The B&B is a castle. I don't know why this surprised me, given Baskerville Hall. We've got two rooms, one with a king bed and one with two singles. For the moment, Sherlock and Mycroft are in the two singles room, or, as it says on the door, The Eminently Green Room. My own is The Providentially Blue Room. Don't ask, I just don't know.
The place is run by Lady Deborah St John Dinmere, aka Deb. Deb is in her sixties, with long gray hair in a plait that reaches to her waist. She wears purple clogs and a lot of tweed, cooks breakfast for all her guests every morning, and then leads shooting parties and brings back venison for dinner. I might be a bit in love.
Note from slightly later in the day: The woman has stolen all my pants. Am considerably less in love, and also pantless. Have been provided with a kilt, which, if I were going to wear (I'm not), I would certainly not even consider wearing WITHOUT PANTS. I am at this moment wearing trousers without pants for the first time in my life and let me tell you, I cannot sodding recommend it.
The kilt isn't even proper tartan. It's leather. She's not even Scottish! At least, she doesn't sound it. What is this? She wants to know if I play the bagpipes, and there's something about appeasing a ghost. How is this my life.
More later. We're going down to the lake, or possibly loch, to look for a suitable place to set up Mycroft's telescope later. He's set on the castle tower, but I want to talk to Deb first. Looks a bit tippy to me. Then again, I don't actually want to talk to Deb at all in case she assaults me with haggis.
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