Luckily (unluckily - since he could have done with the sleep?) John woke up enough for me to say goodbye. I didn't want him to wake up and just find me gone, with a note on the pillow.
I like working odd hours. It's quiet here at the moment, I'm just in my biking jeans and a shirt, there are three of my team in, keeping things ticking over, and the others who are on fresh active inquiries aren't based here, they're in incident rooms elsewhere, on secondment. It's different when we've got a big enquiry going on - then whatever time you're here it's manic.
But even without that, my current workload is...immense. I'm working a joint op. I've mentioned it before. It means...well, it means a lot of things, but one of them is that I not only have more basic work to do, but I also can't have any time off. And I really could do with some.
Like John says here, very delicately, things have been a bit 'strained' (hell, you've probably noticed. It's not like we've done a good job of hiding it). He's knackered, I'm stressed, we keep accidentally rubbing each other up the wrong way, taking things badly. My usual method of coping is to shut myself away, and it's just right at a time when he wants me with him. We're all at odds. Could probably do with getting away from everything, but like I said above, it's not going to happen.
The other night - as astutely noticed by Sherlock - I didn't come straight home from work. I rode around for a bit, and then just went and sat by the river, down by the Thames Barrier. It was lashing down with rain, but it was a bit of time on my own, which I really needed. So I stayed there until I was almost too cold to move, then revved up and headed back. It's funny, the way the city consumes you with light and noise and people and traffic as soon as you head back in.
And now Sherlock is going on and on about me moving in. I have no idea what to say in the face of his 5-yr-old-logic. Except it isn't that simple. Of course he doesn't see why. All he sees is the potential for my rent money to buy him ice cream.
And it's raining, so I'll go back and see if there's any sanity left in the place with two boys, two dogs and John all getting cabin fever. Maybe we can cook something. I need a sous chef at the moment, until my hand stops feeling like it'll pull apart at the (very neatly stitched) seams.
Oh, and as Sherlock is also obsessed with Bearskin hats and army stuff, after yesterday, here (finally) is a picture of John in his uniform that Harry sent me as some form of revenge after all the ones he's put up of me. Sherlock asked if the uniform was red. He was disappointed when it wasn't. I'm not disappointed. He got shot more than enough in camouflage.
73 comments:
Do you want to help us make a chore chart? I should warn you, I'm afraid there might be glitter involved.
You should never be afraid of glitter. What sort of homosexual are you??
Be happy to help. I may even volunteer to hoover the ceiling. I am the tallest, seems only fair...
I'm putting 'hoover up all glitter' on your part of the chart and then you'll understand!
Oh god, where did you get that photo? It wasn't there a second ago!
I have an entire 'part of the chart'?
Harry sent me the photo, with a message something along the lines of 'It's all I've got - I think he sent it to me to prove he was still alive, or in one piece, or something'.
It never seemed like quite the right time to put it up. But then with Sherlock's avalanche of questions about your uniform yesterday, I remembered about it.
Hope you don't mind? I can take it off again.
Well, now you do. It says Cook, Hoover Ceiling, and Hoover All Glitter. Sherlock would also like it to say Tell Sherlock About Interesting Murders.
I don't mind, it's all right.
If I'm just hoovering glitter, who's hoovering everything else? This is starting to sound like Shylock and the pound of flesh...
"This bond doth give thee here no jot of dust;
The words expressly are "all glitter.""
Mycroft and I are doing the rest (Sherlock's too small to wrestle the hoover into submission) and Mrs Hudson will keep on doing the skirting boards because I can't see the point and she can't conceive of not having sparkling clean skirting boards.
Sherlock can put the interesting murders down on mine, if 'Help Lestrade cook' goes on all of yours.
(We aren't even halfway through talking about the Kray Twins yet, as the current bedtime story.)
I think Help Lestrade Cook is going to be a far more popular option than Help John Do the Washing Up.
