day off

Yesterday the boys went off with their mum, and Greg and I took a bike ride. We saw floods...

And more floods...

And cows. Not pictured. Mainly they're not pictured because I (completely understandably!) mistook some mooing for my phone vibrating, and L was laughing too hard to take any photos. And I was too busy trying to look stern and then watching him actually have to sit down and wheeze slightly to take any. I still maintain it wasn't that funny. 

I've had seven texts from him today. 

1. moo

2. bananas? [this was in response to mine about did he want anything from the shops]

3. moooooo

4. moooooooooo

5. you love me really

6. what do ghost cows sound like?

7. moooOOOOooOOOOOoooo

I do love him really, and it's a good thing... 

Here are some pictures Mycroft took last night and this morning at his mum's. The first one is the fire Sherlock lit mainly by himself with help from Mycroft (according to Sherlock's report, that is):

And the second is from a walk they took. Lovely, isn't it? Looks like a painting.

And now we're all back together once more, and we've had pizza, and the Christmas tree is lit up. Sherlock and Mycroft are fiddling with Sherlock's microscope, and L and I are semi-conscious on the sofa with dogs drooling on our feet. 

merry christmas everyone

Murray send me the above picture last night when he was working. Now he's passed out on Mycroft's bed, hopefully to awake soon, and then maybe he and I will have a better chance against the boys at cards then I'm having on my own. It's a good thing we're not playing for money.

And here is the terribly impressive yule log cake:

Not quite as alcoholic as the background suggests. Probably. 

And I think I hear Murray stirring, which means that I might be able to leave the boys with him and Mrs. Hudson and sneak off to visit L for a bit... I fully expect Mycroft to have won all his worldly possessions by the time I get back. He's honestly a little terrifying, and Sherlock's learning fast. 

Merry Christmas, everyone, and I hope you're having a good day whether you celebrate it or not. 

adopt a skull

I'm at an unpleasantly damp crime scene. Someone's just shown me this link where you can adopt a skull. They all have info about them written right on them and you can pick which one you want from a catalogue. My first thought was a Christmas present for Sherlock, but, well, it's a lot of money, and we've already got him...a few things. Possibly more than we should. But if you're shopping for anyone who would like a skull, this is your lucky day.

Contrary to L's advice, I have now been vomited on, punched (only a bit, I'm fine), and felt up, but I think I get to go home soon. At least unless I get another call before that happens. It's been an intense night so far. Very glad I got to go home and get the medal Sherlock made for me though. Several people asked me if I know I've got glitter on my shirt. Obviously the answer was yes (medal is at home for safe keeping).

it distresses us to return work which is not perfect

“Many years ago I sent an old, beloved jacket to a cleaner, the Sycamore Cleaners. It was a leather jacket covered in Guinness and blood and marmalade, one of those jobs … and it came back with a little note pinned to it, and on the note it said, ‘It distresses us to return work which is not perfect.’ So that will do for me. That can go on my tombstone.”

--Peter O’Toole

Apart from being a wonderful quote and a rather wonderful thing to potentially have on one's tombstone, his description of the jacket reminds me very much of L's. Blood and Guinness and marmalade... He'd probably blame me for the marmalade. 

Well. That was a very full weekend. Seems like it's been about a week since Friday. Sherlock's play was...sort of a cross between Noah's ark, minus Noah...and minus the ark...with something about the environment and climate change thrown in? I think. There was definitely a flood, at any rate. And at the end when the crops were growing properly again and not flooded out or dried up, all the carrots got up and danced around. As they do. It was great. 

Nicky and her family came to visit, and Mycroft and Carla got to go off by themselves for a while, so I assume Mycroft is currently winning the battle he's waging with his mum. Either that or she's told the security people to especially sneaky, but I think Mycroft would spot them. He's had a lot of practice. The dogs went with them. I'm not sure how much good they'd actually be if something happened, but they're certainly intimidating. 

He and Carla each got one tree decoration while they were out, and now Sherlock is mad for all of us to go out and get ours as well. We're behind on his Christmas schedule, apparently....

something from outer space

Found an article online today with the most amazing pictures, of which the photo above is one. Want to guess what it is? Looks a bit like something from outer space, I thought.

Anyway, once you've considered, you can check out the article and see how close you got.

Mycroft and I went to the Tate Modern today and saw this, among other things. There's also an exhibit coming in April that looks interesting...like it's made out of fluorescent tubes or something. I probably should've read about it, but I didn't, so that's the best I can do.

We picked up Sherlock from school, and he fluctuated between grump and excited and grumpily excited...with a side order of excitedly grumpy. His play is tomorrow, and L has just put the finishing touches on his thundercloud costume. He's also working tomorrow. Sherlock spent a large part of the evening trying to get L to promise to be there, with L explaining over and over that it might not be possible. A contract signed in blood was mentioned, and I had to intervene.

Mycroft is menu planning for Nicky and Co.'s impending visit...I think wasabi mashed potatoes sound amazing. L and Sherlock are less convinced. 

here

Well, we're here! We've been here a little while, actually, but we were a bit busy for blog updates. This is where we're staying: 

It's a beautiful place. There was champagne in the room when we got there, and there's also this:

And it's really just...lovely and quiet and peaceful. It's so nice to spend time alone with my husband and not have to worry about homework or bedtimes or who ate all of whose chocolates without telling who or what the dogs might or might not have eaten (they can't possibly have eaten an entire scarf, can they? It was five feet long...). And just have time to talk and lie about and leave dinner until the last minute because there's only us to organise.

In other news, I've been asked to start doing two shifts a week at work after the new year. I'm not sure it's fair to Mrs Hudson, or to Sherlock. It's not so bad when they're at night, or on L's days off...but then I don't get to see him on his days off, and I know he hates it when I work nights. Just not sure it's worth it, but I'm still thinking about it. 

wormsign the likes of which...

