Lestrade sent me this last night. Kind of sums up our entire relationship. I mean that in a good way.
Also, although Lestrade's drawing was, I'm sure, appreciated, I now feel the need to have an actual photo up so you're not all constantly picturing me naked with a strategically placed jar of jam. Lestrade took this one. I was fairly irritated about it at the time (as I think my expression suggests), but it actually came out fairly well.
Also, although Lestrade's drawing was, I'm sure, appreciated, I now feel the need to have an actual photo up so you're not all constantly picturing me naked with a strategically placed jar of jam. Lestrade took this one. I was fairly irritated about it at the time (as I think my expression suggests), but it actually came out fairly well.
I don't look nearly as trollish as I do in most photos. And you can see the wallpaper, which means I get to use my lovecraftian tag again.
Every single person in this household, except possibly Mrs Hudson, is on his or her computer right now. Sherlock has been researching giant rabbits for the best part of two hours. This is not the sort of Sunday I ever pictured myself having, but I like it.
56 comments:
You look adorably grumpy with me. But it's only fair, as I looked grumpy in the one you posted of me (with better reason, too). You never look 'trollish'.
And I'm working. Crime reports don't write themselves.
You're not working, you're making smoothies. Make me one too? With chocolate chips in.
p.s. I don't imagine you with a strategically placed jar of jam. Jars of jam don't feature in my extensive imaginings of you. Occasionally jam out-of-the-jar, I admit.
And I think Mrs Hudson is playing Call of Duty.
how about banana, Kahlua, Bailey's, coffee, ice cream and a dash of milk? And chocolate chips if Sherlock hasn't eaten them all.
And I'll see if there are any other spirits around.
I was thinking of calling it 'Monkeying Around'. But maybe 'Danger's Regret' is a better name.
Plus I'm only making smoothies so that everyone leaves me alone to do the work. Honestly.
That sounds amazing. Go for Monkeying Around. I'll never regret anything with Bailey's in it.
PS: At this stage, you realize, you're not making smoothies; you're making cocktails.
You just want to see me shake my stuff...
A misspent youth means I can make quite a number of cocktails.
Quite a few of them contain cream liquers. Fancy a Blow Job? A Quick Fuck? Buttery Nipple? Or just a Screaming Orgasm?
I'll stick with sucking your banana through a straw.
...God, you're a horrible influence on me. Misspent how exactly? This sounds interesting.
Through a straw...that sounds slightly painful.
And I'm entirely innocent. Just because you read smutty meanings into my well-meant offers of drinks.
Misspent as in...I left school at fifteen and joined the force at 19 and in the four years between I left home and err...enjoyed the big wide world. (Well, southern England) and let's just say that London offered opportunities that the sleepy South West didn't, to a sixteen year old who had recently realised that girls didn't hold much interest, but boys most definitely did!
In fact, it's probably largely too interesting for a public blog.
There must be something in there you can safely blog about. You can tell me about the rest later tonight. Sounds extremely interesting.
The way the two of you tease each other over your blogs is adorable, as are both of you. We've seen photos!
I'm with Danger about the drinks. There is nothing to read into the drink names you listed, Lestrade; they're all flat-out smutty.
Well...I got through a few jobs. Started labouring on a farm, then moved to building sites. Got enough money to get to London. And obviously I worked in a few bars, once I was 18, hence the cocktails. But let's just say they weren't your run-of-the-mill pubs. More clubs for men with certain...interests. The pay was good. The tips were better. The reputation you got for working in such places, however, wasn't especially desirable. Especially when you knocked off at two or three in the morning to walk home.
It did mean there wasn't much that surprised me when I had to walk the beat around Soho a few years later though!
Er...the boys do read this blog, right? Because I'm picturing Sherlock telling his friends at school about these drinks...
lawless - There is nothing to read into the drink names you listed
Exactly, thank you.
And Terran - Yes. Yes they do. And guess who will get the call if Sherlock does that? Not Lestrade, that's who.
L - When you say 'certain interests' do you mean gay clubs, or something else entirely that I'd probably rather you didn't mention here?
I rather like the image of you as a farm boy. Were there hay bales and...I don't know, whatever people do on farms? Pigs? Sheep sheering?
