It's still sinking in, this whole engagement thing. My office has now been cleared of all hearts, except one I've stuck on the drawer of my desk. Sort of reminds me, as if I could forget.
Just...feels amazing. I know lots of people don't like the idea of changing names or wearing rings, because they're symbols of days when it signalled ownership, not partnership. But I've always been the opposite. I really want the symbol...to show someone wants me, I suppose.
Bryan didn't wear his ring. Ever, really. A few times, I suppose, early on, then it went into a drawer. I didn't really mind, I suppose. His choice. Although now I think it might have been for other reasons...
I'm doing this a lot. Thinking about the first time around. Trying not to feel...guilty, about the fact I'm thinking about it. I mean, it's natural, right? Doesn't feel like I should be doing it, but...yeah. Can't really help it.
Sherlock's still full of questions. He texted me earlier to say we should get married in an old court - he's found a place, apparently. I'm not sure where we'll go for. I quite like the idea of outside, but I don't know ho practical that is.
All that really matters is that it happens :)
Sally found one of message pads on my desk earlier, that I'd been doodling hearts on. She says I'm disgustingly happy. And Mrs H found me giving John a kiss goodbye at the front door this morning (him still in his pyjamas) and called us 'indecently happy'.
So I guess everyone's noticing we're happy :)
This entry is studiously not about the Met selling New Scotland Yard and scattering us all over the city. Because.