The wreath is complete. It has tinsel and glitter and various baubles and bits of old computer circuits on it. He's also made Murray one wrapped with bandages with some fake blood on and a drawing of a skull stapled to it. Murray is delighted and wants to hang it up at work...I feel this may end poorly for him. 

L sent me this: Australia has  nine foot long earthworms. I mean, of course it's Australia. Where else would it be? Picture behind the page break thing in case anyone is horrified by enormous worms. Lots more at the link.

till time and times are done

Mrs Hudson has just been up to have me try on something she's making for L for Christmas... Should be interesting.

This is our last Mycroftless weekend for a while - he's home on the 6th, although their mum called today to say she might take them on a trip if L and I going away somewhere, which would be lovely for everyone, especially Mrs Hudson, who will probably be thankful for a little peace and quiet by then. It's funny how we always think the flat feels so empty when Mycroft leaves, when of course it is - there's double the number of living beings in the flat, and the dogs count for two people each in terms of chaos. Or about 13 degus each. Whichever unit of measurement you prefer.

Plus Anthea, of course, but she's a sort of...chaos sink (like a heat sink for chaos). Everyone's better behaved with her around. Especially security. I suspect them of telling urban legends about her while she's away.

I've promised Sherlock we can go and buy tinsel tomorrow. I'll let you know if I survive, but at least it'll get us out of the flat so L can get some rest. Right now, Sherlock's online researching Christmas traditions. I've already had to veto the one about actual candles on the tree.

Did any of you actually go out and shop on Black Friday? Got your Christmas shopping done yet? Ready to hide under the bed and wait till the holidays are over? 

three years

L and I went out for dinner last night, a nice Italian place. He says I smile indulgently at him when he speaks Italian to the waiters, but I don't think that's indulgence he's seeing.

We talked a lot about the fact that it's been three years since we met, and most of the conversations went like this:

Can you believe it's been that long? 

I know, it seems strange. Do you remember how small Sherlock was?

And Mycroft was only 12! 

We must've said those lines, or approximations of, at least five times in the past few days. It doesn't get any less strange. And yet, three years isn't really that long. I was in Afghanistan longer than that. Half the time, it dragged by and it seemed like I'd been there forever, and half the time it seemed like nothing at all, but that was more dependent on what was happening.

This...seems like a whole other life. One that I'm still astonished and grateful for, daily. 

shirt full of mushrooms

I saw a man today with a shirt full of mushrooms. He was holding the bottom of it out in front of him to make a little basket for all of them. I don't know what sort - he was moving fast, and I didn't get a good look. Might not have been able to tell if I had. Brown and dirty is the best I can do. He passed me on the street, muttering something about 'thieving bastards'. I assume he didn't mean the mushrooms themselves, but who knows.

When I told Sherlock this after school, he wanted to know why I hadn't stopped him and asked him what he was doing with a shirt full of mushrooms. I don't think he would've taken well to being stopped and questioned, frankly.

Post-mushroom-man, I met L for lunch. It was lovely to have him out of work early, and we went to a nice Vietnamese place. Banana fritters and honey-gringer ice cream for dessert. And then home, briefly, before it was time to pick up Sherlock.

I just talked to Mycroft, who apparently spent the last hour on the phone to his mum, trying to explain that she can't keep having him followed around by security for the rest of his life... I think she disagrees. The next few months should be interesting. 

nothing but the night

We had a good day today (despite the subject line). Went to the off road place. Sherlock and Mycroft are doing really well and came out on the trail with us for a while. It's hard to believe Mycroft will be able to get his own bike soon if he wants to. I suppose it makes sense than time seems to go faster when you're older, since any given amount of time is proportionally less of your life, but even so, the pace at which this year has gone by seems a bit ridiculous. 

This weekend, in particular, was a blur, and Mycroft is back at school already. He and Anthea seem to be engaged in some sort of war in which he tries to work out her birthday and she smiles serenely like he hasn't got a prayer. Since I assume he'd need her real name to find out her birthday, and since I assume that information only exists on some top secret computer somewhere, I'm...slightly concerned. But he assured me he wouldn't do anything illegal because 'that would be cheating'. 

I've been thinking, as I know L has, about the boy who died on Friday and inevitably about people I haven't been able to save. About how many people will go their whole lives without watching someone die. About how Sherlock and Mycroft have already seen that and the ways I know it's affected them. No real conclusions. Just a lot of think about. 

greg the florist: aconitum

The next morning, Greg cooked eggs and bacon for breakfast. John sat in the warm kitchen, sipped tea, smelled the familiar scents of cooking, and still couldn't shake the thought that it'd been more than a dream. He could feel the fur and the hot breath on his neck. 

After breakfast, they walked along the edge of the property, past a lake, a crumbling stone tower, and through a forest where the trees wove so closely together than they almost blocked out the sun.  

"It goes on for miles," Greg said. "I was looking at the maps. If they're still right, at least. Some of it might've been sold off. Maybe I should sell some of it off."

"Don't do that," John said, before he could stop himself. "Sorry. I know it's your place. But it's just… It's amazing here. And if you sold it, anything might happen to it."

"Might have to at some point, if we really do get all the repairs done." Greg grinned. "But since we can't get anyone to come and do the work anyway, we're fine for now, right?"

"I tried the next town over. They're all 'busy' as well." He stopped short. "We should look at the library, right? If everyone thinks this place is cursed, there must be something about it in there. There's a whole stack of leather bound journals and letters and things."

