cupcakes

L crunched himself into some odd position at work today, as you've probably seen in his comments. As a result, I took his (my) bike home, and Sherlock took him home...via cupcakes and pizza. He's just said they have 12 cupcakes. Probably of all different icing and cake combinations. I think they spent at least half an hour in the shop debating.

I went to work in the allotment for a bit today, watering and pulling weeds and so on. The French beans have grown enormously:

Nothing else was that impressive, so no pictures. I texted the beans to L, and he suggested they were giant mutant city-eating beans. If this were a film, each individual bean in its pod would be an egg and hatch into something face-eating and horrible, but since it's not I think we'll probably just have beans more quickly than I expected. (Note: not more quickly than other people expected; I just had no idea how fast beans grow.) 

My interview is Wednesday. I'm sure I won't know anything definite for some time afterward, but hopefully they won't take too long about it. I'm foolishly (and uselessly) nervous about it. Be glad when it's over. 

dot dot dot

Sherlock's after-school art class started today. L and I both went and were forced to participate (all right, I was forced, L did it of his own accord), and I'm glad. It was fun, although I am just as terrible as I thought I would be. We did watercolours this time, which makes sense with kids this age - relatively easy to clean up.

The teacher brought in a few different flowers and some fish (yes really, dead fish) to paint. I did a sunflower...more or less. Three guesses which Sherlock picked and the first two don't count. L did a fish with a flower for its eye which I thought was nice.

And the rest of this post will basically be a letter to L, because I feel like I could've handled this last...thing...that we went through better. Not that I necessarily know how. But sometimes typing is a lot easier than talking.

So...L. I know you think that I just don't like to talk about things...until later, when we're both miserable. It's really not that.

It's more like I'm convinced the only things I can think of to say are...things I feel would not be helpful to the situation, so I don't say them, but then I can't say anything else, so I just say nothing. I get scared of making things worse. Terrified, really. Which is...not helpful in thinking of things to say.

Do you think I used enough...ellipses in that?

Anyway. I don't know if hearing any of that helps. Or potentially makes things worse. But that's what's actually going on in my head when you're thinking I don't want to talk about it. I still don't know how to not do that next time, but maybe we could think of something? Sorry. I am trying. 

a few things

Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman, has been done as a radio drama, and first episode is available. It actually says it will be available soon, but it was available a few hours ago, because I listened to it. So, not sure what's going on, but I imagine it'll be back shortly. It has that guy from Cabin Pressure in it, and Christopher Lee, Bernard Cribbins, Tony Head, and a number of other impressive people.

I thought this was really nice, and practical:

twist and shout

The video I wanted to show you of sea worms eating a dead seal won't embed, so here is a fish with a see through head:


 

It snowed a fair amount. Mrs N looked like she was more than ready for the day to be over when I picked up Sherlock. Two of Sherlock's classmates told me about all the things they'd done in the snow because their parents weren't there yet, and apparently they couldn't wait to tell someone. 

Sherlock and I went directly to the park and stayed there. I thought at some point he'd admit he was cold, or want hot chocolate, or...something, but I underestimated his ability to ignore everything but SNOW. We had a snowball fight, and made a small, lopsided snowman, built a very very small snow fort that Sherlock could just about fit into if he curled up tight and ducked his head down. L joined us when he got out of work with a surprise snow attack on Sherlock, stuffed some down my jacket, whereupon I was forced to rub snow in his hair...

And then pizza. After I finally convinced them both we had to go inside at some point. You should've seen their sad sad little faces...

L also explained his dancing plan for the wedding. Not sure I should tell you all what it is yet...might wait until I'm sure I can actually do it... 

neither out far nor in deep

I saw Harry for lunch today while L was visiting his mum. She's still sober, and she got a promotion recently, so we were semi-celebrating. Which isn't to say we managed not to piss each other off at all, because we didn't, but even so, it was nice. 

She said she'd like Sherlock to stay with her overnight some time. If he wants to and his mum is all right with it, I think I would be too, at this point. It's funny, thinking about the two of them, Harry wasn't that different from him as a kid. Maybe more socially aware, less sure of herself, but I remember her being absolutely enraged when people (mostly our parents) told her the truth was inappropriate, just the way Sherlock is. I wonder if we might've got along better if she weren't my sister

-

Neither Out Far Nor In Deep
Robert Frost

minor suns

Back to normal, I suppose, at least until L gets his time off settled and we can get away for a while. Mrs Holmes thinks it's a good plan as well and might even join us for part of it. I don't think we'll be saying anywhere public where we're going, except that it'll have sun (fingers crossed) and hopefully a beach.

