return of greg the florist

A few minutes later they each had a steaming mug of tea and fresh bread thickly slathered in butter and jam. They watched the sun dip behind the trees in a blaze of golden-red glory.

Behind them the castle loomed, windows dark. An owl screeched in the nearby woodlands.

Greg shivered.

"It's too bad we don't have a ghost," John. "It'd be good for business." 

Greg shot him a quick glance, but he appeared to be perfectly serious. "Quite glad we don't, I think," he said. 

"No old legends? Women in white? Women in black? Why's it always women in white or black? It's never little boys in red. Or grandfathers in blue."

"Drama," Greg suggested. 

"Suppose so." 

The sun left a lingering line of fire along the tree tops and then vanished entirely. The light went from warm to cool blue, and John edged closer as the temperature dropped. They stood there until the blue washed away and ink black spread out over the hills and sky. The stars bloomed, a handful at a time, until they covered everything. There was no moon. 

"Inside," John said, finally. "Come on. It's too...big out here." 

Greg thought he knew what he meant. Both sky and possibilities seemed infinite, more than his mind could comfortably contain, and the future was as penetrable as the dark bulk of the night forest. 

He took John's hand and led him inside for more tea, and toast, and bed. 

*

In the morning, he lay in bed for all of five minutes when he woke, and then he picked up the phone and called an electrician. That was where the trouble really began.

---

On a non-florist-related note, I've bought racquet-shaped pasta again for Wimbledon. 

no bike

I got a call this morning - no bike today. There's been a delay of some sort, maybe something to do with the flooding, I'm not sure. Next week they said. I'm not sulking, honestly.

Sherlock did reasonably well today at school. He was still grumpy about going, but there were no incidents, involving cheese or any other airborne food, so I think that's good enough to be going on with. The new teacher seems inclined to forgive and forget. I suppose it's not the worst thing she's ever had thrown at her, given the age and temperament of the kids she's working with.

She came out with Sherlock and I and a few of the other kids and parents when we went to visit the pond before she left...

Sherlock: *searching for newts* LOOK AT THEIR FEET!

Mrs N (for new, but also conveniently her real initial): Have they got feet already?

Sherlock: *tells her more about the stages of newt development than she could've possibly wanted to know and nearly drags her into the water with him*

She looked more pleased than not at his near-supernatural levels of enthusiasm for newts. So, there's that.

I'm watching Federer play Benneteau. It's not looking good. Like with Nadal and Rosol yesterday, Benneteau is just out-playing him. He's moving a bit better now though, and Benneteau looks knackered, so maybe he's got a chance. Someone has a sign that says: Federer - the once and future king. Let's hope. Oh, and Boris Becker is a arse.

And an article I expect to be good because theirs always are, though I haven't read it yet: Wimbledon, ‘Bare-leg’ Tennis, and the Bitter Rivalry Between Helen Wills and Helen Jacobs

just thought you'd like to know

Just got back from picking Sherlock up from school. Went to check on L and his migraine...found him in bed, asleep, clutching one of his files from work like a teddy bear. A very sweet image, but I thought I should take it away from him and get him under the covers properly.

Now Sherlock and I are making courgette loaf and trying to be quiet about it. Not easy, since cooking is usually a sort of extreme sport for Sherlock, but we're trying. 

who throws cheese?

Sherlock, that's who. (And, apparently, the USAF...)

Apparently the older children at his school get two shorter playtimes instead of one longer one, so they're not outside at the same time as the little ones. Thwarted in his daily 12:00pm pond visit, he removed the cheese from his sandwich and threw it at his new teacher. Thankfully, cheese is not aerodynamic, and it hit her leg, not her face.

He missed the second playtime entirely through a combination of sulks and time outs and flung himself at me, sobbing and insisting he would never ever go back to school again. Ever. EVER, did I hear him? NEVER EVER IN A MILLION TRILLION YEARS. He hasn't had a meltdown quite this spectacular in a while. He's definitely going to sleep early tonight.

In other news, the sink is leaking...more. Because I tried to tighten a bit of it that looked tightenable and made it worse.

