Tomorrow we're off to see Mycroft. Biscuits have been baked. John and Sherlock went out to one of the markets today, and returned with some gorgeous food, and Sherlock has a printing block of a Fiddler Crab. I asked, and John just told me it was far better than what we could have ended up with! (Things including a small trumpet of some sort. Bullet dodged!)
So...three years. Seems like forever. Yet also like no time at all. I can't believe that we've known the boys for three years. I can't believe how much they've changed - how much we've all changed! Can't believe we've gone from Professional Police Officer and Suspected Serial Killer, to Unprofessional Police Officer and Unlikely Suspect to Husband and...Husband ;)
But we have. And I really couldn't be happier with our lives together.
A year ago, just gone, Mum had her stroke. She's been to see the place we think she'll be living. She's...quiet, Nicky says. I imagine she's a bit scared. The nurse visiting her says she really does need to try and give up the booze and fags. I don't know, though. I don't know how cruel that is. I'm not actually sure how much point there is giving things up when you have so little to live for.
I hope she makes some friends.
Sherlock is involved in thinking about Christmas. Namely, all the things he wants for Christmas. Don't get me wrong, he wants to buy us things, too. Things he likes ;) Still, he's wonderfully enthusiastic about it all, which is nice, most of the time. Makes up for some of us not quite being in the Christmas spirit yet ;)
Poor old Mycroft is locked in a battle of wills with his Mum. It's a tough choice, I guess. Obviously she wants to protect the boys. But he's a young man now... hard to know how to play it, I guess.
The cricket's not going so well, eh? Or the rugby... oh dear. But Arsenal are doing okay ;)
Have a picture of a fellow officer I met today. Very handsome chap. I may have stroked his ears...
His name's Lewis.
(You don't think I'd dare stroke anyone's ears but John's, do you?)