Work Text:
I must confess that it has taken me some time to warm to Holmes’s bees. I have always been happy to provide them with the flowers that make them happiest, but there my interest ended for quite some time. My enjoyment of the bees was limited to the taste of their honey and the sound of their bussing when my Holmes and I sat in the garden.
It was a warm spring day, and I was at work in the garden while Holmes tended to his hive. Bees buzzed around me as I worked. I did not mind this, but it did necessitate a greater degree of care to avoid being stung. I had fallen into the habit of chatting to them sometimes, as I knew my darling often did.
“I am glad you are enjoying the day and the flowers as much as me,” I said. My gaze drifted to Holmes in the meadow. “If we can keep working together, we can keep him happy.”
I continued with my work – pruning and weeding and tending. Between the warmth of the sun, the scent of the flowers, and the buzzing of the bees, I became completely absorbed in my task. I was roused again by Holmes passing me to go back into the cottage.
“Shall we have some tea, my love?” he asked.
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” I replied.
While he removed his bee suit, I prepared the tea, which we then took out to our bench. We sat there, side by side, savouring the tea and the companionable silence. On the bench between us, he took my hand, threading our fingers together. A bee alighted upon my moustache, and I froze. I was convinced that it would either sting my top lip or fly up my nose and sting me there. But it soon flew off again, having discovered that I was not a flower. I gave a shiver of relief and Holmes chuckled.
“Have I not told you that the bees love you, my dear?” he said.
“You might have done,” I replied, struggling to keep amusement out of my voice, “but that does not stop a bee on the face being alarming.”
We both laughed then, the bright sound filling the garden.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This little incident lingered in my mind through the remainder of the day. I knew that I had over-reacted, and that the bee had meant no harm. Perhaps the best way to gain a better appreciation of the industrious insects would be to take a more active role with them. I broached the subject with Holmes as we sat up in bed reading that night.
“Holmes, sweetheart?” I began.
“Yes, dearest?” he replied.
“Would you teach me a bit about beekeeping?”
He looked at me quizzically. “Of course, if you would like. But why now?”
I blushed a little, looking down at my lap. “I felt rather silly this morning. I should like to add to my understanding and appreciation of the bees. Besides, you love them so.”
He reached out to take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I love you more,” he murmured.
I turned my head, and we shared a soft kiss, nuzzling our noses together. He has become far more openly affectionate since we moved to Sussex, and it thrills me beyond words. We relish the greater freedom we now have, after so many years of extreme care to hide our love.
“I love you too,” I murmured back when we pulled away.
He pressed another brief kiss to my lips, then we went back to reading for a while longer. I wondered what things he would teach me about the bees. Whatever it turned out to be, I was sure it would be both interesting and useful.
Eventually, we laid aside our books for the night. We snuggled up to each other under our blanket, our legs entwined, and arms wrapped around each other. Warm and happy in each other’s arms, we both soon fell asleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day, my lessons began. When Holmes prepared to go out to the bees after breakfast, he told me to get into the second bee suit. We went to the shed to ready the smoker, then went out to the hive.
“I shall show you how to subdue the bees and inspect the frames today,” he explained. “How does that sound?”
“Very good, my dear,” I replied.
He smiled. “We might even try doing some experiments, depending on how we get on.”
When we got to the meadow, we lit the smoker. Then, Holmes took hold of the lid.
“When I lift this, I want you to direct the smoke inside the hive,” he said. “That will calm the bees so that we can do our work.”
I nodded, feeling nervous but determined. He removed the lid, and I deployed the smoker. The bees moved slower, the smoke making them sluggish.
“Well done,” he affirmed. “The trick is to keep using the smoker to keep them subdued while you work.”
“I see,” I replied. “I suppose, then, that you must direct the smoke at the particular area you are working on.”
He smiled. “Exactly, my dear. Would it be alright if I directed you now?”
“Please do,” I said.
He placed the lid upon the ground and stepped up behind me. He then took hold of my hands, moving them to show me what I needed to do. He spoke quietly, his lips close to my ear. With the protective nets between us, I could not feel his breath upon my skin, but this still felt very intimate. I was privileged beyond words to share his passion with him.
“We shall now take out the first of the frames. We direct the smoke around the frame we want, then we carefully lift it out.”
He guided me to slowly lift up the frame. The bees still upon it moved sluggishly across the patterns of wax they had created.
“Beautiful, is it not?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I agreed, “most impressive. What exactly are we looking for?”
“We want to see the progress they have made. When the frames are full, we can remove the capping wax and collect the honey.”
We replaced the frame, then inspected the others in turn. I became more confident as we went on, and Holmes released my hands to let me work.
“Excellent, Watson, excellent,” he affirmed when I replaced the final frame. He put the lid back on. “You really have done marvellously. Should we try doing some experiments now?”
I felt a warm glow at his praise of me. “Yes, love, I would like that.”
We spent a happy hour in carrying out experiments – making small changes and observing how the bees reacted. When we had finished, we made our way back up to the cottage. Holmes put the bee suits away while I prepared the tea. I was waiting for the kettle to boil when I heard his step on the tiles behind me. His arms wound about my waist, and he snuggled up to my back. He nuzzled my neck, leaving soft kisses.
“I love you,” he murmured against my skin.
“I love you too,” I murmured back. “What has brought this on?”
“I just feel very lucky,” he replied, resting his chin upon my shoulder. “You wanted to share all of this with me.”
I knew that he was talking about more than the bees. I squeezed one of his hands where it rested upon my stomach. “I made my choice to share my life with you years ago and I have never regretted it.”
He pressed a gentle kiss beneath my ear. “And here we are, two daft old men caring for our bees and each other.”
I chuckled lightly. “Yes, my darling. Now, could you take the biscuits out to the bench please?”
“Of course, mon trésor.”
He kissed my cheek, then unwrapped himself from around me. He took the plate of biscuits and went back out into our garden. The kettle boiled and I made the tea, thinking about how lucky I felt that Holmes had wanted me to share this with him. He called me his treasure, and I truly treasured him as much in return. I looked forward to further lessons about the bees, and to sun-drenched days with my dearest one.