And at work, we got 50 cases of latex gloves delivered. We were meant to get five. They wouldn't take the other 45 away with them, and there are now 45 cases of latex gloves shoved into every free area of the surgery, of which there aren't many. Oh, and someone's child spat on me.

I am also going to sleep early tonight. 

the stars are not wanted

So. Red's funeral. It was...good. If that's possible. I saw a lot of people I hadn't seen for a long time. Some of them not since Afghanistan, some of them longer than that. Years. None of them since I got back, though a lot of them have been home longer than I have.

His mum sang Bonny Portmore. She used to sing professionally, and she still has a lovely voice. She told me afterwards that she used to sing it to him when he was little.

Wore my dress uniform for, I think, the first time since the last funeral I went to. That's probably 90% of the reason I don't like it.

L was wonderful. Held my hand through a lot of it. Stealthily. I think he wasn't sure whether I'd want to tell people about us. I probably should've reassured him beforehand, but I just didn't think about it. I wasn't much use that week generally.

Sorry. I'll do a post about the visit with my parents soon and then I'll stop being so bloody depressing for a while, promise. I know this isn't what you signed up to read. 

one confession

L - seems only fair to tell you, since you told me yours. Number seven. 

Day Ten: One confession.

I keep trying not to write this, because I don't think it's appropriate for a blog, or...for anywhere really. But I think can't think of anything else. Not because there aren't other things to think of, but because this one seems to have driven all of them out of my mind. So. 

I've killed three people. Even in retrospect I can't think of a way I could've acted differently without the people I was supposed to be protecting getting badly injured or killed. I suppose I'm lucky in that regard. They were fairly clear-cut situations. 

I don't really feel guilty. I don't really feel anything. Sometimes I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. Mostly when I think about it I feel sort of...empty. I don't know. A lack of any recognisable emotion. I worry about that fairly often. About what it says about me. 

I know this is hardly a unique experience in war. But I've managed to accept most of the things I've seen and done, and I still don't know what to do with this. I don't know if I ever will. 

two images

Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.

Acquiring food: I don't understand how it takes up so much time, but it does. Even with L doing most of the cooking, I sometimes feel like I live at the supermarket. 

Taking care of small things: not birds specifically, but Sherlock and I found this one and put it back in its nest. 

Bonus turtle: I keep seeing them now and I can't recall having seen...really any in London before. But that was before Sherlock and his endless enthusiasm for all creatures great and small. I think this is the same one that I posted a picture of before - at least it was near the same pond. 

Day Ten: One confession.

three turn-ons

On the assumption that the game will stay popular for a while, I've put the answers post into the bar of links at the top of my blog so people can find it easily.

Day Eight: Three turn-ons.

If L can do it, so can I , I suppose... I think this was the worst one. Easier to think of but much harder to post. 

 

1. Competence. In particular at driving and fixing things around the house, but just in general as well.

2. A bit of dirty talk can be nice. 

3. Smoking. Look, I know, all right? I've dissected those lungs. Believe me, I know. Logic doesn't help. And it's only with certain people anyway.



Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

four turn-offs

Day Seven: Four turn-offs.

1. Dishonesty. Game playing. Manipulation. All that sort of thing.

2. Cruelty. 

3. Really small hands on men. Sometimes on women too. I don't know why. 

4. Excessive back hair.

Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.


On another note, related to 1 and 2, I hope everyone's read L's post by now.

When I started this blog, I was easily the most unhappy and alone I've ever been in my life. Watching this change from just me talking into the ether, into a place where all of you can come and talk and share your lives hasn't just made me happy; it's changed my view of humanity, maybe given me back some small amount of faith in people. Thank you for that.

Edited to add the clues from Ryo's game, which I haven't even started on because my brain still hurts from the last one:

Live but not die

Devil but not angel
Era but not period
eve not adam
draw not color
pan and pot but not stove
Ron but not Mike
Wed but not marry
Rat but not mouse
Reward but not present
ten but not eleven
bad but not good
loot not treasure
lever not pulley

deified not god-like
Ewe not us.
Saw not hammer
was but not will

five people

Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)

Well...leaving aside the completely obvious... 

