work

I was called out to a domestic violence incident last night. It was painful. All you can do is patch up wounds and hope justice will be done at some point, and know that even if it is, it won't undo the damage.

And the next one involved a pipe stem jammed somewhere you wouldn't want a pipe stem to go. I'm certainly getting a broader set of experiences in this job than I expected.

I got home very late/early. Lestrade had made tea for us and then fallen asleep balancing his on his chest. I had to wake him very carefully. It's just so nice... Well, beyond nice really. Amazing to have someone to come home to after a night like that. 

honeymoon

Mycroft is back at school on Tuesday, Sherlock shortly thereafter. We've been talking about the honeymoon a bit, with Sherlock ruling out places that are too nice and interesting for us to go without him. I was thinking about trying to see the aurora borealis, but, apart from it being a fairly long way if we want to ride the bikes, I think Sherlock and Mycroft both might be a bit cranky if we went to see those without them.

It is a good year for it though, apparently. I read that it peaks on an 11 year cycle, and the peak is either this year or last year, depending on which article you read. September and March are supposed to be the best times. You can stay in a glass igloo if you want to:

Anyhow, more realistically, L mentioned Prague last night, and I was looking at Lugano, in the Switzerland, which seems like a nice place, but there are about a thousand other places that would be good too, I'm sure - if anyone has suggestions, let us know?

Editing in this pic of Sherlock's cake - it's delicious :)

tiny frog

Or possibly toad. We found it on our walk today. Sherlock was delighted, but seems to have got over the urgent need to take every bit of wildlife we find home with him, which is a relief. He still asked, but didn't seem too disappointed when we said no. 

Back to normal tomorrow. Maybe then I'll be able to sort out the day in my head. Right now, it's still a sort of happy haze.

tomorrow

Well. We're getting married tomorrow.

The dogs are washed. Our suits are set out. Family is trickling into town. Murray probably has the rings. It's all beginning to seem almost real...

L's going out tonight with Sherlock. I'm going out with Nicky. Mycroft and Carla have some undisclosed plans. It will be a busy night. Just as well. Maybe it'll keep me from being too nervous/excited/unable to think of anything else. I hope I'm not too boring tonight, Nicky. ;) 

murray and lestrade

Well. Murray went up to surprise Lestrade at his conference. There was champagne and there were Homer Simpson boxer shorts, apparently. Later, Murray got himself handcuffed to the bar. That was after he got them kicked out the jacuzzi.

The evening appears to have been a success. Although I don't like to think of the state of L's head in the morning.

I called Murray cheeseface in the comments and promised to explain. It's a short story. He once loudly announced to a bar that fromage was better than fucking. He meant frottage...although he did not stand by his statement when questioned later. There were speculations about what sort of bedroom activity would involve cheese, and he got a new nickname. It's probably best not to think about it too hard.

Right. Going to try sleep again. 

a note

Earlier today, L got an envelope addressed to him at the yard. It was a note from his father, along with some money. He asked me to post a picture of it. I don't think any of us really know how to feel about it.

Translation:

To Gregory, 

I heard you were getting married. And that you have two boys/children now. I hope you're happy and that you and he have a good life together.

The money is to be split/shared between you and Nichola to spend on your families.

Your Father, 

Francesco Lestrade

So, that's…nice, I suppose? I don't know. I mean, it could certainly be worse.

blame nicky

Honestly, it's not my fault. She sent it to me, and what else was I supposed to do? The earring really makes that look, I think.

... I'm not even really making fun. He looked better than I did in the 80s. 

The past two nights of calls out haven't been so good, as you may have gathered. There were kids involved. Obviously, I knew that would happen eventually, but it's not really something you can prepare for. I've talked to L about it a fair amount and a bit to Dr Feelgood, Who said you never get used to it, which was about what I expected.

Nicky sent me this picture at  an opportune moment. It cheered me right up. As has the prospect of camping! This has been such a busy summer, it's hard to believe it's almost over. Hard also to believe how much is still happening before the end of it, before Mycroft and Sherlock go back to school. Camping, new clothes for both boys, but especially for Mycroft who is growing at an alarming rate, and, of course, the wedding. 