"You think one of them's going to be along the lines of Dear Aunt Milly, I hear you are cursed and there may be demons inhabiting your house and/or person, what can we do to help? Love, John?"

"There might be! At least it's something to look for. Something to do."

"Yeah, all right. You go on, I'm just going up to the point there." He nodded to a jut of rock that stuck out into the lake. "I'll be back in time to drag you out of the books before lunch."

John didn't like it, but there wasn't any logic behind the sharp tug of worry in the back of his brain. It was the middle of the day. All Greg had to do to get back was follow the shoreline.

"Okay. Just...be careful."

"I promise not to get eaten by trees. Go on."

It took the best part of an hour to walk back, and he went directly to the library, and to the journals. He picked one up at random and flipped through it. It was a woman's handwriting, but there was no name inside the cover. Most of the entries concerned the management of the estate, but pressed leaves and flowers also made their way between the pages, labeled with common and scientific names and with the location in the forest where she'd found them.

The book ended abruptly with a faded blue flower. This one had no name. The text under it was a quick scrawl that took some effort to decipher. It read: Georgiana found it near the point. I hope to God it's not all starting up again.

snail races

I keep meaning to collect all the Greg the Florist posts and put them on a page so I don't have to look up the last post every time I try to do more...but that's not going to happen today.

We've just been to the allotment. Do snails hibernate in winter? I think they do. At least, you never see them, so I presume they're doing the snail equivalent of staying home with a hot cup of tea. It must not be cold enough yet, because Sherlock found two of them that were lively enough for a snail race.

You can't count of snails to follow a race track, of course, so he raced them consecutively and measured the distance each one went...in five minutes. Which is more patience for watching a snail crawl than I would've had. Or in fact than I did have. I think I wandered off to pull carrots halfway into the second heat. He wants you to know that the second one won, and that he thinks the viscosity of their mucous may be related to their speed.

We now have carrots (and chard), tomatoes (and chard), and some more small pumpkins (and...chard). The tomatoes are stubborn, hanging on in the greenhouse and ripening while their vines die off. The chard is just unnatural, and I expect to see a news report on it any day now. 

clarity

Here's someone who's embedded body monitoring technology under his skin. 

The article seems to say it only monitors body temperature, which makes one wonder...why he bothered? Proof of concept, I suppose. Still, interesting.

Sherlock's done very well at school and got a sticker in his book - not just academically, but he's done well in getting along with the other students and listening to Mrs N too, which is wonderful, and we're very proud of him. We're planning a trip to the bike place when Mycroft comes home, partly as a reward for him. I imagine he'll also get cake. Between L and Mrs H, cake is inevitable. ;)

The football has gone well...there maybe have been some dancing around the room. It's been a good day, despite the weather.

Sherlock was sitting on L's shoulders last night, watching the fireworks, and when I glanced at them, they were both looking up at the sky with the exact same expression. There's something about the tail end of summer that seems to drag on and on, until you've hit the middle of October and still feel it with you. Maybe it's just me, but the air seems clearer now. 

fireworks forever

Sherlock's mum took him out for the day on Saturday, and I was on call. I'm still not quite sure about everything they did because he told me all of it at top speed when my brain was only functioning at half speed, but I understand there were toffee apples, ice cream, dinner out somewhere 'with tablecloths' (not a huge distinguishing feature, but it does let out a few places), and FIREWORKS. He said it in all caps, trust me.

I didn't have nearly as good a time. FME works rarely features ice cream or fireworks, although there was a tablecloth involved at one point, and a small cat with very sharp claws. The cat is fine. The tablecloth and the officer involved, less so. I was out from about eight to eight, and L made me a lovely dinner when he got home, even though he'd been working just as long as I had.

At some point, I took this:

bats and pumpkins

As it turned out, there was no sanctioned dressing up at school today. Sherlock just wanted to be a bat. We told him no. Or, Greg told him no. I was going to say yes because what could it hurt, but it was pointed out that if one boy showed up dressed as a bat and no one else got to have costumes, it might be a tiny bit disruptive. Sometimes I forget things like this. 

He was a pretend (sulky) bat all the way to school nevertheless, but Mrs N said he didn't give her any trouble once he got there. After school, he was an improvised bat, with dark trousers and a large, flappy black hoodie of L's. 

And then...pumpkin carving. Enormous knives, flailing limbs, potential loss of life or eyeballs. Sherlock and L carved, and I started sorting the seeds from the pumpkin guts, which is genuinely one of the most disgusting things I've ever done and I should've worn gloves. It's the way your skin gets afterwards when it starts to dry on you, like it's sucked all the moisture from your fingers and coated them in an impenetrable shield of water repellent so you can't wash it off. 

But in the end, triumph: 

fallen

Sherlock and I found some good trees today. Here's one:

And Mycroft sent me this site where you can help piece back together an engraved Pictish stone: 

http://pictishpuzzle.co.uk/

I might need more time or patience than I actually have to make any progress, but I like the idea.

Today included laundry, shopping, hot chocolate with Sherlock who helped me fold a multitude of socks afterward, and a pumpkin delivery. Reg brought over the one he'd promised Sherlock in person, and Mrs H gave him tea. We were not invited. ;)

While looking for fallen trees, we also saw a set of three pumpkins stacked up like a snowman, with a stick arm holding a pumpkin head with the guts trailing out of it to the ground. Should've got a picture. 

it is very very early

Lestrade left around three to go and knock down someone's door. I didn't really get back to sleep. Too busy worrying about how it might go wrong, as if that ever helped anyone.

Sherlock woke up a little while ago and came to look for me in our room. He found me in the kitchen making tea and accused me of plotting to go with L and have fun without him. If only...

