also presented without comment

All right, almost without comment. Except to say that he brought it on himself by laughing till I thought he might actually collapse, at the very thought of my moustache. Which was a fine, fine moustache, I'll have you know.

our shopping list

Danger - now you're making the whole Tesco thing sound worse than it could be! I demand examples!

What I will be buying at Tesco today, offered without explanation:

denture cream
lube
honey
marmite
cucumbers (5)
disney princess plasters (Jasmine or Mulan, NOT Ariel Ariel for Lestrade)
clothes pegs

To be fair, the majority of this particular list is not L's fault. 

lighthouse

I love lighthouses. 

All of them. But especially old ones. With those massive Fresnel lenses. 

rainy days

We had storms yesterday that were, in the immortal words of Douglas Adams, like someone was pouring the Atlantic Ocean over us, through a sieve. Just buckets of rain, the kind where it hits so hard it bounces back at you, so if you're out in it, your umbrella does you essentially no good at all since you're getting it from above and below, and it's trying to jump up your trousers as well as run down your collar.

dramatic tadpoles

The tadpoles are growing. This is actually from a few weeks ago, so they're probably much bigger now. I'm still refusing to let Sherlock take one home with him because I'm not at all certain how to keep them alive. Maybe I can get his teacher to do it as a class project.

school daze

Friday. It was a big day. It started, for me, at 3.30am when Sherlock snuck into our room to ask if it was time to go to school yet, and couldn't he just bring Lestrade with him in the morning and then he could stay all day and they could study together? Sherlock would teach him all about Set and Osiris and Anubis and also fish. (It's quite an eclectic course of studies at his school.)

six months

I'm not especially good at keeping track of dates. This one probably would've slipped by me if L hadn't pointed it out, but it has, as you all know by now, been six months since we met. Plus or minus a day or two. Most of my relationships made it to the three month mark and then fizzled out.

A few made it to five. Those tended to explode spectacularly - maybe the pressure of keeping their mouths shut for those extra two months on the subject of everything I was doing wrong? Of course, mainly what I was doing wrong was being in another country and not at home with them.

So I'm pretty happy it's been six months and Lestrade shows no sign of getting sick of me.

just say no

Dear Mrs Hudson and Amy,

I will not be knitting anything at all, thank you! I know how you knitting people are with the peer pressure. You should've seen my grandmother trying to get Harry into it. It was like she was trying to get her to join a cult. No, despite the many jumpers and scarves I could (probably fail to) make, I think I'll steer clear of this particular hobby.

I still think I need a job and somehow I sense that L isn't serious about taking me to work with him - I'd probably just end up doing his paperwork anyway while he went out and did all the fun stuff. Volunteer work. Or maybe I'll write a book.

Although the knitted skeleton is pretty cool.

a flying update

We're still out having more fun than you are (I don't know this for a fact, but I feel pretty confident about it because we're having a lot of fun), but I've been looking for an appropriate ecard on and off for Lestrade, and I think I've finally found the perfect one:

the most trouble

Hi. Sorry about the lack of updating. I'm afraid my brain isn't working properly the past...oh, week or so. As Lestrade has said, Sherlock's been...difficult. I think it's good though. A bit. In a way. At least he feels secure enough to act like a complete brat? And it's not all the time. He was very sweet on the way to school this morning, for no reason I could see. Held my hand and talked about learning to ride a bike in the summer and reminded me when we got to school that he's "the most trouble, right? I am, right?" Heh. I think he's proud of it. 

Anyhow, in poll news, Three Men in a Boa won by a landslide. The new one is up. Sherlock's said he'll do cover art for the one that eventually wins... "If it's a good one and if I feel like it. Maybe." 

more interesting with the final letter knocked off

Some of the book titles people came up with in the comments were so good I thought I'd put them in the poll. There's fifteen (if you did more than one I picked the one I liked best - I know, it's terribly objective and scientific), so I'll do them in three sets of five, and then I suppose the final three to find the ultimate winner. Maybe there could be a prize? I don't know what though. Let me know if you've got any ideas.

I hardly know how to talk about this weekend. Lestrade's been more amazing than usual. He doesn't seem to even realize that most people wouldn't have had that talk with Sherlock, that most people would just about tolerate the boys, if that, much less tell them stories and arrange fake crime scenes for them and try to help them grow up. I'm not sure he even sees there's anything for me to thank him for, and perhaps it's silly to thank him for being who he is, but I am incredibly thankful for that nevertheless.

panda lestrade

Sherlock's artistic talent has struck again. He's done a rendition of Lestrade's current rather unfortunate appearance. The detail is astonishing. This will obviously be going on the fridge as well.

straight on till morning

We were on the beach all night. It was chilly, but there were dogs and children and blankets to keep me warm. Mrs H must be impervious to cold. She kept wandering down the beach barefoot, in and out of the surf, blanket round her shoulders, but that was all.

mystery train

Well, we've had an eventful day. If you want to be completely accurate, it started last night around 23.30 last night with Sherlock's comment re: Mycroft's school and how "stupid" it is. How he got my phone again, I have no idea, but I'm starting to think about getting a lockbox of some sort into which all electronic devices will be placed at bedtime.

