Right. Where do I start...
Yesterday, 5am: Sherlock flings himself onto my bed and plants his pointy little elbows in my stomach like a pro wrestler going for the kill. He doesn't do it often, but he doesn't do it by halves either.
"Sherlock. What have I told you about staying in your room until it's light out?"
"But I wanna do a 'speriment and you said don't do those unless you're there to watch so come watch!"
"New rule. No experiments before breakfast."
"Not fair!"
"Sounds fair to me."
"It's not!"
"Why don't you go ask your brother what he thinks."
"Fine!"
Yeah, it was a bad idea, but I got another hour's sleep out of it. If I'd just got up, the whole disaster might've been avoided. But I didn't. I left them to fight it out, which left Mycroft tired and cranky and Sherlock hyper and cranky. Even so, things weren't going so badly. We went to the park and everyone ran around. There were some other kids; balls (of the rubber bouncy sort) were kicked. Went home, had lunch.
Around four I suggested the concept of a nap to Sherlock, and he didn't bite my head off. Just said he wanted a snack first. I said he could make himself a jam sandwich while I changed. (The park was muddy.)
Harry rang, so I was in my room for a bit. When I came back... Well.
The kitchen table was paved with bread slices. Two loaves at least. All of them were covered with jam - raspberry and marmalade stripes - and Mycroft was asleep on the sofa. Deimos was also asleep on the sofa. Phobos was licking the jam knife clean.
He has an unholy love of jam. Don't ask, I have no idea.
And I knew that. I should've shut him up in Mycroft's room while I took care of the Guinness Record winning jam collage, but I was tired too, and it's a lot of stairs, and I let him be.
I'd got the scouring powder out and was explaining to Sherlock why this was not acceptable behavior even if I was gone a long time and he was bored... And Phobos made a flying leap for the top of the table.
It went over. Jam went everywhere. Phobos ran off, leaving gigantic sticky paw prints behind him and dashed for sanctuary, i.e. Mycroft. Overexcited and high on jam, he bit into one of the pillows. Mycroft woke up and tried to pull it away from him.
Jam.
Feathers.
Everywhere.
Mrs Hudson helped me clean it all up. She is a saint.
Yesterday, 5am: Sherlock flings himself onto my bed and plants his pointy little elbows in my stomach like a pro wrestler going for the kill. He doesn't do it often, but he doesn't do it by halves either.
"Sherlock. What have I told you about staying in your room until it's light out?"
"But I wanna do a 'speriment and you said don't do those unless you're there to watch so come watch!"
"New rule. No experiments before breakfast."
"Not fair!"
"Sounds fair to me."
"It's not!"
"Why don't you go ask your brother what he thinks."
"Fine!"
Yeah, it was a bad idea, but I got another hour's sleep out of it. If I'd just got up, the whole disaster might've been avoided. But I didn't. I left them to fight it out, which left Mycroft tired and cranky and Sherlock hyper and cranky. Even so, things weren't going so badly. We went to the park and everyone ran around. There were some other kids; balls (of the rubber bouncy sort) were kicked. Went home, had lunch.
Around four I suggested the concept of a nap to Sherlock, and he didn't bite my head off. Just said he wanted a snack first. I said he could make himself a jam sandwich while I changed. (The park was muddy.)
Harry rang, so I was in my room for a bit. When I came back... Well.
The kitchen table was paved with bread slices. Two loaves at least. All of them were covered with jam - raspberry and marmalade stripes - and Mycroft was asleep on the sofa. Deimos was also asleep on the sofa. Phobos was licking the jam knife clean.
He has an unholy love of jam. Don't ask, I have no idea.
And I knew that. I should've shut him up in Mycroft's room while I took care of the Guinness Record winning jam collage, but I was tired too, and it's a lot of stairs, and I let him be.
I'd got the scouring powder out and was explaining to Sherlock why this was not acceptable behavior even if I was gone a long time and he was bored... And Phobos made a flying leap for the top of the table.
It went over. Jam went everywhere. Phobos ran off, leaving gigantic sticky paw prints behind him and dashed for sanctuary, i.e. Mycroft. Overexcited and high on jam, he bit into one of the pillows. Mycroft woke up and tried to pull it away from him.
Jam.
Feathers.
Everywhere.
Mrs Hudson helped me clean it all up. She is a saint.
26 comments:
so, was the jam collage his intended 'speriment all along?
p.s. i love you.
I'm pretty sure he meant something with noxious chemicals, although really, who knows? I think he just got bored waiting and decided to entertain himself. Always dangerous.
