Cold eggplant is ahead in the poll, followed closely by marmite, and I have to say: I do not understand you people. What could be more unnatural to put on toast than guacamole! I mean, all right, marmite is a valid choice, since it's bad no matter what you put it on, but I would far rather eat cold eggplant on toast than guacamole. Guacamole is not a breakfast food.
Do you know what is a breakfast food? Or indeed an any-time-of-day food? Strawberries. Also, strawberry and sugar sandwiches, which you make by spreading butter on bread and adding strawberries (sliced) and a tiny bit of sugar. (I know, it's perilously close to sugar on toast, but the crucial distinction is that it's not toast.)
This morning I convinced L to stay in bed while I got Mycroft and Sherlock delivered to school. I got strawberries on the way back, went home, got back into pyjamas and back into bed. L was warm and sleepy, and we had strawberries for breakfast and didn't get up until we had to go see his doctor. (And on the way back from that, we got more strawberries, cream, Pimm's, etc.)
And then we watched tennis. Etc.
He made me racquet shaped pasta for lunch.
Oh, and a few notes from Monday: went in to work with L, met various members of his team, sort of. He was diving in the massive piles of paper in his office for the files he needed; they were staring at me from across the room. I went over and introduced myself and got a lot of questions, mainly about whether L and Sally were really going to be okay, a few about whether I was really L's boyfriend. (Or rather, not at all about that, but designed to elicit the desired information: "So you're Lestrade's...cousin, right?" Subtle, guys. I suppose that's what they teach you in detective school.)
Anyway, time to make breakfast and pack lunches and get everyone off to school. And, if I'm lucky, convince L to stay in bed and wait for me again.
Do you know what is a breakfast food? Or indeed an any-time-of-day food? Strawberries. Also, strawberry and sugar sandwiches, which you make by spreading butter on bread and adding strawberries (sliced) and a tiny bit of sugar. (I know, it's perilously close to sugar on toast, but the crucial distinction is that it's not toast.)
This morning I convinced L to stay in bed while I got Mycroft and Sherlock delivered to school. I got strawberries on the way back, went home, got back into pyjamas and back into bed. L was warm and sleepy, and we had strawberries for breakfast and didn't get up until we had to go see his doctor. (And on the way back from that, we got more strawberries, cream, Pimm's, etc.)
And then we watched tennis. Etc.
He made me racquet shaped pasta for lunch.
Oh, and a few notes from Monday: went in to work with L, met various members of his team, sort of. He was diving in the massive piles of paper in his office for the files he needed; they were staring at me from across the room. I went over and introduced myself and got a lot of questions, mainly about whether L and Sally were really going to be okay, a few about whether I was really L's boyfriend. (Or rather, not at all about that, but designed to elicit the desired information: "So you're Lestrade's...cousin, right?" Subtle, guys. I suppose that's what they teach you in detective school.)
Anyway, time to make breakfast and pack lunches and get everyone off to school. And, if I'm lucky, convince L to stay in bed and wait for me again.
102 comments:
I might be persuadable.
And I might give some of my team a thick ear or two. Highly trained investigative experts, they are. I hope you made up suitably outrageous responses as to who you really are.
Maybe 'boyfriend' is suitably outrageous...
And Marmite is lovely!
Guacamole is absolutely a breakfast good. On today with salsa and eggs. A thing of brilliance and beauty. And for your own safety I would advise against besmirching its good name. At least in the southwest United States, should you ever have reason to visit here. Face it, John, your blog's gone international.
I'm glad you had hungover fun times with strawberries. Good on you. And I seriously laughed at "You're Lestrade's cousin, right?" Some people are hopeless. At least be bold enough to just ask, "Hey, are you Greg's boyfriend? Because he totally understated how much of a sexy beast you happen to be."
Or I would say that anyway, but I've been informed I have no tact. Or grace. Or really social skills of any kind. I fail to the point in wasting time with ridiculous niceties.