I'm still thinking about the Marathon des Sables and looked into the London Marathon for next year, only to find that it currently already closed for entries. Exactly how early do people decide they're going to do these things? Anyway, I suppose there's nothing stopping me from running a ridiculous distance on my own without signing up for anything.

happy birthday, lestrade!

The other one I was looking at said 'you may feel old, but you're still the youngest person I had sex with this year.' But I went with the more topical one. Besides, I would've had to amend it to say 'or last year, or the year before… Or for quite a while, really'. And then some of the humor is lost. So I decided on the royal foetus, because I know you didn't get enough of that at work. :-)

i am not blogging during my date

... I'm just posting during my date, because I forgot to do it earlier. This was pre-written. For someone's convenience.

RSF asked about book recommendations. Since you're waiting for the newest Rivers of London book to come out in the United States, how about a book that's out in the US but not here (that I know of)? I haven't read it yet, but it sounded good enough that I made a note to get it when it comes out, which, last time I checked, is in the autumn. It's called Mr Penumbras 24 Hour Bookstore and I really hope they don't change the cover when they publish it over here. I want the glow-in-the-dark one. Partly because I think Sherlock will like it, but mostly because I know I'll like it.

Apart from that, you could try the Dalziel and Pascoe novels by Reginald Hill. It's not terribly important to read them in order, but, if you want to, the first one is called A Clubbable Woman. It's not the best of the series. If you don't mind starting out of order, you could try A Pinch of Snuff.

Also...for those of you wondering when the wedding is going to be...it's not far away. This month, in fact. :)

i don't have a good title for this

Yesterday was nice and quiet after the unfortunate excitement of L's bike accident. Quiet anyway - not so nice for him, obviously. The bruises are pretty spectacular, and the muscle strains don't show, but they're just as bad. 

Sherlock asked him about seven times yesterday when he was getting a new bike. We thought it was just excitement at the idea of something new and shiny, but he seemed more worried about it than anything. L talked it over with him while they looked at new ones online. Turns out Sherlock was worried about it because last time L didn't have his bike was when he got kidnapped. So. There was that. We talked to him about it - mostly L talked to him about it - and I hope he feels better now. 

(Lestrade, you know you can borrow mine until you can get a new one, right? Not that I think you're going to put off buying one...)

And the allotment is proceeding:

hexaflexagons

Mycroft sent me this. I think Sherlock will want to make one as soon as he sees it...



I spent yesterday mostly vomiting and drinking water (repeat as necessary) and L was kind enough to fetch Sherlock from school and take him to the allotment where he apparently dug an enormous hole that he wants to show me tomorrow. I'm mostly better today. Just tired and wary of food. L's migraine is still hovering though and all in all we're not in the best shape. And I feel like I should've timed my food poisoning better, which is...absurd.

That's it, I think. Too tired to think of anything else at least. We're going to eat, two of us cautiously and Sherlock ravenously and then have a quiet evening.

unexpectedly exciting

L's been sent off to interview someone at HMP Frankland, which is much too far away. He'll spend the night there (not at the prison, in a hotel nearby). So will Sherlock. He was begging to go along, L and I were saying no, because where would he stay while L was doing the interview? Sherlock insisted he was old enough to stay in the hotel alone (no), and then one of the security people said his mum lived up there and he hadn't sent her an Easter card and he could go along and look after Sherlock for a few hours while L was doing the interview...

And suddenly, I was packing Sherlock an overnight bag and they were off to the train station. Sherlock was wildly excited, and there were multiple updates from the train, including one about how he could fit into the luggage rack... They're at the hotel now and asleep - at least Sherlock is, and I hope L is by now.

