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 :)

andromeda project

Hello, this is Mycroft. 

I've just been reading about the Andromeda Project, and I thought some of you might be interested. It lets you help astronomers identify star clusters in the Andromeda galaxy, as well as distant galaxies viewed through it. 

The project aims to identify star clusters in our neighboring galaxy, also known as M31. All it takes to find the clusters in Andromeda is an Internet-enabled computer and a desire to help, said Anil Seth, the team's lead investigator. "No special training is required," he said.

The Andromeda galaxy is the one nearest to our own and also the most distant object you can see in the night sky without a telescope. It was first mentioned in writing in 964 by a Persian astronomer named Abd al-Rahman al Sufi, who described it as a 'little cloud' in his Book of Fixed Stars. 

It's also on a collision course with the Milky Way, destined to arrive in roughly five billion years. Not particularly relevant to us, since our sun will most likely have cooled and expanded by then to a point where it will have swallowed up Mercury, Venus, and possibly our planet, too, so if we're not off Earth by then, Andromeda will be the least of our worries. Still interesting though. 

This is a picture of the Antennae Galaxies colliding. They intersected about 200 to 300 million years ago, and the process is still continuing today.

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.

from my phone

This is a very brief post to say that L is as amazing as you all suspected. I don't think I've ever been so surprised, despite knowing there was some sort of trip coming, and so touched that he'd go to this much trouble.

Have just herded Sherlock and Mycroft down off the roof again, with some regret. Mycroft was lying down looking at the stars, and Sherlock was playing 'star songs' on his violin. A lovely image, but a bit screechy to the ears with other people trying to sleep.

We're all back in bed now. Goodnight, everyone. 

autumn

Small Hobbit wanted something about autumn...

When I was fifteen or sixteen, there was this massive storm a few days before Bonfire Night - high winds, rain pounding at the windows, loads of damage. Entire trees went down. We heard one go with a crack you could heard over the thunder.

We went to Bonfire Night on Hampstead Heath, and they had all the debris from the storm piled up and fenced off, and... I feel this must've grown in my mind to be bigger than it really was, but I'll tell it like I remember it. The piles were higher than houses, so long they faded off into the dark on either side.

They were already burning when we got there. It was a chilly night, and most people had set up near the fire for warmth to wait for the fireworks. Mum and Dad and Harry did too. Harry and I wandered off pretty quickly after that, in opposite directions.

kilt update, or, oh my god it's full of stars

Apparently I look like Deb's father. Sorry to say, having seen a photo, that this is actually true. She's not just mad. Or, she's not mad in this specific instance. Her father went off to boarding school and never came back to Scotland and therefore her grandfather's spirit is unable to rest. (Hint: this is the the mad bit.)

My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to stroll round the castle in a kilt with a set of bagpipes and make the extremely late Lord Dinmere believe his son's come home. I see several flaws in this plan, not the least of which is that she still insists I've got to do it sans pants. And shouldn't the kilt be her family's tartan? More practical objection: I can't play the bagpipes.

None of this is getting through to her, and Sherlock thinks it's a brilliant idea. Mycroft is scoffing at the idea of ghosts, but I caught him googling orbs just now.

(Note to self: if the Late Lord Dinmere [hereafter LLD] is actually haunting the place, why wasn't it on the website? You'd think they could charge more with a genuine ghost. She seems sincere, but is this merely an excuse to rob me of my pants? If so, may need to recommend professional help; that is not the action of a sane person.)

On a less drafty note, we hauled Mycroft's telescope down to the loch and/or lake last night just before sunset, along with a couple of blankets, a folding chair, a flask of hot cocoa, and some biscuits. (In some respects, my love for Deb is unshaken, at least when it comes to biscuits.)

The water was so still it was like seeing two skies, one above and one below. No clouds. Only a tiny sliver of a moon, like a silver thread (or a gray hair) stuck on black fabric. Except the sky's not really black, is it? Even at night. It's this sort of black-blue-purple. It's black like a bird's wing. And those ancient Greek blokes were right, the stars do look like holes in the sky with light from beyond shining through them.

Sherlock fell asleep around ten, despite the cocoa, and I drifted off for a bit myself. Mycroft was still glued to the eyepiece at 11pm when I said we had to go in to bed. I think this phase may last a while.

lucky save

Mycroft decided last night would be a good time to try out his telescope. On the roof. Without telling me. Thank god for sibling rivalry.

Sherlock came bounding into my room when I was half asleep with that wild and gleeful look he gets on the rare occasions when Mycroft's done something wrong instead of him.

"John! Mycroft's on the roof! He's gonna fall and die and break his telescope!"

Which of those is worse in Sherlock's mind? I'm honestly not sure.

Another, more immediately relevant question: How does one get onto the roof? Via drainpipe, as it turns out. I would not have expected so much voluntary athleticism from Mycroft, but then it's not that he's incapable. I think he just considers physical activity beneath him. With the proper motivation (a rare cloudless night in London), he's every bit as agile as Sherlock. As for myself, Army training or no, the climb up a rather frosty drainpipe at 1AM is not one I'd wish to repeat.

 All the same, I have to say it was worth it. I'm not advocating climbing around slippery rooftops in the dead of winter, but...

Well, it was beautiful. The stars were dimmer than in Afghanistan, of course. You'll never see them brighter than in the desert, and we're lower here too. Farther from the sky. All the same, they're up there. Sometimes I forget.

My leg hurts like buggery [do you really think this is an appropriate simile, given your relationship with DI Lestrade?] (MYCROFT HOLMES. WE ARE HAVING A TALK, YOU AND I. GET DOWN HERE NOW.) {what's buggery?} (Sherlock, do not even start.) {but i want to know!} (ASK YOUR MUM.)

(It's not going to be his mum giving him the birds and bees talk though, is it? It's going to be me. Oh dear god. Maybe letting him at Gray's Anatomy was actually a stroke of genius.)

My leg hurts like fury, let's say. I'm back on the cane for the day at least, but I can't say I wouldn't do it again. I will say that you, Mycroft, are not to do it again. It's too dangerous, and I don't want to be scraping you off the pavement come morning. We'll go somewhere after New Year's. I'll talk to your mum. Meanwhile, no more unsupervised climbing expeditions, please and thank you.