sturgeon?

Well, he wasn't joking about the nightmares. The latest must've been quite something. He kicked me straight out of bed with a well placed foot to the arse. I woke up halfway down and manage to roll when I hit the ground. More or less. Lestrade sat straight up, said, "Sturgeon!" and went immediately back to sleep. Can't wait to hear him explain that one.

He seemed perfectly peaceful after that, so I left him to it. Myself, I need some tea and bad late night television before I give sleep a second chance. It's nice, actually. The quiet, and the sitting very still. My "brutal cleaning regimen," as Lestrade put it, has been keeping me pretty busy. It was the thought of Sherlock picking this thing up. I think he would've ended up in hospital, apart from being completely miserable of course. I'd worry less about Mycroft, but only slightly.

Lestrade, I have to say, must have the constitution of a horse. Is that a real phrase? Constitution of a horse? Sounds wrong, but I'm not really awake. I hope the other man's doing as well as he is, and that his wife's keeping him in bed. That sounds entirely wrong, but you know what I mean. God, maybe Harry's right and I actually do worry about everyone.

Right, back to bed. I'll say this for his fever - it keeps my feet warm. 

to sally

Hope you see this - whatever they're planning on him doing for the royal wedding, they'd better find someone else to do it. He'll probably feel well enough by then to insist he's fine to work, but he'll be wrong. This sort of thing is really hard on the body. Thought I ought to let you know as soon as possible.

short and fast

Just wanted to record this for posterity in case he later decides to deny having said it:

I will only take you to Italy if you promise to let me buy you ice-cream.


Not one of his more hard-driven bargains, but it works out well for me. 


Also, to everyone who's picked "What wedding?" in the poll, you could take a look at this, or google William and Kate. I picked this article for containing the line:  "St James's Palace is dark, dingy and depressing." William, it says, would not want to live there. The source quoted is "a courtier," who has apparently not lived half the places I've lived, if he thinks St James's Palace is dingy. 


Also, to whoever (I suspect Elizabeth, but I can't remember) (or be bothered to look it up) said that we needed a chamoise handkerchief, it'd be more accurate to say L and his bike need one. He's got a print out of it folded up in his wallet. 

the third thing

3. Packed up dinner for L and Sally, went up to his office, giving no thought whatsoever to the photos he'd warned me about. It didn't occur to me for a moment I'd have a problem, and L does tend to be a bit overprotective - it's all right (usually*), makes a nice change from being surrounded by people eager to throw me into mortal peril.

I felt a bit sick while they were eating - like, actually physically ill, wondering if it was the pasta and if I should stop them eating it. And then I realized I was thinking about...how it happened. How the boy in the photos got that way. And I couldn't stop.

gay pubs of all sorts

The pub last night was nice, and made a change from Harry taking me to mainly lesbian ones. The hairy eyeballs I was getting last night were presumably trying to determine whether I was actually with L, or if he was free for the evening.

When I go with Harry, we get looked at oddly for entirely different reasons...I assume (hope) it's because we don't look much alike. The woman behind the bar at the last one asked if we didn't think it was a strange place for a date. Harry laugh so hard she nearly fell over and said anywhere was a strange place to take your brother for a date. (She went home with the bartender later. I was completely unsurprised.)

two thirds

There are three things. This post will cover two of them.

It's very late, again. So late it's early. I feel odd posting about this while Nicky & Co. are here, but I can't seem to settle down to write about anything else, even though there's quite a lot else to write about. I don't actually want to write about this at all, but my usual methods of repression and denial don't seem to be working all that well.

And I asked Lestrade and he said it was all right. I suppose since he told me about it via blog comment it'd be a bit odd to worry about me posting about it. I still feel weird posting about it. Obviously, or I would've stopped blithering by now and... I'll start with the point weighing most heavily on my mind.

i have too many very serious things to think about

So here's a photo of Lestrade, presumably still in his rock god phase.

I... I mean really. Good God. I can't tell whether he's posing or about to punch the photographer, but either way it's a very good look on him. 

Anyway! 

He's at work today, so I think Nicky and I  and the kids are going to do things, although no one seems quite sure what yet. I'm fairly certain Hungarian pastries will be involved. I'll let you know. 

going very fast

I still find it hard to believe they just let us stroll off with one of their very shiny motorcycles yesterday, given the slightly mad glint in Lestrade's eye. Maybe it's just that they don't know him as well as I do. Perhaps, to them, he looked like a sober and respectable D.I., whereas, to me, he looked ready to run off with the thing to Argentina and live in sin with it.

here are some tadpoles

I took photos when we went to the park. These are the tadpoles before the home invasion conducted by two small children and two large dogs. I hope no one was injured. 

evidence suggests

Sherlock at least may have been in the water a bit longer than I'd originally suspected, given his pockets were full of duckweed. I asked him why, and he said he wanted to look at it under the microscope - a suspicious answer at best since he knows perfectly well what fits on a slide (hint: not whacking great handfuls of anything at all).

He asked if I'd thrown it away. Not yet, I said.

cheese

Sherlock's out of school now for the Easter holidays, so I've got him at home all day. Two of Mycroft's tutors are off to Portugal and South Africa so he'll have a lot more free time as well, though I imagine he'll insist on spending a lot of it studying anyway.

I suspect he has some sort of plan to come up with a whole new discovery in his physics tutor's field before she gets back. Either that or he secretly works for some multinational space program. I'm now sure what else would explain the equations on his wall (we did one wall with chalkboard paint so he can write on it).

all my options seem vaguely awkward at this point

I was going to call, but I'm less likely to say something stupid in public, so.

I'm willing to believe it's just a piece of paper to you, but it's not to me. I didn't want to ask about the ring. I suppose I should have, so this is partly my fault. I didn't mind it so much because when we went out people tended to think it was for, well, you and me. Not you and some other bloke. Which I'm well aware is stupid and also deceitful on my part. But it never occurred to me that the reason you were still wearing it was because you were still married.

I think perhaps I'm bit more traditional than you are about these things. I am not happy to suddenly find out I'm in a relationship with a married man, even if neither you nor he see it that way. I'm not happy you didn't tell me either, but I'm willing to believe you thought I knew.

I think that covers it.

Anyhow. Just come home when you can, it'll be all right. 

the night before

Wednesday night: ostensibly a night like any other night.

The boys got their homework done. Lestrade got home in time for dinner. We all ate together - rather quickly in the boys' case, since Lestrade had brought along his guitar case and they were a lot more interested in that than in pasta.

He also had a box with him. A flat, white box. It filled my heart with dread, for I could guess what it contained. (And whose fault it was, Elizabeth. I won't be forgetting any time soon [this post, first comment].)

beachy photos

The beach at Brighton. 90% of my photos look basically like this - sand plus water - so I don't know how exciting they'll be to someone whose holiday this wasn't. Except for the ones I took in the mist, which generally look like I aimed the camera into a bowl of cream of something soup. 

you are all lovely people

This will not be a long post because I'm having too much fun. Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who left me happy birthdays, you are very kind, and I appreciate it a great deal. Especially Sally, since her threats were instrumental in me getting L to myself this weekend. He hasn't had one single call. Sally, I'm extremely impressed.

And I got cards! One from Lupe and two from Lestrade, one of which I'm not sure I should post, but I probably will anyway.