1.  Harry

2. Murray

3. Mrs Holmes

4. Mrs Hudson 

5. Laura

But that still leaves an awful lot of people out. This should've been the ten things one.

Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

We are home. I've started the laundry. I'm exhausted. 

Here's a list of the clues for Lancs. Anon's game:

It's a game of cap and hat but not bonnet
It's a game of route but not root
It's a game of rut but not puddle
It's a game of iron and tin but not gold
It's a game of den but not nest
It's a game of dream but not vision
It's a game of lit but not lite (unless you're American, in which case it is a game of lite)
It's a game of kin but not kind
It's a game of plus but not minus
It's a game of butter but not bread
It's a game of grin and smile but not cry
It's a game of clot but not clod
It's a game of ton and tun but not barrel
It's a game of not and no but not yes
It's a game of boo but not ghost
It's a game of boo and not shoe
It's a game of boo and not page
It's a game of hi but not greetings
It's a game of to and fro but not hither or thither
It's a game of tan but not color
It's a game of join but not meet
It's a game of roo not kanga
It's a game of hone but not sharpen
It's a game of pen but not nib
It's a game of rabbi but not vicar
It's a game of war not peace
It's a game of cow not donkey

six things

Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.

I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do this one. Certainly I've done things that were stupid, or things that made my life more difficult. Or that made other people's lives more difficult. But as I've said before, if I say 'I wish this hadn't happened, or I hadn't done this'...I can't know what else I'd be changing. Maybe I read A Sound of Thunder too many times when I was younger. 

So...six situations I wish I could've handled differently, maybe. 

1. In retrospect, covering all the cadavers with shaving foam was not the best idea. It was a lot of fun (and a lot of foam) but since our class ended up cleaning them off the next day during the time we were meant to spend revising...at the very least, we could've timed it better. 

2. I had a new nurse who vomited on a patient during an evacuation flight. It was, obviously, not a good situation. However, he probably didn't deserve everything I said to him afterward. 

3. I wish I hadn't ignored my physical therapist's instructions for a year and a half. 

4. I slightly regret packing as much as I did today to carry up the mountain. Ow. 

5. I wish I had handled the end of my last relationship before Lestrade better. She broke it off, but I could've been less of a bastard about it. 

6. A friend of mine once asked me to do a hike with him from Lake Baikal to Vladivostok. I still think he was mad, but I sort of wish I'd tried it. (I just tried to look it up on google maps to see how far it was, but apparently google has no information on that part of the world. It's a very long way though.)

Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

And now we're back at the B&B. I told my parents Sherlock needed time to calm down before bed, which is true, but I think it would be equally true tonight to say that I need time to calm down before bed. 

seven things

Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.

I think this is going to end up being seven things that have crossed my mind a lot in the past week, whether I intend it to be or not. 

1. How I could be doing a better job with the boys. 

2. Murray, who's due home fairly soon. I don't know if he plans to go back. 

3. How I could've been a better son.

4.  Or just...how to be better generally, I suppose. Feel like I keep screwing up recently. 

5. Red, his mum, how kind she's been to me in the past. 

6. That BMW. 

7. How lucky and grateful I am to have Lestrade in my life. 

Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

eight ways

Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart

1. Pick up your socks and turn them right side out.

2. Apparently it helps a lot if your name is Gregory Martin Finchley Lestrade. 

3. Be kind to people who need it, even when it makes your own life harder. 

4. Be more patient with me than I deserve. 

5. Homemade custard creams. 

6. Tell me how you feel, even when I can't manage to do the same until months later. 

7. Let me look after you when you're ill. (Eventually.)

8. Tell me when I'm being an idiot.

 

Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

nine things

Right...only took me about three hours to do this...

Day Two: Nine things about yourself.

1. Europe, Asia, and Africa. What? I'm sure that's all you wanted to know about it.

2. Somewhere there is BBC documentary footage of me showering at Bastion. I assume they thought the showers would be empty, but I think they could've turned off the camera a little faster. I'm quite grateful it was never used.

