Today is the last day of the holidays.
I have paperwork to do, and one meeting to go to tomorrow, because...God, it makes me feel horribly, horribly guilty...but I don't want to go to work. I want to be at home with them. It always feels like the time goes so fast. So yeah, staying at home, mainly.
It's 2 years since I made a resolution to get a better work/life balance... not sure I've done it, but...well, I'm not unmotivated.
The boys have made a few million biscuits, some for us, some for Mycroft to take with him. And Mycroft has begun to sort out his things. Mainly lots and lots of text books for school.
My ankle is getting better - I can get about the flat okay, I just have to be careful.
I'm not generally particularly careful. And when I swear Sherlock's bat ears always hear.
Our calendar informs us that Sherlock will be having his school photos taken this week. He is pondering having his hair cut. I'm not sure he will - I think he should wait until it's warmer! Anyway, don't tell him, but he looks cute when he's glaring out from under his curls. Quite a contrast to Mycroft, who looks very dapper.
What else...well, it's still raining. We're going to start building an ark. Maybe on the allotment, after Reg growled at us for not digging it over yet. Or getting any seeds in the cold frames. And generally being fairweather allotmenteers who have gone into hibernation over winter.
Of course, because it currently looks like the Somme, Sherlock wants to dive headfirst into it and roll about. And so would the dogs. In fact, I might join them, if it's between that or digging it all up...
And now this...
Greg The Florist:
John almost jumped out of his skin when the door of the library opened.
"All right?" Greg frowned, as John held the book tightly against his chest.
"Yes, yes, you made me jump, that's all."
"What've you got there?" Greg flopped onto a nearby seat, causing a huge cloud of dust to almost obscure him. He sneezed violently.
"Um, it's a sort of...diary. Journal. About the estate and...things. How are you? Nice walk?"
Greg grinned and spread his arms. "Didn't get eaten by a tree...unless..." he staggered to his feet, heading for John as if he was going to fall over. "I....am....a.....zombie..treeeeeeeeee," he fell onto John, pretending to try and bite his neck, but doing a fairly reasonable job of just kissing it instead.
"Get off!" John wriggled, dropping the book, trying to defend himself. "Idiot!"
Greg stopped, bending to pick up the book. He spotted something else on the floor. "This from your book?" He picked up the small flower, and lifted it to smell it.
"No!" John jumped up and grabbed Greg's hand. "I mean...yes, it's from the book, but you shouldn't...it could be poisonous or something."
"I wasn't going to eat it! But I do fancy some lunch, don't you?"
John nodded, carefully putting the flower back in the book.
They spent the afternoon looking around the castle, trying every door, while the light was still good enough. Occasionally lifting dust sheets or trying to open windows to air out dusty rooms.
But before night fell they made sure to return to each room, securing it. More than once it struck John that he should probably be more worried about what was inside the castle than outside...
In bed the sounds of the forest outside and the creaky castle itself didn't give them a moment of silence. John jumped more than once.
Greg's hand found his under the covers, squeezing tightly.
"It's just...nature and stuff," he tried to reassure.
"I know," John whispered back.
Then there was what sounded like the most mournful wailing sound.
Greg sat up in bed, eyes wide.
"What was that?" John whispered.
"I don't know!" Greg whispered back.
John looked up at Greg, then shrank back slightly. "You...you...your..."
Greg frowned, realising John was looking above him. He turned, at first, then, seeing nothing, he raised his hand.
And encountered two soft, furry ears, pricked up on top of his head.
"Fucking hell...." he groaned.
John just sobbed out a laugh, not believing this was his life...