Blazing hot, no work (well, okay, a little bit of work, but all dealt with by phone), Danger, the boys, London - all good.
A nice lazy morning started it all off well (although I didn't know poor Sherlock had had nightmares, and that was why he slept in so late, or I might not have enjoyed it quite so much). Still, I can never ever get enough of waking up next to John and not having to drag myself off to work.
Anyway, we had big plans, but still didn't manage to leave the house all morning! Not that that wasn't very nice too, obviously.
We finally got out and into town, with a number of aims - all of them brilliant. Ice cream, bikes, and...bikes.
First - ice cream.
These guys make your ice cream in front of you. And it's really bloody tasty. We decided we should try to share flavours, to get a full range. So BBQ Pineapple (the special!), Madagascan Vanilla Bean (with fresh mint), Valrhona Chocolate and Lemon Curd.
I already knew I liked the chocolate, so it was only fair I let the others mainly have that one. I liked the lemon and the special pineapple too - the vanilla is a bit...vanilla, really. But I'd still go for the chocolate, personally!
They were very nice, and let us take pictures:
Filling the jug with liquid nitrogen.
Mmm, lovely chocolate.
It's a bit expensive - but totally worth it, for a treat. The ice cream is really dense and packed with flavour. And on a bloody boiling hot day today it was bliss. We sat at the lock and ate, then wandered through the market. Me on my phone half the time, trying to sort out work things. Mycroft trying to stop Sherlock staring at the people dressed in...alternative fashions, and John trying to stop Sherlock darting off all the time.
Then we had to go and meet the boys' Mother, and went to the bike shop...I don't feel it's my place to say what happened there, but it all went well!
And after a brief trip home (provided by Mrs Holmes, because it's possible we had things to take home with us...) I shot off to pick up some biking gear from a friend of mine - and John managed to corral the boys and head off to our pre-arranged rendez-vous. (A nice quiet car park of an office block, always deserted at the weekend.)
Mycroft got dressed in his gear (Bright green jacket, helmet covered in cartoons. Sorry Mycroft!) and carefully got on the back of the bike, hanging onto me for dear life. John helped him settle, showed him he could grab onto the buckles on the side of my jacket, checked he could reach around behind him for the grab bar, if he wanted, made sure he knew to hit me twice if he wanted to stop - and we were off.
Very slowly, at first. I barely got my boots off the ground. And he didn't hit me. So I got a bit faster, finally settled properly, so i was riding, got into second, and although I could feel him holding a bit tighter, he was fine! I think he wishes he could see a bit more - he's a bit short to see over my shoulder still.
After a few laps of the car park we stopped and had a chat, and he said he felt safe. He got off then, and gave his gear to Sherlock. I sat Sherlock in front of me - it's not really ideal, but he's just far too small to go on the back. He was inbetween my arms, and once we were moving I held him against me. He moaned because he wanted to go faster, but there was no way I felt safe doing that. He's got a cob on about it, but like John says, he needs to learn that he can't always get what he wants.
Mycroft said he felt happy enough with riding to sit on the back all the way home. I felt a bit bad at leaving Sherlock with John to get public transport in the baking heat, but Danger insisted he didn't mind.
So Mycroft and I rode home, and it was brilliant. I think he found it a little scarier, with all the traffic, but he was impeccably behaved, did exactly as he was told, and seemed to enjoy it.
Now the boys are in bed, it's still bloody hot, and I'd hug Danger, but he's all warm. Albeit very sexily warm, in a pyjama trousers and a tatty old t-shirt.
79 comments:
It's only hot for London, not properly hot. You can hug me if you want to, but I think I still smell like the tube as well, and I'm too lazy to get up and shower. I know, I make it sound so appealing, don't I?
plenty hot enough for me. especially down the tube. (For people who've never experienced how special the tube gets in the summer - it can hit up to 47 degrees C.)
And I like the smell of the tube - all brake dust and hot metal. You smell like...you. With some added fruit from that cordial stuff you drink. I may hug you. But I smell of a sweaty bloke who's been in bike leathers half the day.
Tube weather doesn't count. Unless you're down in it. (Note to any weather deities: this doesn't mean I want it to get hotter, thanks.)
I smell of a sweaty bloke who's been in bike leathers half the day.
