More tea, vicar?

So, I promised a photo that summed up Danger. Well, here it is. Minus all the dangerous side of him, I'm afraid. This is the side you get when you're ill and being all ridiculous all over the place.

I don't know what the occasion was that caused Harry to take the picture, but I think it's lovely. Nice decor, too. And, yeah, this is him. Tea, a smile, wonderfully cute, isn't he?

Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't.

So.

I am feeling a bit better. food is the main...stumbling block. And I don't know anymore if it's just in my head or what. I definitely don't feel like eating. Have been living on rice, toast, breadsticks and a few ready salted crisps. Not exactly a breakfast of champions. not sure there's any actual reason i shouldn't eat though.

And sleep...sleep's good, but it comes in fits and starts. Not just for me, either, cause I've been waking John up too. Which he really doesn't need, beause he's been running after me and the boys for days now. He'll be in the same state as he says I was in if he doesn't get a break.


So Nicky said that if I wrote it down it might sort of...purge the dream from my head.

Not dead yet...

Have been allowed a short go on the laptop. With Danger sitting next to me checking I don't try to work. And picking on my spelling mistakes.

Earned this perk by eating a bit of rice, and it not making an unwelcome reappearance. And drinking some weird fake tasting stuff for dehydration.

So am pretty much better.

No, I'm not, Danger insists. But he agrees I might be over the worst. Hope so. Feel like I've been on the wrong end of a kicking. Even playing the guitar made my arms ache. Then Mycroft and Sherlock had a go. Sherlock very annoyed that he can't reach to play it properly.

Really want coffee, but the smell of it makes me feel sick. Don't want a cigarette for about the first time in a month, though, which is nice.

Apparently my time's up.

I hope he means on the laptop, nothing more serious.

To John

John? I don't know how to get in touch with you - the Boss is being a stubborn idiot again, won't give me your number. Are you free? He looks terrible, but he won't go home. Can you come down here, make him go? Honestly, I wouldn't do this but he looks like he's at deaths door. Sort of grey. all wrapped up like he's cold. Keeps disappearing off, to the toilet, I think. (Luckily he never signs off this thing.) Insists he's ok. I'd think he had the hangover from hell, but I know he was here until all hours last night. I think he just doesn't want to leave the case. But I think he'll keel over if he stays much longer. I hope he listens to you as a doctor, if not a boyfriend.

If you don't answer this in the next thirty minutes I'm going to either drive him home myself or get one of the lads to do it.

Sally

Calling...

Doctor John Hamish 'Danger' Watson.

Almost time for us to go.

Tomorrow we'll be leaving London again (Oh, it's Nicky, again, not Greg!). And while it will be nice to get back home, I will be sad to leave London. Well, leave Greg, John, Mycroft and Sherlock, really.

Greg's been working far too hard, and I feel we've barely seen him. Not, of course, that I blame him. Not with the job he has to do, but still...anyway, he says they'll come to see us, soon, which will be wonderful. And John - well, I know it's not easy for him, not at all, but he really is just a solidly good person. Good with the boys, good with Greg - good FOR Greg, and he's been so, so kind to us, when Greg's been working.

And the boys. They're so lovely. All the children are upstairs at the moment, having been convinced to let the adults have a little peace after lunch. Sherlock seemed to want to show them something, which is nice. Sometimes he can be a bit quiet - but he is so much younger than the rest of them, I quite understand.

So, in light of all the emotions going around here in the past few days, I thought I'd leave you with a last picture of Greg. Taken at a family wedding (I'm afraid, rather rudely, I don't remember whose!) But it does explain Greg looking rather smarter than he generally did during that time in his life.

And it is nice to see him smiling!

Happy Easter, everyone.

Nicky
xx

It was a dark and stormy night...

Well, it was here in London, where our scene lies.

Just got home. Soaked. Maybe it was too hot, and it is sort of nice to see the rain really lashing down. But not when it's home time.

I think I've got a lot to say about everything going on in my life right now. But none of the words will come.

So I'm stealing from 'Anon without a name' (We should give him/her a name. 'Anon with good advice'? 'Words of wisdom anon'?)

Just a quickie...

...Because Danger and I are going out on a date. Yes, you read that right, I'm not working, not stuck in the office, not working at home, Sherlock and Mycroft are in the care of Nicky and Mark...and we are going out.

I'm slightly wary about the film we're going to see...not because I don't think it'll be brilliant, I do! But because I fear it might put Danger off motorbikes. We're off to see the 3D movie for the Isle of Man TT - TT3D: Closer to the edge

Essentially, it's a sort of motorbike porn. It's fast bikes, it's the most exciting race in the world. And it's in 3D.

