The days seem rather longer without Holmes, I've noticed. Since his retirement to Sussex, I see him rarely, perhaps on a weekend visit, and now the days seem needlessly expansive. There are no vivid, sordid crimes, of our own or of professional criminals, to fill the huge white canvas of twenty-four long hours. Nor do the nights hold quite the same distractions as they once did, whether those distractions entailed Holmes arriving in my bedroom declaring the game afoot, or Holmes arriving in my bedroom declaring something quite different.
I wonder if his days, among his bees, are too long.