That's all right, so did the guy I was pressed up against on the tube, and I like you a lot better.
(Note to any weather deities: this doesn't mean I want it to get hotter, thanks.)
Hmm...well, you do seem to call me 'God' sometimes, and I did have plans for it to get a lot hotter around here. But if you're sure...
I thought we'd already established you're some sort of domestic deity.
Think I've been a bit of a let down on the domestic front recently! Hence my fear if you write a list of chores for each of us...
You do practically all of the cooking! I wouldn't ask you to do anything else. Besides, the idea is for them to develop a sense of responsibility (all right, mostly Sherlock) - you don't need one any bigger than you've already got.
Hmm. I've been pretty crap this week, but okay.
I'll give you back up if you decide Sherlock should clean his room each week, with full inspection. Going to make the boys stand by their beds? Bounce a shilling off the sheets? White gloves to run along the skirting boards, looking for dust?
Oh, by the way, the other day, inbetween asking me about liquid nitrogen and why men grow beards, but he doesn't have one, Sherlock informed me he wanted to have two Degus and pets. Degus? Degu? Whatever the plural is. Seemed like it might be easier than a giant rabbit or whatever else he's come up with. Maybe doing chores could earn him points...if you're really organised you could fix it so he should get a reward just as Mycroft goes to school or something?
AS pets. Not and pets. they are pets.
You mock. But I might! It wouldn't kill them.
Degus would be a million times better than giant rabbits. I just read the wikipedia entry, and they sound perfect for Sherlock - especially the intelligence part. I was worried he'd get bored with the giant rabbits.
I've been pretty crap this week, but okay.
I should point out that you have a more than fulltime job and also you don't technically live here. Both pretty good excuses.
and also you don't technically live here.
True. Technically, if we go by hours-spent-in-each-place, I live at Scotland Yard.
That doesn't mean I'll be cooking a few hundred sweaty coppers dinner though.
Or tucking them in at night.
So to speak.
I'm relieved to hear it! It makes a pretty hilarious mental image though. You could read them... I'm trying to think of children's books with police as main characters and coming up blank. There must be some.
Police aren't exactly shown in a good light in most kids' books.
Probably why we're so universally loved.
When Sherlock's detective zombie thriller comes out, I'm sure it'll change all that.
nah, pretty sure now I'm in his bad books again the detective will have his brains frozen and eaten in chapter one.
I'll have to rely on you and your romance novel to redeem my image.
Your romance novel, you mean. I don't remember signing up to write this thing.
Anyway, didn't you say something about working in a flower shop in another life?
Greg looked up from wiring the last rose into his latest arrangement just as the bell on the door clanged. The man who limped into his life only wanted a cactus for his sister, but Greg wanted to give him so much more...
I did indeed. Farm machinery or flower arranging...
Is it very silly that so few people call me Greg that I sort of forget it's my name? Reading that it didn't quite register...
...their eyes met over the Silver Balls and Greg nodded at the newcomer, quickly regaining his composure. "Big nipple," he said.
The customer raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Greg smiled, nodding to the cactus the man was holding. "Big Nipple Cactus. Lovely pink flowers, that one."
"Right, yes," the customer suddenly seemed to remember what he was holding.
"Or if you prefer something a bit different, I've got a Creeping Beavertail over here..."
You are making those cacti up. You are, aren't you? There can't really be one called big nipple.
I can't believe you doubt Greg the florist! He knows what he's talking about. He wouldn't at all ever keep such things around his shop just in case he needed to suddenly chat up a hot young stranger.
http://cactiguide.com/cactus/?uname=Big%20Nipple%20Cactus
...I stand corrected. And I see where it got its name.
"Which do you like better? Can't say I know a lot about cactus."
"Well, the beavertail doesn't suit me personally, but a lot of people like it. What do you think about the Old Man?"
"Is it easy to take care of?"
...We should really really go to sleep. Before this gets worse.
Okay. We can go to bed, might even fit in a few hours of sleep before Sherlock wakes up in a bundle of pure excitement at his new toy. I get the feeling we might be doing a lot of running around tomorrow...
We could just rush to the end of the story, y'know, off the blog.
The end? I think you mean the climax.
"Oh yes. Bit of food, water and the odd minute of attention every now and again. It virtually takes care of itself. Hardier and longer lasting than some of the prettier ones, too," Greg assured.