I think Mycroft and I are going to the Soane Museum tomorrow and maybe out to breakfast beforehand - despite having been instructed that we're not to do anything fun while Sherlock's away. It's the house he built for his family to live in but there's also a sort of fake monk's cell and yard:

Soane pretended that he had discovered the remains when digging the foundations of his new house: in medieval times, he explained, this had been the hermitage of a monk named Padre Giovanni. In fact had had assembled the ruin from pieces he had salvaged in his role as architect to the old Houses of Parliament. 

Also:

The tomb itself is is inscribed 'Alas  Poor Fanny!' as if Padre Giovanni had withdrawn into seclusion because of a broken heart. But Fanny was Mrs Soane's beloved pet dog, and its tiny coffin still lies in the Monk's Grave.

(both quotes from In Ruins, by Christopher Woodward)

He sounds like an interesting man... 

i always forget what the day after my birthday is

Early this morning - and I do mean early - L woke me up and said he had something very serious to tell me. What was it, I asked, still groggy but trying very hard to be awake and supportive and really listen rather than wonder why I'd been dreaming of giant snails.

'John,' he said. 'I think I have feelings for Anthea. She's made me discover a part of myself I never knew existed. A...[dramatic pause] heterosexual part. So I'm really sorry, but we're going to run off together and start a school for ninjas. You can enroll if you want, we'd be honoured to have you.'

Once my brain got past the initial sleepy panic and the 'feelings for Anthea(???)' part and processed the ninja school, obviously I had to pummel him with pillows until...matters were resolved.

I'm very glad I don't go out and try to drink myself into an early grave for my birthday anymore - April Fool's Day, at medical school, with a hangover, is something everyone should do their best to avoid. 

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. 

car punching

I had another interview yesterday, with Dr B, who thankfully did not google me. He was a bit older and called my phone an infernal device, so I have a feeling google is not top of his list for information sources. He's been doing this a long time though and had some interesting stories. Not sure we're going to suit though. I suspect if he had read the blogs, he wouldn't have approved.

Today, lunch in the park with Lestrade, who could speak and was not wheezing, so that was lovely. Beautiful day.

On the way to pick up Sherlock, I saw someone get cut up in traffic. He started shouting at the man who'd done it and got out of his car at the next light. I thought there might be trouble, which...I suppose there was. Of a sort. He walked up, punched the other man's car, got back in his own, and drove away when the light turned green. He made no impact on the car. I hope he didn't break anything in his hand.

I also looked at more wedding bands.

It's white gold, and the centre bit rotates. Does that make sense? The raised part is not attached to the inner part, so they sort of spin around each other, but they're still connected. There's an animation showing it on the site, but you can only really see it with the one with the diamond in. Anyway, I thought it was nice. Unusual. 

souffle success

I made this. It...worked? Bit dense maybe? I don't have extensive souffle eating experience, so it's hard to judge, but Sherlock ate two of them, so it must've not been too bad. It was actually a pretty simple recipe. It made six, so Mrs Hudson got one, and security got the other. Hopefully they shared and didn't go for a fight to death or anything. They're more used to L's desserts, which are worth fighting over. Hopefully this has erased the shame of the cheese and vinegar incident from everyone's mind.

And here's a tiny bat for Sherlock (and everyone else who wants one):

Lestrade's feeling better, which is wonderful. Sherlock's not even fake-coughing, despite school tomorrow. There was sun today and it looks like there might even be more tomorrow. Things are looking up...and I'm reading about tasers. Or, really, TASERs, since it's an acronym. There's an entire chapter on them in Clinical Forensic Medicine.  Apparently the man who invented them named them after his favourite character: Tom A. Swift and his Electric Rifle (TASER). So, there's something I'm willing to bet most of you didn't know. And will never have occasion to use now that you do know it. 

slow day

Harry sent me a link to this article: We Found Our Son on the Subway. Lovely. You couldn't get away with writing this sort of thing in fiction; everyone would call it unrealistic. I kept expecting something awful to happen as I was reading through it and was very pleasantly surprised. I am so happy for them. And glad to live in a world where things like this are, occasionally, possible.

