Fic: Mad Honey: Gen
Jun. 25th, 2024 04:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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holmes_minorTitle: Mad Honey
Rating: Gen
Length: 300
Summary: In Sussex, a case upsets Watson.
Sherlock Holmes shifted his weight from one foot to another. Then, having made his choice, he divested himself of his beekeeper’s attire and proceeded down the cobbled path toward his companion, who was hacking at a herbaceous border as if it were a mortal enemy.
“It was a disturbing case,” ventured Holmes, ready to beat a hasty retreat if broaching the subject had, after all, proved the wrong decision. In the autumn of his years, Holmes was prepared to admit he did make them.
“You were brilliant, as ever,” grunted Watson. He paused his violent chopping and wiped his brow. “It will be a magnificent tale. Mad honey as a murder weapon?” He huffed with something akin to amusement. “I will write it up. I don’t know why the whole affair has upset me so much. It just seems…”
Holmes waited.
“…a waste. At our age, shouldn’t we be letting resentments go? Yes, Hanover had injured him—decades ago! To spend years planning and plotting just seems like a horrible use of one’s time. He confessed he bought that horrible stuff when he was traveling in Turkey over twenty years ago with the idea of murdering Hanover one day. One day!” Watson shook his head ruefully. “And I would think you would be offended on behalf of the bees. Being used like that! Poor creatures.”
Holmes smiled. “It isn’t their fault. What the bees which get nectar and pollen from species of the Rhododendron family along the Black Sea produce is highly poisonous to humans and has been used as instruments of war for thousands of years.”
“I suppose an old dagger can kill as sharply as a new one,” said Watson.
“But resentment, when fed and allowed to ferment, well, it can be just as poisonous as mad honey.”
Rating: Gen
Length: 300
Summary: In Sussex, a case upsets Watson.
Sherlock Holmes shifted his weight from one foot to another. Then, having made his choice, he divested himself of his beekeeper’s attire and proceeded down the cobbled path toward his companion, who was hacking at a herbaceous border as if it were a mortal enemy.
“It was a disturbing case,” ventured Holmes, ready to beat a hasty retreat if broaching the subject had, after all, proved the wrong decision. In the autumn of his years, Holmes was prepared to admit he did make them.
“You were brilliant, as ever,” grunted Watson. He paused his violent chopping and wiped his brow. “It will be a magnificent tale. Mad honey as a murder weapon?” He huffed with something akin to amusement. “I will write it up. I don’t know why the whole affair has upset me so much. It just seems…”
Holmes waited.
“…a waste. At our age, shouldn’t we be letting resentments go? Yes, Hanover had injured him—decades ago! To spend years planning and plotting just seems like a horrible use of one’s time. He confessed he bought that horrible stuff when he was traveling in Turkey over twenty years ago with the idea of murdering Hanover one day. One day!” Watson shook his head ruefully. “And I would think you would be offended on behalf of the bees. Being used like that! Poor creatures.”
Holmes smiled. “It isn’t their fault. What the bees which get nectar and pollen from species of the Rhododendron family along the Black Sea produce is highly poisonous to humans and has been used as instruments of war for thousands of years.”
“I suppose an old dagger can kill as sharply as a new one,” said Watson.
“But resentment, when fed and allowed to ferment, well, it can be just as poisonous as mad honey.”