Grumpy or not, you're very handsome. ;) And I'm glad you're feeling better now. :Db
They're just drink names! (but Mycroft, Sherlock, PROMISE ME you will include the search term 'cocktail' before ANY of those names. And remember that John perfectly exhibited the evils of drink yesterday. Drinking alcohol isn't big or clever.)
And I think I'm doing an admirable job of preparing Danger for the future he faces, bringing up a couple of inquisitive boys. I consider it a public service.
Ha! Your expression is priceless! (Was Sherlock providing a soundtrack by . . . screeching on his violin?)
Anyway, hello, handsome!
Lupe - thanks, you're too kind.
innie - No, some bastard was taking my photo without warning, that's all. ;)
L - Drinking alcohol isn't big or clever.
Too right. And at this point, I think I'm just grateful I wasn't raising you!
...What's for dinner?
(You should invite Sally for dinner some time. We can have Harry too. It'll be entertaining.)
If you'd've seen the look Sally was giving me after picking me up in the middle of the night from here the other night you might reconsider that offer. She looked far too pleased. Indecently so, given we were on our way to a murder.
I wasn't brought up, I was dragged up, as the saying goes. I wasn't a bad kid though. I used to phone home a few times a...year. Christmas, Mum's birthday, y'know.
I thought...vegetable and cheese bake. We have a lot of both. (Spuds, cauliflower, broccoli, onion, anything else I can find, cheese).
I don't screech on the violin >:(
Mrs Hudson says I play nicely.
Mrs Hudson is very polite. And doesn't have to live in the room next door to yours. You do screech sometimes. On purpose, I believe.
John! Mycroft's being mean. And his playing is horrible too.
Sherlock, my apologies for implying that you had so little skill that you could only screech on your violin. What I meant to ask was if you'd perhaps chosen to emphasize your stance on some issue by punctuating it with your violin. (I played the violin once in my long-ago youth.)
How can I make it up to you (in a way that John would approve)?
That's enough, you two. You both play very well. When you want to. And Innie, you needn't apologize, screeching is a fairly accurate description, though I could perhaps go as far as to say 'experimental'. Is that better, Sherlock?
L - I'm sure you were a very nice boy and I didn't mean to imply otherwise. Just that the thought of Mycroft or Sherlock running off on their own at 16 is completely terrifying to me. And I still want farm stories at some point.
That's the noise the violin wants to make. It's better than stupid 'Twinkle twinkle little star', which is boring.
And I want pudding after dinner, something with chocolate. What is there? Can Lestrade make something?
It's a shame we can't have some pictures of the boys up here. But then I suppose it wouldn't be safe with the situation with their mother (whom we haven't heard from in a while. Is she ok?)
Sherlock - you'll have to ask Lestrade that. How can you tell it's the noise the violin wants to make?
Trills - yeah, probably not a good plan, though maybe I'm being needlessly paranoid. I don't know. Possibly being needlessly paranoid is my job. In which case, I'm doing well. Oh, and their mum's fine. She's probably reading this right now. I fear the day she gets her own blog.
I shall keep that in mind, Dr Watson.
Danger - how would you feel about going out with a nightwatchman? Tramp? Security Guard from Tesco? (I feel all these are possible career paths for me if Mrs Holmes takes exception to my...er...humour.)
Not forgetting the Indian recipes I owe you, I have chocolate ones too. Ridiculously easy fudge and absolutely killer caramel brownies are the two requests I hear the most. (When I was a graduate student, I made that fudge for every shindig, and it was always gone inside of ten minutes.)
Fudge! I want fudge do the fudge!
I mean yes please can we have the recipe?
I'm pretty sure we can't do fudge at 9pm on a Sunday night. but the recipe would be good. And the brownies.
Tonight I'll find out what you haven't managed to mix into a smoothie and see what we're left with.
L - Just don't let her offer you a job. I'm not sure my nerves are up to dating James Bond.
Innie - what Sherlock said. :)
Sherlock, here you go, but remember - only if John says it's okay can you make this.
In a heavy saucepan, combine 2 T butter or margarine, 1.5 c sugar, and 2/3 c evaporated milk on medium heat, stirring constantly. Bring to a frothy, foamy boil. Let it boil like that for five minutes, still stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Stir in 2 c mini-marshmallows, 2 c milk chocolate chips, 1/2 c chopped nuts (optional), and 1 t vanilla extract, making sure that the marshmallows and chocolate chips are completely blended (no lumps). Pour into a foil-lined 8x8 or 9x9 pan and put it in the fridge; let it cool overnight. Cut into small cubes and enjoy!
