fireworks forever

Sherlock's mum took him out for the day on Saturday, and I was on call. I'm still not quite sure about everything they did because he told me all of it at top speed when my brain was only functioning at half speed, but I understand there were toffee apples, ice cream, dinner out somewhere 'with tablecloths' (not a huge distinguishing feature, but it does let out a few places), and FIREWORKS. He said it in all caps, trust me.

I didn't have nearly as good a time. FME works rarely features ice cream or fireworks, although there was a tablecloth involved at one point, and a small cat with very sharp claws. The cat is fine. The tablecloth and the officer involved, less so. I was out from about eight to eight, and L made me a lovely dinner when he got home, even though he'd been working just as long as I had.

At some point, I took this:

bats and pumpkins

As it turned out, there was no sanctioned dressing up at school today. Sherlock just wanted to be a bat. We told him no. Or, Greg told him no. I was going to say yes because what could it hurt, but it was pointed out that if one boy showed up dressed as a bat and no one else got to have costumes, it might be a tiny bit disruptive. Sometimes I forget things like this. 

He was a pretend (sulky) bat all the way to school nevertheless, but Mrs N said he didn't give her any trouble once he got there. After school, he was an improvised bat, with dark trousers and a large, flappy black hoodie of L's. 

And then...pumpkin carving. Enormous knives, flailing limbs, potential loss of life or eyeballs. Sherlock and L carved, and I started sorting the seeds from the pumpkin guts, which is genuinely one of the most disgusting things I've ever done and I should've worn gloves. It's the way your skin gets afterwards when it starts to dry on you, like it's sucked all the moisture from your fingers and coated them in an impenetrable shield of water repellent so you can't wash it off. 

But in the end, triumph: 

fallen

Sherlock and I found some good trees today. Here's one:

And Mycroft sent me this site where you can help piece back together an engraved Pictish stone: 

http://pictishpuzzle.co.uk/

I might need more time or patience than I actually have to make any progress, but I like the idea.

Today included laundry, shopping, hot chocolate with Sherlock who helped me fold a multitude of socks afterward, and a pumpkin delivery. Reg brought over the one he'd promised Sherlock in person, and Mrs H gave him tea. We were not invited. ;)

While looking for fallen trees, we also saw a set of three pumpkins stacked up like a snowman, with a stick arm holding a pumpkin head with the guts trailing out of it to the ground. Should've got a picture. 

it is very very early

Lestrade left around three to go and knock down someone's door. I didn't really get back to sleep. Too busy worrying about how it might go wrong, as if that ever helped anyone.

Sherlock woke up a little while ago and came to look for me in our room. He found me in the kitchen making tea and accused me of plotting to go with L and have fun without him. If only...

We've just watched this:



And I'm trying to convince him that Mycroft almost definitely does not want to join us on a pre-dawn stroll. He's made the point that the dogs definitely would, but I think Mycroft getting a full night's sleep trumps the dogs' constant need to smell things and then pee on them.

We'll go and get some sort of breakfast...something for everyone if anything's open this early and then come home and make tea before we disturb the hounds.

Greg, I hope your op went well, or is going well, and that you get everything you're looking for out of it. And let me know if you want anything while we're out. I love you. 

14 seconds

L came up with this fact for me today: in Britain, an ambulance is called to someone suffering the effects of alcohol every 14 seconds. Between my training and now the FME work, I think I've seen at least half of them. I realise that's not remotely possible, but trust me, it feels like it. 

Our allotment has tiny pumpkins. You could wear one as a very small hat, or perhaps carry one around in each hand if you wanted to look festive? I suppose you might, if you had very small hands, try to carve one, which is exactly what Sherlock wants to do, even though Reg has promised him one of his, which are a more reasonable size. (Obviously, he wants to carve that one, too. I think his end goal is to fill the flat with orange, staring faces so that one night, when one of us comes home late, there will be some sort of Pumpkin Incident.) 