We've just watched this:



And I'm trying to convince him that Mycroft almost definitely does not want to join us on a pre-dawn stroll. He's made the point that the dogs definitely would, but I think Mycroft getting a full night's sleep trumps the dogs' constant need to smell things and then pee on them.

We'll go and get some sort of breakfast...something for everyone if anything's open this early and then come home and make tea before we disturb the hounds.

Greg, I hope your op went well, or is going well, and that you get everything you're looking for out of it. And let me know if you want anything while we're out. I love you. 

14 seconds

L came up with this fact for me today: in Britain, an ambulance is called to someone suffering the effects of alcohol every 14 seconds. Between my training and now the FME work, I think I've seen at least half of them. I realise that's not remotely possible, but trust me, it feels like it. 

Our allotment has tiny pumpkins. You could wear one as a very small hat, or perhaps carry one around in each hand if you wanted to look festive? I suppose you might, if you had very small hands, try to carve one, which is exactly what Sherlock wants to do, even though Reg has promised him one of his, which are a more reasonable size. (Obviously, he wants to carve that one, too. I think his end goal is to fill the flat with orange, staring faces so that one night, when one of us comes home late, there will be some sort of Pumpkin Incident.) 

Mycroft is on an overnight trip with his astronomy group and so will be a day late coming home for half term - but then we've got him all week, which we're all looking forward to. We might try some more museum roulette. Mycroft said his friend had improved the app and added a few more museums. Should be a good time. I have no idea how this year is going so fast though. Currently trying not to think about it. 

work

I was called out to a domestic violence incident last night. It was painful. All you can do is patch up wounds and hope justice will be done at some point, and know that even if it is, it won't undo the damage.

And the next one involved a pipe stem jammed somewhere you wouldn't want a pipe stem to go. I'm certainly getting a broader set of experiences in this job than I expected.

I got home very late/early. Lestrade had made tea for us and then fallen asleep balancing his on his chest. I had to wake him very carefully. It's just so nice... Well, beyond nice really. Amazing to have someone to come home to after a night like that. 

long gone

I can't believe how fast the week went, and I seem to mean that literally, the way I keep checking to make sure it's really Saturday. Apart from the bike place, we didn't do anything that exciting - mostly long wandering walks, cooking, talking, hottubbing (I'm sorry, Mycroft, I know how you feel about verbing nouns...), and keeping clear of the wild fowl watching us ominously from the pond.

Yesterday from picking up Sherlock to bedtime, I don't think he stopped talking once - clearly he had a much more exciting time than we did! No one burned down the city. L's back to work tomorrow, and I'm back to work tomorrow night and Tuesday daytime, so that'll be interesting.

Here's Sherlock's chocolate spider (which really looks like half an egg in a Halloween costume if you ask me...)

did you miss me??

Hey, it's Murray. I have two things to show you and John's password, so let's gets started. Public service announcement: using your sister's cat's name as a password only keeps out actual hackers, so if that's what you're using, I can only assume you want me to post on your blog.

Gay Flamingos Adopt Abandoned Chick Sherlock gave me this one when I said I was doing a post and it's a nice article that I have just one problem with and that problem is the following unexplained phrase: can feed their chick without any female help, by producing milk in their throat. They can do what now?? How do you type a sentence like that and then not explain it? Is it just me, can all you blokes out there (by blokes maybe I just mean flamingos?) produce milk in your throat? Because let me tell you, that is not a skill I have. Although I can see how it might come in handy in certain situations.

Number two is this: 9,000 Human Sand Silhouettes Serve as a Reminder of D-Day

It's...quite an undertaking. Yeah, don't know what else to say about that really. 

Because I know you are all dying to catch up on my fascinating life I will tell you that I've got an A&E job in a London hospital and won't tell you which one in case you come and stalk me, although if you're single and want to stalk me for romantic purposes, I'd probably be up for that, let me know. Just don't tell Watson, he's a little protective of you lot. 

What else... I'm taking Sherlock and Mrs Hudson out for dinner tomorrow night, don't know where yet. Recommendations? 

we're here because we're here

We have biked, we have settled in, bought food, made dinner - L did that last one, I chopped things and distracted him. It's a wonderful place. Just...quiet and all on our own and generally perfect. View of a little pond from the hot tub on the deck. Have some pictures.

Inside:

Outside:

And the bike place:

It was great, but we don't usually do that sort of riding, and I am sore in a new and exciting variety of places and glad I have the week to recover. I'd definitely do it again though. Well, I say that now. Tomorrow may be a different story once I've set up, but I imagine the hot tub will help a lot. 

in the electric dusk

Here, have a small frog. The pond at Sherlock's school is full of them, in varying sizes from about half the size of this one to two or three times his size. Or her size. I have no idea how to tell male frogs from female frogs.

so far

L is working again tonight. Sherlock is overflowing with the desire to join him. I told him to wait in his room and I'd make him an obstacle course, which I have done and will probably regret. And if I don't, Mrs Hudson will when he comes charging through here like a herd of oversized squirrels. I might go down and apologise preemptively before I tell him it's ready. 

I have work tomorrow night, which will hopefully give L enough time to recover and nap after work before I have to leave him with our small ball of energy. I have some diseased lung pictures in reserve for them to look at together. (Sentences I never thought I'd write, No. 847.) Still, hopefully, everyone will be in bed by the time I get a call - it does usually seem to work that way. 

Here, have a poem. I just read this for the first time the other day and really liked it.