Lestrade's still ill. Sherlock, thankfully, is not, though he tried coughing and looking pathetic this morning in case I'd let him stay home from school. He couldn't maintain it though. He has too much energy to pretend effectively; it breaks out and suddenly he's jumping up and down on the sofa and singing about orange juice.

Lestrade is looking wan and pale without any effort at all, but I think feeling slightly better today, judging by his slightly renewed interest in coffee. He's mostly been on the sofa with a duvet and an endless supply of case files and autopsy reports. There are so many that I literally don't know how he got them home with them. I think the interior of his bag may be a Tardis. The coughing at night is the worst part, but at least he's had some rest today.

I've been making him tea and reading my new book, Clinical Forensic Medicine: A Physician's Guide. Not an exciting day, but there you are. How are you all doing? 

sofa

Sherlock came and woke me up about half an hour ago. I got him some water, and now we're on the sofa. He's asleep again, sort of draped over me like a small, warm, bony blanket, with his arm propped carefully on cushions. My computer's balanced precariously on the back of the sofa, so this is probably not going to be a long post.

The course was good, despite the lack of decent tea. I didn't sleep well without L's freezing cold feet and his... Well. Just without him, I suppose. It's easier to remember where you are when you wake up in your own bedroom next to someone you love than it is when you wake up in an empty hotel room. This was the first time I've been away on my own since I met him and the boys, and it was strange to see how much I've changed. Even the concept of having a home is unfamiliar, at least since I left my parent's house, and missing it - not just the people in it but the physical place - is a first.

Got home around 7.30, locked the bike up, got hit in the midsection by a Sherlock-shaped torpedo and grabbed as tightly as he could managed with only one arm. There was some sniffling when I picked him up and he told me all about it (for the second time, because of course he told me on skype as well, but that's not the same) while Lestrade and Mycroft came to hug me slightly more gently and help me get my things upstairs.

Tea, biscuits, curry, my favourite people, two large slobbery dogs...a good homecoming.

I'll leave you with some valuable information from the course. One of the things we covered was 'demeanor in court', on which our instructor had this to say:

Consider carefully the proposed response prior to putting one's mouth into gear.

I liked it so much I wrote it down verbatim. I don't think there's any area of life that couldn't apply to. 

forensic romance

The course continues. Still interesting. Still a lot to take in, and I feel like I ought to be remembering everything, which is obviously impossible when someone's talking to you from eight in the morning till five in the afternoon. That's what notes are for, of course, and I haven't taken this many since medical school. It's like a week-long flashback. Leaves my brain a bit fried at the end of the day. 

Tonight I looked up one of the historical records the instructor mentioned on Monday:

On the Uncertainty of the Signs of Murder in the Case of Bastard Children, by William Hunter, 1818

That is, it concerns children born out of wedlock being killed, not murders done by bastards. It makes for fairly unpleasant, if interesting, reading, especially once you get past the introduction and read about the individual cases. 

spider legs

3D fractals

There's a lot more of them at that link. They look like whole alien worlds. Just amazing.

Well...let's see. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. Sherlock has helped me pack twice so far. I've removed:

• his book on mummies (interesting, but not exactly a good size to fit in a smallish bag)
• a container of black glitter
• three kinds of gum, including the nicotine variety
• two kinds of tea (a nice thought, but I'm reasonably sure they still have tea in Birmingham) 
• a small, plastic fish
• four pressed leaves
• a candle
• a book on bees
• a carrot
• L's uniform hat

I'll leave it up to you to decide which is the most inexplicable. It's either the carrot or the hat, for me. Spider is going to be the most difficult, I think. Her legs stick out no matter what I do. I hope whoever cleans the room at the hotel isn't bothered by spiders. 

Things I am taking include, boringly, clothes, The Mauritius Command, laptop, toothbrush, etc. Trying to decide if I can get away with wearing boots most of the time, because I can fit normal shoes or trainers, but not both. I'll probably go with the trainers and then not run the entire time I'm there. That's always the way it goes, isn't it? No? Just me? Right. 

Sherlock says he has a surprise planned for me while I'm gone... He also says L approved it, so I am extremely curious and only mildly concerned.