I didn't see the comment till this morning, and I wish I had as it would've provided me with some warning of what I was in for. To be honest, I did see this coming - just not so quickly. Even if Sherlock and Mycroft were still busy hating each other, I think Sherlock would be upset to see him go away to school. Lestrade pointed out that Mycroft's been the one constant in Sherlock's life, and he's quite right.

cake or death

So, only two people in the last poll said they were planning to join the crowds for the royal wedding. I meant to ask for a firsthand report, but then Lestrade said they were both him - and obviously he wasn't working after all.

We did watch it, as Lestrade said, with varying amounts of interest. Mrs Hudson was at the top, with special cake and hat, then Mycroft and I, and L and Sherlock at the bottom (though Sherlock's interest in the cake was definitely keen). To be fair, L's interest in anything at that point still wasn't terribly high. A couple of Anthea's minions snuck up to join us briefly as well, though she was up to chase them back down pretty sharply. I've never seen her roll her eyes so hard.

Anyhow, the next poll is for a far more important event - Mycroft's 13th birthday! It's coming right up, May 10th, and of course the final say on cake will be his, but he said I should do the poll anyway. "Ask the internet," were his exact words. It's becoming a popular phrase around here.

tuesday

Everyone goes back to their normal lives tomorrow - L to work, Sherlock to school, and Mycroft is fizzing with quiet joy because Ms P is finally back from South Africa. He's been missing her, or whatever madly advanced astrophysics they're doing, or both. I was going to feel guilty keeping L home today, but he was so wrecked after the swimming yesterday that I think it's completely justified.

It was an uphill battle keeping up with Sherlock. He can move pretty fast, even in bright orange water wings, and we nearly lost him a few times. Once when I caught up with him, he was having a splash fight with two other boys his age (also be-winged, which made him feel a bit better I think).

sturgeon?

Well, he wasn't joking about the nightmares. The latest must've been quite something. He kicked me straight out of bed with a well placed foot to the arse. I woke up halfway down and manage to roll when I hit the ground. More or less. Lestrade sat straight up, said, "Sturgeon!" and went immediately back to sleep. Can't wait to hear him explain that one.

He seemed perfectly peaceful after that, so I left him to it. Myself, I need some tea and bad late night television before I give sleep a second chance. It's nice, actually. The quiet, and the sitting very still. My "brutal cleaning regimen," as Lestrade put it, has been keeping me pretty busy. It was the thought of Sherlock picking this thing up. I think he would've ended up in hospital, apart from being completely miserable of course. I'd worry less about Mycroft, but only slightly.

Lestrade, I have to say, must have the constitution of a horse. Is that a real phrase? Constitution of a horse? Sounds wrong, but I'm not really awake. I hope the other man's doing as well as he is, and that his wife's keeping him in bed. That sounds entirely wrong, but you know what I mean. God, maybe Harry's right and I actually do worry about everyone.

Right, back to bed. I'll say this for his fever - it keeps my feet warm. 

to sally

Hope you see this - whatever they're planning on him doing for the royal wedding, they'd better find someone else to do it. He'll probably feel well enough by then to insist he's fine to work, but he'll be wrong. This sort of thing is really hard on the body. Thought I ought to let you know as soon as possible.

short and fast

Just wanted to record this for posterity in case he later decides to deny having said it:

I will only take you to Italy if you promise to let me buy you ice-cream.


Not one of his more hard-driven bargains, but it works out well for me. 


Also, to everyone who's picked "What wedding?" in the poll, you could take a look at this, or google William and Kate. I picked this article for containing the line:  "St James's Palace is dark, dingy and depressing." William, it says, would not want to live there. The source quoted is "a courtier," who has apparently not lived half the places I've lived, if he thinks St James's Palace is dingy. 


Also, to whoever (I suspect Elizabeth, but I can't remember) (or be bothered to look it up) said that we needed a chamoise handkerchief, it'd be more accurate to say L and his bike need one. He's got a print out of it folded up in his wallet. 

the third thing

3. Packed up dinner for L and Sally, went up to his office, giving no thought whatsoever to the photos he'd warned me about. It didn't occur to me for a moment I'd have a problem, and L does tend to be a bit overprotective - it's all right (usually*), makes a nice change from being surrounded by people eager to throw me into mortal peril.

