Everything was so quiet.

I loved night watch when it was like this. Except for the cold. The rain. The fact that I couldn't use my reading torch as it would be a dead give away on such a clear night, and the only spot suitable to watch the hives was far too open for a light. I huddled miserably in my fathers coat, glad I had at least dressed waterproof and warm.

Was this what I had risked loosing my family's possessions for? I remembered my brothers favourite book, which was carefully tucked in the room I used at Holmes' cottage. Then I thought of Holmes, alone out here. He needed some rest; he was far too lean for my taste, and apparently Mrs Hudson's too. Uncle John would throw a fit, I was sure.

I thought of the text I was reading at the moment. An edition recommended by Holmes, of Paradise Lost, by John Milton. I found it stimulating, if slightly facile compared to my usual reading. As I sat, alone in the dark, I remembered the description of the rebel angels, falling through chaos and night for nine days and nights. I too felt like this night would continue forever.

Deciding to occupy myself, I set about examining every part of the garden, committing shapes to memory, so that a new one would attract my attention. Cautiously, I listened to the sounds of night- soft rain, the dog in its kennel, snoring slightly, the soft calls of the night birds. I realised how alive the night was, how I had been accepted as a presence in the garden, and an unthreatening one, due to my stillness and calm. I saw a fox prowl past, take a look at the dog, and hurry away to look for easier prey. A barn owl coasted by on silent wings, swooped, a squeak, and flew just a silently away, a mouse clutched in its beak.

I must have sat like that for hours. It seemed a very short time before the garden began to still. It was about four in the morning, and still dark, when I noticed the unnatural silence. Slowly becoming more alert, I quietly readied the large torch and placed the pistol, safety catch on, in my pocket. Then, in the darkness, I saw two large figures enter the garden and crouch behind some bushes to have a look at the hives. Sensing no danger, they quietly rose and walked towards the hives.

It was, I admit, with adrenaline pumping, that I chose to confront them at that moment, rather than allow harm to come to Holmes' beloved bees. They could still be prosecuted for trespassing, and a case brought against them for damage the night before. They must be amateurs, I decided, and slowly stood, and moved closer. Focusing at their faces, I turned the powerful torch on.

"What are you doing?" I called calmly to them, recognising their faces from somewhere.

They froze as soon as the light hit them, and then, in a moment of unified thought, turned and ran. To my shock, a third figure rose by their exit. Had I miscalculated? I began to reassess the situation, worried the odds were heavily in their favour, before I recognised an acerbic voice, with a familiar biting tone, ring out across the cold air.

"Stop! We have you, gentlemen, best give up. Well?"

The two fugitives had halted abruptly, and Holmes (for of course, it was he) seized a shirtsleeve. I ran over, and grabbed the other, perhaps not as gently as my companion would have wished.

"The torch, if you please, Russell?"

I handed it to him, glad to be able to grasp my captive with both hands. My mind raced. Bloody Holmes! What was the man doing out here? He'll just have to wait for now- unity in front of enemies- but when I get him alone...He'll wish it was a silent argument!

"Well, I think it is extremely fortunate that neither of you are armed." Holmes had finished searching them, and was leading them towards the cellar.

"So if you don't mind, you can stay in here for tonight, and we'll escort you to the police in the morning."

For once, I sympathised with our bewildered and angry captives- that man is the most irritating man in the world.

Sorry its so short. More soon! R&R!