older couple came rushing out of the cottage towards them.
"Sherlock! You're finally here. We thought you'd never get here!" the elderly woman exclaimed as she wrapped the detective in a warm hug. She was rather petite and had to pull Sherlock down quite a ways for the hug. Her short auburn hair was streaked with wisps of silver.
"It's good to see you again." The older man clapped Sherlock on the back after he was released from the embrace. His smile was wide and emphasized the lines on his face. He was slightly shorter than Sherlock, and his grey hair was styled in a very Cary Grant-esque manner.
"Dr. Hooper, this is Penny and Alfred Haverford," Sherlock said as he gestured to the couple. "This is Molly Hooper."
"It's so nice to meet you both," Molly greeted them with a warm smile.
"Well come on inside, you two. Sherlock, we've prepared the guest room for you." Penny ushered them into the cottage.
"We won't be needing a room. We're just here for the afternoon," Sherlock interjected. "Do show us to the bees."
With a shrug, Alfred lead the party toward a little shed in the field near where the hives stood. As they made their way there, Penny pointed out the different types of flowers in bloom to Molly. Once there, he began handing out protective gear to everyone.
"Oh, I think I'll just take the hat and veil if that's alright. The gloves can make delicate hand working difficult," Molly explained.
"Of course," Alfred replied, replacing the suit he had offered her back onto the shelf. "I take it you've dealt with bees before?"
"Oh yes. Apiculture was one of my father's great passions. He actually maintained an apiary in Northamptonshire, and he thought me how to care for it."
"Well then, I think you'll really appreciate what you're going to see today."
Hours later found them meandering through field between the hives. It was rather sunny and warm, but Molly didn't mind it in the least. Being out here among the beehives, smelling the sweet fragrance of the flowers, feeling the tickle of the bees crawling on her arm reminded her of her childhood, of the days before she lost the greatest man she ever knew. Tending to these hives made her miss him a little bit less.
"You two certainly chose the perfect time for a visit. This is when the bees make the best honey," Alfred explained, carefully extracting a bit of honey for Molly to taste. "The honey is extra sweet thanks to Penny's gorgeous flowers," he added, beaming at his wife.
"These are Apis mellifera ligustica," Molly observed. "My father kept Apis mellifera mellifers. Everyone told him they were too defensive and prone to brood diseases, but I think that's what made keep at it. He wanted to prove that he could do it."
"Did he have much trouble maintaining them?"
"We did have an incident with parasitic mite syndrome, but we were able to salvage the colony," Molly explained.
"That is impressive. A few of my friends tried their hand at raising German bees, but the whole swarm absconded after a pretty bad foulbrood."
"Well, it wasn't easy, but Dad was pretty determined," Molly replied somewhat wistfully.
Alfred offered a kind smile. "Come, I think you'll really appreciate this," he said, leading her to another part of the field.
Sherlock was taken aback by the exchange he had just witnessed. He hadn't expected Molly to actually enjoy herself. He'd never admit it, but Sherlock was just a tiny bit impressed by Molly's intimate knowledge of a field he himself found very interesting. This was not going according to plan.
"She's quite beautiful," Penny whispered when the pathology was out of earshot.
"I guess her face does have a certain symmetry that others would find pleasing," Sherlock conceded.
"You should be nicer to her. After all, she is your soulmate, and you've barely spoken to her."
"Why should I be? She and I have an agreement to see each other once a month for the next four month. Nowhere in that arrangement does it state that I must be 'nice' to her."
"Oh Sherlock, you may not realize I yet, but you and Molly share something special. It may take you a while, but you'll see."
At that moment, they were interrupted by the sound of Molly's laughter. Looking up, Sherlock saw Molly, her head thrown back laughing brightly at something Alfred had said or done. The sun framed her in a way that made her glow in a way that gave Sherlock pause. On her face was a look of sheer joy, not a bit of the contempt that she usually wore when she was around him. She was soft and bright and happy, all things he had never associated with her. Sherlock shook himself from his reverie, reminding himself of their agreement. He walked over to where the rest of the party had gathered.
"Well, we should be leaving now," Sherlock annouced.
"But we've only just gotten here," Molly protested.
"We've actually been here for four hours and 28 minutes," he informed her. "It's getting late. We should be on our way."
"At least stay for a spot of tea," Alfred insisted.
"Oh please, Sherlock. We bought your favorite biscuits for today," Penny chimed in.
With a resigned sigh, Sherlock nodded in agreement and motioned for the older couple to lead the way. Soon, they were all settled around a little table just outside the cottage. From their vantage point, they could see the entire field.
"It's really beautiful out here," Molly marveled taking in a deep breath of fresh air. "The sky is so clear and the flowers smell divine and the air is so crisp."
Sherlock huffed, staring his phone. "You don't get any service out here."
"That's why we moved out here. I used to come out here all the time when I was a little girl. After we retired, I knew this was where we should settle down," Penny explained. She casted a sweeping gaze over the field, a look of contentment gracing her face.
"She practically dragged me our here and forced me to become a beekeeper," Alfred joked. "But honestly, I don't care what I do; as long as Penny is here with me, I'll be the happiest man on Earth."
The look on his face told Molly that he was being sincere. He looked at Penny as though his whole world rested with her, as though there was no one else on Earth that he would rather spend the rest of his life with. She could tell that Penny felt the same way. Molly knew this was something she and Sherlock would never share, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt.
"That's so sweet," Molly sighed. "How long have you two been together?"
"Going on 52 years," the older man replied. "It sounds like a long while, but, if you're with the right person, time just flies by, and you realize you'll never have enough time."
"Speaking of time, I think we've taken up enough of yours. Molly and I really should get going," Sherlock announced. He stood and stared expectantly at Molly.
"He's right. It's getting dark, and we have a bit of a drive ahead of us," Molly agreed, rising to stand with Sherlock.
"Oh, alright. I suppose it is getting late," Penny conceded.
The group slowly made their way to Sherlock's parked car. Sherlock immediately climbed in, while Molly stayed to exchange final goodbye hugs.
"You have to promise to come visit again soon," Penny cooed.
"I'll certainly try my best," Molly promised.
"It was a pleasure working with you, Molly," Alfred added, helping the pathologist into the car.
"Likewise. I do hope we can do this again," she replied with a smile.
Sherlock huffed impatiently. "Come, Molly. I really should be getting back to all my neglected work," he called from the driver's seat.
Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she gave them one last wave and shut the door. Sherlock hurriedly turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. On the third attempt, the engine let out a mangled whine then died. The detective let out a defeated sigh.
"It would appear as though we will be here a while longer."