wherever you go, there you are

Well, we've made it. I've never had such an organized move. If Mycroft doesn't make it in politics, he'll make a fortune organizing people till they beg for mercy. Holmes for Homes. Let Holmes Move Your Home? He'd come up with something better. And he'd think bigger anyway. Logistics, not house moving. Want to get your expedition from London to the Amazon Basin? Mycroft's your man. Or will be, in about 15 years.

I asked Herself for something not too flash, and I've got what I wanted in spades. You should see the wallpaper. I'll try to get a picture of it later. Right after I get a camera. (Harry, does your mobile do that?)

Sherlock made some sort of smoke bomb that nearly drove the movers off entirely. It was violet and smelled of pears. Overall, I think it could've been a lot worse.

Also, we've got the dogs.

All right. So, the serial killer I mentioned? He had dogs. I'm not completely sure how much of this I'm meant to write about in a public forum, but this was in the news: he had dogs. Two. Big, black, reasonably fearsome. Painted, as I think I mentioned, with glow-in-the-dark paint, and let out at nights to terrorize the countryside. And eat people.

Mycroft wanted them, and his mum got them for him. (Or two dogs that look quite like them? ONE CAN ONLY HOPE.)

Mycroft's named them Phobos and Deimos.

I hope no one's surprised by that. What else would he have named them?

They're currently asleep in the kitchen, taking up most of it.

Well. That's my life.