A nice break from...well, everything else.

And some of you have noticed I've got a new poll up. Some of you, it seems, are sadists who think I should wear a tie. ("Why do you do that?" "What?" "Go out like that. You look as if you've forgotten to finish dressing." "What?" "Without a tie. A gentleman should always carry a handkerchief and wear a tie. I don't suppose you have a handkerchief, either." "Uh...") Guess which part of that conversation was me, and which was Mycroft. Hint: Mycroft uses words of more than one syllable.

It's 26 degrees, and ties are pointless. Why would I wear one? 

Guest Blog!

Hello everyone - it's not Greg, it's Nicky.

I know you all call him 'Lestrade', but I just can't get used to it - he's always been Greg or Orio to me.

Anyway, John told me I should write a blog entry for him. He's at work - again. I do feel bad for him. He looks shattered when he finishes - and I'm certain it's not good for anyone to drink coffee like he does. Having said that, though, it's lovely to see him and John together. I mean, you get an idea from their silly antics on here, but they really do suit each other so well. Orio lights up when John and the boys are there. It's been a while since I've seen him look so happy.

Speaking of the boys - well, I obviously knew they were both clever lads, but goodness. Clever doesn't cover it. I'm not sure I know how John copes with all their questions! And they're so polite - especially Mycroft. Puts my two to shame. I'm hoping he might be a good influence on them! I think Sherlock might be getting a little tired of Carla though - she's treating him like a 'normal' five year old, and I'm not sure he's ever had the attentions of a young teenager who loves kids on him before. A bit overwhelming, I imagine. But he did hold her hand the other day, when we were walking up to the pastry shop, which was lovely.

Anyway, I'm sure you're all waiting to see which new pictures I have to embarrass my big brother with. I think John might have stolen the best ones though! Still, here goes:

Really should count my blessings...

...but instead all I can do is get distracted by looking out of the window at the sun, and thinking that everyone - Danger, the boys, Nicky and her gang - are all out there enjoying London while I'm stuck in here with dismembered corpse pictures and paperwork. I'm definitely getting out this afternoon, find some suspects to chase down or re-interview someone. Anything to feel like I'm doing something.

I've got a few ideas of faces I'd like to speak to regarding my friendly local murdering drugs gang. Sally tells me I look like the living dead today (thanks, Sal), so maybe I can encourage someone to talk by putting the frighteners on them.

Anyway, enough 'woe is me' bollocks. Hope you're all enjoying the day.

The calm before the...

Just finished work for the day, now grabbing a slice of toast and changing clothes before going with Danger and the boys to meet Nicky, Mark (her husband), Carla and Paul from the train. No idea if we're going straight down to my flat or what. Depends if they've packed the kitchen sink and need to dump luggage or not. And although I fear what Nicky will have brought for John - photo albums or whatever else she can find to embarrass me - it will be great for them to finally meet, face to face.

update

Because you lot probably know more about it than usual, and because of how it affected Danger, just thought I'd say that we did arrest someone for the murder of the young boy on Wednesday.

I'm satisfied he is the murderer. I'm not satisfied that the motive was his own. We're continuing the investigation. It's all incredibly sad.

It's not just lust now. Not just dreaming and looking at pictures...

Now it's the real thing. It's love. It's knowing when you've found the right one, the one that fits with you...

The bike was beautiful, and rode like a dream. Felt like a dream, with a beautiful new ride under me, and Danger hanging on the back. Can't believe I let that bastard Bryan talk me out of it for so long.

Now I've got to start the tedious bit, of course, the paperwork and the insurance quotes and everything else.

And, of course, ask Danger if he enjoyed it enough to get his own gear. I did promise him a nice jacket for his birthday (which I gave him! Danger Sparkles, oh yes.), but I think he needs a bit of leather. Denim doesn't cut it when it comes to road rash. Might even buy him a nice shiny helmet. Possibly some leather trousers.


I feel terrible about what he saw yesterday. I feel like a total idiot. And a bastard. Because while he was in there suffering in silence Sal and I were enjoying our food and being stupid - laughing and joking. Not because we don't care. But because we had to learn to deal with these things, and thats one way to do it. I wish he'd told me how he felt when he was with me - but I can understand why he didn't.

