I know I'm going to regret this...

Right. Danger's said he'll try to post every day for a month (hah, dropped you in it now, Doc.) So I thought...well, I could try too.

Except I've no idea what I could possibly write about.

So every day you lot can ask/suggest things as a topic for the next day. If you don't, you'll get a post about police procedure or something.

I reserve my right to remain silent/ignore you/refuse to answer anything I don't want to.

Remember kids read this too...

So, what do you want to know about on Nov 1st?

Pond life

Today was lovely. Well, the very first bit wasn't - no idea, beyond the vague suspicion that Sally might have poisoned me - what was up with me, but at about 3am I woke up. Got annoyed that I was awake again for no reason. And then found out there was a reason... And spent the next hour hanging onto various bathroom fixtures being very miserable.

Anyway, upshot of that was falling asleep again at nearly 5, and being woken up by breakfast in bed from John and the boys.

Once we were all up and dressed and ready to go we headed to the school to get some pond digging done. The hole had filled up with water a fair bit, after the rain we've had, so Deimos was straight in there, splashing about and getting filthy. Almost followed by Sherlock, but John and Mycroft both grabbed him.

The recruits look younger every year...

Danger, Sherlock and Mycroft came down to have lunch with me again today (with every hope of avoiding any criminals with outstanding warrants this time).

It wasn't just me who wanted to see them, though...my Superintendent (yes, the one Sherlock has custody battles over me with) also wanted to see them all, after their heroic efforts to help a police officer in the line of duty...

Normal six year olds, when meeting someone like the Super, would probably hang onto your hand because they were a little shy, or in awe. Sherlock hung onto mine in a clear show of ownership. I'm half surprised he didn't just stick a leash on me and a sign that said 'Property of S. Holmes'.

Anyway, the Super chatted to the three of them (I tried to stay out of it) and Sherlock gave some rather graphic descriptions of events, whilst Mycroft looked like he'd quite like to hide from the flailing-armed octopus Sherlock had become by trying to act out everyone's part of the incident at once.

At the end the Super congratulated them all and presented Mycroft and Sherlock with Scotland Yard ID cards (not police warrant cards - just the plastic cards we use in the building) - that had their ranks as Sergeants, and where the photo should be a little gold star. Which was...unexpected, and really nice of him.

Sherlock still says I'm his DI though. No debate. And said he'd help me catch other murderers.

He was also very upset that the card doesn't actually operate the electronic doorlocks in the Yard, or allow him to arrest people. I've tried to explain it's a security issue, but now he's a sergeant he knows best...just like Sally. Heh. Obviously comes with the rank pips.

Mycroft looked slightly embarrassed. Easy to forget most 13 year olds would probably find that pretty cool - but most 13 year olds aren't as mature as Mycroft. Still, he said thank you very nicely, of course.

John just looked jealous, because he didn't get one...

MURDERER

WE WENT TO THE PARK TO HAVE LUNCH WITH LESTRADE AND THERE WAS A MURDERER AND I CHASED HIM AND HE GOT CAUGHT AND NOW HE'S LOCKED UP FOREVER AND I'M GOING TO CATCH MORE MURDERERS LIKE LESTRADE DOES.

AND MYCROFT WOULDN'T EVEN LET ME KICK HIM EVEN THOUGH HE HAD KILLED SOMEONE AND LESTRADE TACKLED HIM LIKE RUGBY AND THEN THEY WERE ON THE FLOOR AND IT WAS REALLY MUDDY AND JOHN WAS FIGHTING THE BAD PEOPLE WHO WERE ON HIS SIDE BECAUSE THEY WERE TRYING TO GET LESTRADE AND EVERYONE WAS LOOKING AND PEOPLE WERE CALLING THE REAL POLICE IN UNIFORMS EVEN THOUGH LESTRADE IS REAL POLICE TOO BUT HE DOESN'T HAVE A UNIFORM AND PEOPLE DIDN'T KNOW AND THEN WHEN THEY CAME THEY ARRESTED HIM AND HE WAS REALLY ANGRY AND HE SAID LOTS OF WORDS I'M NOT ALLOWED TO SAY.

BUT NOW HE'S LOCKED UP AND HE CAN'T MURDER MORE PEOPLE AND THAT'S GOOD AND WE DID THAT AND IT WAS FUN AND I WANT TO CATCH MORE BAD PEOPLE AND JOHN AND I SHOULD GO TO WORK WITH LESTRADE EVERY DAY TO HELP HIM AND MYCROFT TOO WHEN HE'S NOT AT SCHOOL AND THE DOGS.

Mistakes

Shouldn't be on here. Should be sleeping.

I'm in court in the morning. I still get nervous, after years of testifying.

This time maybe with good reason. Not there to watch someone go down for a crime.

There to face my husband. To make him my ex-husband.

I haven't told anyone. I haven't told John, or Nicky, or anyone. I wanted to, but every time I tried I just couldn't get the words out. Couldn't explain. Can't tell them I don't want them there, I don't want them to even think about it. Don't want them to know until it's over. Don't want this to hurt anyone else.

