Well, I'm here. Rome. Waiting for someone to tell me what's going on. Was met at the airport by a bloke called Paulo.
I think I'm getting a car, being sent East to L'Aquila, where apparently this guy was spotted. Or they think he was. All pretty confused, really. I'm still trying to work out exactly how the police here work. It's quite different to the UK. And it's taking me a while to get used to speaking Italian full time.
It's hot here. About 30. Big difference from the grey cool England I left behind.
Flight was okay. Never flown posh class before. God knows what first is like if that was business. All I could think about was leaving John and the boys though. Even though I know Mycroft isn't even there, still don't want to be so far away.
And I desperately want to help John out with Sherlock. As if Mycroft starting school wasn't enough of a change for him to deal with. For us all. Sherlock, I'm sure John wouldn't mind if you wanted to get into his bed. He's probably lonely without me or Spider. He'd really like a cuddle from you.
John, being utterly amazing, found time last night to borrow one of Mycroft's old iPods and put a load of my music on it. He gave it to me at the airport. Said he hoped it made me feel better, like I'd said yesterday, talking about moving to new places, when I said I always unpacked my record player and music first. I'm constantly amazed at how kind and thoughtful he is, when I'm abandoning him to God knows how much stress, he still does things like that. I really didn't want to let go of him and walk through to departures.
Just hope we can catch this bastard and I can get back home. Please.