Our oven is broken. Sherlock isn't happy about this. Apparently it's my fault, because he isn't allowed to use it... there's a logic in there somewhere.
Anyway, saw this, thought of our current situation:
Today we went to Longleat. I've been there before, on a school trip. Our teacher, Mrs M, swore she knew the way through the maze. We all got lost. For ages. We never reached the middle.
Sherlock loved the bat cave, and...well, most of it, really. It is well done, the whole place. I tried to explain about Lord Bath and his 'wifelets'...he didn't get it. I'm not sure I get it.
We've fed deer, held tarantulas and snakes, seen Monkeys steal someone's windscreen wipers, watched lions sleeping...it was great. And Sherlock is tired out, and currently asleep on a seat in the living room, all curled up.
Mycroft said he enjoyed it, too. Especially the birds of prey show that Sherlock started this whole conversation with, and the wolves.
I'm not sure what John's favourite bit was. John?
Mine was just...the four of us. I love it. Love it even more when I feel brave enough to hold John's hand, in the dark of the batcave, or the audience of the bird show ;) Or steal a kiss in a deserted bit of maze. Until Sherlock leaps out of a hedge onto us.
A wolf, eating a ...dead thing.