Yeah, bagsy not getting that one. Anyway, can't risk getting my hand all covered in dirty washing up water, can I? (I hope).
I'll dry though.
can't risk getting my hand all covered in dirty washing up water, can I?
Definitely not. Anyway, he who cooks shouldn't have to clean up, although you might have to help Sherlock put the clean stuff away. I don't want him to use this as an excuse to scale the countertop and climb up the cupboards again.
Sure.
I also notice Sherlock has 'Clean out Degu cage' on his list - slightly prematurely?? But y'know, good to know he's thinking ahead.
As long as he actually does it...
I'm sure he will. He's just volunteered to help me make a flan. Cheese and onion okay? I can steam some veg, too.
And I can knock out a Bakewell tart, too, if you want. Nice and jammy. Just for you. (well, intended for you, as a treat. Devoured by everyone, I expect.)
That all sounds amazing, let me know if you want me to chop anything. Do you actually like Bakewell tarts? I know how you feel about jam. (You don't make them with marmite when you're on your own, do you? Oh god please say no.)
I may need help chopping, although Sherlock's fairly keen. If he gets bored, you're my reserve.
And...I'll put less jam on some of it. Like, a scraping, rather than a mass. Also it's nice if you embed slices of pear into the top of the spongey mixture, so I'll probably do that.
No Marmite in bakewell tarts. It's not something I usually make, to be honest.
I do use Marmite in a fair bit of cooking though. And you eat it, so I'm not about to tell you what I put it in, just in case you do a Sherlock and refuse to eat it on principle.
...Would you make whatever it is for my mum? (Does this make me a terrible person? It does, doesn't it...)
Course I could. There's a whole range of foods made better with Marmite.
And it doesn't make you a terrible person. Just that by the same token as we're always telling Sherlock that he can't say he doesn't like something when he hasn't tried it, neither can she.
There was a good quote I heard the other day. "By the time I realised my father was right about everything, I already had a son who thought I was wrong about everything."
I feel a bit like that, with appropriate family members added/removed.
What if she has tried it? What if there was a Terrible Marmite Incident in her youth I know nothing about? What then!
By the time I realised my father was right about everything, I already had a son who thought I was wrong about everything.
Ha. Think Mycroft will ever have a similar revelation?
Ha! Well, she hasn't tried my cooking. You've survived eating it, I'm sure she will. This can be Marmite Therapy. (Unless she'd deathly allergic to it...You should ask.)
We got a choice - eat what was in the cupboards or go hungry. The boys should be glad their choice isn't so stark. And that we live near a supermarket.
No idea about Mycroft. Maybe. Can you imagine a 5 yr old (who isn't Sherlock) telling him he's wrong?
No idea about Mycroft. Maybe. Can you imagine a 5 yr old (who isn't Sherlock) telling him he's wrong?
Am I a bad person that I spent a few minutes entertaining myself by trying to imagine it?
I'm never having children so it won't come up.
Hah, well I'm not going to argue with you, Mycroft. But I was pretty certain of the same thing - for good reason, too (although possibly not the same reason you have!). And look at me.
Never say never.
Mycroft - are you rigging my poll results?? It says zero people have voted for loving Marmite - and I voted for that! I KNOW it should have one vote.
I call a fix.
Sherlock says he voted 'yes' too, from my phone. He's currently a sad little bundle on John's lap, because he cut his finger chopping onions.
There are two for 'love it' now; perhaps there was some glitch. I certainly was not toying with your poll results. I do think it's interesting that no one has said they don't have strong feelings either way about it.
I need John to do stitches in my finger. It hurts.
You know Sherlock, I'm sure John would give you stitches if you needed them, but just having them wouldn't make your finger stop hurting. And from what Lestrade has been saying they would probably make your finger itch later. You can trust John to take good care of you whatever your finger ends up needing.