A Small Number

Olena Kalytiak Davis

So far, have managed, Not
Much. So far, a few fractures, a few factions, a Few
Friends. So far, a husband, a husbandry, Nothing
Too complex, so far, followed the Simple
Instructions. Read them twice. So far, memorized three Moments,
Buried a couple deaths, those turning faces. So far, two or Three
Sonnets. So far, some berrigan and Some
Keats. So far, a scanty list. So far, a dark wood. So far, Anti-
Thesis and then, maybe, a little thesis. So far, a small Number
Of emily’s letters. So far, tim not dead. So far, Matt
Not dead. So far, jim. So far, Love
And love, not so far. Not so love. So far, no-Hope.
So far, all face. So far, scrapped and scraped, but Not
With grace. So far, not Very.

so, that happened

I finished Stiff and found it...more or less appropriate for Sherlock, although probably not for most eight year olds. Mrs N has volunteered me to help her take Sherlock's class to the Museum of Natural History, which should be...exciting.

It was odd, if nice, getting to work with L. Of course I know he does the same job as the rest of the police I work with (more or less), but I hardly ever get to see him actually doing it. Although, as he pointed out, by the time I got there, he was mostly done and asleep on his feet. It was hard work not to kiss his forehead and tell him to take a nap, but I restricted myself a hopefully non-embarrassing hug. So relieved the boy was all right - frightened, of course, but mainly all right.

Sorry this is so short. I feel all out of things to say recently. 

not good

I just got Sherlock to bed. It was a struggle tonight, but I expected it to be. He was up at least eight times between his bedtime and now, asking for anything and everything, but mostly asking if we could go to see Mycroft tomorrow.

Most of you will have seen it on L's blog, but there was a possible kidnapping at Mycroft's school today. Mycroft is fine, Anthea is fine, the dogs are fine. They're probably shedding all over L right now. He got the case - went there earlier today and hasn't been able to come home yet. Hopefully he'll get some sleep on Anthea's sofa, at least a few hours.

I hope the boy's all right. His parents must be terrified. 

by the sea

We're staying in an old railway car, which is something I didn't know you could do until L showed me the website. Sherlock is very excited about it, but that's a downgrade from very VERY excited - he initially thought it was our own private car that we could take wherever we wanted on the rail line. He noted the lack of tracks and engine almost immediately, but there was a moment there when I thought he might explode.

We're near the sea, and there's a place hire bikes and a path to ride on, so we've been doing that, baking, letting the dogs run around and try to bite the ocean. You'd think that would get old, but it never does - perhaps because their level of enthusiasm for it never changes.

Mycroft, L, and Sherlock have baked, and the cake is cooling. It's chocolate, with more chocolate, and chocolate icing to be applied later on. Couldn't ask for a better day, really.

Happy birthday, Sherlock. Watching you grow up is an amazing experience, and I'm happy to be a part of your life. 

cupcakes

Sherlock mainly made these. I helped. The cakes themselves are pretty good, but we had frosting issues. You know how it is. It got too stiff and then you squeeze too hard and it just gets everywhere... 

I am unaccountably exhausted and may go to bed before Sherlock does. Certainly will if he has his way. He's wrapped around L's feet like a small boa constrictor. 

brno ossuary

These are all skulls:

It's the second largest ossuary in Europe, and they only found it in 2001. The bones had been all shifted and tumbled by water and time, and they had to clean all of them before they opened it to the public. There's about fifty thousand people buried there.

...Even as I write this, I'm a bit concerned Sherlock will want to go there for his birthday. But I thought it was too interesting not to share.

L fell asleep immediately upon hitting the bed, but I'm still awake. Don't really know why. It feels like it's been a very long week somehow. My shoulder's ached since Wednesday, more than the bruises. Come of the way I twisted when he hit me, I expect. It was harder not to hit him back than I would've thought it would be.

Anyway. I'll try sleep again. 

dr feelgood

Dr Feelgood has been and gone. We went over my files, and he pointed out a few things I could be doing more efficiently, which was helpful. He also left a present for Sherlock, a book called Stiff, which is about all the things that can happen to dead bodies, from organ donation to decomposition to being freeze-dried and turned into compost. He said he thought it sounded like just the thing for him.

He's probably right, but I'll be reading it first to make sure that... You know, I'm not sure what I'm expecting this book to contain that Sherlock wouldn't gleefully read and then discuss at breakfast the next day. But just in case. It's obviously not a children's book.

He also said a police sergeant called him Dr Feelgood the other day. I tried not to laugh too much, if only because we hadn't finished my review yet.

And here is a video of a gelatine cube bouncing off a flat surface.

canal ride

We took a bike ride today (bicycles, not motorbikes). We went to the canal, which was a pretty long ride for Sherlock, maybe the longest he's done. You can tell he's getting bigger and stronger though. He wasn't nearly as exhausted as we had feared/hoped. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful place:

We bought sandwiches and things and eat in the grass by the water. It was strange not to have Mycroft and the dogs with us. I missed him a lot today. He would've had a good time. And, obviously, the dogs would've loved it. They also probably would have jumped in the water and then shaken it off all over us, which I didn't mind missing.

Also, Sherlock would like to remind you, me, L, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, and the world at large that his birthday is coming up. 

snakes etc

Wawrinka is two sets up on (Andy) Murray in the US Open. I'm not even sure what to think about that.

In non-tennis news, I'm back to work tomorrow night, 7pm to 7am. Going by previous Friday nights, I expect the forecast to be light drugs with occasional heavy drinking and stupid fights that, in the end, have no identifiable cause.

Dr Feelgood emailed to say congratulations, so apparently he's reading the blogs. Also that it's time for a meeting to discuss how the job's going and so he can look over my files - until the six months are up, it's his job to make sure I'm keeping proper records, with the kind of information needed for court cases, not just normal medical records. So we'll do that later in the week, hopefully when Sherlock's at school.