TL;DR - GUACAMOLE ROCKS!
TTFN,
Bronwyn
I meant on toast. Sorry.
Bronwyn
Also? I in no way typed hungover fun times. My new phone has deeply awkward predictive text.
Bronwyn
I agree with Bronwyn, Guac is very much a breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacktime food. Of course, you have to take into consideration that I was raised by a Californian mother and a I'll-eat-anything-that's-not-actively-moving-about father, so perhaps I'm biased.
Though I admit I've never actually had it on toast. I think I'd prefer tortilla chips myself. Can you have tortilla chips for breakfast? It's fabulous with eggs, though.
Also, I know we're being terribly worldly, using 'eggplant' so the majority of readers understand...but they're called aubergines. Eggplant sounds....horrible. Aubergine sound lovely.
Strawberries in bed sounds heavenly!
I love avocado on toast (with lots of salt and pepper), so guacamole sounds fine to me! Don't think I've actually *tried* it on toast, however. I voted for Marmite. :p
Strawberries and Danger in bed is heavenly.
However, I'm not speaking to you if you voted for marmite.
Oh, John.
Sometimes I think Lestrade teases you about being innocent and chaste. And then you post that you get back into bed with him after putting your Jim jams back on! That's just too sweet.
Haha.
I do slightly exaggerate his innocence...and we do have to wear something in bed when Sherlock's around.
I can't explain the pyjamas yesterday though. It was so hot, too!
Rest assured they didn't last too long...
Presumably the pyjamas were so Lestrade was not Immediately Tempted Into Sin which would be hard on the ribs.
(not sure the 30 seconds it would take to rip pyjamas off would materially affect his convalescence but John is the Doctor, I'm sure he knows these things)
Sorry Bronwnyn, I totally voted for Guacamole (Although in my defense, I literally ate myself sick of them last year, and haven't been able to look at them since).
Seconding Strawberries!! They're in season here and I swear I'm noshing a quart a day. Brilliant. You can never go wrong with stawberries.
Never has an "etc." carried so much weight in this blog. :) Glad you guys had a lovely day yesterday. I wonder if its possible to get Pimms in the US...another one of those things I'd like to try.
(For the record, I loathe guacamole. And I put sugar and cinnamon on my toast, and it's awesome.)
Danger always tempts me into sin, PJs or not!
Pimms is...I don't know, just so traditional. It's fairly nice tasting, but I'd rather have a Guinness. It just seems the right thing to do when watching tennis, etc. though!
I thought I might have a nap before...anything else. Pyjamas are what you wear for sleeping! Honestly, you people.
mazarin - you can buy Pimms at actual stores in PA and OH, but I don't know about anywhere else, but you can order it from these people too:
www.bevmo.com
No, out of choice I'd always sleep in the buff. But with Sherlock's visits I compromise with shorts.
People will be imagining you in a nightgown and nightcap soon. One of the long ones, with a tassle.
Exactly one 2am scramble for the helicopter to go and pick up casualties would cure you of that I think. Be glad I don't sleep in bits of my uniform anymore. It still feels weird not to.
Oh, I totally understand that. Maybe one day I can persuade you the pyjamas are unnecessary too, though.
There is nothing like the feel of skin on skin.
Maybe when Sherlock's older. I still think it'll feel odd though. (Mentally, not physically. Don't mean to imply any part of you feels odd.)
You wouldn't be wrong to imply that at the moment.
So when I sweep you off to a dirty... uh, romantic weekend, just the two of us, I can refuse to let you bring any clothes...but I have to allow pyjamas. Ok. Duly noted.
Exactly one 2am scramble for the helicopter to go and pick up casualties would cure you of that I think.
It certainly would. And so will one 6 AM visit from a 4 year old. I fell asleep one night, uh, after, and next thing I know I have a little boy in my bed demanding to know why I don't have a shirt on.
Awkward. I think I told him I got too hot. Or something.
