I'm speechless. Literally. Well, slightly getting over it now, but when we got back to the flat, I was speechless.
Everything seemed normal. Well, looking back on it, Mrs Hudson greeting us in the hallway was...unexpected. And her following us up to flat was unusual, but I suppose we just thought she was pleased we were back...
And then, we dumped our bags in the sitting room, because obviously before anything else happens John is going to have to make a pot of tea. And something's different. Something's...brighter. The sitting room seems, weirdly, more spacious.
Turning around, there it is...our kitchen. Or rather, NOT our kitchen. A kitchen which in no way resembles ours. It's clean and white and new and beautiful.
Whilst we've been away, Mrs Holmes has arranged to have our old, dark, 70s kitchen ripped out, and replaced by this new, clean, bright, white-and-grey and...and well, I think I dropped everything I was holding and walked toward it, zombie like. Maybe drooling a bit.
And it's real. And...yeah, well words still aren't exactly my strong point. but it's real. I can see it from here. It's...well, it's everything I've already said. White, easy-wipe-clean cupboards, and the top ones with frosted glass. And grey worktops, and still all our old appliances, because they were fine, but now...the walls are white, too, not dark green, and somehow, even though there are more cupboards, it seems so big, and there's a new sort of table/worktop, and it's got wheels, and the floor's new, and light wood, and everything's just amazing. And now instead of the old strip light and the window which seemed to let in a sad amount of light, we've got lights under the top cupboards as well as the ceiling, and because it's all shiny and light it seems so bright and...and it's going to take me weeks to stop thinking I've walked into the wrong flat.
And John says I have to point out there is a drawer just for pastry cutters.
I'm going to spend quite a lot of tomorrow just sitting in it and staring. Maybe I'll even dare to cook something. Sherlock has opened every cupboard and drawer since he got back, and has already planned about a million things to cook.
When Mrs Holmes dropped Sherlock back she just smiled politely as I managed not to form complete sentences and John stepped in to thank her properly.