L has already painted a vivid picture of himself in (bright) yellow (short) shorts playing air guitar on a pair of jeans - I suppose not actually air guitar, but perhaps laundry guitar? Denim guitar? - when Mrs Hudson brought Laura up to see us.

I wasn't there to witness it, sadly, but L's shriek summoned me fairly quickly, so I got to see his outfit and Laura's reaction to it at least. Or I should say Laura and Mrs Hudson's reactions to it, since Mrs H seemed suitably impressed and told him his shorts fit very nicely (they do).

For those of you not of a mind to keep up with my exes, Laura is the one, as L put it, who has a tiny dog and got me arrested in Egypt. The tiny dog, Biscuit, has since passed on, but she has another now named Vespasian. She gets them from a breeder named, no joke, Mrs Strange. She is, too; I've met her.

L streaked off to put some clothes on, I made tea and introduced her to Sherlock and Mycroft, and we all talked for a while. Or four out of five of us talked, once L returned, and Sherlock glared. Later on in the evening he said she couldn't have me back, which explained the glaring. She kindly refrained from saying she wouldn't want me back, but I know it's true - neither of us would've known what to do with each other in any sort of long term romantic arrangement.

L said he was going to hold my hand possessively on the way to the restaurant, and did so, which I suppose means Sherlock wasn't the only one who was worried, though I hope L knew he had nothing to worry about. Though I'd probably feel the same if his exes showed up out of the blue as mine now seem inclined to do.

Over dinner, Laura told everyone a bit about how we met and kindly left out the fact that I couldn't pay for dinner because I'd lost nearly everything I had in a card game in some bloke's basement. That was an interesting night.

So...there was pizza and ice cream, and Sherlock was won over by garlic bread the the promise of camel riding if we ever go to Egypt. We all stayed up far too late and had a lovely time. I might see her for lunch before she goes back, but I think she's leaving fairly soon, so maybe not.

And now back to bed for hopefully an hour or so before Sherlock's up. It's been a long couple of days. I think I want to just be in bed with L more than I want to actually sleep. 

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.

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.

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.

removable teeth

Hello, this is Mycroft.

John and I went to this museum of surgery today. They have an operating theatre from the 1800s, with tiered standing room all around it so students could come and watch the operations. We came up this spiral staircase:

celebrity

RR wanted to know about any celebrity encounters I might've had, and Random Anon Lurker wanted teenage celebrity crushes (although that might've been meant just for L, but I'm answering anyway).

Last one first: Humphrey Bogart, Katherine Hepburn, Robin Sparkles (shut it), Angelina Jolie, DeForest Kelley...and I don't know if fictional characters count, but if they do, then Archie Goodwin and Lily Rowan, both from the Nero Wolfe mysteries. It's an odd collection, I know.

I don't know what else to say about the crushes - I certainly have no explanation for them - but if you have specific questions, you're welcome to ask.

Celebrity encounters... Well, there was one with someone you've never heard of, but for an Army surgeon, he was a celebrity. He'd been around forever, gone just about everywhere, awarded the George Cross for retrieving five injured soldiers from a mine field all on his own, nearly died of his wounds afterward. Basically, he was who I wanted to be when I grew up.

He was with us briefly in Kosovo, pre-haunted-mental-hospital. They'd sent him to do a report on medicine in modern warfare. That was about the time they were finally making adjustments in procedure for the fact that we were treating as many local civilian casualties as military - if not more.

He was very quiet. Barely there, really. It was funny, because the stories I'd heard about him made him seem like the sort of person who could fill up a room just by walking into it, if you know what I mean. He seemed very old to me at the time - in fact, I think he was about five years older than I am now. He watched everything, listened to everyone. I think I ended up telling him a lot more about myself than I meant to, almost certainly more than he wanted to hear.

I don't know if I'd call him kind, exactly, but he was very present. Mrs Holmes reminds me a bit of him actually, in that respect. I'm still honoured to have met him. 

impossibilities

So. Yesterday, one year ago, we all met Lestrade. It seems impossible that it's been that long and equally impossible that we haven't known him longer. Equally impossible that I haven't known Sherlock and Mycroft for much longer. Completely impossible that a year and a half ago I was still in Afghanistan.

Yesterday we went ice skating and to the Natural History Museum, wandered around, saw dinosaurs, got coffee and hot chocolate, had generally a marvelous day. I took L out for dinner, and afterwards he took me out dancing.

We weren't quite the oldest people there, but they were mainly in their twenties, generally sweaty, often shirtless. It was easy to imagine L there at that age. I wasn't sure I would like it (me and dancing...no) but it was actually a lot of fun. I have never been fond of being packed into crowds like that, that kind of heat and enforced intimacy with strangers and lack of an obvious exit route, but with L there it was...really nice. I didn't notice the rest of it so much, just him.

