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Winter was always a difficult season for both myself and Holmes, and retirement had not eased that difficulty. At times, it seemed harder, for we no longer had cases in order to distract us from our aches.
Or rather, we did not have regular cases, as we’d had during our years at Baker Street. Holmes would never fully give up his love of mysteries, and I was as happy as ever to take flight when he called upon me.
Winter, however, caused considerable complications especially in our old age. My old wounds ached constantly in the cold, which often grounded me completely, and I was not the only one. After retirement, Holmes had become somewhat crippled by rheumatism, and the cold weather worsened his often severe pain. At times, neither of us emerged from the farmhouse for days on end, and we certainly went for no flights over the downs.
But now, after a long period of bitter chill, April had come to Sussex in earnest. Flowers blossomed, and Holmes’ bees were hard at work.
I had risen late despite the improved temperatures, and I still ached considerably, but I trudged outside nonetheless. My left wing, which had been damaged by the same bullet that shattered bone in my shoulder, would be the better for having room to stretch properly.
It did not come as a surprise to see Holmes flitting around near his beehives, black wings hugged against his back to avoid bumping into any bees and upsetting them. The bees adored him, and a sting was practically unheard of, but he was always careful nonetheless. No doubt the bees adored him more for his gentleness with them.
“Ah, Watson!” He waved to me when I came into his field of view, although I kept my distance from the hives since I lacked any beekeeping gear at present. Holmes was not wearing his own today, as he had only stopped by to visit rather than examine the hives, but I was not quite so confident. “It is an exceedingly lovely day, the finest we have had this year. I perceive that your wing is troubling you less today.”
“How on earth could you tell?” I asked, chuckling. No matter how many decades we had been partners, his deductions still caught me off guard.
“Well, well, I have the benefit of observation. When the pain is severe, the wing either droops, or you hold it so tightly and stiffly that your feathers hardly even have room to rustle!” Holmes brushed his hand against a flower, and I knew he was gently freeing himself from one or more bees. They liked to sit on him. “Today, your wing is relaxed in a natural position, ergo you are in less pain.”
“Wonderful, my dear Holmes!” I cried, impressed as ever.
“It was a simple little deduction,” he said, making his way to my side. Once away from the hives, he stretched his wings out and gave an experimental flap. “I confess my joints have not yet warmed up, and I may be rather creaky after months largely on the ground, but would you like to go for a little flight?”
“I should be delighted, although I do think it must truly be a little flight. We may find that our old bones are no longer up to hours of soaring, and I do not wish I risk injury to either of us.”
“Then I shall resist the urge to bank towards the cliffs, and soar over the sea.” Holmes gave one of his silent laughs, then leaned to kiss my cheek. He found the thought of kissing on the lips unpleasant, but enjoyed other affectionate gestures. “Shall we?”
I nodded my agreement, and a few hard flaps saw us both in the air. Pain wrenched through my bad wing, and I groaned, but I did not plummet back to the ground. Regular exercise was good for both of us, and when the weather permitted, Holmes and I often took daily flights.
Frequently, Holmes loved to soar to great heights, then dive back down. He has always greatly enjoyed any rush of adrenaline, and when bored he could be downright reckless in the air, even when I chided him.
Today, thankfully, he performed no aerial acrobatics, instead soaring along at a modest altitude and almost lazy pace. Warm air currents swirled around us, and as always, Holmes excelled at finding the most effective paths through the air. I followed his lead, grateful for his care in reducing the strain on my wing.
The sun shone bright today, only interrupted by small puffy clouds, and I delighted in the feeling of the heat seeping through my feathers. We flew in slow circles near our villa, and Holmes indeed stayed away from the cliffs. Still, he turned to gaze out at the sea beyond that sharp drop, and I knew that he would wish to take another flight over the glittering beach soon.
That must wait for a different day, though, for my neglected muscles burned with pain. Almost as soon as I grew weary, Holmes banked for home without my having said a word. I smiled, wondering what he had noticed in order to deduce that I needed rest.
We landed in the garden, and I stumbled as my sore leg objected to the impact. Holmes caught my arm, steadying me. “Dear me, dear me. Are you all right, my boy?”
“I am,” I managed, a little breathless. I stretched my wing, wincing, and then sat on the nearby garden bench. “I fear I am a little out of shape, but that was a lovely flight.”
“I am exceedingly fond of your shape,” Holmes said, leaning against my softer form. He drew a wing around himself, preening idly. “I suspect you will be somewhat sore after this, though, given our recent inactivity. When we tire of the beauty of the garden, would you like a little massage?”
“I never tire of the beauty of the garden.” The sweet scent of flowers flooded my senses, and I savored the brilliant colors yet again. “Particularly when I might share that beauty with you.”
“It is a magnificent garden, which you shall be better able to enjoy if you are not in too much pain to move.”
I laughed, for although my pain was manageable for now, Holmes was quite right. “Yes, my dear Holmes. I should very much like a little massage later, and perhaps we might groom one another’s wings.”
Holmes hummed in agreement, still leaning against me with a contented look. He stretched his wings out again to take in the warmth of the sun, and I ached to slide my fingers through his soft feathers.
For now, I simply took his hand and leaned back, catching my breath in the late morning sunlight. It had been a difficult winter, but spring came as it always does, and I intended to thoroughly enjoy such a beautiful day with my dearest Holmes.