"John! Phone!" hollered Sherlock.
John dried his hands and went to the sitting room. His mobile was where he'd left it on the end table. Sherlock was also where he'd left him on the sofa reading the newspaper online. The two were roughly fourteen inches apart.
"Don't trouble yourself."
"It's your phone. Logically, it's for you."
John didn't recognize the number. "Hello? ... Yes? ... I can't promise, but I'll try. All right. ... I'll let you know. ... Right." He rang off. "It was for you."
"So your logic failed in this case."
"Builder in Brighton was asking if you'd take on a case."
"I told him I couldn't promise. I mean, you have plenty of bees."
Sherlock perked up. "Bees?"
"There's a swarm of honey bees impeding construction. If it doesn't move on on its own right away, they're going to destroy it. The company's losing money every minute that work's stalled." He shouted the last after Sherlock, who was on his feet and out the back door by the time he finished.
In the two minutes it took John to call the builder back and lock up, Sherlock had the old flatbed truck loaded with gear.
"Quickly, John!" He leapt into the cab and started the engine. John climbed in beside him. "We must rescue the bees!"