Mycroft is on an overnight trip with his astronomy group and so will be a day late coming home for half term - but then we've got him all week, which we're all looking forward to. We might try some more museum roulette. Mycroft said his friend had improved the app and added a few more museums. Should be a good time. I have no idea how this year is going so fast though. Currently trying not to think about it. 

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. 

long gone

I can't believe how fast the week went, and I seem to mean that literally, the way I keep checking to make sure it's really Saturday. Apart from the bike place, we didn't do anything that exciting - mostly long wandering walks, cooking, talking, hottubbing (I'm sorry, Mycroft, I know how you feel about verbing nouns...), and keeping clear of the wild fowl watching us ominously from the pond.

Yesterday from picking up Sherlock to bedtime, I don't think he stopped talking once - clearly he had a much more exciting time than we did! No one burned down the city. L's back to work tomorrow, and I'm back to work tomorrow night and Tuesday daytime, so that'll be interesting.

Here's Sherlock's chocolate spider (which really looks like half an egg in a Halloween costume if you ask me...)

did you miss me??

Hey, it's Murray. I have two things to show you and John's password, so let's gets started. Public service announcement: using your sister's cat's name as a password only keeps out actual hackers, so if that's what you're using, I can only assume you want me to post on your blog.

Gay Flamingos Adopt Abandoned Chick Sherlock gave me this one when I said I was doing a post and it's a nice article that I have just one problem with and that problem is the following unexplained phrase: can feed their chick without any female help, by producing milk in their throat. They can do what now?? How do you type a sentence like that and then not explain it? Is it just me, can all you blokes out there (by blokes maybe I just mean flamingos?) produce milk in your throat? Because let me tell you, that is not a skill I have. Although I can see how it might come in handy in certain situations.

Number two is this: 9,000 Human Sand Silhouettes Serve as a Reminder of D-Day

It's...quite an undertaking. Yeah, don't know what else to say about that really. 

Because I know you are all dying to catch up on my fascinating life I will tell you that I've got an A&E job in a London hospital and won't tell you which one in case you come and stalk me, although if you're single and want to stalk me for romantic purposes, I'd probably be up for that, let me know. Just don't tell Watson, he's a little protective of you lot. 

What else... I'm taking Sherlock and Mrs Hudson out for dinner tomorrow night, don't know where yet. Recommendations? 

we're here because we're here

We have biked, we have settled in, bought food, made dinner - L did that last one, I chopped things and distracted him. It's a wonderful place. Just...quiet and all on our own and generally perfect. View of a little pond from the hot tub on the deck. Have some pictures.

Inside:

Outside:

And the bike place:

It was great, but we don't usually do that sort of riding, and I am sore in a new and exciting variety of places and glad I have the week to recover. I'd definitely do it again though. Well, I say that now. Tomorrow may be a different story once I've set up, but I imagine the hot tub will help a lot. 

in the electric dusk

Here, have a small frog. The pond at Sherlock's school is full of them, in varying sizes from about half the size of this one to two or three times his size. Or her size. I have no idea how to tell male frogs from female frogs.

so far

L is working again tonight. Sherlock is overflowing with the desire to join him. I told him to wait in his room and I'd make him an obstacle course, which I have done and will probably regret. And if I don't, Mrs Hudson will when he comes charging through here like a herd of oversized squirrels. I might go down and apologise preemptively before I tell him it's ready. 

I have work tomorrow night, which will hopefully give L enough time to recover and nap after work before I have to leave him with our small ball of energy. I have some diseased lung pictures in reserve for them to look at together. (Sentences I never thought I'd write, No. 847.) Still, hopefully, everyone will be in bed by the time I get a call - it does usually seem to work that way. 

Here, have a poem. I just read this for the first time the other day and really liked it.

