Previously, I had thought that my friend Holmes' experiments with beekeeping in his retirement were no more than an application of his usual focus and concentration to a hitherto neglected area of study, and I will admit that I was glad to see him gainfully occupied, rather than risking a relapse to his previous flirtations with drugs.
This lasted until the morning that I flung open my window to see a storm of bees approaching my retirement cottage, dark against the sun, from the direction of Holmes' hives.
And, merciful God, I believe that they were buzzing the word, "Watson . . ."
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