I love marmite so much, when I was school, all my friends bought me a jar, it lasted me for more than a year, it was amazing! :D x
Sherlock - no stitches, love, really. Asking me more is not going to change my mind. I might have a plaster with that singing crab (lobster?) on it though if you want to change out the one you've got.
Mycroft - I'm in my forties and happily childfree, so you won't get an argument here. But as Lestrade says, life doesn't always work out the way you think it will, so it pays to be prepared to be flexible.
Poor Sherlock. Ouch. I suppose the best way to learn how to chop up food safely is to get a few minor cuts and nicks along the way. It's good that he's interesting in helping with the cooking though.
John and Lestrade: I'm sending good vibes in your general direction; I'm impressed by the way that you are both self-aware enough to recognise the patterns of behaviour that are causing you issues, and by the way that you are both so set on resolving things. Good luck (I'm sure you don't need it).
Sherlock - stitches really aren't fun. They hurt. Probably more than the cut does already. And I think most of that is because you got onion juice in it, rather than the actual slice.
You won't want to hear this next bit, but it is odd, when you suddenly revert to being five and need one of us to pick you up for a cuddle. Odd in a nice way.
John - You mean Sebastian, and he's a lobster. Undoubtedly a very fine lobster for helping cut fingers.
Nameless - It was a very small cut. Barely more than a papercut. And yes, I think it is a very good way to learn. I try to remember not to set a bad example by chopping things up too fast.
Thanks for the good luck vibes. I think everyone needs a bit of luck sometimes.
Sherlock's making me type this out for him:
"But I have smaller fingers! It would be a little cut on you but it's really a big cut on me! Yes I want a Sebastian one."
And I will now get him a Sebastian one. Lestrade, why do you know the lobster's name?
Okay, admittedly it is much bigger on your very small fingers. But I think John would struggle to get a stitch in it.
You get a new plaster and by that time - if you have any room left after the amount of flan you ate - the Bakewell Tart is probably cool enough for us all to eat some.
John - Because he is, hands down (claws down?) the BEST character. And, in fact, the only reason I can remember anything about The Little Mermaid.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McH_pijn1SE
I can actually play that on the guitar. And I know all the words. I think I blame Carla and Paul.
...Are you sure that's not a crab? It looks like a crab to me. Also I really want to hear you play that.
Okay...Wiki (and we all know Wiki is always right about such things) tells me he is a crab. Just goes to show I don't really know anything about it - I just know he's the best character! I did always think he was a lobster...
And I can try and play it in a minute. I don't think my hand would be too bad.
But you lot have to join in.
Darlin' it's better...down where it's wetter, take it from me! (Words to live by.)
I knew I should've specified - I want to hear it when your hand is better! The claws do look like lobster claws. But he hasn't got a tail.
Seriously, it's my fret hand, it would be fine! It's just a bit sore.
You never did say when the stitches could come out.
...All right. You'll stop if it hurts?
I didn't say because it's not a set time, it depends how it's healing, and I don't want to get to whatever day I named and have you say, "But you promised they'd come out today!" with that look you get.
with that look you get.
What look!?
This is the downside of living with a doctor. Brilliant to jump the queue to GET the stitches. Crap for taking them out yourself without getting into trouble.
If I ever break a proper bone around you it's going to be utter torture, isn't it? I've never managed to keep a cast on for the full x weeks they told me to.
Yes, I'll stop if it hurts.
You know what look! And I can assure you that if you break another bone you will indeed keep the cast on the full X weeks.
L, I bet if you look at Sherlock right now, you'll see a pretty good approximation of "the look." Or so I would assume...
Desert Wanderer - you've got it. That's the look exactly. Sometimes you'd think they were related.
I do not look like that!
I suppose I can always tell you I'm going to the hospital to have it removed and nip down the police garage and take it off with an angle grinder like last time.
...You never did. Please tell me that is a lie. And if it's not, you are definitely not doing it again!