A Small Number

Olena Kalytiak Davis

So far, have managed, Not
Much. So far, a few fractures, a few factions, a Few
Friends. So far, a husband, a husbandry, Nothing
Too complex, so far, followed the Simple
Instructions. Read them twice. So far, memorized three Moments,
Buried a couple deaths, those turning faces. So far, two or Three
Sonnets. So far, some berrigan and Some
Keats. So far, a scanty list. So far, a dark wood. So far, Anti-
Thesis and then, maybe, a little thesis. So far, a small Number
Of emily’s letters. So far, tim not dead. So far, Matt
Not dead. So far, jim. So far, Love
And love, not so far. Not so love. So far, no-Hope.
So far, all face. So far, scrapped and scraped, but Not
With grace. So far, not Very.

so, that happened

I finished Stiff and found it...more or less appropriate for Sherlock, although probably not for most eight year olds. Mrs N has volunteered me to help her take Sherlock's class to the Museum of Natural History, which should be...exciting.

It was odd, if nice, getting to work with L. Of course I know he does the same job as the rest of the police I work with (more or less), but I hardly ever get to see him actually doing it. Although, as he pointed out, by the time I got there, he was mostly done and asleep on his feet. It was hard work not to kiss his forehead and tell him to take a nap, but I restricted myself a hopefully non-embarrassing hug. So relieved the boy was all right - frightened, of course, but mainly all right.

Sorry this is so short. I feel all out of things to say recently. 

not good

I just got Sherlock to bed. It was a struggle tonight, but I expected it to be. He was up at least eight times between his bedtime and now, asking for anything and everything, but mostly asking if we could go to see Mycroft tomorrow.

Most of you will have seen it on L's blog, but there was a possible kidnapping at Mycroft's school today. Mycroft is fine, Anthea is fine, the dogs are fine. They're probably shedding all over L right now. He got the case - went there earlier today and hasn't been able to come home yet. Hopefully he'll get some sleep on Anthea's sofa, at least a few hours.

I hope the boy's all right. His parents must be terrified. 

by the sea

We're staying in an old railway car, which is something I didn't know you could do until L showed me the website. Sherlock is very excited about it, but that's a downgrade from very VERY excited - he initially thought it was our own private car that we could take wherever we wanted on the rail line. He noted the lack of tracks and engine almost immediately, but there was a moment there when I thought he might explode.

We're near the sea, and there's a place hire bikes and a path to ride on, so we've been doing that, baking, letting the dogs run around and try to bite the ocean. You'd think that would get old, but it never does - perhaps because their level of enthusiasm for it never changes.

Mycroft, L, and Sherlock have baked, and the cake is cooling. It's chocolate, with more chocolate, and chocolate icing to be applied later on. Couldn't ask for a better day, really.

Happy birthday, Sherlock. Watching you grow up is an amazing experience, and I'm happy to be a part of your life. 

cupcakes

Sherlock mainly made these. I helped. The cakes themselves are pretty good, but we had frosting issues. You know how it is. It got too stiff and then you squeeze too hard and it just gets everywhere... 

I am unaccountably exhausted and may go to bed before Sherlock does. Certainly will if he has his way. He's wrapped around L's feet like a small boa constrictor. 

brno ossuary

These are all skulls:

It's the second largest ossuary in Europe, and they only found it in 2001. The bones had been all shifted and tumbled by water and time, and they had to clean all of them before they opened it to the public. There's about fifty thousand people buried there.

...Even as I write this, I'm a bit concerned Sherlock will want to go there for his birthday. But I thought it was too interesting not to share.

L fell asleep immediately upon hitting the bed, but I'm still awake. Don't really know why. It feels like it's been a very long week somehow. My shoulder's ached since Wednesday, more than the bruises. Come of the way I twisted when he hit me, I expect. It was harder not to hit him back than I would've thought it would be.

Anyway. I'll try sleep again. 

dr feelgood

Dr Feelgood has been and gone. We went over my files, and he pointed out a few things I could be doing more efficiently, which was helpful. He also left a present for Sherlock, a book called Stiff, which is about all the things that can happen to dead bodies, from organ donation to decomposition to being freeze-dried and turned into compost. He said he thought it sounded like just the thing for him.

He's probably right, but I'll be reading it first to make sure that... You know, I'm not sure what I'm expecting this book to contain that Sherlock wouldn't gleefully read and then discuss at breakfast the next day. But just in case. It's obviously not a children's book.

