puzzlewood

We went to Puzzlewood. Here are some photos which are definitely not ours - they're much too good.

It's really...I feel like the word magical gets overused a lot, but it seems apt in this case. Even shared with a load of other people with children to entertain over half term, it was pretty amazing. Makes you wonder what it would be like to come upon it unexpectedly, alone, like walking into A Midsummer Night's Dream.

That's my opinion, anyway. Sherlock had his own ideas: i.e. it was a very large, green pirate ship, particularly the bridges. Well, obviously, right? There was a lot of stick fencing, primarily between Sherlock and the air, but at one point he called Mycroft's dogs (not present to defend themselves) blackguards, and there was a duel. Invisible flintlock pistols at (nowhere near) dawn, fairly tame piratey insults exchanged...

S: Your mum's...a hopeless landlubber!
M: She gets a bit seasick, that's all. I think that's uncalled for.

I sent the video to Mrs H. She firmly denies getting seasick at all, ever.

happy almost birthday mycroft

It'll be Mycroft's birthday on Saturday. He'll be 16, if you can believe it. I can't. I know I go through this every time one of the boys has a birthday, as if the passage of another year is some sort of once-in-a-lifetime miracle instead of something that happens, unarguably, on a regular (yearly) basis. I suppose, in some ways, time and our ability to perceive it and the changes it works on us and our lives is fairly amazing when you think about it.  

Pretty sure that doesn't give me an excuse to be astounded every single year though.

Anyhow, Greg and I looked into some birthday related things on his day off. I can't mention them here yet, of course, but I'm pretty sure Mycroft will approve. His mum has something in store for him as well-- something that makes me think she has at least partially reversed her position on security following him everywhere, which might be the best birthday present he'll get as far as he's concerned.

I'll try to limit most of the soppiness to your actual birthday, Mycroft, but you're an amazing young man, and I am terribly proud of you.

In other news, work has been mainly things I don't want to talk about here. There has been a decided lack of rats floating around in hatboxes and too many bad situations that could've been prevented. I'm starting to think that all FMEs should have psychological training and seriously thinking about getting some myself.

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. 

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:

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.

going fast, slowly

Sherlock's mum picked him up from school today and took him to get cake. I gather she was regaled with every last detail regarding the Christmas show, including the colour of lights he wants on his halo. He also got her to sign a contract saying she'd be there. It covers a number of contingencies, including alien invasion, zombie apocalypse, and nuclear war. In all cases, she is expected to attend the show, even if some of Sherlock's classmates attempt to eat her brain.

With all this time on my hands, I helped Mrs Hudson bake:

Went for a run. Thought about some things, which didn't turn out as badly for me as it usually does. Cleaned the kitchen, waded around in Sherlock's room to make sure  there was nothing growing in there that shouldn't be. And had the following exchange of texts with Anthea:

Me: are you coming to christmas dinner?

A: what's in it for me

Me: the opportunity to wash a lot of dishes after

A: you mean make my minions wash a lot of dishes

Me: thought you said they weren't your minions

A: reconsidering. may need to start life of supervillany, in which case minions necessary 

I think Harrow may be getting to her. 

And lastly, here is a cheetah running very fast...very slowly.

science!

More here. I thought Sherlock would like these and probably some of you will too. 

I had a dream last night that I'd asked L to marry me and he said yes, and then I woke up and I had to wake him up to make sure it wasn't just a dream...very peculiar. 

Mrs Holmes rang me today to congratulate us and offer to send us to Antartica for our honeymoon. It's sometimes quite difficult to tell when she's joking. 

Did you know they make wood wedding bands? I didn't know that until today. 

Nicky - I don't think I ever answered your comment on L's blog, and I'm sorry. I thought my answer very hard at you, which I realise I've been doing more and more lately. (Note to self: telepathy still doesn't work.) Thank you. You and your family have been so kind and welcoming to me and Mycroft and Sherlock right from the beginning, and it means a lot to all of us. I hope we'll see all of you at Christmas. 

Right, I am off to do the shopping and to pick Sherlock up from school. L, let me know if you have anything to add to the following list contributed to by Mrs Hudson, various elderly neighbours, and security:

arrogance, guilt, and squid

Lestrade is cooking squid. Probably will have cooked squid by the time I finish this. I admit I'm slightly dubious about the prospect of barely cooked squid, but I trust him. Apparently you either have to cook it a long time or barely at all. It gets rubbery otherwise. Having had a fair amount of rubbery squid, I believe it.

I've said before that I don't think I could do what Lestrade does, i.e. go out every day into what is essentially a war zone and come home at the end of it and somehow make the transition back to being a relatively normal human being. Transition has never been particularly easy for me. It's always got to be one thing or the other, all the way or not at all.

I think that's why I found a lot of the work at Sarah's surgery a bit...well, boring. I suppose there's no way to say that without sounding like an arrogant arsehole, but any nurse (especially Murray) will tell you that all doctors are arrogant arseholes, so maybe I am. It wasn't the sort of work I went into medicine for, at any rate. And I know I shouldn't feel that way, but knowing that doesn't help. Just adds guilt to the mix.