There are, horrible to say, some cases when you're a copper that you just work, get it done, and forget about. But there are plenty you wake you up sweating about, too. Plenty that stay with you for life. And you have to deal with it, or you'd go mad. I think John underestimated the effect that having the boys has had on him. I know it's changed me. I know he's seen horrible things - things I can't even contemplate. But sometimes it's easy to forgot what goes on here, on your own doorstep, too. And realise what some people are capable of doing to kids.

The end is nigh.

Today I spoke to my 'husband' for the first time in over two years.

And I thought writing about it on here might be good. Sort of what it's for, really. (Except I think Sherlock would classify it as 'boring stuff').

But the cursor has been flashing at me for over an hour now, and I still don't know what to say. So maybe another day.

LESTRADE, STOP SMOKING!

As mentioned in comments on John's Blog. This is for my own good. Don't pull your punches.

Go on, do what you like. Advice, abuse, facts, horrible pictures and stories of lingering deaths - whatever you think will help me to stop smoking. Then I can come back here whenever I'm desperate for a smoke, and be put off.


Do your worst best, bloggers.

Well...

...I'm home. Well, at John's, which I seem to refer to as 'home' more than anywhere else.

John and I have talked. Which was hard, but good. And did just involve talking, not shouting, or walking out, or slamming doors or anything else that such 'talks' often do involve.

So you lot have got advice about everything.

Last weekend, everything was fabulous, John and I had the time of our lives...

This weekend I have totally fucked up, and I'm not even entirely sure what aspect of it John is angry about. Apart from apologising, what can I do?

John, I love you, I'm sorry.

all by myself...

So I'm stuck in a faceless hotel (actually, it isn't too bad. I mean, you wouldn't know where you were - no distinguishing features - but it's fine), with a load of police, lots of whom are getting pissed downstairs now.

My seminar went okay. Well, apart from spending a lot of it thinking that Danger was probably burning my guitar or sharpening the toaster ready for my instant demise upon my return or something, in revenge for me having lunch with an ex who also happens to be here. No one fell asleep, so I see that as a success.

Danger's posted some lovely pictures on his blog, so it falls to me to post some of my own pics.

New poll...

Just a short one, and I hope Danger doesn't spot it before I leave for conference in the morning...

As always, other suggestions welcome in comments!

Sadly...

...we had to come back to the real world.

And it's asserting its presence a bit too hard.

I've got some pictures I mean to post from the weekend, but I don't think I'll get a chance to until I'm at the conference - when I'll welcome to excuse not to get pissed with a bunch of bitter old rozzers. So get onto Danger if you want photos sooner than that.


And it was a close run thing, but Black won the poll for the bike colour. Closely followed by grey (my favourite...with some reservations), and orange trailed in last (good).

Of course, if I chose to get the 2012 model, the colours are white, red and black...but I don't think it offers good value for money. Any suggestions of other bikes I should look at are welcomed. I'm biased toward the Triumph, because I had a Trident that I loved in the early 90s. So if you want to talk me around to at least test riding something else, do so.

If...

If you don't hear from us again, it's because we've found a tiny cottage on the coast, with no power, no 'phone, nothing, and are staying there and hoping no one finds us and brings us back to reality.

Pebbles, ports and promenades.

The weather was brilliant again today, so we decided (after late breakfast) to walk along the coast. This is one of those places where it's built up all the way along, where the towns used to be separate you can't tell now where one ends and the next begins. But there's a path all the way along, right by the beach, most of the way.

So we walked it. Well, Mycroft, John and I walked it. Sherlock walked some of it, and then decided it was much more fun to ride on my shoulders, unless something needed closer examination, when he'd clamber off. Apparently, pirate captains need to be up high and have a crow's nest, you know...

So far, so good. So brilliant, actually.

I can't believe John or Sherlock didn't catch on, but I think it's safe to say a weekend away was a total surprise for him. Going by the look on his face and torrent of abuse.

We're currently on the beach, with beer (or juice, depending on age.) And have set up a target range of bits of wood and feathers stuck in the pebbles. Doing our bit for coastal erosion by chucking the stones back down the beach at it. It's sunny now, but not incredibly warm. All the more reason to sit very close to Danger. Although given his utter prowess at stone throwing perhaps I should be nervous. I suppose it's good that the only one who can aim straight was in the army. Sherlock's adopted a more carpet-bomb strategy, throwing handfuls of stones. Mycroft aims very carefully and I just ignore the targets and see how far out to sea I can chuck them. Or that's my excuse, anyway.

It doesn't feel like the weekend is only just starting. Hope you all have a good one!
And apologies for any random words or mistakes in this post. All done with my fat fingers on a small phone!