I know if I told anyone then they'd be sympathetic and want to help and I can't face that, because if I let myself go for one moment I don't think I can hold myself back together again and I have to.

Sometimes you just have to do things on your own. And know that at the end there'll be people there for you. And I do know there will be.

I hope none of them read this until I'm there, phone off, away from everyone. Maybe I should just delete this. But somehow it's easier, telling the internet. It's sort of, telling someone, without having to face the reaction. I don't want to see a reaction. If I do post this I'll be ignoring comments until after.


I'm sorry, John. I know you'd want to help. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to tell you. I'll call you and the boys as soon as it's over.

I will be okay.

You don't know what you're missing...

Just because you all seem to think I'm mad for getting up early. But the other day I went into work, then headed out again on a job, and this was the sight that greeted me. Like London was under a big pink fluffy blanket.

Better than looking at the inside of your eyelids, right??

Marco Simoncelli

Just taking a break from pond-digging and saw that Marco Simoncelli has died at the MotoGP in Sepang. What a tragedy. My heart goes out to his friends and family, and especially to Valentino and Colin, who both must be devastated.

The BBC report.

...food is the food of love. Apparently.

Recipes. As promised.

We have bowls of fruit soaking in brandy hidden in high cupboards to keep it away from predators, four legged and two legged...

Just thought I'd slip this in here...

So, for those of you who think I deserve some sort of title for my powers of innuendo, you should watch this. It's a kid's TV programme. I used to watch it with Nicky, Danny, Sam and Rachel. I was a bit old for it when it started. But generations of kids in the UK grew up with Zippy, Bungle and George.

If you can't stand the heat...

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...

cooking up a storm...

Right. Recipes. I'm going to do my best to be all multinational and convert things, too. So...sorry if I get it wrong! Alert me to anything that looks ridiculous, or if I've named something that needs translating. But don't expect me to do anything about it until I'm back from dragging Danger into the countryside for some fun.

A distant ship's smoke on the horizon...

Still ill. Which is seriously boring, as Sherlock has pointed out. Danger is nursing me back to health though. Which largely consists of making me drink odd things, refusing to let me do anything and forming a lovely warm human pillow. Which does make me a feel a lot better.

Sadly he's actually employed as a nanny, so I have to share him.

If I had a time machine the ONE piece of advice I'd go back and give myself would be to never start smoking. It's only ever been a spectacularly bad idea.

I noticed the other day that one of you admitted finding John's blog whilst surfing for porn. HAH, I knew it. (EDIT: It was Azure. "And, yes, John, I totally was looking for porn when I found this. But aren't you glad that so many awesome people ended up here even if we found it while looking for filth?".) I rest my case.


And now, because I've been incarcerated all day....

Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky

Still at work. Now been here, with a short break to dump a couple of fish on John, for...over 25 hours. Am in that place where you're so tired you couldn't possibly sleep.

Just waiting for one more report, then to see the DCI, then home.

Talked to Sherlock on the phone a few minutes ago, to try to persuade him Mrs T probably doesn't want a fish skeleton in her classroom all day.

This case is...well, it'll be another one where no one wants to talk to us. The victim who's still alive - just - is in no condition to talk to anyone. No one in the area saw or heard anything. The flat was clearly set up for drugs deals, so it might be a turf war, which means gangs, which means retaliation, which means we need to work fast or the bodies could start piling up.

Danger, I'll probably get home while you're taking Sherlock to school. You'll no doubt find me wherever I land...sofa, bed, floor...

Nothing is impossible in my all powerful mind...

It's a beautiful day! Even now we've got the windows open in the flat. It's an odd mix of trees thinking it's autumn, and being beautiful colours, and the sunshine meaning swimming outdoors is still brilliant, not chilly.

We all walked Snoopy this afternoon. Well, obviously Sherlock held the leash, as is his duty. But we all went, kicked about in the park, stopped for coffee (me), tea and cake (John. I may have helped a little bit with the cake...) and cake and a milkshake (Sherlock, although he had a sip of my coffee too).

Now he's very studiously putting all his drawing materials into precise colour order, I'm meant to be doing paperwork - some Italian - because I really, really don't want to have to go over there and testify for the inquest, but really I'm wondering what - if any - things John and I could have done to us on our weekend away. Massage? Relaxation? Different weird sort of massages with hot stones or oil or aromatherapy? Floatation? Dry floatation? It's like speaking another language. Feel free to offer opinions if you've ever done that sort of thing.

John is reading a book, and answering Sherlock's questions on colours. And agreeing it is annoying that the paint/plastic colour of a pencil/pen doesn't match the actual colour...


As for you lot, in the last poll exactly half of you agreed blaming John was the right thing to do, really. Even though some of you wouldn't allow Sherlock to fly the plane. A lot of you found religion, and a surprising number would have put him in restraints.