3. In medical school, a friend and I once covered every single cadaver with shaving foam.

4. When I see the poppies for Remembrance Day now, all I can think of is the poppy fields in Afghanistan.

5. I thought I'd die over there. I wasn't hoping to, or especially afraid of it. It just seemed likely, if I kept going back, and I knew I'd keep going back.

6. When I was young, four or five, Harry used to lock me in the basement because I was scared of the dark. She went off and forgot about me once, and Mum thought I was in my room. I was down there for about six hours.

7. I climbed about three quarters of Mt Kilimanjaro and then had to go back with another climber who was suffering from altitude sickness - high altitude pulmonary oedema, pretty bad. He was all right in the end though. He gave me the cigar he was going to smoke at the summit. I think I still have it somewhere.

8. There are so many things I don't feel I can tell anyone, because it's not fair to put those images in their heads. Bad enough they're in mine.

9. I saw a UFO once. I mean, literally a flying object that I couldn't identify. Not saying it was aliens. Just that it was odd.

Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

ten days

Stumbled across this on some blog and was annoyed by it, so now I pass the annoyance on to you. I do not at all promise to do all ten days.


Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.

1. I hope you're not as lonely as I think you are. I wish there was something I could do. Something you'd let me do. 

2. If you get yourself killed over there I'm going to wear Hulk hands to your funeral. I mean it. So just don't. 

3. You're a great person. People should be nicer to you. It really pisses me off when they're not. 

4. You too. 

5. I can't believe I'll never seen you again. 

6. I wish I knew what the hell you wanted from me. 

7. I think I was sort of an arse to you quite often when we first met. Not on purpose and I haven't realised it till lately, but I'm sorry.

8. You still manage to irritate the hell out of me a lot of the time, but I'm proud of you for what you're doing.

9. There's nothing wrong with you. I wish you knew that.

10. You have taught me so much.

Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

hot air

Remember when Sherlock was so keen to tie himself to a bunch of balloons and become airborne? Mythbusters proved it would take more balloons than any reasonable person would want to inflate just to float a toddler, but I saw this today...

Half that desk is supported by balloons. Ones that, according to the article, "were genuinely air-tight and would never degrade, and Caltech were called upon to supply a Heluim/Hydrogen hybrid gas with an atomic weight 150 times lighter than Helium alone." 

Not that we could get any, but that is pretty amazing.

saturday report

turtle

Today I:

-got lept upon by Sherlock
-managed to kiss L's ear goodbye because I wasn't awake enough to aim correctly
-went and collected Mycroft from school, along with the dogs, Mycroft's things, which have multiplied while he's been away, I'm sure of it, and Anthea.
-nearly got vomited upon by Anthea, who barely even protested at being sat down on the sofa with tea and fell asleep thirty seconds later
-discovered that secret agents make worse patients than doctors, soldiers, or coppers
-had a very nice lunch with L and the boys
-spent an astonishingly long time at the florist while we each picked out precisely one third of L's flowers
-saw a turtle (see above)
-came home
-got growled at for trying to take Anthea's temperature
-called in reinforcements (i.e. Mrs Hudson)
-made salad nicoise for dinner with the boys to make up for all the cheese
-gave L his flowers
-managed to aim correctly this time

I'm hoping for more sleep tonight than I've been getting. Been thinking about Red a lot, and his mum.  The funeral's Wednesday. 

yellow car

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

another day

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

Anyway. Sherlock's enormous goldfish:

sunday

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

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

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

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

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

a dual post

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

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


I think we all wish that, Sherlock.

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

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

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

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

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

a visitation

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

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

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

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

three astonishing things

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

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

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

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

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

motorcycles i shouldn't even be considering

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

But then there was this BMW...

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

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

as the moor turns, pt 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

something amazing

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

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

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

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

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

shadows on a lake

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

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

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

threatened with a pork chop

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

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

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

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

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

fourteen

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

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

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

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

this week, next week

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

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

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

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

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

not-a-date night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's so sweet sometimes it amazes me.