"That sounds like something I'd be interested in," the customer replied.
"It has a slightly longer resting period than some, but can grow a remarkably large thick vertical stem, and has a beautiful annulus - given the right treatment."
"i do like the sound of that," the man replied, looking thoughtfully at Greg's goods. "I think I'll take it. Now, I don't suppose you have any suggestions on what I could get for my sister, do you?"
...I'm printing this out to stick up on your door on Monday.
Sally - maybe you could highlight the best bits.
(Seriously, you guys! "Annulus?" *snort*)
It sounds like y'all had a wonderful day, which you needed.
I wouldn't have minded a little more heat today (we're supposed to get rain tomorrow), but it's nice that spring is here and summer is coming.
The worst part of your romance novel? Goofy's on the phone with his mom, so I can't read it out to him. :-( (He's a lot like L, total romantic.)
And the Captcha word is "excess".
This. Is. Amazing. MORE. MORE!
(please?)
Who knew that there was so much wonderful innuendo inherent in cactus growing? (Well, actually, it doesn't surprise me that you knew there were loads of dirty jokes to be made there, L; you seem uncannily good at ferreting out double entendres...)
Congratulations, guys, you just wrote your first (is it, really?) fanfiction! :D And about yourselves!
.I'm printing this out to stick up on your door on Monday.
What with the DI GQMF pic and now this, is there any room left on the door?
And do senior management wander by on occasion?
Sally - You better not be. If you do I'll print off your P45.
X - I do not 'ferret out' anything! I just do some very brief research.
Lupe - can you write fanfiction about yourself? Surely that's...I don't know, well, narcissistic for one. I can't say I'm a fan of myself at all.
Anonymous - the picture is long gone. And yes, they do. The only thing on my door is my nameplate. And it will remain that way.
I want "Greg the florist and his limping customer" in novel length!! XD
Ha! Well that was fun to read on a Sunday morning.
can you write fanfiction about yourself?
It appears that you can, not least because you just did :-p (And better than quite a bit of fanfiction out there, too).
beautiful annulus
...
Sounds like you all had a lovely day yesterday too, even if Sherlock was a bit of a grumpypants about not getting a "proper" go on the back of the bike (he's five, and got a go on a motorbike! He should be delighted. Things don't look like like if you're five, though, do they? Poor little toad). At least he presumably got to do a lot of people-watching in Camden and on the tube. And it's lovely that now you and Mycroft have the chance to spend a bit of time together too.
Nameless - there may be more yet. Danger is a big tennis fan (hence the ban on us going on holiday during Wimbledon), so he's been keeping up with the French Open.
Maybe the limping stranger is an ex-tennis pro? I've been listening to the commentary...it's all 'long, deep strokes', 'breakbacks', balls being 'tickled' over the net, 'sweetspots' and players 'really going at it, stroke after stroke'.
And he tells me I'm smutty. These tennis commentators do it on purpose, I'm certain.
Did you catch the part about Federer "achieving massive penetration"? Or Nadal "really pegging him"?
I'm trying to watch the MotoGP on my laptop and ignore your tennis porn. Although it's hard, when you keep jumping up in the air.
Although Cal Crutchlow did just say he was going to 'pull his finger out of his arse'...so maybe I've just moved from tennis porn to bike porn.
You know, I grew up watching tennis with my parents and it never occurred to me how porny it could be. I'm never going to be able to go home and watch with them again.
Maybe the limping stranger is an ex-tennis pro?
And you're back to those tight little shorts again, aren't you?
I'd never thought of tennis in that way, but now you mention it, it does seem to be a sport that involves getting sweaty and grunting a lot.
Mind you, football commentators kept talking about it being "very tight at the bottom" towards the end of the season. Maybe I was misinterpreting that, too.
Ooh, shiny new layout/background pic too. Nice.
Thanks. Mycroft's helping me. Or I'm helping him.
Or he's just doing it all and I'm not helping at all.
Actually he says I'm hindering him slightly...thanks, Mycroft!
Except the poll is a bit hard to read. You have to scroll the options upward to the sky to read them. He says it's because Blogger has stupid code written into it.
The poll is hard to read, but the background is so perfect for what you're asking.
