So...I went to work, spent all day furiously doing something - not entirely sure what - in preparation for whatever might happen regarding this change in the law. Or not change in the law. Or new parliamentary ruling which means the old law stays. Or...God only knows what.
John met me at lunchtime, though, and bought me a very nice panini and a coffee.
Got home (on the bike - not entirely sure Danger has forgiven me yet. His face was VERY disapproving when I got home. Especially when he realised I'd ditched the crutches at work...), John and Mycroft cooked a wonderful dinner.
Sherlock got in a properly black mood with me for not letting him see some crime scene pictures I had (brutal murder. I'd have had to call social services on myself if he'd seen them), so he has spent his time since, we've just discovered, tying/threading/attaching/binding every single thing (almost) in our bedroom together, with dental floss. About 2 miles of it, in my estimation.
I'm tempted to sleep on the sofa. Or the living room floor.