When L brought up the possibility of working as an FME (forensic medical examiner for anyone who missed that before), I think, despite having a fair idea of how hard it would be, I knew that second that I'd do it if I possibly could. I've looked into A&E work before, but it just won't fit with Sherlock's schedule. A lot of times I'm the only one who can guarantee I'll make it to his school functions, and I don't want that to change.  This seems like it'll be a bit more flexible. Mrs Holmes is back this week, so I can talk to her about it. Just the prospect of it is a relief in a lot of ways. I didn't realise how much the lack of occupation was weighing on me. 

loose ends

The meeting with Mrs Holmes today was very short. She gave me a package, had me memorise an address, I took the package there, and that was that. I got the feeling that wasn't what she'd called me in for, actually, that I was filling in for someone who hadn't shown up just because I happened to be there.

Bit odd. But I'd rather be the one filling in than the one who didn't show up. Hope he escapes with his life when she gets hold of him.

I did also get her to sign off on Sherlock's martial arts lessons while I was there, so that's ready to go when he is. Maybe another week or two. he's still complaining about things being different at school. He says they have better books in the new classroom though, so that's something.

We made avocado and tomato pasta for dinner. Basically, you cut up tomatoes and avocados, mix them with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper, and basil, and then when the pasta's done you drain it and put it in the bowl with the stuff and mix it around. Very easy.

After dinner, Sherlock said everything was too quiet and stood on the sofa to see how loud he could make his violin be. Quite loud, it turns out. 

in the days of frost

Well. This was going to be about Laura's surprise visit, but if you've been reading the comments on L's blog, you'll know it's not going to be.

Someone sent photos to L at work today, pictures of all of us at bouncy Stonehenge. No note, apparently, no overt threat, but the fact that someone sent them is threatening enough. L couldn't reach me or Rachel at first and was understandably concerned, but everyone's fine, physically at least.

It's a difficult situation. I mean, I know I'm stating the obvious here, but...yeah. There's not enough information to actually do anything yet and no way of knowing when there will be. The police and Mrs H's people will be working on it, so that'll have to be enough. I hate the waiting though, always have. 

john watson, p.i.?

After I dropped Sherlock at school this morning, I went to talk to the young woman Mrs H told me about.

Obviously, there's a lot about it that I can't say, and I've been trying to think how to talk about it. This is going to be about 80% true in substance and about 80% made up in the details. It'll sound a bit like a Victorian novel, but I think it'll work.

Mary's in her early twenties, just out of university, with some sort of computer science degree. She told me about it. I won't pretend I understood. She'd probably get on well with Mycroft.

Three months ago, her mum disappeared. She'd been on a business trip to Paris. She left her hotel one morning and never came back. Mary didn't realise anything was wrong until the police called her. All her mother's things were still in the room. The police found the cafe where she'd had breakfast that morning. After that, nothing.

A week later, Mary got a pearl in the post. Small box, brown paper wrapping. She showed it to me, not that I could make anything of it. I imagine it's been checked for fingerprints and so on. Mrs H certainly doesn't need me for that. Two weeks after that, there was another pearl, and another two weeks after that, and so on.

The most recent one came with directions - turn right, go a quarter mile, take the third left - not those actual directions, but things like that. Which might've been helpful if you knew where to start from. Mary and I started from her flat, but the directions had us turning right and walking 20 paces through a brick wall...not that helpful.

That's about as far as we got today. She thinks her mum is alive and responsible somehow for the pearls and the directions, suspects the directions may be code of some sort, and resents the French police and Mrs H for not taking it all more seriously. I can't blame her, but Mrs H doesn't do anything by accident, so there must be some reason she sent me. Just need to figure out what it is. 

eye of the tiger

Please note the tiger striped seat covers...

So. The meeting with Mrs Holmes yesterday. I didn't really know what to expect. I never do with her, and these little visits are always exciting. It was only the second time I've been to her office. It's quite small, extremely wood paneled (all the walls and the ceiling), and has an espresso maker that L would be wildly jealous over. It looks brand new though, and it did last time I was there too. I don't think she spends a lot of time there.

We had coffee, talked about the boys, made certain plans which will be a pleasant surprise for them and for L, I hope. And then she asked me to go and talk to...some people about some things.

This is where it gets tricky. I can't give out details in a public blog, and frankly I barely have any details to give out if I wanted to. There's a possibly accidental death involved, and a young woman who's been sent a number of...well, I can't say what, so let's call them pearls, over the past few years.

I don't know why she'd want me to look into it. I'm sure she has more qualified people. And I'm a bit worried L may die of worry. But it does sound awfully interesting. 

he knows how to make an entrance

First motorcycle lesson tomorrow. L claims to be nervous, but give the appointment he has later in the day, he has much better reasons to be nervous than me wobbling around on a bike for a few hours. The one he claims is his 'eye check up'. The only similarity is that he's also got two of what he's actually going to get seen to.