And thanks for the link, John! I don't know if they'll deliver here in Indiana, though - our alcohol laws are incredibly restrictive. Will have to check out the shops. Maybe they'll have it where I go pick up the Marmite!
L - ha. Well maybe I can make an exception for a couple of nights.
Mazarin - yeah. For some reason I never thought Sherlock would want to get in bed with us, so it was a bit of a surprise the first time... but like I said, now I sleep in shorts or boxers, so no problems there. Providing I remember to put them on. And Danger is very good at reminding me!
When you say restrictive...what does that mean? Can't imagine booze not being freely available.
Danger - only do what you feel comfortable doing. But one day I will spirit you away somewhere nice...promise.
Mazarin: "Never has an "etc." carried so much weight in this blog" My thoughts exactly :-p
John: judging by Lestrade's drug-fuelled fantasies, I wouldn't be so sure he'd mind if you did wear bits of your uniform to bed.
Lestrade: I'm with you on the use of the word "aubergine" in preference to "eggplant". But I confess I voted for marmite.
Is there any news on Sally, by the way?
Nameless - knowing my luck it would be a flak jacket and helmet.
You voted marmite too? Traitors.
Sally is doing well. Enjoying the time off. Although she says if I'm going in tomorrow, so is she.
I'm not, Sal.
When you say restrictive...what does that mean? Can't imagine booze not being freely available.
Lots of really rotten rules that are leftovers from the last gasp of the Temperance Movement that produced Prohibition in the 1920s. Lots of people moralizing on the evils of drink, etc. So:
- No package alcohol can be sold on Sunday (when I was a kid, it was no alcohol AT ALL, even in restaurants.) Or on Election Day. Or New Years Day (I think).
- No children in bars or "bar areas" of restaurants (used to have to keep the bar in a separate room with a closing door so the kiddos couldn't see it, now it's just usually roped off with a small wall or a little ropeline).
- No kids in liquor stores.
- No shipping alcohol to private residences, only to third-party distributors for sale in stores. (this is where my problem is).
- Kids under 21 may not serve, or sell, alcohol. When you buyt it at the grocery store, and the cashier is under 21, you have to have someone over 21 come over and actually swipe the bottle across the scanner. Because they'll become drunks if they touch it, I guess.
And that's better than some places - in Kentucky they still have dry counties.
No wonder my great-grandpa Willie was a moonshiner.
In PA you can't buy it at the grocery store at all. You either buy wine and spirits at the liquor store, or beer at the beer store - and only by the case. I don't even know. And despite all that, they have drive-through beer stores here.
I can't imagine not heading down the pub, or picking up a few bottles with the groceries, or from an offy. I started going to the local when I was 15. Not saying our rules are right, just can't imagine having the freedom taken away.
knowing my luck it would be a flak jacket and helmet.
Ha! What, you don't think that's an attractive look? What bits would you pick, dare I ask? Go on, distract me. I need it after that quarter final. Ugh.
I can't imagine having all sorts of rules about alcohol, but I'm in Louisiana where most laws about drinking are viewed as suggestions (which is bad in some cases) and we have New Orleans where the bars don't close.
And pajamas are entirely necessary. What if there's a terrible fire and you have to climb out your window and there is no time to put on any clothes? Or maybe I worry too much.
I don't know what any of it's called! Just no bits that would stop me getting to you!
Did you have a peaked cap with your ... whatever the uniform is that isn't super posh or the everyday one. The smart one.
What can I do to make it up to you and roger federicorn?
just can't imagine having the freedom taken away.
I know. Thought I lived in the US, or something.
I'm not convinced there are any bits that would actually stop you. Slow you down a bit maybe.
God I don't know. Really wasn't expecting him to lose to Tsonga, and on grass too. Ridiculous.
Ha, yeah, I'm an unstoppable Danger seeking missile, me.
How about dinner? That way you can forget about Rog, and I can forget the hundreds of years of British law that's been chucked in the bin.
