London has dawned grey, misty, drizzly and generally uninspiring. But the end of a run of nights can never be bad, so it may as well be a bright sunny summer morning, as far as I'm concerned! Although I feel like I'm about 150years old.
Spent the first part of the night wandering the estate where the lad was shot last night. Wearing my stab vest, Danger (which admittedly won't help much if there's a nutter with a gun, but I didn't think I'd have the mental capacity to step out of the way of a knife last night, so on it went.) anyway, usually we don't do late housecalls, but the sort of people we wanted to talk to are nocturnal. So there we were. No one told us anything, quite a few people yelled quite a lot of abuse at us, and told us to go and catch some real criminals - apparently having not listened to a word we said, and thinking we were just on the rounds for drugs again.
The lad is out of intensive care, but either he doesn't know anything or he's not saying. I think the former, but you can never be sure. His mother promises he's not into gangs, he's a good boy. But mothers are often the last to know about these things.
Anyway, now freedom, sleep, Danger, the boys, the weekend. Not necessarily in that order.
Oh, and the picture, as I mentioned in comments, has been taken down. Which is good in some ways, but it does give the impression I've died. Or been sacked. I daresay they'll put up a new hideous mugshot soon.
21 comments:
You could always offer them the leather picture as a replacement. Though that might be counterproductive. But you were very cute.
Tinkerty-tonk,
Bronwyn
Hopefully you'll be conscious when they take the new hideous mugshot. Enjoy your weekend!
I think the effect is more that you're on some amazing undercover assignment . . . when really you're just under the covers with Danger. Best of both worlds, really!
(Keep your chin up! And remember that you could always offer them Sherlock's drawing of you as a replacement image.)
Bronwyn - were being the operative word. Was possibly 'cute' up to about 6 months old. No one would recognise me now.
Lawless - if they took one whilst I was unconscious people would definitely think I'd died! They'll probably find an old one from somewhere.
Innie - you're right, under-covers is definitely better! And I should give them Sherlock's picture, it's definitely better looking than the real thing. I'll email it to HR.
Oh, I hate it when people don't listen. It's incredibly aggravating - must be even more so when you're investigating an attempted murder rather than just telling someone about a favourite band!
Enjoy your weekend! Have some sleep. :)
I definitely vote for using the photo of your younger rockstar self as a replacement.
Maybe I should get Mrs Holmes to put up that picture I drew of you downstairs on a staff pic board? I think Mrs Hudson would appreciate it.
If that's a threat, you've already put it on the INTERNET. It doesn't get much more public than that, and Mrs H has already seen it. Are you in the kitchen? Bring me cake.
I'm in the sitting room. Very close to the kitchen. Do you want Banana and...stuff cake (it's tasty, but what IS it?), or coffee and walnut, or chocolate. And has Mrs H opened a bakery, or did she just decide out of these options there was something for everyone?
And are you in bed? Last I knew you were just tucking the boys in...that was ages ago. I think I've been on nights too long - have turned nocturnal.
P.s. How do you know she's seen it?
It's banana-yogurt-something. Wheat germ? And I want chocolate please and yes I'm in bed, that was three hours ago I was tucking them in. Are you going to be up all night?
P.S. BECAUSE SHE KEEPS BRINGING ME JAM AND SMIRKING.
Chocolate cake. In bed. Up all night...
I won't bring a plate. Or a fork.
And she brings you jam...I hope it's not in those stupid little jars you get in hotels. That would be insulting. I clearly have a rival for your affections. A rival with cake as a weapon.
Or maybe she just found some of my other sketches... Or saw what I drew on the wall before Ipainted over it with brothel red...I mean dried blood.
Of course not, it's homemade.
WHAT OTHER SKETCHES?
The...other ones. Of you in a more, sort of, horizontal pose. And the ones without any censoring jam.
Those ones. Which I'm sure no one else has ever seen. And which I'd destroy, if you wanted me to. And if I could remember where I'd put them...
Where in god's name have you hid them? They're at your flat, aren't they? Don't think I won't break in if I have to and if you put any of them on the internet I will do unspeakable things to you. Ones you won't enjoy! At all! I mean it!
As tempting as it is to find out if he's telling the truth, Lestrade, I think you might want to take his word for it, just this once.
As if you could do anything to me I wouldn't enjoy.
And like I said, don't recall their location. Not here though. Probably my place, maybe my briefcase, or perhaps in a file at the yard - which will be a surprise for somebody!
My drawing isn't good enough for anyone to recognise you, don't worry.
You are cute. Don't try to buffalo me, Detective Inspector. I've seen pictures. Besides, I've many years of training that says one does not refer to someone else's significant other as "smoking hot" or other various and sundry phrase that, while strictly speaking, may be accurate are also overly familiar. It simply is not done.
However, I shall risk the faux pas to say that you are a charmingly handsome man, as is your John.
Tinkerty-tonk,
Bronwyn
You're right about John, definitely. He's wonderful.
As if you could do anything to me I wouldn't enjoy.
It might take some time, but be assured, I would find something.
I can't tell you how much I look forward to you trying.
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