like a very small boss

Mycroft's out with the dogs, Sherlock's drawing, and I think L's seriously considering a trip to the Yard to fetch more paperwork. Carla and Mycroft hugged each other goodbye, which was very sweet; Mycroft is not generally a hugger. Sherlock gave Paul a sheet of paper with notes on...something. If it was a stink bomb, I'm very very sorry, Nicky.

I'm going to Tesco soon, because we have literally nothing in the fridge except condiments, and even Lestrade can't make a meal out of jam, mustard, and siracha. First, the substance of what Sherlock said to L's mum. L said he didn't mind if I shared it.

It started with Nicky explaining to Paul and Carla that their grandmother wasn't feeling very well, to which Sherlock's response was, "She smells like alcohol. Lestrade said if you drink alcohol a lot it makes you sick and Harry said it makes you throw up, is she going to throw up?"


Mainly it went as a sort of question and answer, without the question bit, wherein she'd make some statement about L and Sherlock would tell her all the reasons why she was wrong. While stuffing chocolate biscuits in his face as fast as he could manage and swinging his legs hard enough to nearly knock the chair over.

She was talking about the chances of my and L's relationship succeeding, given, well...

"Well, you're not suited, are you? Someone like you - a Doctor - with him, and in all these years he's only made Inspector. Told him it was the wrong job for him, when he joined up. Obvious it was."

Which I...disagreed with. Obviously. In so many ways I hardly knew where to start, let alone start politely. I didn't get a chance.

"DETECTIVE Inspector, and he's the BEST. And they even have to lend him to other people to show them how to do it, and he catches ALL the murderers and EVERYTHING. They even send him to other countries to get THEIR criminals!"

Silence. 

Nicky, making stifled noises of amusement, "I'm just going to get a glass of water. Anyone else want one? No?" And she stepped out to the kitchen. 

Mrs W cleared her throat, and, for all the world like Sherlock hadn't said a word, "Not like that nice Bryan, so much more on his own level, don't know what Greg was thinking, letting him go like that, if he'd just worked a little harder--" 

"John's nicer and he lets me take out Lestrade's stitches and make stink bombs and he says Bryan's a WANKER. And he is one and I'm not allowed to say that but it's all right because I'm quoting John and if I ever see him I'm going to kick him. HARD."

The stitches and stink bombs required some explanation, as you can imagine. 

Her response, with a laugh: "Well, good heavens. I hope you're a better doctor than a nanny! I never would've let any of mine get away with that." 

At which point, I did have to physically remove Sherlock from the room because I could tell his next monologue would include moors, serial killers, and glow in the dark dogs, all of which would do more to prove her point than his and require a lot of explanation besides. We left not long after.

I don't know. Some people find a way to see the world that doesn't hurt too much and stick to it, no matter what new evidence comes their way. If you block out any possibility of change, nothing can hurt you much, but there's not much joy in life either.

Oh, and Elizabeth? Sherlock, having now heard that song on youtube (the clean version) is now following all announcements of his actions with like a boss.

"I'm going to eat cake LIKE A BOSS."

"I'm getting in the car LIKE A BOSS."

"I'm going to read this book LIKE A BOSS."

...Thanks.

In conclusion, here's a peculiar mushroom the kids found. Not sure whose finger, Carla or Nicky's I'd guess.