And if we hide in the kitchen I can kiss you without Sherlock's running commentary.
John, I totally understand. Even when it's over 100F here (37.7C) I have to have clothes on.
I think it has to do with all the times I had to scramble out of bed at 3am and be ready to go in under 5 minutes.
At least you don't sleep with your boots on? =0)
I do get the whole 'ready to go' issue. But sleeping naked is one of the joys of life. I sleep in my clothes on stakeout. I will sleep in something when camping. But mornings like the other day, with no boys, no interruptions, no one else around, it's a very rare treat.
Lestrade: Glad to hear that Sally's OK. (You realise it's daft for you tell people like Sally not to go to work when you're going in? What would you be doing if you were in her position?)
Of course I voted marmite, it's evil.
OTOH, I agree entirely about sleepwear. John, do I recall correctly that you once mentioned Sherlock had periodic table PJs? So adorable. But it does make me wonder what's on yours. Jam jars? Rods of Asclepius? Sparkly unicorns...?
Nameless - yep, well aware of how dagger it is. Don't want her to feel.pressured to.go in just because I am, though. I didn't have surgery.
The idea of Danger in jam jar jim jams is hilarious... but yeah, actually they're Danger Sparkles ones, to match his jacket. It's why I'd rather he was naked. The diamente chafes, and the glitter gets everywhere...
jam jar jim jams, jam jar jim jams, jam jar jim jams, jam jar jim jams...
Best phrase ever. Also, I really hope these exist!
Err..obviously that last comment was typed on my phone, whilst investigating the contents of our fridge. Hence the random words.
Should say daft, not dagger...and how can I press the tiny full stop button all the time, not the massive space bar one?? (not that they are buttons...it's touchscreen, You know what I mean.)
Anon - if they don't, Mrs Hudson can probably make some.
I would wear those.
So, you're saying that if I were to follow you into the kitchen, I could reasonably expect kisses? Also do you want help with whatever's for dinner? It smells good...
they're Danger Sparkles ones, to match his jacket. It's why I'd rather he was naked. The diamente chafes, and the glitter gets everywhere...
....
I would wear those.
You DO wear those, Darling!
It's only leftovers, stuff thrown together, don't get excited.
I would say that anywhere you might follow me you could reasonably expect kisses...
The jam jar ones! I have no comment on the other ones that seem to have sprung from your fevered imagination.
Oh, excellent.
my imagination is no longer fevered or altered by drugs.
Well, no more than it ever was. Ibuprofen doesn't do things like that to me. Just dulls the ache.
We could dress you up like a little jam jar. Stick a bit of frilly fabric on your head and a label on your arse...not sure it would do anything for me, but whatever makes you happy, dearest.
Your imagination is always fevered, no drugs necessary.
I think that last paragraph is all the proof I need of that.
Vivid, I think you mean.
It helps in my job. Criminals don't make any sort of sense, so why should I?
I don't wanna go to work tomorrow...
No, there's definitely an element of delirium there.
I don't want you to go to work either. You're sure you have to?
I'm delirious about you.
If I don't I think it'll just get worse. I don't ever want to go back. I've had too much fun. And even your physio is worth coping with to stay off.
You're still getting physio even if you go back, you realise. Just saying.
Pip - At least you don't sleep with your boots on?
Ha, L might really object to that. I used to, sometimes, when I suspected I wouldn't have time to thoroughly check them for wildlife before putting them on.
Yeah, I'm now well versed in all the downsides of going out with a doctor, yeah.
I probably would object to boots, yes. Not really my scene.
Although I've seen some things in my time...in fact, now I'm imagining you in some of those perhaps I wouldn't object so much.
Aubergines are disgusting in anything, toast or otherwise. It's like slime being held together with fibre. On the other hand one of my friends introduced me to a guacamole and crisps sandwich when I was hungover about a month ago and it really worked as a cure. So I'm fine with it on toast. But I've also never liked pimm's. It tastes medicinal to me.
