hungry like the wolf

I've been ordered upstairs to bed while L prepares something for tomorrow morning, so I'll just take this opportunity to say briefly how wonderful he is and how much I love him. And how...constantly amazed I am at my good fortune.

And I'll also post this, just in case Sherlock needs something else to occupy himself with in the morning, or more to the point, in case Mycroft and Anthea need help occupying him. The youtube channel belongs to someone who works at a natural history museum in Montana and this is the first in a series of videos in which they acquire a wolf that was hit by a car and prepare it for...display, presumably, but I haven't watched that far yet.

All this one has is a dead wolf, but the subsequent episodes are more graphic, so proceed with caution. Eventually, I believe, there will be flesh-eating beetles involved. You're welcome, Sherlock.

baggage handling

After lunch, L took me on a mystery tour of London. He said we were going to pick up one of my birthday presents...somewhere. I was surprised he didn't want me on the back of his bike so he wouldn't have to give me directions, but as it turned out, my bike was a necessary part of the proceedings, because I was getting real, rain-proof, lockable luggage for it: 

Obviously it looks better on my bike (because it's my bike), but this gives you a general idea. It's all somehow coded (magnetically? Electronically? Magically?) to open with my ignition key, which is amazing - how do criminals get by these days? Stealing things must be much more complicated - and it all fits perfectly. It's made by BMW so they ought to know how to put things on their own bikes. It'll be perfect for the FME job; I can keep all my things in it and not worry about someone wandering off with them if I turn my back for a minute, and there'll be conferences and so on I'll need to travel for (and Spider fits, I checked, although she does take up almost an entire bag on her own). It's a wonderfully thoughtful gift, and I have an amazing fiancé. 

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On a completely different note, here's the story Sherlock wrote for school a little while ago. He asked me to post it here. 

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reading is fundamental

Auto-complete map of the UK (it'll get bigger if you click on it):  

I particularly like 'Edinburgh is a mad god's dream'. Much more interesting than 'London is funny'. Although at least we're not hellish (Oxford) or a dump (many places, apparently), or Swansea (the graveyard of ambition, which has to be the worst of all). 

L had to be at court at what seemed like a truly unreasonable hour this morning. Surely judges don't wake up that early? But he also got out in time for Mycroft to send us both away to have lunch and leave him to finish up studying. He came with us to pick up Sherlock on the bikes afterward, and they've been getting along...slightly better than yesterday. For the most part. Until Mycroft's voice cracks a bit and Sherlock feels it necessary to make fun of him. Mycroft rises above it usually, which is more than I managed when Harry was mocking me for the same thing. 

If anyone knows where spring went, please send it our way. 

barbican

We went to the Barbican conservatory today. It was much nicer in there than it was outside. Parts of it looked like the aftermath of an apocalypse...in some more temperate country than ours.

Zombies not included, although Sherlock hid in the foliage and groaned for a while in an attempt to convince us otherwise. 

Orchids. I can't remember what kind, but they're lovely, aren't they? Made a nice change from the grey brown outside. 

Speaking of outside... 

You can picture Sherlock tearing around this very cold lake, right on the edge, despite being repeatedly told not to. I don't think even he wanted to fall in today though. Tiny bits of snow, vicious wind. Hard to believe it's almost April. 

Mycroft's guessed where L's taking us all for my birthday. He says it's obvious, given what Lestrade's said about it. I think he must mean obvious if you're a genius...or possibly obvious if you're a teenage genius, since Sherlock hasn't got it either and it's driving him mad. If he does get it, I'll be the only one in the dark, but that's all right. I'm not generally that fond of surprises, but I like all of L's, so I can wait. Probably. 

I'm so glad L's home this week. And not just because his cough still sounds like a seal. Or an asthmatic swan. Or some other animal that needs medical attention. It's nice to have him around during the day. 

dot dot dot

Sherlock's after-school art class started today. L and I both went and were forced to participate (all right, I was forced, L did it of his own accord), and I'm glad. It was fun, although I am just as terrible as I thought I would be. We did watercolours this time, which makes sense with kids this age - relatively easy to clean up.