I answered yes. In spite of (or maybe because of) the fact that I know it's dangerous I've always wanted to ride one. A while ago when I had a few years running of business being good I almost talked myself into getting one. But I don't know anyone who could teach me how to drive it and didn't think they'd sell me one if I didn't already know how and have the proper license for it.
Your new background pic fits you nicely (if not so much your blog name.)
I don't think you can write fanfiction about yourself. I think it's self-referential (or autobiographical) romance/porn. Just weighing in.
(And the visual verification doesn't show up.)
About the poll and Sherlock riding....
Where I grew up, motorbikes were more common than cars. There were 14 people in my graduating class, and 12 of us used motorcycles as our main form of transportation. Only 4 or 5 of us could drive cars at all.
My parents both had their own bikes -- when I was 6, we could fit all 5 of us on one -- my sister and I in front of our dad sitting on the gas tank, and my 2 year old brother held between my mom and dad. And this was on a relatively small bike, too! So it strikes me as funny in some ways to hear that Sherlock is too small. And in other ways, it makes sense because we probably didn't get going nearly as fast as you would on the roads around London.
Just came from a visit to my brother studying abroad in South Africa and rode pillion for a week going everywhere on his little 150 cc bike... I had missed it after not riding for 4 years or so. There is a great road called Chapmans Peak Drive that is cut into the side of the mountain/cliff right along the ocean that we drove along a couple of times, just because it was so much fun.
Some pictures of the road:
http://www.ridgwayramblers.co.za/index.php/a-scenic-drive-in-cape-town/
and
http://www.sa-venues.com/attractionswc/chapmans-peak.htm
Not that I'm advocating and increase in recklessness or anything. My brother and I are pretty reasonably safe people actually.
CylenDelMar - that road looks stunning! I'd love to ride it.
Sherlock's too small by law to ride properly, as he has to be big enough to get his feet on the pegs.
But when John's more confident on the back, he could probably hold Sherlock for another go around the car park or something.
Not sure when he's going to feel happy about not holding on though.
I'm waiting to pull the first wheelie with him on the back, see if he breaks my ribs!
New profile pic.
Oh my...
Yeah, Mycroft told me the point was that people knew what I looked like. So he found that one. Nicky took it at Christmas.
He said I looked unkempt.
Unkempt? That is not one of the words I would use. And, admittedly, most of the words I would use are unsuitable for a blog read by children, and probably inappropriate to say to a person who isn't quite a complete stranger but very nearly... but not one of those words is "unkempt".
Is it because you're not wearing a tie?
I wonder if I should tell John that the traditional way female pillions make sure the boyfriend doesn't wheelie is to threaten to crush something a lot lower down?
Nameless - Errr, no tie, hair a mess, unshaven, mainly.
Rider - he can probably guess. Anyway, I don't think he cares about them...he nearly castrated me earlier, when he was watching 'Roger and Rafa'. Tennis players come higher in his priorities than his boyfriend's manhood.
L - you look gorgeous, not unkempt.
Rider - looking forward to the wheelies, in an odd way. It's like a roller coaster - I could be, as he put it, zen-like and calm, but where would the fun be in that?
You're mad. Gorgeous is not a word which suits me in the slightest.
And even if it did, I'm obviously glad Mycroft didn't think the same.
We're not doing wheelies until you've relaxed a bit. And not on public roads. Obviously.
And when I'm a bit more used to the bike. We're still getting to know each other.
I'm obviously glad Mycroft didn't think the same.
Yeah. That would be awkward.
Your comment box is back. Does that mean you can see it on your phone again? Also your poll looks a bit odd. Like the background though.
And apparently everyone thinks I should learn to ride. Hm.
I agree with Danger: you look gorgeous!
I'm ignoring all the comments about insane bike riding. (I'm the No on your poll.
I can see it on my phone, yeah. Sorry to everyone on old browsers! But it means I don't have to look at that ugly comment page. Just this lovely retro-styled Honda. (Guy Martin, from last years TT, for anyone who cares).
Danger - the poll had Mycroft denouncing Blogger entirely. Apparently it's um, hosted? differently, so he can't change the text colour without hacking Google. I told him not to worry about it...you'll just have to scroll the poll to where you can read it until I get bored of this picture.
Humantales, I'm blushing. I'm honestly not. It's a trick of the light, or something. I'm very ordinary.