Speaking of appointments (but not the sort L has tomorrow), I have one with Mrs Holmes on Friday. I don't know what about. Should be interesting, at least. They always are. 

christmas dinner

Last year, Christmas was pretty small. This year... L was joking when he said people might have to bring their own chairs, but I'm not sure they won't. Everyone I've asked so far has said yes, and I'm trying to think if there's anyone I've forgotten. L and I and the boys, Mrs Holmes and Mrs Hudson, Anthea and Harry, the on-duty members of the security team plus one who can't go home for Christmas. Someone might need to bring an extra table too. Maybe an extra kitchen.

I'm really looking forward to it. Christmases were always pretty quiet affairs when I was young, just Mum and Dad and Harry and I, at least two of us not speaking to each other, and one or more of us well and truly pickled before dinner. This was the sort of Christmas I wanted back then, with loads of people and ridiculous decorations and more food than anyone could possibly eat. We've got two out of three already.

history

I imagine you've read or inferred most of this, but I'm hoping it'll get clearer in my head if I write it out.

I got a call from Mycroft's school a little before two. When I got there, Mycroft's housemaster talked to me for a while before they'd let me see him. I wasn't really listening at that point. They'd already said he 'wasn't badly hurt' which meant he was hurt, and... I might've been a little rude.

He and the other boy involved were in the headmaster's office, sitting as far apart from each other as they could get. Mycroft: black eye, bruised knuckles, cut on his cheek, not deep, probably from something on the ground. The other boy: bloody nose, split lip, likewise bruised knuckles. They were outside, between classes, when it happened. The other boy said something unpleasant about L and I. It escalated. Mycroft hit him.

Mycroft wouldn't tell me what he said. When I pushed it, he told me I didn't need to know. I think he was trying to protect me.

stars and balls

X has once again kindly let me post her art with my bum in it.  At least this one has L's too! 

Calliope wanted to know: how about your favorite wintertime activity: snow angels, snowman building, decorating, making baked goods, etc.?


Eating the baked goods? Is that an option? Well. The decorations, maybe. I always liked doing the tree, even though Harry and I had some truly absurd (and loud) arguments over who got to hang which ornaments and who got to do the star. The favoured ornaments were the glass birds and the the hand-painted glass balls so we usually traded (after extended negotiations) two birds and a ball for the star-hanging rights.

Mum always put the lights on herself the night before, because she was (and is) convinced that none of us do them right. She stores them wrapped carefully around the cardboard tubes that wrapping paper comes on and lays them all out on the floor before she starts. We were generally not allowed past the threshold of the living room till she was done.

The tree was all we did in the way of decorating, and last year it was all we did here too, but I'd like at least a wreath this year as well, and I want to take the boys to pick out ornaments. I don't have any, and while their mum did find a small box of family ones, the tree was a little sparse. And they hadn't got to pick any of those, and they should have some say. L, do you have ornaments in any of those boxes you haven't unpacked?

a brief note of thanks

Yesterday, L and Sherlock made:

- biscuits
- cupcakes (pink, chocolate, and vanilla)
- a small cake with the leftover batter from the cupcakes
- fudge (also in pink, chocolate, and vanilla)

As well as three meals. I made tea and icing for the cupcakes.

Thanks, Mrs H. As usual, you've given us just what we needed most. And I hope you like pink cupcakes, because Sherlock's valiantly refrained from eating the last one in order to give it to you.

No, I don't know what flavour pink is. 

cocooned

It's not really necessary to get out of bed today, right? At least not until lunch time?

Our bed at home isn't bad, but this one's much superior, besides being warm and full of Lestrade and on the correct side of a locked door. I hadn't realised it was a luxury not to be jumped on by someone with small pointy elbows first thing in the morning, but it definitely is. Which doesn't stop me missing him, of course, but there you are. Human beings are contrary like that.

Hi, Sherlock. Hope you're having too much fun with your mum to be reading this. It sounded like she had some good plans for you.

Hi, Mycroft. I hope school's going well still. Maybe we can come and visit some weekend soon? We miss you.

Right, going back to sleep until L wakes up. 

visiting

Mrs Holmes told me a few days ago that, when L and I went to Bath, she'd take Sherlock to stay with her. It's a good thing all round, since Mrs Hudson finds him exhausting after more than a few hours, and with Anthea not here to help, it's really not fair to ask it of her - not that it was particularly fair before, since Anthea's security and it was never her job to make sure he brushed his teeth and went to bed on time.

Sherlock wants to bring his art things and his chemistry set and another peculiar fish to show her the skeleton and 'a real suitcase with wheels to take it all in' and his bike, and and and. The list grows ever longer.

I'm hoping I'll get to drop him off, as I've never seen her house before, not even from the street. I don't even know the address. That's strange, I suppose. Hadn't really thought about it until now.

Lestrade's doing much better. Still coughing a bit, but his breathing sounds a lot better. Sherlock looked quite disappointed when he listened with the stethoscope this morning and said they sounded almost normal. We did our best to convince him this was a good thing... 

low tide

We went away for the weekend to...a fort.