The teacher brought in a few different flowers and some fish (yes really, dead fish) to paint. I did a sunflower...more or less. Three guesses which Sherlock picked and the first two don't count. L did a fish with a flower for its eye which I thought was nice.

And the rest of this post will basically be a letter to L, because I feel like I could've handled this last...thing...that we went through better. Not that I necessarily know how. But sometimes typing is a lot easier than talking.

So...L. I know you think that I just don't like to talk about things...until later, when we're both miserable. It's really not that.

It's more like I'm convinced the only things I can think of to say are...things I feel would not be helpful to the situation, so I don't say them, but then I can't say anything else, so I just say nothing. I get scared of making things worse. Terrified, really. Which is...not helpful in thinking of things to say.

Do you think I used enough...ellipses in that?

Anyway. I don't know if hearing any of that helps. Or potentially makes things worse. But that's what's actually going on in my head when you're thinking I don't want to talk about it. I still don't know how to not do that next time, but maybe we could think of something? Sorry. I am trying. 

a few things

Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman, has been done as a radio drama, and first episode is available. It actually says it will be available soon, but it was available a few hours ago, because I listened to it. So, not sure what's going on, but I imagine it'll be back shortly. It has that guy from Cabin Pressure in it, and Christopher Lee, Bernard Cribbins, Tony Head, and a number of other impressive people.

I thought this was really nice, and practical:

whitstable

L has the day off tomorrow. I asked where he wanted to go, and he said how about Whitstable, and now we both have this song stuck in our heads. Maybe forever.




We will be buying vegetables while we're there, obviously.

that's why we don't hug kale

At the supermarket a few days ago, I saw a little girl and her mother. The girl, about four, was helping unload things. Her mother handed her some kale, and she hugged it, which was rather sweet, but caused it to slip out of its plastic bag and land on the floor. Her mum helped her get it back in the bag, and then said, And that's why we don't hug kale.

I have a feeling some of the conversations around their house may rival ours for oddness.

Caves full of massive crystals, near Chihuahua, Mexico

Sherlock brought his bloodstain pattern book to school today, which in retrospect was perhaps not the best idea. I didn't even think of it this morning when he asked, but Mrs N had words with me after school. Though apparently the problem was more that the kids found it fascinating than that anyone was upset by it. Some of their parents may not appreciate it.

His parents evening is tomorrow, and while it won't go quite as smoothly as Mycroft's, I don't think we have any unpleasant surprises in store. It does make me feel slightly sorry for my own parents though, thinking of them going to these things for Harry and I. Getting told Harry was smoking or leaving school after lunch and not coming back, or that I was starting fights again (which wasn't true, I never started them). It's like Judgement Day.

I've also got another interview coming up, speaking of judgement. Wish me luck. 

home alone

L and I had a very nice day (helped along by the fact that England won the rugby). I lazed about, he cooked, neither of us got much accomplished. We rang our mums, which went all right. We ate, watched the match, I dozed on him... Perfect, really.

Mrs Holmes picked up the boys this morning fairly early. Sherlock had a giant sparkly card for her, and Mycroft had a less sparkly one, and they had their respective instruments because they'd planned a duet for her on guitar and violin. L got a text from Mycroft saying it went well, and I got seven from Sherlock - a sort of play by play.

She's taking Mycroft back to school tonight, and Sherlock's staying the night with her. L's just been called out. I am, for once, alone - although not really, because Mrs Hudson is downstairs, and there's someone down in security all the time now I think since we had that break in. And, of course, two enormous hounds, to be picked up by Anthea tomorrow and return to Harrow with her. And two degus, who I need to feed, and a partridge in a pear tree (no, Sherlock, no partridges. or pear trees). And to think now that's my definition of alone...

I prefer it this way though. I think part of what disconcerted me so much about being out of the army was going from four in a room (or 30 in a tent) to just me, not even a plant. I'm glad it's not like that for most people when they come home.

fulgurite

L sent me this picture of fulgurite, which looks amazingly like a dragon about to eat someone. It's made when lightning strikes sand and fuses parts of it together. 

Quite a lot happened yesterday. Today. Depending on how you look at it. Mycroft's parents' evening went pretty well. All of his teachers had nice things to say about him. I tried to pay attention and ask useful questions, although how useful anything I had to say would really be is debatable. I mean, it's different at Sherlock's school, but I don't really think Harrow takes anything any of the parents say all too seriously. 