I fail to see any aspect of this which doesn't make it repeatable, as you claimed in your other comment.
(I tried being a responsible adult with my self censorship. I've given up now. And I know you bought more jam.)
Constant vigilance! Never again!
You wouldn't joke about it if you'd spent two hours on your knees scrubbing jam off the undersides of things so it wouldn't moulder. It was in my hair!
You just told me (on my blog) to stop imagining you and jam...and then you post that. You, on your knees, covered in jam.
What's a bloke to do??
(I've got a mate works for a security company. He could probably sort you out with some cheap cameras. But I expect Mycroft would reprogramme them or something.)
Oh god, poor you. This is why I only ever read about food fights as a child rather than having them - it's fun while you're at it, but the cleaning, dear god...
(Also, hi. Nope, I didn't just spend the entire afternoon reading all your posts. Not at all. But, you are totally, utterly epic.)
Sylv - It's fun if someone else cleans it up! Harry and I used to have shaving cream fights in the back yard. Now that was fun.
(Epic is good, right? Thanks!)
L - you're still filthy and now I can't stop laughing and someone's going to ask why!
...and now he introduces cream into the conversation...and the image of him covered in it. (I choose to ignore the word 'shaving')
Oh my god! You are home, right? Tell me at least you're not writing this from work. And then go take a cold shower. Or call me.
I thought it was a phonecall which started this entire chapter of chaos!
Actually I am still at work (I know, I know, it's late, but one of the teams needs to get an emergency court order in the morning so I'm clearing the paperwork) but you could persuade me to shower at your place... I'm pretty much done.
Could I now? Excellent. Get yourself over here then. The boys are (almost, theoretically) in bed, and Mrs Hudson made shepherd's pie.
On way. And thanks to people on my blog, am now imagining you, jam, cream and an army uniform.
Of course, I'll need some shepherd's pie first. For energy.
i would like to submit a formal request for a photo of dr. danger to complete the jam sandwich happening in my head right now.
"Jam sandwich"
XD Oh god, I am CACKLING.
Are we sure photos of such would be.. er... "work safe"? ;)
...I am not entirely sure what you mean by "jam sandwich" and I'm not sure I want to know, but I can tell you that there will be no jam-related photos of me on this blog!
Definitely not.
And I'll just hope no one ever hacks my laptop or steals my phone.
Oh are you quite so sure, Dr. Danger? A little self-sacrificing goes a long way ;)
(Still not finished going through all the posts but yes, you mister are indeed EPIC. [No, not the smart phone. Although you are smart too.])
d: a photo of your face will suffice. thanks in advance. xoxo
l: considering both of those things have happened to danger recently, perhaps you should send the photos to someone for safe keeping. xoxo
Have the burning questions of Lestrade's parents' marital status and your niceness/meanness been settled?
(Any picture of you in an army uniform would be much appreciated, and not only by your boyfriend.)
I do feel a bit ridiculous but Sherlock and Mycroft remind me SO MUCH of me and my youngest brother that it's a bit disturbing.
Or rather, what would happen if you chopped us into bits, popped us in a blender for a quiz whiz and then poured us back into us-shaped gelatin moulds. Us redistributed.
I have always maintained that my parents deserve sainthood for raising three of us, and you probably do as well for doing so without the incentive of genetic connection.
Tinkerty-tonk!
Bronwyn
I can confirm my parent's brief and stormy marriage did coincide with the time of my birth (although quite possibly not with the time of my conception). And that John is very nice and hardly ever mean.
L - No jam related photos period!
stellary, justblue, and innie - I will consider posting NON-jam photos. Maybe. I suppose it's only fair since Lestade let me put him up here.
Bronwyn - with that blender metaphor I can definitely see the resemblance. That absolutely sounds like something Sherlock would say. I don't know about sainthood. It's its own reward really. I think it probably was for your parents too. :)
Okay, after that massage, I promise. No jam related pics. Ever. In fact, I may never move again. Ever. But at least I no longer feel as old as Sherlock seems to think I am.
Aww, I'm disappointed about the lack of jam-related photos. :C And wow! Sherlock really does know how to create chaos. I mean, he was just getting a sandwich! xD He's certainly very imaginative. I feel bad for you, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft, who had to clean after all that, but... take it as a bonding activity? :P (And it seems it'll even help you bond with Lestrade. ;D)
Lupe - It's quite a talent of his. He did eventually help to clean it up, at least. And apologize. Sort of. Sigh. Getting him to understand what he did wrong is the hard bit.
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