I'm glad someone had a quiet day! I had to leave home by 6:30 this morning to get to work. Not cute. Enjoy the time off even though it's a bummer to need to take sick leave when you're actually ill and not just bunking off.
Guacamole and crisps??? I...am not sure how to feel about that.
It really works! And it's sort of delicious... I think. My stomach liked anything that wasn't liver poison by that point. But the salt and the crunch of the crisps coupled with the guacamole was amazing. It was the morning after my thirtieth birthday. We went to a champagne brunch at two in the afternoon and didn't stop partying until three the next morning so, after thirteen hours of champagne and tequila, I was wrecked the next day and the sandwich made me feel human again.
But of course you're a highly responsible Manny so you *never* get hangovers and you won't need the magical cure.
I'm a bit late, but luckily Bronwyn made an appropriately ardent rebuttal. Guacamole is absolutely a breakfast food. In Texas, it's a 24/7 food. I've had it with migas for breakfast; I've had it served with chips as a side for spaghetti.
On a less fanatical note, I hope that the bail fiasco and life in general improve.
Right, Danger. been here nearly an hour. Lost all faith in humanity (well, judges, really, and they hardly count). So anytime now you want to perform a daring mission of rescue, involving dogs and helicopters and stuff, you can swoop in, sweep me off my feet and take me away never to return.
Every new person I talk to about this whole stupid situation makes it a bit more confusing.
Could be available for a quick lunch.
Send me a message, i might not answer my phone, I'm all over the place.
I'm nearby actually - St James's Park. Just let me know when you're ready.
Any time is as good as any other. What are you up to?
I was just wandering. On my way to you now.
Thanks for that. You were like an oasis in the desert. And you can have it in writing that I will try to leave early.
Excellent. If you're not home by seven, I might have to come and fetch you, fair warning. Oh - did Sally come in today or did you convince her to stay home?
Why?
By which I mean, what did he do and why on Earth did you go in? Although obviously I know the answer to the last one.
He's got me reviewing cctv evidence for a case. Days and days of footage. Universally acknowledged as the most boring job on earth.
I'm in because having my arm in plaster hardly means I'm incapable.
You should have come up and said hi.
I would've if I'd know you were there. As it was, I thought I'd better not get in the way.
Neither of you are incapable. I'm well aware, believe me. Doesn't mean some rest would hurt either of you, and your body has more mending to do than his. Still, watching days and days of video sounds fairly...er. Restful. Heh. Sorry.
Reviewing video is the perfect job for someone with only one working arm, Sal. Better than lugging files around and typing all day.
Leaving in a min, J
It's not even six! I'm impressed.
Sally - I know it's none of my business but I do worry. Take care of yourself, okay?
How can one arm in a cast be more to heal than ribs and a knee he keeps walking around on?
And how come he's been on crutches (when he remembers) all day, but is now riding his bike?
Thanks for the concern - but you've got your work cut out with him, never mind me.
Don't I just. He rode his bike home. I don't even know why I'm surprised.
It didn't make anything hurt more than it did anyway. And I was careful.
We've got ice, right?
Yes, we've got ice. Sit, I'll get you some.
Can you divert some of it from the ice bag into a medicinal glass of Pimms?
Heh, yes. I got more strawberries too if you want some. Or we could save them for dessert.
What do we have for dinner anyway? Something to perfectly finish my paperwork, drugs, alcohol and ice mix?
Mycroft's going to help me make this chicken thing. Or I'm going to help him. Something like that. And couscous and courgettes.
Did you get them all straightened out at work, or is it still a mess?
You mean I'm getting waited on, hand and foot? Watch out, I might get used to it.
Work is ridiculous. We're all madly preparing for something, but no one knows what. It changes depending who you ask and when. I very nearly lost it when the 20th person asked me what was going on, as if I'd magically know.
