βOh look,β said John. βThereβs a bee.β
βHmmm,β Sherlock agreed, noting the colour of the abdomen, the hairs prevalent on the thorax. β Anthidium maculatum. Wood carder bee,β he added at Johnβs mildly exasperated look. βOne of many species of solitary bees.β
βI thought bees live together in a hive?β John said, watching the little creature as it clambered up a stem.
βThatβs a common misconception,β Sherlock said, rifling through a cabinet in his mind palace for the correct information. βIn the UK, there are around two hundred and seventy species of bee, and two hundred and fifty of those species are solitary bees.β
βHuh,β John said, peering even closer. βSo this little lady doesnβt have a family and friends to go back to?β
βLittle gentleman,β Sherlock corrected. βAnd no, probably not. He might spend some time with a mate, if it suits him, but for much of his life he will be alone - flying from one flower to the next, foraging, and doing exactly as he wishes.β
βSounds a bit lonely,β John said, and Sherlock snorted.
βNo need to romanticise the bee, John. I assure you, he is quite content with his solitary life.β
βIβm not so sure,β John mused, and they both watched as the bee moved on to a different stem. βItβs all very well visiting all these places, seeing all these things. But with no-one to share them with? Not sure Iβd like that.β
βReally? I would like it just fine,β Sherlock said, and this time it was John who snorted.
A bit peeved, Sherlock eyed him. βWhat?β
βYou? You go mad when you donβt have someone to talk to - so mad that you start talking to inanimate objects. You love explaining about things youβve seen, things youβve learned. And you like having a place to come home to every night, with someone familiar there. Weβre flatmates, remember - though Iβm pretty sure you donβt need help with the rent. You are no more a solitary bee than I am.β
John was still watching the bee, though his cheeks had gone a bit pink. βWhatβs it doing now?β
With some difficulty, Sherlock brought his attention back to the insect. βItβs collecting the tiny hairs from the stem of the plant. Wood carder bees use those to build their nests.β
βSoβ¦ this one did find someone to go home to, after all,β John said slowly. He was watching Sherlock from the corner of his eye, and inexplicably, Sherlock blushed.
βIβ¦ I suppose he did,β he said, and made sure to keep his eyes fixed on the delicate fluffy body in front of him, that flew around against all laws of physics.
The lovely @alifetimeaheadtoprovethat drew this little doodle for me, so I decided to write a little ficlet to go with it <3 This is our entry for the @sherlockchallenge this month (prompt: One).Β
Liking is nice, reblogging is better!
