Prompt from zanganito: Sherlock meets a beekeeper.
"Amazing." Sherlock pressed his face against the glass, the vibrations of his voice making the bees startle.
I restrained a sigh. I had told Mother I would look after Sherlock for the afternoon, but I had not thought Sherlock would so easily become distracted by our favourite game of Deductions by something as simple a case of bees. I was sure when I was six I had not been so easily distracted.
"Where are you taking them?" Sherlock asked the beekeeper, face still mashed against the glass.
The beekeeper laughed and tousled my brother's dark curls. I pursed my lips, fingers tightening on my umbrella. As much as I hated unnecessary action, I would not allow this man to do anything to my brother. "I'm taking them up to Lord Hoyton's estate. Lady Hoyton wishes to have fresh honey on her toast every morning, so the lord ordered for some bees, and I'll be keeping them."
Sherlock finally turned away from the glass to look up at the man, then twisted look at me. "Mycroft, could I keep bees?"
I shook my head sharply. "We don't need bees, Sherlock."
"But we could have honey on toast!" Sherlock's eyes were wide and pleading, but I remained unmoved. Sherlock was prone to occasional short-term interests, quickly investigated and just as quickly abandoned once he felt he knew enough. This interest in bees would no doubt be similar.
Sherlock's shoulders slumped as he apparently recognised my firm stance on the issue. "Alright, Mycroft." He turned back to the beekeeper. "Thank you, sir, for letting me see your bees."
The beekeeper doffed his cap at him. "My pleasure, little gentleman. Hope you'll get your own some day!"
I nodded at him, but didn't say anything. The man had managed to keep Sherlock occupied, which I was grateful for, but I found it unlikely Sherlock would ever keep bees. His mind would be wasted on such a thing.