yellow car

DW posted this in the comments ages ago and I didn't see it until just now. I think I must've been on my phone, which isn't happy about playing videos, and then forgot to look when I got home. Anyway, it's the ideal thing to watch at almost five in the morning. Going to try sleeping again now. 

another day

I still have pictures of Kew, so I'll talk about that because I don't know how to talk about Red. It's not the first time I've lost a good friend this way, but it is the first time since I got home. It feels different.

Anyway. Sherlock's enormous goldfish:

sunday

A friend of mine died yesterday. On Saturday, he was out on patrol and he stepped on an IED. He was taken to hospital at Bastion, but his injuries were too severe, and he died Sunday evening.

That would be afternoon here. Probably around the time we were getting ice cream at Kew. That just...seems wrong.

His name was Charlie. Most people called him Red. Not because of his hair, which wasn't, but because of his underwear, which was. Every single pair. He proved it frequently and often in public.

I thought if I started writing I'd be able to think of something to say that actually mattered, but I can't. He was a good man. I'll miss him.

Going to schedule this to post while I'm picking up Sherlock and not look at the comments for a while. Or maybe ever. Sorry. 

a dual post

Sherlock wrote this part earlier and I said I'd post it when I finished my bit:

Thank you DW for the spiders, the red one is the best, I've never seen any like it here. Also I'm going to tell everyone about my dream last night where Lestrade was washing tiny elephants in a bowl on the table, there were about six in the bowl and it was a blue bowl but then he cut himself and John made him go and fix it and I had to finish washing the elephants and then one of them wore the juicer thing like a hat. I wish I could have tiny elephants for pets. 


I think we all wish that, Sherlock.

So...the bikes, yesterday. We rode all sorts, as you saw on L's post. I still like the one I posted. In red. A lot. In case anyone had doubts. L asked if I was sure I didn't want it in grey, but I think that's because he wants it in grey.

Sherlock and one or more his classmates had to be removed from the pond had to be removed from the pond six times today, Mrs T told me after school, with a warning look. It is a bit warm indoors. I said I'd talk to him about it.

I took him to the park after school with a boy from his class named Colin and Colin's mum. She told me about wanting to raise chickens, which I think might be a bit problematic in London, and that was about it because the boys had managed to have an enormous row in the first ten minutes.

It was of the he's-stupid-no-he's-stupid variety, something to do with Sherlock getting all the best sticks. They'd stopped glaring, mostly, by the time we parted company so I hope they'll both forget about it by school on Monday. I do wish Sherlock had kids his own age he wanted to play with. He doesn't seem at all lonely, but still. Sometimes I worry. I've asked his mum about it, but she just shrugs and says he'll be fine. I get the feeling she didn't have that many friends as a child either.

Anyway, we stayed at the park until almost seven, poking things with sticks and, in his case, wading in every available body of water and asking why he couldn't take all his clothes off and swim and why did it get so hot and couldn't I make it stop? No, Sherlock, I cannot control the weather. He said he knew that, DUH, but it should just be cooler or we should go to the sea or skiing. And he'd like that with a side of tiny elephants. 

a visitation

I finally invited L properly to meet my parents yesterday. So we'll be doing that, at some point. I suppose over the summer, when Mycroft's home. I don't know, one box of china a frankly terse email and it seems like a good idea? Or less of a horrible one? Maybe it wasn't that at all. Maybe I just had to wait this long. I suppose a lot's changed in the last year. Inside my head, at least.

And Lestrade...I hope you know it wasn't anything to do with you. I can't even explain properly what it was, but if it had been you, or just that you're a man, any of that, I would've told myself to stop being an arse and dragged you up there immediately, but it was just...me. And I couldn't. Sorry.

It's hideous china, too. It's got a border of strawberries and it's sort of avocado green.

And instead of terrible china and my idiocy, let's close with this photo Mycroft sent me from school. I like it. Very peaceful.

three astonishing things

This man makes underwater sculptures that act as a hurricane barrier to protect coral reefs and also have started turning into coral reefs themselves. It's amazing and a little eerie to see the coral covering up the faces of the statues.

The second astonishing thing is the email I just got from my mum. I'd asked her why all her wedding china arrived on our front step in a large box on Saturday. She said: "Because you've got some sort of a family now and someone may as well get some good out of it."

The third astonishing thing you probably saw in the comments of yesterday's post... L offering to buy me that BMW bike, which, yes, I'm going to post its picture again so you can all admire it:

I feel sort of...overwhelmed about it. I wasn't seriously considering buying it, and it's more money than I've ever spent on anything in my life (those two things are probably related). And anyway, we haven't been on the test ride yet and it might not feel right.