Sal got off bloody lightly, avoiding the whole sorry lot of it and doing some real work.
I thought you guys were supposed to be speaking English. What's a courgette (besides something that sounds suspiciously French)?
We are speaking English.
A quick Google tells me you might refer to it as a zucchini? Green, cucumberish but smaller, slightly hairy. Very tasty. Related to marrows.
I very nearly lost it when the 20th person asked me what was going on, as if I'd magically know.
Heh. It's your natural air of authority and wisdom.
It's everyone else's natural ability to pass the buck and take no responsibility.
Tell me if you two need a hand? Or if Mycroft needs a hand, managing you.
I will. He seems to have it well in hand though. There's a timetable.
A timetable? Sometimes he scares me, he's so organised.
What would he do if I came in and squeezed 'snog Lestrade' onto your section. It could delay some vital vegetable prep by a minute or two...
Maybe you should take him to work tomorrow and let him organize them.
I wouldn't try it if I were you, but I might be able to fit you in while I tend the couscous.
Fit me in... oh, not like that.
I'll settle for a kisskiss over the couscous then
Not like that! Not while I'm cooking, certainly.
Sherlock's with you, right? It seems suspiciously quiet out there.
Don't worry, my mind may be very, very, willing, but my body remains stubbornly less so. Ribs literally don't allow any position to be comfy for any activity.
Sherlock is sulking because I wouldn't let him see crime scene pictures. He's not with me, probably in his room. Prepare for nuclear fallout, or some chemical emergency. Or maybe he's just setting a death trap on my side of the bed.
Oh god. Call him for dinner? If he doesn't answer I'll go up. It can't be another stink bomb, right?
I'll fetch him. Have to move sometime.
Wish me luck...
...How's it going?
Sherlock won't come out from under our bed, because I'm horrible.
And I'm not sure I want to tell you what he's done, because...well, it took dedication, I'll give him that.
...Right. Is it going to get worse if we have dinner before I deal with it? Because everything's on the table now.
Nope, won't get worse. Unless Sherlock remains in our room unsupervised.
Want to try your powers of persuasion to get him out from under the bed?
Actually, if you do that, I probably should warn you...he's basically tied every single thing in our room together. With dental floss. Miles and miles of dental floss. And very very small, tight knots.
Like I said, took dedication.
Oh god.
No, I don't. Mycroft's cooked us a very nice dinner, and we're going to eat it before it gets cold. Tell him he can come down and eat or not, but we're not waiting for him.
I'll have a look at the spiderweb afterward.
Right.
Give me a minute to escape.
I hope he hasn't tied me into the room whilst I've been sitting here...
...Can I see before you take it all down?
Yeah. You can help take it down, if you want.
I think he actually managed to find a needle or something and thread all our socks onto some.
I never would have thought Sherlock would have the patience for that. Then again, I guess clever revenge for horribleness is a good motivator.
indeed. Although I'd like to point out there was no horribleness. Not on my part, anyway.
And I can only assume John's stuff was tied up just because of guilt by association.
Well horribleness is all in perception. He probably feels that if you showed him the pictures it would be awesome and he could solve it. Then again, I agree the pictures are not for the public or Sherlock's amusement.
Have you thought about Crippen as a bedtime story? Pretty cool case.
Yeah, we've done Crippen. Sherlock enjoyed it very much.
And yeah, he was desperate to see the pics. But not even John gets to see them, not on an active case. Well, not generally.
I saw something about Crippen the other night that interviewed his last surviving relative, some great-great nephew. He was the spitting image of the man. It made my skin crawl, poor guy has to walk around looking just like the extremely famous waxwork. It was creepy and it was nothing he could control.
Since you seem to be on a Victorian era crim kick, have you told him about Dr. Thomas Neill Cream, The Lambeth Poisoner, yet? I always found him pretty interesting. I mean, he got caught, unlike the Ripper, but he was active at the same sort of time, back when London policing was in its infancy.
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