I felt a bit sick while they were eating - like, actually physically ill, wondering if it was the pasta and if I should stop them eating it. And then I realized I was thinking about...how it happened. How the boy in the photos got that way. And I couldn't stop.

gay pubs of all sorts

The pub last night was nice, and made a change from Harry taking me to mainly lesbian ones. The hairy eyeballs I was getting last night were presumably trying to determine whether I was actually with L, or if he was free for the evening.

When I go with Harry, we get looked at oddly for entirely different reasons...I assume (hope) it's because we don't look much alike. The woman behind the bar at the last one asked if we didn't think it was a strange place for a date. Harry laugh so hard she nearly fell over and said anywhere was a strange place to take your brother for a date. (She went home with the bartender later. I was completely unsurprised.)

two thirds

There are three things. This post will cover two of them.

It's very late, again. So late it's early. I feel odd posting about this while Nicky & Co. are here, but I can't seem to settle down to write about anything else, even though there's quite a lot else to write about. I don't actually want to write about this at all, but my usual methods of repression and denial don't seem to be working all that well.

And I asked Lestrade and he said it was all right. I suppose since he told me about it via blog comment it'd be a bit odd to worry about me posting about it. I still feel weird posting about it. Obviously, or I would've stopped blithering by now and... I'll start with the point weighing most heavily on my mind.

i have too many very serious things to think about

So here's a photo of Lestrade, presumably still in his rock god phase.

I... I mean really. Good God. I can't tell whether he's posing or about to punch the photographer, but either way it's a very good look on him. 

Anyway! 

He's at work today, so I think Nicky and I  and the kids are going to do things, although no one seems quite sure what yet. I'm fairly certain Hungarian pastries will be involved. I'll let you know. 

going very fast

I still find it hard to believe they just let us stroll off with one of their very shiny motorcycles yesterday, given the slightly mad glint in Lestrade's eye. Maybe it's just that they don't know him as well as I do. Perhaps, to them, he looked like a sober and respectable D.I., whereas, to me, he looked ready to run off with the thing to Argentina and live in sin with it.

here are some tadpoles

I took photos when we went to the park. These are the tadpoles before the home invasion conducted by two small children and two large dogs. I hope no one was injured. 

evidence suggests

Sherlock at least may have been in the water a bit longer than I'd originally suspected, given his pockets were full of duckweed. I asked him why, and he said he wanted to look at it under the microscope - a suspicious answer at best since he knows perfectly well what fits on a slide (hint: not whacking great handfuls of anything at all).

He asked if I'd thrown it away. Not yet, I said.

cheese

Sherlock's out of school now for the Easter holidays, so I've got him at home all day. Two of Mycroft's tutors are off to Portugal and South Africa so he'll have a lot more free time as well, though I imagine he'll insist on spending a lot of it studying anyway.

I suspect he has some sort of plan to come up with a whole new discovery in his physics tutor's field before she gets back. Either that or he secretly works for some multinational space program. I'm now sure what else would explain the equations on his wall (we did one wall with chalkboard paint so he can write on it).

all my options seem vaguely awkward at this point

I was going to call, but I'm less likely to say something stupid in public, so.

I'm willing to believe it's just a piece of paper to you, but it's not to me. I didn't want to ask about the ring. I suppose I should have, so this is partly my fault. I didn't mind it so much because when we went out people tended to think it was for, well, you and me. Not you and some other bloke. Which I'm well aware is stupid and also deceitful on my part. But it never occurred to me that the reason you were still wearing it was because you were still married.

I think perhaps I'm bit more traditional than you are about these things. I am not happy to suddenly find out I'm in a relationship with a married man, even if neither you nor he see it that way. I'm not happy you didn't tell me either, but I'm willing to believe you thought I knew.

I think that covers it.

Anyhow. Just come home when you can, it'll be all right. 

the night before

Wednesday night: ostensibly a night like any other night.

The boys got their homework done. Lestrade got home in time for dinner. We all ate together - rather quickly in the boys' case, since Lestrade had brought along his guitar case and they were a lot more interested in that than in pasta.

He also had a box with him. A flat, white box. It filled my heart with dread, for I could guess what it contained. (And whose fault it was, Elizabeth. I won't be forgetting any time soon [this post, first comment].)

beachy photos

The beach at Brighton. 90% of my photos look basically like this - sand plus water - so I don't know how exciting they'll be to someone whose holiday this wasn't. Except for the ones I took in the mist, which generally look like I aimed the camera into a bowl of cream of something soup. 

you are all lovely people

This will not be a long post because I'm having too much fun. Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who left me happy birthdays, you are very kind, and I appreciate it a great deal. Especially Sally, since her threats were instrumental in me getting L to myself this weekend. He hasn't had one single call. Sally, I'm extremely impressed.

And I got cards! One from Lupe and two from Lestrade, one of which I'm not sure I should post, but I probably will anyway.