So some of you will have been following today's saga via John's blog.
Basically, at some point between getting to their place yesterday night and leaving this morning, Sherlock took my warrant card (badge, to you Americans) out of my coat.
By some miracle this morning, instead of every door into the Yard slamming in my face, there was a sudden bout of manners, so I didn't need my card to swipe into the building - doors held open all the way.
It wasn't until I was thumping on the door of a house we were raiding that I reached for my warrant card and...well, you know the rest. I looked like an idiot, Sally had to do all the legal bits/arrests, and by the time I got back to the Yard my DCI had somehow heard all about the farce and decided to rip me a new one for losing my card. (We're supposed to carry it with us at all times, even off duty, and if you lose it it goes on your file, plus there's the headache of who might have it and be abusing it - mine allows me to swipe into practically any police station in London, for instance).
And all the time he's shouting at me I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, so I'm worrying it's John about one of the boys, but I can hardly ask the DCI to stop mid flow so I can check my boyfriend's okay.
Anyway, once that was over and I established I just had to nip up to Sherlock's school and fetch it, the toe-rag we dragged in is bleating about incorrect procedures with his brief, so I had to sort THAT out, in the midst of which I find out some jumped-up twat is giving Sherlock and John grief. So by the time I caught up with him I was... well, yeah. And in my rage-filled wisdom decided it would be a good idea to remind him just what it feels like to be scared by someone who's got a lot more power than you do.
Which means I now owe St John's Wood nick a new locker, because in the process of transferring my anger and bollockings to him, I punched the door and put a dent in it. Can't stand bullies. Although I seem to have a fair streak of it in myself.
And then somehow, in my rush to get back to the Yard I found myself agreeing to do some community policing and reassure the kids at Sherlock's school that the police weren't all officious bastards (not his teacher's words). So God knows what I'm going to talk to them about - or when.
But Sherlock's apologised (I still have no idea what he arrested his 'suspect' for), I've pretty much caught up on my work and I can just about move my hand, so it's probably time to drag myself home find some food and a proper drink.
Oh, and John, just to top off my brilliant mood? I'm on nights next week, 1900-0700, Mon-Thurs.
If I leave here to find the Tube's broken now I might go and find Boris Johnson, rip his head off and shove it up his...yeah.
11 comments:
Wow, that's a great story, but sounds like a really awful day. Maybe in 15 years or so y'all will be able to laugh at it. In the meantime, my condolences.
God, I'm sorry. I feel awful about this whole thing, and now night shift too? Is this punishment for the locker or something? For "losing" the card? I had no idea they'd be such bastards about it.
Don't worry about Sherlock hating you. He thinks the whole thing was brilliant and is only disappointed his suspect got away. (Some idiot kid chucking stones over a garden wall at someone's poor dog; he deserved to be arrested.) He's not that easy to scare.
The other kids in his class were a bit unnerved, but I'm sure you'll make a wonderful impression. His teacher suggested a short talk and perhaps a game of some sort. Maybe you and Sherlock could come up with something?
Night shift is just...night shift. Happens to the best of us. It's only four days, and I don't do it that often. Means I'll be free in the day, too. Well, when I'm not unconscious or planning the violent death of whoever checks my shift pattern and then always organises roadworks when I'm trying to sleep.
They're not exactly bastards, especially now the card has been 'found'. But there is honestly no easy way of explaining to anyone that it was taken by one of the boys who your boyfriend nannies for...there just isn't. I almost gave in and started calling Sherlock my little brother at one point. Odd when a forty-ish year age gap between brothers seems more plausible than the truth.
p.s. Scotch is medicinal, right? It's made me feel better...
Nephew maybe? Sort of? I suppose lying is a bad idea, but it is complicated. (For what it's worth, I think he'd be pretty happy to be your pretend little brother; he likes you a lot, you know.)
Scotch is medicinal up to a point. I recommend more frozen peas.
Oh, the kinds of things that happen when you have kids...or when your boyfriend has kids...or when your boyfriend takes care of--you know what, you're right, D.I. Lestrade. That's complicated to explain.
What's Mycroft's take on all this?
Oh wow... What a mess! D: I'm sorry you had such a terrible day. Well, at least Sherlock's interest is in the right side of the law? :P Good luck with the night shift, you can always wear earplugs and a sleepmask to sleep during the day.
You're absolutely not a bully. You're protective, and there's a difference.
I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job with the talk. And at least Sherlock was trying to put your warrant card to good use. Though he couldn't have known he'd have the opportunity when he nicked it, could he?
Do warrant cards look like the ID cards people swipe to get into buildings? I assume when you say they're like badges are in the US, you mean they serve the same function, not that they look the same.
Take care of your hand, okay? Don't let the idiots get you to blow your cool. It often hurts you worse than them.
I wonder what Sally had to say about this.
Terran - Mycroft is mostly amused, and he was actually really good about helping me explain to Sherlock why that wasn't a good plan. I'm afraid his explanation ("It only works for policemen.") was somewhat more effective than mine ("It's wrong to take things without asking.").
Lestrade-if you don't mind a suggestion, it might be easier to just say, "one of my boyfriend's kids." I'm a nanny and when I'm talking with other nannies we refer to "our kids" ("our charges" sounding a bit formal and old-fashioned.) And John doesn't get off work and go home at the end of the day like I do- he's essentially fostering the boys-so it seems very true to the spirit as far as I can see, as well as being shorter and less complicated.
Danger - frozen peas just turned into...well, unfrozen peas. I went to bed.
Innie - there's a difference, but also a fine line. I think I overstepped it. My mum would give me a clip around the ear if she knew.
Lawless - it's very intimidating giving a talk to a class full of kids who are all more intelligent than you. Sherlock needs to help me plan it so I aim it at the right level (approx. Genius level, from what I can tell). And warrant cards are a bit like ID cards now, as in plastic, with you picture, rank, badge of the force, warrant number and a bit about how you're legally allowed to carry out your duties blahblah. It comes in a leather wallet, with a metal police badge on the other half - so when it's closed, it's blank leather, when you open it there's a badge on one side, your card on the other. When I started out your warrant card was literally made of card with your picture pasted onto it. Unlike American cops (from what I see on the telly) we never display our warrants, unless you want to gain entry to a property or arrest someone or prove your ID. We dont wear them on our belts, and 'flashing the badge' is actively discouraged in any form apart from carrying out your duties. But we are meant to have them on us at all times. And I've pulled mine loads of times off duty to stop trouble.
One-traveller, yeah that is a lot simpler. Although I still get enough raised eyebrows about the 'boyfriend' part. Someone did helpfully put a flyer for the Met's LGBT group in my pjjgeon hole the other day. No idea if they were serious or thought it would be funny.
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