I keep my file cabinet locked, for obvious reasons, whose initials are SH. If he asks, it's also booby-trapped and magically warded. And full of snakes. 

quiet

Mycroft, Anthea, dogs, books, and luggage have all been returned to Harrow. Also various new clothes, old computer parts, and a mountain of baked goods. Sherlock asked me at one point if it were possible to mail a person in a box and travel that way, if you weren't going very far (read: to Harrow, for a sneaky visit to your brother). When I said no, he then wanted to know if you could send a body that way. Because if you can't visit your brother via post, the next best thing is to send him (for example) a stuffed bear? Not sure.

We saw a stuffed bear, by the way. Yesterday. In a petrol station. I regret not asking for an explanation.

The countdown to bedtime has begun. We've been letting him stay up late for the holidays, but I think it'd better be back to normal tonight. You can tell he's tired. Also, L and I have a lot of sewing on of name tags to do. We tried a few days ago, and Phobos swallowed one whole trying to lick my hand. 

honeymoon

Mycroft is back at school on Tuesday, Sherlock shortly thereafter. We've been talking about the honeymoon a bit, with Sherlock ruling out places that are too nice and interesting for us to go without him. I was thinking about trying to see the aurora borealis, but, apart from it being a fairly long way if we want to ride the bikes, I think Sherlock and Mycroft both might be a bit cranky if we went to see those without them.

It is a good year for it though, apparently. I read that it peaks on an 11 year cycle, and the peak is either this year or last year, depending on which article you read. September and March are supposed to be the best times. You can stay in a glass igloo if you want to:

Anyhow, more realistically, L mentioned Prague last night, and I was looking at Lugano, in the Switzerland, which seems like a nice place, but there are about a thousand other places that would be good too, I'm sure - if anyone has suggestions, let us know?

Editing in this pic of Sherlock's cake - it's delicious :)

tiny frog

Or possibly toad. We found it on our walk today. Sherlock was delighted, but seems to have got over the urgent need to take every bit of wildlife we find home with him, which is a relief. He still asked, but didn't seem too disappointed when we said no. 

Back to normal tomorrow. Maybe then I'll be able to sort out the day in my head. Right now, it's still a sort of happy haze.

tomorrow

Well. We're getting married tomorrow.

The dogs are washed. Our suits are set out. Family is trickling into town. Murray probably has the rings. It's all beginning to seem almost real...

L's going out tonight with Sherlock. I'm going out with Nicky. Mycroft and Carla have some undisclosed plans. It will be a busy night. Just as well. Maybe it'll keep me from being too nervous/excited/unable to think of anything else. I hope I'm not too boring tonight, Nicky. ;) 

murray and lestrade

Well. Murray went up to surprise Lestrade at his conference. There was champagne and there were Homer Simpson boxer shorts, apparently. Later, Murray got himself handcuffed to the bar. That was after he got them kicked out the jacuzzi.

The evening appears to have been a success. Although I don't like to think of the state of L's head in the morning.

I called Murray cheeseface in the comments and promised to explain. It's a short story. He once loudly announced to a bar that fromage was better than fucking. He meant frottage...although he did not stand by his statement when questioned later. There were speculations about what sort of bedroom activity would involve cheese, and he got a new nickname. It's probably best not to think about it too hard.

Right. Going to try sleep again. 

a note

Earlier today, L got an envelope addressed to him at the yard. It was a note from his father, along with some money. He asked me to post a picture of it. I don't think any of us really know how to feel about it.

Translation:

To Gregory, 

I heard you were getting married. And that you have two boys/children now. I hope you're happy and that you and he have a good life together.

The money is to be split/shared between you and Nichola to spend on your families.

Your Father, 

Francesco Lestrade

So, that's…nice, I suppose? I don't know. I mean, it could certainly be worse.

camping

Posting from my phone is a pain, so this will be short, but we're having a wonderful time. Can't honestly say I wish you were here because the tent would be crowded! We have seen pigs and bees and gone swimming and got giggles goggles and fins for Sherlock. He's turning into a little fish. We've seen meteors and stars and I proposed to Greg again. He accepted… Eventually…

Sherlock is asleep, and Greg and Mycroft are playing their guitars. It's one of those rare moments when everything is perfect.

blame nicky

Honestly, it's not my fault. She sent it to me, and what else was I supposed to do? The earring really makes that look, I think.

... I'm not even really making fun. He looked better than I did in the 80s. 

The past two nights of calls out haven't been so good, as you may have gathered. There were kids involved. Obviously, I knew that would happen eventually, but it's not really something you can prepare for. I've talked to L about it a fair amount and a bit to Dr Feelgood, Who said you never get used to it, which was about what I expected.

Nicky sent me this picture at  an opportune moment. It cheered me right up. As has the prospect of camping! This has been such a busy summer, it's hard to believe it's almost over. Hard also to believe how much is still happening before the end of it, before Mycroft and Sherlock go back to school. Camping, new clothes for both boys, but especially for Mycroft who is growing at an alarming rate, and, of course, the wedding. 

I'm still thinking about the Marathon des Sables and looked into the London Marathon for next year, only to find that it currently already closed for entries. Exactly how early do people decide they're going to do these things? Anyway, I suppose there's nothing stopping me from running a ridiculous distance on my own without signing up for anything.

Work could've gone better.

Came home to find L on the sofa, cuddling his guitar, which was nice. I got him into bed and then watched a documentary on the Marathon des Sables. It's 150 miles over the course of six days through the Sahara Desert. I'd be mad to even think about it, right? I suppose I just need to think about something right now. Or go to sleep. That's probably the better option.  

happy birthday, lestrade!