Not odd that way, odd like you have to scroll sideways to see it all. Maybe that's just me though.
Were you talking about this Guy Martin during the tennis? Name sounds familiar.
You are anything but ordinary. Extraordinary, I'd say.
See now, gorgeous is one of the words I was thinking of.
You really should trust John's judgement on this, even if you don't believe Humantales of me.
Oh. It's fine for me. But Mycroft just sent me an IM to say he's just done something, and is that better for you?
I may have been...he broke down yesterday, on the final lap. I honestly don't know what he needs to do to win. Grow bloody wings, or something.
You're...just wrong. And biased. But I'm sure we've had this conversation before.
Danger - you can have a go, at some point.
Nameless - I just can't tell you how uncomfortable it makes me feel, even coming from John. But I know it's pointless to ask people not to say nice things. It's what society demands.
L - yes it is better (thanks, Mycroft), and not sure I want a go. We'll see.
It's what society demands.
You might want to consider the possibility people do just actually think you're very attractive. And I don't say even a tenth of the nice things I think about you out loud, and I feel bad about it.
You don't have to! Just if you ever fancy it. I'm perfectly happy with you on the back, honestly.
I don't know why it makes me feel odd. Well, I do know some of them, but...
Anyway, you don't need to say anything like that out loud, so don't feel bad.
You realize you've got an immense double standard there, right? You say that stuff to me all the time.
Hm, what was it you said about the use of the word "honestly"? Heh. I'm pretty happy on the back for the moment, but maybe in the future. If I got one too, all four of us could go on rides together.
I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable.
Please don't presume that I (or any of your commenters) say what society demands of us. If you were butt-ugly and asked me directly, I might, if I were feeling particularly polite or diplomatic, not use the words "butt-ugly"; however my meaning would be clear. But if I chose, unsolicited, to say something, then it will always be sincerely meant, even in the unlikely event that it is disgustingly nice.
But I really don't want to make you uncomfortable, so I will stop with the compliments :-)
You realize you've got an immense double standard there, right? You say that stuff to me all the time.
Yeah, probably. I hope you don't mind it, though?
Nameless - No need to apologise, really. It's very kind of you - all of you. And it's me that's...you're all fine. And John's right, I should stop having double standards.
I suppose, all I can say is that...oh, I don't know, it's all bloody Bryan's fault, and I should just stop thinking about him and everything would be just fine.
It's a lot Bryan's fault, probably, yeah. And I know it's not that easy to just stop thinking about him or what he's said to you. It's not your fault, you know. It's just the way our heads work. Which isn't very helpful or comforting, but...maybe look at the nice stuff people say as sort of an antidote? Even if it's not one you enjoy the taste of. I dunno. Maybe I should just shut up and offer hugs. That might be better.
I hope you don't mind it, though?
Right, time to publicly embarrass myself. I love it. And most of the time I can't even bring myself to say thank you. Or...acknowledge it in any way. Sorry. Can't even really say I'm working on that because I have no idea how and it's kind of physically painful just admitting that I like it at all.
Moral of the story: we're both pretty fucked up?
...I can't believe it took 20 bloody minutes to work up the nerve to post that. I need my head examined. Again.
Your hugs do make most things better. It's not that people say...it's remembering...
Sorry, I can't even admit some things in my head, let alone write them down yet.
I wish brains just came with a reset button so when you get a thought that just won't stop going around and around until you think you'll go mad you could just turn it off and back on again to stop it and have a reboot.
To that end I'm definitely having a large scotch before bed tonight.
Now you're being ridiculous. Of course you acknowledge it, by just...being you, and being so loving and supportive. And I'm glad you love it, because I just need you to hear and believe everything I say.
And if we're on the subject of publicly embarrassing ourselves then I should admit that I like it when you show how much you care, like when you make me sandwiches and then text to remind me to eat them. I suppose it's because I learned the hard way that it's easy just to say the compliments, but when you put time and care in, like that, it's different, it's the effort, not just words.
Which isn't to say I think you don't care when you don't do it!
And maybe it's part of the reason I like cooking and taking you out and all the stupid things like that that are more then just saying something, they're doing something.
Want a scotch?
(it took me half an hour of the forty minutes this took to write to decide I couldn't even write the first paragraph, so well done on twenty minutes, frankly.)