(I know photographs of the boys aren't allowed, but a drawing of them with happy, chocolatey smiles would be nice to see.)
Danger - damn, I thought you'd be okay with us being workmates? I'm pretty sure I can't unsign that contract... but I do like Martinis, and I would like an Aston Martin.
And Sherlock - you are staying WELL AWAY from anything involving boiling sugar. (You've brought out some sort of big-brother instinct I haven't had since I was about ten...)
Thanks very much, Innie! You'll have to talk to Lestrade about the drawings; he's the artist around here.
Sherlock says thank you too. Or, more accurately, he says, "Why can't we make it nowwwwww?" But he means thank you.
L - does that mean I get to put spy on my census form instead of super nanny?
You've brought out some sort of big-brother instinct I haven't had since I was about ten...
You're a way better big brother than Mycroft.
Danger - no. You're definitely a super-Nanny. I'll put spy though. Or Jedi warrior. Or Ninja. Jedi Ninja Spy?
Sherlock - that's not true at all. You should most definitely ask the rest of my family. Mycroft is a wonderful brother, and cares for you a lot. And is waaaaay cleverer than me.
Glad that the smoothies are such a hit! I'd never considered adding chocolate to them... or alcohol, to be honest, though the latter would be counterintuitive for a hangover remedy, it seems.
Another good one is equal parts strong chai tea (or chai tea mix from Starbucks if you have it) and homogenized milk, brown sugar, honey, nutmeg, cinnamon, and spiced rum to taste. :) Gets me through the ridiculousness of Canadian winters.
Sherlock -- agreed that Twinkle Twinkle is a bit dull. Have you tried any less-dull, and..er...less free-form pieces? Maybe that would keep Mycroft from commenting on your undoubtedly wonderful skills. ;)
I'm a bit curious: if Sherlock was researching giant rabbits and you two were presumably blogging, what was Mycroft doing on the computer?
Sherlock, don't let Mycroft get to you. No matter what you do to that violin, it cannot possibly be more ear-searingly painful that what my brother used to do to his tuba. I wasn't aware large chunks of brass could vibrate at those frequencies. I used to sit out on the back porch when he practiced. In the rain. In February.
Good luck getting yourself a giant rabbit! I've never had one myself, as I prefer cats. Though, mine are in approximately the same size range as the bunnies you're seeking.
Do research things for them to chew. They'll eat everything otherwise.
Tinkerty-tonk,
Bronwyn
L - you are not a Jedi ninja spy. I'll accept "dirty old man."
X - That chai with rum sounds amazing. Lestrade, are you taking notes?
Yana - I think he might've been talking to the girl from his skating class a bit. Shh, don't tell. Either that or he was playing Call of Duty with Mrs Hudson.
Danger - entirely missed your farm questions last night. Too busy making dinner and defending myself from accusations on here of being a dirty old man, and an ongoing assault from Sherlock on the subject of dessert.
Yes, there were hay bales, some pigs, but more cows, tractors, crops, rolls in the hay and all associated farm stuff. Like shit, shit and more shit.
And yes, you could describe the clubs as gay clubs - with a certain dress code. And God knows why I'm putting this on a public blog.
Yana - I wasn't blogging, I was working!
And yes, I can sort out some chai with rum. You're turning into a booze hound, Danger.
Ah yes, sorry, Lestrade.
*googles Call of Duty*
Oh. That's... unexpected, if that was what they were doing. Good of Mrs. Hudson to find new interests, I suppose.
jam sandwich. ♥
L - with a certain dress code
Oh really?
Yes Really
But I just worked there. It was very much look-don't-touch. Not that that stopped anyone! But like I say, the tip money was excellent.
Yana - I was joking. I have no idea what she was doing. But I wouldn't put it past her.
Are there photos?
I hope not.
You'll have to talk to Lestrade about the drawings; he's the artist around here.
I think that's clearly untrue. Besides, a drawing of Sherlock would just be a blur, and Mycroft doesn't seem the sort to pose for a picture. Although perhaps I'm wrong.
Could you catch them when they're each in a fudgy food coma?
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