We got back...late. Later than I had planned. Poor Sally was asleep on the sofa. We definitely owe her baked goods of some sort. Probably more than one sort. She did say Sherlock wasn't much trouble though, which was a report we've previously only heard from Anthea, who would define a small bomb as 'not much trouble'. 

coffee

First off, X drew the goat eating my trousers and kindly gave me permission to post it here:

It's pretty brilliant and I'm relieved it features the goat more prominently than my trousers. Thank you, X.

Mazarin wanted to know about my first date with L. I'm not quite sure what to count as the first one, but I suppose it's got to be the first where we got together, on our own, without the boys, specifically to drink coffee in an awkward fashion.

Just finding that much time took a while. Sherlock wasn't at school yet, and I hadn't found more than one of Mycroft's tutors. I had to get Mrs Hudson to watch them, and then I had to explain repeatedly to Sherlock why he couldn't come along and what the difference was between a date and just two people drinking coffee together.

It was a Sunday, I think, and we met at a place near NSY. The woman who took our order gave me a very dark look indeed. At the time I wondered if she thought I was going to steal the cutlery. She's warmed up somewhat since though, so maybe she was just worried I wasn't good enough for L.

We drank coffee. We talked about the boys and their mum, and the investigation that she'd basically made disappear into the ether. It was a little... I dunno. Slow, I suppose. Vaguely awkward pauses. Lots of smiling and not quite knowing what to say. I assume L was restraining himself from making dirty jokes, which must've been quite limiting, and I was trying not to... Well, put him off in any way.

I was a miserable bastard and I couldn't imagine why he'd want anything to do with me, and I was a miserable bastard with two young kids to take care of - not generally what most people are looking for. So I was probably trying too hard. Maybe we both were.

We were only there for about an hour, and I left feeling I should've done something differently, but he rang me up the next day to ask if I wanted to do it again. Of course I said yes. 

leather daddy

As in the father of one of Sherlock's classmates, wearing leather, because he showed up on his bike. Nice man. He pulled up this morning to drop his son off and recognised and we chatted a bit. I think we met him briefly at Sherlock's sports day a few months ago, but the bike is new (and I suspect inspired by Lestrade's). Who knows, maybe Mrs T will be next...

I've been walking since I dropped Sherlock off, more or less. Stopping in parks and cafes and so on. Might just stay out until it's time to pick him up. L - you want to get lunch at any point? 

practice makes...embarrassment

Rugby practice went all right. On the whole. I'll just quote Lestrade to start with:

Picture the scene - 20 odd cops, practising rugby...

Sherlock swinging around, holding hands with Sal, wearing shorts, t shirt...and his wings. And in a quiet moment he chooses to shout 'when are you all going to KISS, like John and Lestrade do when they play with each other in the park??'

Most of the time I don't think twice about the things he says and it takes L to remind me that it would really be better if he didn't say a lot of them quite so loudly and in public. This one...I was fortunate to have a coating of mud that probably disguised the colours I was turning. Except for the tips of my ears, Mycroft informed me. Thanks, Mycroft. 

L was, of course, also covered in mud, but it looked good on him. (Wait, he'll now accuse me of harbouring secret mud wrestling desires.) 

Anyway, I'm glad, in a way, because it was odd not having anyone but Sally know we were together, and they certainly do now. Now I suspect they're wondering where L was hiding Mycroft and Sherlock all those years. And, according to one conversation I overheard, if Sherlock is a boy or a girl. 

I was going to say more but I forget what it was and also L's both commented and texted to tell me to go to sleep, so I'll give it another go. I have Alice the Spider to keep me company of course, but it's not quite the same. 

sports day pt 1

Today was sports day at Sherlock's school, and a good time was had by all, despite the rain. The kids were there from the usual time in the morning, though Sherlock says they didn't manage much in the way of lessons. More running around excitedly and hindering the older children who were helping the teachers set up, I suspect.

Mycroft and I got there about ten minutes late. In those ten minutes Sherlock had consumed, by stealth and cunning, a quantity of cake that Mrs T found so alarming that the first words out of her mouth when she saw me were, "He mustn't have any more!" A variety of things Sherlock potentially shouldn't have any more of flashed through my mind, so I was actually quite relieved when she explained.

odds and ends

All of these things are unrelated. To start with, here's a peculiar plant Sherlock and I saw on the way to school; no idea what it is:

1. The book poll is over, and The Jungle Boo is the winner. Sherlock says he'll do cover art for it, though he would've preferred to draw three men in a boa, but "this one can still have snakes because it's in a jungle."

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.

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.