He also said a police sergeant called him Dr Feelgood the other day. I tried not to laugh too much, if only because we hadn't finished my review yet.

And here is a video of a gelatine cube bouncing off a flat surface.

canal ride

We took a bike ride today (bicycles, not motorbikes). We went to the canal, which was a pretty long ride for Sherlock, maybe the longest he's done. You can tell he's getting bigger and stronger though. He wasn't nearly as exhausted as we had feared/hoped. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful place:

We bought sandwiches and things and eat in the grass by the water. It was strange not to have Mycroft and the dogs with us. I missed him a lot today. He would've had a good time. And, obviously, the dogs would've loved it. They also probably would have jumped in the water and then shaken it off all over us, which I didn't mind missing.

Also, Sherlock would like to remind you, me, L, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, and the world at large that his birthday is coming up. 

snakes etc

Wawrinka is two sets up on (Andy) Murray in the US Open. I'm not even sure what to think about that.

In non-tennis news, I'm back to work tomorrow night, 7pm to 7am. Going by previous Friday nights, I expect the forecast to be light drugs with occasional heavy drinking and stupid fights that, in the end, have no identifiable cause.

Dr Feelgood emailed to say congratulations, so apparently he's reading the blogs. Also that it's time for a meeting to discuss how the job's going and so he can look over my files - until the six months are up, it's his job to make sure I'm keeping proper records, with the kind of information needed for court cases, not just normal medical records. So we'll do that later in the week, hopefully when Sherlock's at school.

I keep my file cabinet locked, for obvious reasons, whose initials are SH. If he asks, it's also booby-trapped and magically warded. And full of snakes. 

quiet

Mycroft, Anthea, dogs, books, and luggage have all been returned to Harrow. Also various new clothes, old computer parts, and a mountain of baked goods. Sherlock asked me at one point if it were possible to mail a person in a box and travel that way, if you weren't going very far (read: to Harrow, for a sneaky visit to your brother). When I said no, he then wanted to know if you could send a body that way. Because if you can't visit your brother via post, the next best thing is to send him (for example) a stuffed bear? Not sure.

We saw a stuffed bear, by the way. Yesterday. In a petrol station. I regret not asking for an explanation.

The countdown to bedtime has begun. We've been letting him stay up late for the holidays, but I think it'd better be back to normal tonight. You can tell he's tired. Also, L and I have a lot of sewing on of name tags to do. We tried a few days ago, and Phobos swallowed one whole trying to lick my hand. 

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.

camping

Posting from my phone is a pain, so this will be short, but we're having a wonderful time. Can't honestly say I wish you were here because the tent would be crowded! We have seen pigs and bees and gone swimming and got giggles goggles and fins for Sherlock. He's turning into a little fish. We've seen meteors and stars and I proposed to Greg again. He accepted… Eventually…

Sherlock is asleep, and Greg and Mycroft are playing their guitars. It's one of those rare moments when everything is perfect.

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.

Work could've gone better.

Came home to find L on the sofa, cuddling his guitar, which was nice. I got him into bed and then watched a documentary on the Marathon des Sables. It's 150 miles over the course of six days through the Sahara Desert. I'd be mad to even think about it, right? I suppose I just need to think about something right now. Or go to sleep. That's probably the better option.  

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. :-)

butterflies and helium

Today, we went to see butterflies. It seemed like they were everywhere. They landed on your hair, he landed on your arm, and one landed on L's nose. I wish I had a picture of that one. We do have pictures of a lot of them, although none with the boys in them can be posted here, of course. And I don't have them to post because I haven't got them off the camera and...I'm too lazy to do it right now.

Sherlock was desperate for more land on him, but he was his usual self, a little manic ball of energy, always moving. It didn't encourage anyone to get too close, including butterflies. He did get a few, but Mycroft got more simply by standing still. I think he had five on him at one point.

The whole experience was so incredibly strange. Something about interacting with wild things that aren't afraid of us. I had a bird land in my palm once, and it felt like that.

Also, here is this...thing. L found it. It's pretty amazing.

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. :)