Sherlock studying some bees and John is rather confused.

John pushed open the door to the flat, to find it was deserted. John sighed. Sherlock’s coat was still on the hook, so he hadn’t gone out, and nothing had been moved, so there hadn’t been a struggle. John put down the shopping bags on the kitchen table.

“Sherlock?” John called. No reply. John started putting away the shopping. Sherlock was bound to turn up sooner or later.

A few minutes later, John was sat in his favourite chair, sipping some tea, when the front door slammed open, and Sherlock hurried into the kitchen.

“Welcome back.” John called.

“Back?” Sherlock frowned. “I haven’t left the flat.”

“Where were you then?” John sipped his tea.

“Your room.” Sherlock started trawling through the cupboards, looking for something.

John spluttered. “What were you doing in my room?”

“Looking after the bees.” Sherlock sighed. “Have you seen the first-aid kit?”

John was silent for a moment. “Okay. Start again. Bees.”

“Yes, bees. Now hurry, I need the first-aid kit!”

“Why?”

Sherlock turned to John with a look of contempt. “One of the bees stung me. I need the tweezers. Now hurry up!”

John smirked. “No.”

“What?”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Sherlock groaned. “Fine. Fine!”

He beckoned to John to follow him, and both men walked upstairs to John’s bedroom. Sherlock opened the door slowly, and an ominous buzzing sound entered the hallway. The door opened fully, and John gasped.

“Good God!” he cried.

Sherlock put a finger to his lips. “Be quiet! They’ll be disturbed!”

“Why my room?!” John growled.

“Your room is upstairs, and it’s bigger than mine. Plus I need my room for my experiments, and they can’t be tampered with.” Sherlock said in a low voice.

“So you turned my room into a… a bee thing?!” John groaned.

“Yes, obviously.” Sherlock sighed. “It’s my new colony. I’ve decided to become an apiarist.”

“Oh God, Sherlock…” John put a hand to his face.

“I did think about you, you know.” Sherlock pouted. “You can take my room. I’ve cleaned it up a bit.”

“I’d rather have my room!” John hissed.

“Well you can’t have your room, so it’s either mine or the sofa.” Sherlock crossed his arms.

John sighed. “The sofa. I’d rather not sleep next to dismembered body parts.”

Sherlock smiled. “Probably a good choice.”

“How long is this going to go on for?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Sherlock shrugged. “Until I get bored, I suppose.”

“And how long will that be?”

“A good few years.” Sherlock’s eyes sparkled.

John groaned. “Fantastic.” he started down the stairs again. “I’m going out for a bit.”

“If you need me, I’ll be in the bee room.” Sherlock smiled. John made a rude gesture at him. Sherlock laughed. “Oh, John!” he called. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Up your arse!” John yelled.

Sherlock frowned. “That’s not a very practical place to put it…”