I got the ones off before with some snips, but they wouldn't go through the new stuff - fibreglass? Plaster of paris was easy to get off with really hefty scissors/shears. That new stuff needed a bit more. And yes, I did, and it was fine! (Not the police garage - a friend of mine's) Smelled terrible where it got hot, and pretty dusty, but came off okay. I needed to get back to work and off sick pay.
Still in one piece, aren't I?
Gah. No! Just...no. Do not do that again! An angle grinder!
Normal people don't have time to be off sick.
I doubt I'll be that desperate again, to be fair.
Normal people don't have time to be off sick.
Thanks for that. When do you reckon I should've stopped lazing about in hospital, yanked the IV out, and got back to work then?
Oh, Jesus, I didn't mean that! No, I meant...oh, I don't even know what I meant.
I meant hospital doctors always seem like they think you've got your whole life to lie about in bed and no one does. I didn't mean you, or...anyone.
John?
It was a stupid thing to say. Come back downstairs?
Just give me a few minutes. Make some tea, all right?
Yeah.
I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.
Sorry. Also. I may have overreacted there.
No, my fault, should have thought before I opened my mouth - whatever the typing equivalent is.
Tea's ready. Feel free to chuck it at me.
I'll be down in a minute.
...Not to chuck tea at you.
Right.
I can bring the tea up, if you'd rather...y'know, not come down. be alone.
No, it's fine. I should've known you didn't mean it that way.
I really didn't.
I was making a massive generalisation about Doctors. Not patients.
Which was pretty stupid when you are/have been both.
I know I'm an idiot.
There's still Bakewell left, if you want some.
Yeah, I do. You can get it for me if it'll make you feel better.
It'll probably help.
You just tell me when you want it, I'll make fresh tea. Yours is getting a bit cold.
I can always sleep on the sofa. Or just go, if you want.
Can you come up?
on way
Thanks.
L- pssst. Danger may not tell you this, so as a nurse I will pass it on. Doctors make the world's worst patients. And I am sure he knows you did not mean anything about him with your impatience to get off the sick list.
Hope all is well.
sabrinaphynn, bikers make bad ones too.
Anything that stops you getting back on the bike is to be ignored or got around, or sworn violently about if the other two aren't possible.
WHile L says it was to get back to work, they could put him on light duties with a cast on, bet it was because there was a motorcycle peeping at him seductively...
Rider - yeah, the times when the bike either wasn't involved, or survived the crash, I can't pretend I wasn't back on it at the first opportunity - with cast still on, if I had to.
But the main factor was usually getting out of the house. But everyone must be pretty bored of me going on about that little story by now.
You two OK this morning?
Was going to say 'fine', but I'm not allowed to, it seems.
Tired. The sort of tired where your eyes keep rolling back in your head and you feel like you've been drugged.
Still, had three coffees since then, so now out 'on enquiries'. Think we're making really good progress, for a cold case. I'm hoping to make arrests within two weeks. I may regret saying that.
John will no doubt answer for himself once he's done his morning chores. Reclaimed the flat from the bombsite the wet weekend inevitably leaves it looking like. Cleared all substances that look like biological weapons from Sherlock's room and tried to make Mycroft's smell less like wet dog.
Was going to say 'fine', but I'm not allowed to, it seems.
Considering 'fine' is an acronym for Fucked up, Insecure Neurotic and Emotional, you don't want to be 'fine'. At all.
Bummer about the tiredness: hope the coffee doesn't leave you feeling like you've been trampled by ducks.
Best of luck with a) the case b)de-bombsiteing the flat. (What has Sherlock been storing in his room?)
Considering 'fine' is an acronym for Fucked up, Insecure Neurotic and Emotional
I think I'm fine then. 100%.
Sherlock doesn't exactly store things...just keeps them. And after a weekend where he's spent time in the park it's always a good idea to check what he's managed to bring back in his pockets. Leaves, mud, pondweed, insects, squirrels, you know, anything and everything a 5 yr old could be interested in. Which is anything and everything. But John gets that joyous task.
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