Hell yes, I want a scotch.
L - If you'd prefer, I won't say anything more about it. The intention is a compliment, not anything hurtful.
I hope the two of you are enjoying lots of hugs and other things not to be mentioned on a blog read by little ones. (And not too much scotch. Yes, I'm a worrywart, a mother, and the daughter of an alcoholic. I worry.)
Which isn't to say I think you don't care when you don't do it!
When I don't do it, it's generally because I'm trying not to nag or manage your life or something. I mean I do know you've coped fine without me your entire life. But I like making you sandwiches. Etc. And all that.
I would be fine riding a bike, I think, although I think I'd feel dangerously exposed till I got used to it- most drivers are idiots, and being in a metal box gives you more of a feeling of (false) security I guess. I could never ride pillion though, I couldn't handle the lack of control.
I've ridden what's essentially pillion on Jet-skis, and it was absolutely terrifying. I gripped so hard I got hand cramps and I never felt anything like safe; when I was driving myself, it was gorgeous. Like I said, I think it's a control thing.
I've been both pillion at silly speeds and a sidecar swinger, so clearly no control issues here! I prefer swinging, as the (misleadingly named) passenger is part of the steering and braking systems, so it's much more like teamwork than pillioning is where you are just trying not to interfere.
Mind you... a good rider is a joy to pillion with, my usual pilot is very fast and smooth and two up we embarass quite a few solos.
(I'm not as good as his regular pillion though, they get their knees down in sync!)
Friend of mine (he and his wife are getting on for 50 years together) says the secret to a good relationship is each of you gives the other one everything they can. It isn't about reciprocation it's about the joy of knowing they are getting what they want and need from you.
Humantales - thanks. I don't know, in some ways I think you lot should all just carry on as normal and I'll probably get over it. I think Danger will agree I'm slightly better at taking compliments now than when we first met.
He did this thing he does when we have 'serious' conversations last night. He sort of wraps me right up in a hug, against his chest. It's good, it means I can't get away and feel safe, and we can't see each other's faces, which sometimes (for me, anyway) makes it easier to say things, because you don't spend the whole time trying to guess what's going on in the other person's head from their expressions.
He told me I'm an idiot. Obviously not in those words! He just gave me a lot of reassurance. And I hope I gave him some.
And we didn't have too much to drink.
Danger - yout statement is plainly untrue. I've needed you my entire life, and I've frequently not coped at all. I know you're trying to walk a fine line, and even I don't know where that line is drawn. So i don't expect you to. I wish you didn't have to be the one who dealt with all my shit, but I'm grateful every day that you're willing to try. Amd all that.
First of all, I'm using my WordPress account, and someone else already got humantales. So crankybookwyrm & humantales are the same person.
L-Improvement is very, very good.
And a word of advice from an old married lady with issues out the yin-yang. Forget who has the worst issues to deal with. Are you both comfortable with dealing with the other person's? Then you're good.
Right now, your are in center stage. Which is a lousy feeling. However, tomorrow or next week or next month, it'll be Danger whose issues are center stage and you'll be relieved that you can help. It's like with the chores. It doesn't matter whose list is the longest; it matters that they all get done and the irritation level doesn't get too high (and ideally is about the same).
Cuddling is a wonderful way to have serious discussions. And not so serious ones.
Different names, same person. Right. I'm still half convinced you all found Danger because he writes porn somewhere on the 'net with another ID...
Right now I'm rather pleased (amazed?) that our issues seem to compliment each other. I like doing silly things and complimenting him and ambushing him in the kitchen to tell him just how bloody lovely he is - and he likes me doing it. And he likes making me sandwiches and reminding me to eat/drink/breathe and like the feeling that he cares. So we're perfect for one another.
As for the other stuff...we seem to get through it Better together and we both have good days and bad days. We just have to hope the bad ones don't coincide too often.
The hugging/cuddling stuff sounds like an excellent way to have a conversation. And you're definitely right about it being easier to talk when not seeing the other person's face (the stereotype psychiatrist's office has the chair at the head of the couch for that reason). I hear that writing it down can be easier too :-)
I'm still half convinced you all found Danger because he writes porn somewhere on the 'net with another ID...
No comment :-p
No comment :-p
I do not write porn, under this or any other name! I've never been that interested in porn, honestly. Sex is better.
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