But despite all my normal hedging and pessimism, I keep having to restrain myself from hugging L to death at random moments just for making the offer. He's amazing. 

motorcycles i shouldn't even be considering

The Triumph website lured me back with their design-your-own feature...

But then there was this BMW...

...that I really, really like, I mean look at it. That 'other bikes' menu doesn't work for me, by the way. I think they're trying to tell me that there are no other bikes.

I shouldn't even be looking at this, I was going to get something used. And I especially shouldn't be looking at it at work! 

as the moor turns, pt 3

After that, it was a long and thankfully unexciting walk back to the house. Sherlock fell asleep. I didn't know it at the time, but I'd left my cane at the tor, which I would come to regret in the morning. That night I was just grateful to be in a bed and was certain the next day would go far more smoothly. [insert the hollow laughter of hindsight here]

Sherlock slept in my room, because I didn't know where his was. I slept in a chair propped against the door so he couldn't get out without waking me. He woke me by jumping up and down on the bed and saying my name over and over and over and over and over...and over again.

He and Mycroft and I all had a relatively civilised breakfast, kindly provided by Mrs Hudson, and then I thought we'd take a nice walk into town. I had by that point realised that I'd left my cane on the moor, but I was violently ignoring my leg in the hope that it would continue to be trouble-free. That worked about as well as you'd expect.

We weren't even a quarter of the way there when I fell. Sherlock ran off to get me a stick he'd seen. I sent Mycroft after him. And then my knight in a shining bluish Honda pulled up. Lestrade was on his way to the hall to question me and I saved him a trip.

He gave us a ride into town, stopped at the sweet shop, where Mycroft and Sherlock got out, and then asked me some pointed questions about recent murders, both in London and in Dartmoor. I'm afraid I wasn't taking the interrogation terribly seriously, partly because I still in Afghanistan for at least one or two of them, and partly because I was...distracted. As anyone would be. He kept trying to smoke his pen.

(This is my 300th post, by the way. Seems appropriate somehow.)

something amazing

Here's a frog we saw while Sherlock was running us around the park yesterday. Or riding rings around us while we tried in vain to keep up. I stopped to take a picture. Or I coincidentally saw the frog while I was already stopped and bent over and panting. Take your pick. 

At breakfast, Sherlock introduced Mycroft to the idea of body painting for Pride (which may now be Sherlock's third favourite 'holiday', after his birthday and Christmas). Mycroft was wary, but not completely appalled. I may end up being the only unpainted member of our party. He suggested Sherlock ought to get painted-on wings, which would look quite nice and more importantly would not be a target, which was one of Sherlock's other ideas. I don't feel like I could reasonably veto that one, but it would make me feel a bit odd. 

Today...well, it's just gone seven, and Sherlock has so far made himself breakfast (cold cereal), spilled half a carton of milk on the floor, tried to soak it up with today's newspaper, dunked biscuits in his cereal milk, and squished up a banana inside its skin and then attempted to squirt it into his mouth with...exciting results. All before L and I were out of bed. 

When I emerged just now he said proudly, 'I didn't wake you up at all! Let's do something amazing today!' I said he could help me clean up banana and milk and then we could do something amazing. Ideas, anyone? 

Things that also need to happen today: (L, don't let me forget!) need to get a birthday card for my mum...and ask her why she has sent me a box full of her wedding china with no note of explanation. 

shadows on a lake

First, a PSA: if anyone's still having trouble commenting, and you're using Firefox, apparently you have to enable third party cookies. Don't ask me why.

Dinner...was it really Wednesday? This week has gone so fast. We had focaccia and this nice salad with tomatoes and mozzarella and some nice salmon and baked Alaska. Which he did set on fire, much to Sherlock's delight. Jo and Lisa were lovely and have probably won Sherlock's heart forever. Not only did their presence get him a fiery dessert and the promise of painted-on tattoos and the chance to stay up past his bedtime, but Jo rather rashly said she'd come and get him next time Lestrade and I were being boring and they could do something together. I think she may come to regret that...

I suppose part of the reason, apart from the week going by at breakneck pace, that I've put off posting is that now I've got to sort out everything in my head. It was...a surprise when L told me what they'd asked him to do. Not just a surprise, a shock really.

threatened with a pork chop

Around ten this morning, a very large man came into the surgery, went up to the receptionist, and said, 'I've got a knife, right, so you've got to let me see the doctor right now.'

He had one hand in his coat pocket, presumably holding the knife. The receptionist rang for me to come out. He explained the situation re: his supposed knife. I asked him to step into my office so I could take a look at him.

Once inside, I explained he'd have to remove his coat and shirt, at which point he pulled his hand out of his pocket, grasping not a knife but a paper-wrapped package. 'I don't have a knife,' he said. 'It's just chops. Can I put them in your fridge?'