L claimed to be nervous, but looked suave and cool, if slightly damp from the ride. He made it extremely difficult to focus on what everyone was saying. Mrs H looked like she was trying not to scare anyone, which I must say is not her usual look and does not come naturally to her. She's very charming when she wants to be though. 

Afterward, we got to take Mycroft home...into the sugar-fueled disaster zone of hurricanes Sherlock and Harry. They made a batch of cupcakes with edible glitter. Mrs Hudson got two. Mycroft got one. L and I got none. The entire batch of cupcakes was gone before dinner. I don't know how Sherlock and Harry didn't explode, but a walk afterwards was necessary. 

Things happened. Harry is now apparently planning L's stag do. I am sensibly terrified. 

Woke up around three and had a chat with Harry, who was sleeping on our couch. It was...good. We'll probably never be close the way L and Nicky are, but maybe we can do better than we have been. 

car punching

I had another interview yesterday, with Dr B, who thankfully did not google me. He was a bit older and called my phone an infernal device, so I have a feeling google is not top of his list for information sources. He's been doing this a long time though and had some interesting stories. Not sure we're going to suit though. I suspect if he had read the blogs, he wouldn't have approved.

Today, lunch in the park with Lestrade, who could speak and was not wheezing, so that was lovely. Beautiful day.

On the way to pick up Sherlock, I saw someone get cut up in traffic. He started shouting at the man who'd done it and got out of his car at the next light. I thought there might be trouble, which...I suppose there was. Of a sort. He walked up, punched the other man's car, got back in his own, and drove away when the light turned green. He made no impact on the car. I hope he didn't break anything in his hand.

I also looked at more wedding bands.

It's white gold, and the centre bit rotates. Does that make sense? The raised part is not attached to the inner part, so they sort of spin around each other, but they're still connected. There's an animation showing it on the site, but you can only really see it with the one with the diamond in. Anyway, I thought it was nice. Unusual. 

souffle success

I made this. It...worked? Bit dense maybe? I don't have extensive souffle eating experience, so it's hard to judge, but Sherlock ate two of them, so it must've not been too bad. It was actually a pretty simple recipe. It made six, so Mrs Hudson got one, and security got the other. Hopefully they shared and didn't go for a fight to death or anything. They're more used to L's desserts, which are worth fighting over. Hopefully this has erased the shame of the cheese and vinegar incident from everyone's mind.

And here's a tiny bat for Sherlock (and everyone else who wants one):

Lestrade's feeling better, which is wonderful. Sherlock's not even fake-coughing, despite school tomorrow. There was sun today and it looks like there might even be more tomorrow. Things are looking up...and I'm reading about tasers. Or, really, TASERs, since it's an acronym. There's an entire chapter on them in Clinical Forensic Medicine.  Apparently the man who invented them named them after his favourite character: Tom A. Swift and his Electric Rifle (TASER). So, there's something I'm willing to bet most of you didn't know. And will never have occasion to use now that you do know it. 

slow day

Harry sent me a link to this article: We Found Our Son on the Subway. Lovely. You couldn't get away with writing this sort of thing in fiction; everyone would call it unrealistic. I kept expecting something awful to happen as I was reading through it and was very pleasantly surprised. I am so happy for them. And glad to live in a world where things like this are, occasionally, possible.

Lestrade's still ill. Sherlock, thankfully, is not, though he tried coughing and looking pathetic this morning in case I'd let him stay home from school. He couldn't maintain it though. He has too much energy to pretend effectively; it breaks out and suddenly he's jumping up and down on the sofa and singing about orange juice.

Lestrade is looking wan and pale without any effort at all, but I think feeling slightly better today, judging by his slightly renewed interest in coffee. He's mostly been on the sofa with a duvet and an endless supply of case files and autopsy reports. There are so many that I literally don't know how he got them home with them. I think the interior of his bag may be a Tardis. The coughing at night is the worst part, but at least he's had some rest today.

I've been making him tea and reading my new book, Clinical Forensic Medicine: A Physician's Guide. Not an exciting day, but there you are. How are you all doing?