The other one I was looking at said 'you may feel old, but you're still the youngest person I had sex with this year.' But I went with the more topical one. Besides, I would've had to amend it to say 'or last year, or the year before… Or for quite a while, really'. And then some of the humor is lost. So I decided on the royal foetus, because I know you didn't get enough of that at work. :-)

butterflies and helium

Today, we went to see butterflies. It seemed like they were everywhere. They landed on your hair, he landed on your arm, and one landed on L's nose. I wish I had a picture of that one. We do have pictures of a lot of them, although none with the boys in them can be posted here, of course. And I don't have them to post because I haven't got them off the camera and...I'm too lazy to do it right now.

Sherlock was desperate for more land on him, but he was his usual self, a little manic ball of energy, always moving. It didn't encourage anyone to get too close, including butterflies. He did get a few, but Mycroft got more simply by standing still. I think he had five on him at one point.

The whole experience was so incredibly strange. Something about interacting with wild things that aren't afraid of us. I had a bird land in my palm once, and it felt like that.

Also, here is this...thing. L found it. It's pretty amazing.

i am not blogging during my date

... I'm just posting during my date, because I forgot to do it earlier. This was pre-written. For someone's convenience.

RSF asked about book recommendations. Since you're waiting for the newest Rivers of London book to come out in the United States, how about a book that's out in the US but not here (that I know of)? I haven't read it yet, but it sounded good enough that I made a note to get it when it comes out, which, last time I checked, is in the autumn. It's called Mr Penumbras 24 Hour Bookstore and I really hope they don't change the cover when they publish it over here. I want the glow-in-the-dark one. Partly because I think Sherlock will like it, but mostly because I know I'll like it.

Apart from that, you could try the Dalziel and Pascoe novels by Reginald Hill. It's not terribly important to read them in order, but, if you want to, the first one is called A Clubbable Woman. It's not the best of the series. If you don't mind starting out of order, you could try A Pinch of Snuff.

Also...for those of you wondering when the wedding is going to be...it's not far away. This month, in fact. :)

octopus slippers

Someone has made slippers out of bread. There was no information on the site about who it was. Just slippers. Made out of bread. I wonder if you could wear them for any length of time, or if they would just fall apart. I think you could definitely make hats out of bread. As long as it didn't rain. Bracelets. Possibly legwarmers made out of baguettes.

I'm slightly concerned that when Sherlock sees this post he will want to try it. Usually, 'why not' is the question I ask myself when he wants to do something. I think that's mostly because of my background. I don't want to end up limiting his life to make things more convenient for me. But walking on food might be where I draw the line, even though I suppose it's not any more wasteful than buying flowers.

Anyway. It's just the sort of thing I wonder about. I always wonder if I'm doing the best thing for him. For all of us. This untimely bout of self-examination brought to you by slippers made out of bread.

In lighter news, here are some octopus eggs. I can tell you right now that Sherlock will definitely want some octopuses in 'his' pond, meaning the one at his school. I can also tell you that the answer to that will be no. Some questions are easier than others.

For anyone who is wondering, Midnight Riot, the American version of Rivers of London that I bought used without knowing that Rivers of London existed, did change the spelling of the words to American, but not the vocabulary. (Rivers of London is a better title.)

days in the sun

All of us went to visit Steve's grave today. We stopped for flowers on the way there. Sherlock usually has a multitude of opinions on picking out flowers, but this time sulked as far away from us as he could get without actually leaving the shop.

It was the same when we got to the cemetery. He doesn't like the idea that Lestrade and Steve might've ended up together and that, therefore, the four of us...wouldn't. It's understandable. I won't say I didn't feel a little odd being there myself. Simultaneously sorry I'll never meet him, because he meant so much to L, combined with the knowledge that if he were alive, my chances of meeting him through L would be slim to nonexistent.

Sherlock actually wanted me to pick him up, which he hardly ever does anymore. I managed it for about two minutes, and I can still feel it in my bad shoulder, even thought I wasn't using that arm. Might have to be the last time, but I always say that, don't I? And then he got down to kick the heads off dandelions.

klein

Klein bottles:

From the website:

This is one of a series of glass Klein bottles made by Alan Bennett in 1995 for the Science Museum, London. It consists of three Klein bottles, one inside another. A Klein bottle is a surface which has no edges, no outside or inside and cannot properly be constructed in three dimensions. In the series Alan Bennett made Klein bottles analogous to Mobius strips with odd numbers of twists greater than one.

I've always liked Klein bottles, and I like these particularly.  The more you look at them, the more confusing they get.

We have been swimming. Sherlock worked on his diving for a while and then worked on hurling himself into the water and making as big a splash as possible. He's now decided he wants to go kayaking, preferably on the Thames, but he says the ocean would do. Just like that. 'I suppose the ocean would do.' I said I'd consider it, but definitely not on the Thames. You would think he's heard enough stories from L by now to not want any chance of getting that water in his mouth.

Mycroft's gone to walk the dogs and invited Sherlock along. When last seen, Mycroft had said he knew more of pi than Sherlock did, Sherlock declared he didn't, but even if he did, pi was pointless...and so on. I'm just going to enjoy the peace and quiet for a bit. 

glowing trees

This will be short, because I'm tired, and L is already in bed. Sensibly, given the time. 

Someone in California is making glowing trees. 

I can't remember now where I heard about this - was it one of you? But it looks pretty amazing. They did a Kickstarter for it, asking for $65,000 and got over $400,000. Which I can understand, because they're offering seeds for their glowing trees to people who gave over a certain amount.

Right, I can't think of anything else to say that isn't about the horrors of the potential misuse of genetic engineering, so I'll stop at glowing trees and go to sleep. Goodnight, everyone. 

home again

We have beans! We had a few before. Now we have...a lot. These beans may end up on the evening news by the end of the summer. Two children crushed by massive falling bean pod, film at eleven. 