We put them in the fridge. I listened to his breathing, and the police arrived a few minutes later. He looked confused, said he hadn't done anything wrong, and explained about the pork chops. They took him off in a police car anyway. He left the chops behind.

As if that wasn't odd enough, one of Lestrade's colleagues stopped by an hour later to make sure everything was all right. Said he'd heard that 'Lestrade's doctor was in some trouble...again.' I hope I'm not getting a reputation... 

fourteen

Mycroft's birthday is today, and he's fourteen. Which seems mad and impossible and hugely older than twelve, though I know it's not really. I'm afraid I'm going to turn into something like one of those annoying older relatives who pinch your cheeks and say things like, 'Oh, but you can't possibly be that old, I was changing your nappies just yesterday!' Not that I ever changed his nappies, but you take my point.

Part of it is remembering what I was doing when I was twelve (riding my bike, getting muddy a lot) as opposed to what I was doing when I was fourteen (would rather not say). But at the same time, it seems fitting, since Mycroft has often seemed older and wiser than his actual age would account for and occasionally older and wiser than the adults around him.

I'm continually impressed with his maturity and determination and maybe even more so by the times he lets himself just be a kid. I know it's not easy to let go of responsibility once you've got it. Or had it thrust upon you.

Anyway. Happy birthday, Mycroft. I love you, and I promise I'll try not to be too embarrassing when we come to fetch you from school. 

this week, next week

This week was my last physio appointment. At least, it was my last as long as I'm 'a good little doctor' as she put it, and do my exercises properly. Otherwise she's threatened to haul me back in by my ear for another 5 - 10 weeks of hell.

It's helped. I've got a better range of motion than I had, more strength, far more ability to hold heavy weights directly out in front of me whilst wanting to die. All to the good, considering Sherlock, who is a weight growing daily heavier and taller and one that cannot be convinced not to jump on me at unexpected times. Not that I've really tried. I'll probably be sad when he grows out of it. Although I wouldn't mind if he limited it to after 8am.

Next week...L has something planned for Monday, and Sherlock has plans to take Mrs Hudson out somewhere. I'll be fascinated to find out where he takes her. He says he's going to clean the kitchen floor to earn money for it, and he's got to wash L's bike as well.

Thursday is Mycroft's birthday, and he's off school Friday to Sunday. I'm going to see about fetching him after classes are over on Thursday so we can all have dinner together...and then on Friday we're off to see Nicky and her family, and Rachel. It's not exactly last year's stargazing extravaganza, but Mycroft's happy with it. It'll be nice for him and Carla to see each other again, and his mum will be with us Thursday evening.

DW linked to this leadership reaction course in the comments of L's post. It sounds like a lot of fun, but even better would be to watch Sherlock's class doing it. I can't decide if they'd be brilliant at it or just ignore the instructions entirely and jump in the water. Either way, I'm pretty sure it would be entertaining. 

not-a-date night

When he was ready (clean shirt and socks, both very important for dates I'm sure), Sherlock went outside and knocked on the door...because he remembered Lestrade saying it didn't count as a proper date otherwise...

He must've gone online looking for places to go, because he had the address written down to give to the taxi driver. I was not allowed to see it in advance, and I was...mildly concerned about where we'd end up. But it was, to my relief, a perfectly ordinary Japanese restaurant - or mainly ordinary.

He said he was looking for sea urchin sushi and found this place instead (I'd link but they don't seem to have a website). They do okonomiyaki, which is sort of...a cross between an omelet and a pizza? I'd never had it before, but it was quite good. You get to pick what goes in it, and, most important to Sherlock, they cook it right in front of you. Here's a picture of mine being cooked:

We also had a few bits of sushi while it was cooking, but not sea urchin. Sherlock told the waiter we were on a date. The man cooking our okonomiyaki said he was from Hokkaido, and Sherlock asked him many questions about it. Sherlock also told him we were on a date, which caused...a bit of confusion. 

Having traumatised the staff, we headed out for... Oh, wait, I'm forgetting. 

At the end of the meal, Sherlock produced L's bank card from his pocket and said he would pay... He swore L gave it to him of his own free will, so I let him. I have no idea what the waiter thought, but he looked amused.  

We went to have liquid nitrogen ice cream - chocolate for him, and blueberry muffin for me. Had a nice walk, discussed various things, such as why bananas grow upside down (it's probably the right way up from the banana's perspective), the point of the Olympics, and why they shouldn't give misleading information on QI (Stephen Fry is still in his bad books over the bronze sky incident). 

We came home, and he presented me with a somewhat wilted collection of reeds and grasses, which he forgot to give me before we left. He said he thought they'd be better than flowers because they came from the pond we built and that he was careful to take all the bugs off and leave them at school. 

He's so sweet sometimes it amazes me.