Kiss Seven (Time: Next day; 2 pm):

The honeymoon phase of a relationship: when everything is all cuddles, kisses, hugs, and moony stares; usually at the beginning of the relationship, when everything is very new and you are just getting used to having another person around.

This was not the honeymoon phase.

o0o

Joan walked down the stairs to the screeching of a violin. It would randomly pause, giving her the small hope it would stop forever, but Sherlock would never give her the satisfaction.

Her feet hit the wood of the first floor, and the violin abruptly stopped.

'Okay,' Joan thought, 'maybe Sherlock isn't that cruel.'

She rounded the corner and saw him sitting on top of the kitchen table, feet propped up on a chair. She stood next to him in just seven steps and surveyed the scene. The violin was nowhere to be found.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, as if he wasn't practically murdering a violin mere seconds ago. A sheet of music fluttered down from the tabletop, and Joan stooped to pick it up. His eyes widened, and almost tackled her away from the paper.

She yelped, and landed on the tile floor with Sherlock on top of her, his arms supporting him from lying on her. This was vaguely familiar.

-but that wasn't important.

Joan and Sherlock were in a compromising position, and now, of all times, she remembered. They were in a relationship. It was perfectly okay to randomly kiss him. So she did.

Joan grabbed the collar of his button down- the one he always buttons up too much- and pulled him down towards her.

The kiss didn't last very long, and when they broke away Sherlock was dazed. Joan quickly pushed him off to the side and reached for the paper.

On the sheet of music were hand-written music notes. There were many scribbles and an entire measure crossed out, probably from frustration. Joan noted that this wasn't the first sheet, as there was no title.

The sheet was promptly snatched out of her hands.

"What are you writing music for?" Joan wondered aloud, eyeing Sherlock slip the music sheet into a black binder and shove towards the far corner of a bookshelf.

"Well," Sherlock replied, back still turned, "it's obviously about-" He glanced at Joan and paused for only a brief second, but she had still noticed.

"Bees!" Sherlock blurted, "It's music for my bees."


Wow. I literally published this right after my beta (ImagineThis22) sent it to me! I'm really getting behind an this story (I wrote this during random times at school, finished at home, and quickly sent it to my beta) and it's totally killing me because I don't want to be. I know I will skip at least one day because of school, and I'm going to feel so bad about it...