Here's a site that Mycroft showed me. He says it helps him concentrate at school. And at home when Sherlock's not in the flat. It's called Coffitivity and it plays the sounds of a coffee shop at you. I'm not quite sure whether I like it or not yet. 

I had a long and ridiculous argument with Murray this morning about whether it was rude of me to ask him to be my best man via text. He maintains it was. I maintain if we went around pointing out every time we were rude to each other we'd literally never do anything else. I also said I'd ask you lot - rude or no? He said yes anyway. 

pitch drop part 2 and invitations

Remember this post, where I talked about the pitch drop experiment? Well, it's dropped. Thanks to Pip for pointing it out in the comments, and you can read about it here or just stare at the gif below for far too long.

And wedding invitations! Time and place blacked out for obvious reasons, but we will tell you when it's going to happen. Just...not yet. 

They were both red initially and I was concerned it looked to much like blood. Sherlock thinks they don't look nearly enough like blood and at once point suggested they should actually be blood (no). They are our actual fingerprints though. I really like how they came out. And they've got magnets on the back so you can stick them to the fridge. Or anything else metal you would like to stick them to. 

The t-shirt making went well, and we watched Sherlock get his platinum award for...well, this is his comment from L's blog; I'll let him describe it:

I've done better than I even had to in everything like reading and maths and writing and also I was helpful and also I didn't have to go to the thinking corner more than three times all year.

He really has done amazingly well this year, and I'm so proud of him. 

heat, drugs, and flowers

We have ice in the shape of small flowers. Why? Well, remember when Sherlock and I went to Ikea and bought him a Sherlock-sized chair for his reading corner? They also had ice trays in the shape of various things. Sherlock would've preferred skulls or bones or bats, but was fascinated enough with the idea of ice in shapes that he settled for flowers (and another one, not pictured, that makes ice in long tubes). 

Work was mainly people who had taken too many drugs, had too much to drink, or been out in the heat for too long. Or all three at once. Took a blood sample as well, from a man who insisted it would clear him. I hope it will, and that he didn't do it - he seemed like a nice bloke, and what they were holding him for wasn't nice at all.

I think I got home a little before midnight. L had tea waiting for me. :) He had also removed the tie from his new shorts and was modeling them with a pink ribbon tied into a large bow in its place. Mycroft was looking tolerant and amused. I had one of those moments where I'm almost shocked by how lucky I am to live the life I do. 

did you know

Did you know there used to be a tradition of medical students posing with their cadavers? This is one of the more serious ones. I saw one with the students and cadaver playing cards...and another that had been made into a Christmas card to send to friends and family. 

And another 'did you know'...that some idiots are leaving their dogs locked in their cars with this heat? And that the police are allowed to break their windows to rescue the dogs? A broken window's the least of what they deserve, really. 

Since Sherlock learned that little fact, he's been on the lookout for dogs to rescue, and today... 

It was some sort of vastly unhappy terrier mix. Poor thing. Mycroft had some very strong words for the owner when he came out to complain about his window.

And lastly, L tells me I need to complain about the heat more and stop acting like I'm made of asbestos, so: it's hot. 

massive dragonfly

This dragonfly hitched a ride on my bike halfway across the city today. I thought he'd landed there and died, until I got where I was headed and tried to take a photo, when he of course immediately took off. I caught him (or identical twin) an hour later on this sign post, once I was done. 

Work was interesting, massive dragonflies aside. I saw an asthmatic who's being detained for murder and also got to take his dental impressions - which Sherlock is wild to see, just in case he can see some difference between normal teeth and murderers' teeth. He says he'll need a much larger sample size, so will I please bring home all dental impressions I make (no).

Also a drugs case where I was called in with the hope I'd get permission from a man to do what's rather delicately called an 'intimate search'. He eventually said he'd given it to his six year old son to hold, which is...I don't know what that is. I suppose it could've been worse. In several ways.

Anyway, I was happy to get home - to a lovely dinner cooked by all three of my boys. And now we're watching blood drip off of things at this link L found. 

courgettes and honeymoons

Items in the subject line are not related.

1. We have courgettes! Or at least we have flowers and possibly the very small beginnings of courgettes. I don't think I remembered that the plants got this large. Mum used to grow them, and I remember them as being big, but lots of things look big when you're seven.

2. I found out the origin of the word honeymoon today, or at least I heard a story explaining its origin. I'm not going to vouch for it being true, but it sounds plausible. Apparently the ancient Persians believed that honey was an aphrodisiac and they drank it, or possibly some sort of honey drink, for a month (moon) after they got married.

I also learned that the Aztecs thought avocados were an aphrodisiac on the theory that they were wrinkly and grew in pairs... 

i've met the met...

An understatment if I've ever heard one! L got me this at the park today. They were there handing them out, mostly to kids, but I like it. I've put it with the stickers Sherlock got us at Pride. 

We went swimming today. L and I demonstrated dives at Sherlock's request, multiple times, while he observed our form and technique...wait, I think I mean critiqued our form and technique. He did almost nothing but diving today himself - he's like that, goes flat out at what he wants to learn until he gets it. No diversions. He probably would've stayed until the pool closed if we'd let him. 

Mycroft spent most of the time reading or people watching. I was just sitting next to him, trying to get a decent amount of sunblock on my ears, and out of the blued he pointed out a young man across the pool and asked me if I thought it was odd that someone who wanted to join the Royal Navy was unable to swim. Took him a while to explain that one to me.

Anyway, good day. Especially after yesterday. L got home around two in the morning. I didn't wait up intentionally, but I was awake anyway and we talked for a while... I don't know. I'm glad the police there know the situation now, at least. Also glad that Danny didn't break the skin when he bit him.