Since we've no place to go...

Sherlock's face will soon be stuck to the window, and there will be a path worn in the carpet where he keeps bouncing to the window to check on the (lack of) snowfall.

Obviously we don't have a driveway...change it to something like 'scooping snow to form snowballs'.

I don't think Sherlock's trek back and forth to the windows would be as bad if he weren't always followed by two hounds bounding after him. The number of times my paperwork has gone flying today makes me think I should actually invest in a desk and do this all properly. Except that would feel like I was intending to work from home, which I'm not.



Last night Sherlock didn't settle down until about eleven, and even then only when we promised we'd wake him if it snowed.

He appeared in our bedroom at about 2am. We assuredhim it hadn't snowed, and he clambered in with us and fell asleep. He's like sleeping with a nuclear reactor that wiggles though, so once he was asleep, I carried him back to his own bed. I have no idea how John can sleep through that.

He showed up again at about 5. He was given some milk, his favourite medical textbook from John's shelves, and tucked in at the foot of the bed, reading about diseases of the pancreas. Out loud. With John occasionally mumbling corrections to his pronounciation.

Then he fell asleep on John's legs, which is hardly surprising, given how little sleep he'd had, so we did actually all get a bit of a lie in, before what sounded like an avalanche, but was actually two hounds descending the stairs with Mycroft, woke us up for the final time.

Sherlock's slowly learning not to trust weather forecasters though...


I think we should go for either haircuts or dog walking or hat buying now.

But it is bloody cold out there. And so very nice and warm in here...

(Just need to edit to add Arsenal! 7-1! Finally a result to smile about!) :)