Night is falling and you just can't see, is this illusion or reality?

So, Happy Christmas! Merry festivities. Have a lovely holiday season. All that.

Here's the traditional baubles post. Just in case you thought you'd avoided it. And other musings.

Sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away.

Well, I wasn't going to write this tonight but then I saw the comments on John's blog...and realised what the next three days holds for me...and decided I'd be in no fit state to try and write one of these any time soon.

So...life is...well, the usual. The job remains difficult. The processes remain slow and frustrating. But there we go. No one said it was gonna be easy.

But we have Mycroft back with us, which is wonderful, and the flat is packed to the rafters with creatures great and small. I feel like I should get myself a critter - Sherlock has the goos, John has Maf (Or, actually, Maf has John), Mycroft has the hounds, Anthea has all of us.... I feel left out!

So, have a Christmas tradition - the choosing of the baubles!

I'll leave you to guess which one belongs to each of us. (This is a lie - they all clearly belong to Queen Maftet)

I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take.

So, I think I've discovered that I like Wasabi. Which is obviously odd, given that I don't like hot curries. But there's something about wasabi that is hot without being burny... I can't explain it. But I think I might have become addicted to wasabi coated peas, courtesy of one of my sergeants, Amy. It's probably a slippery slope. This time next year I'll be living under a railway arch mainlining scotch bonnets.

The rest of this, until just above the picture, is about my current work in child protection, so please don't read it if it will be upsetting.

My team is small (but, they inform me, perfectly formed). Honestly, it's frequently a very odd office - well, room - to work in. We're a bit squashed in, and frequently 3 or 4 people will be sitting at their desk, headphones on, notebooks out watching what would commonly be called pornography, but is in fact abuse. Until you've spent a whole day trying to note down every distinguishing feature on an offender and their surroundings whilst doing your best to ignore the actual content of the video you can't really understand how horrible parts of this job are.

On the one hand, it's a nice feeling to think you've 'saved' victims - albeit too late, obviously, for the ones you know about, and the ones you've saved before it happens, well, neither of you will ever know that. Because I'm under no allusion that without being caught these people would ever stop offending.

on the other hand, sending a body to a morgue for PM and having forensics hopefully give you a plateful of evidence will forever be easier and more pleasant all 'round than trying to interview a terrified 4 year old for evidence.

So, it's a job that is unbearable hard, but also incredibly worthwhile, and I'm still coming to terms with that, whereas most of the team are old hands and better at this than I am. Overseeing kids being removed from their parents/guardians, making decisions about informing completely unsuspecting parents about what's happened to their kid, explaining to wives (so far it's only been wives, although obviously won't always be) why we are arresting their husbands, and watching them realise their marriage has been full of lies, it's all...wearing. And wearying.

Which is why one of the things I'll be bringing back to my team is our 10am tea-break, where everyone who's in the office is welcome to gather around, with a brew and discuss whatever they want - from casework, to something that's made them cry, to how bad their suspect smelled when arrested - whatever, it's a time to share experiences and ideas, and it works really well. Brings everyone together, keeps everyone up on what other cases we have in.


On a far brighter note, both Mrs Holmes and John's parents and Nicky have all invited us for Christmas...or part of it, given work.

And here's a picture of the rugby we went to see. I believe if you look closely you can see SH, winning the trophy ;)

NZ, doing the Haka at Namibia.

Aaaaand....there was a great clamouring for another Upstanding Column (well, okay, one of you asked). So...have at it. As always, all information given is completely unfactual and entirely possibly wrong ;) the topic is anything, from recipes to romance, pet care to plumbing.

A million shards of glass, That haunt me from my past

Well...so much to talk about.

Firstly, here's the place John took me away to:

It was lovely, so peaceful, lovely walks together, ending in cosy pubs. Wonderful views.


And here's part of Sherlock's birthday weekend - the climbing place we went to. It was great, they were so helpful. I think Mycroft is contemplating joining a club at University, so might go a few more times to get a feel for it.

And finally, the game!

It was great - lovely atmosphere. The crowds at Rugby are notoriously good natured. Even though about 90% of the crowd were All Black supporters, the biggest cheer of the night went up when Namibia scored a try.

The other day, when Japan beat the Boks, down in Brighton, the Bok supporters formed a guard of honour when the train arrived back to London, to allow the Blossom supporters to go through the barriers first - that shows how nice Rugby crowds are, compared to football crowds, where someone would probably have been stabbed and a huge fight would've broken out.


Anyway, all that just goes to show what an amazingly fortunate man I am, to have such wonderful people around me to share so much fun and love with every day. Which is something I'm not going to see so much of in the coming weeks...once I've handed over to Sal and Dimmo I'll be off to CP, with all the misery that involves. However, much like any serious crimes, the victory of getting a conviction and getting someone off the streets and where they can't harm anyone will be very very welcome. The team there are amazing. Dedicated officers who work their arses off doing a very very difficult job, day in day out, because they care so much.

Now, Sherlock wants bacon and avocado for lunch, and the degus need their weekly health check up and bath and to stop trying to burrow up my sleeve.

(And what does everyone think of the new Bond theme....I'm not a fan, I've got to say.)

Alone on a platform, the wind and the rain On a sad and lonely face

Ahhhh, the heatwave is currently not waving. But the Tube is on strike as of now, so everyone is still hot and annoyed anyway.

Yesterday was quite moving, really. Ten years since 4 bombs were set off on the London transport systems. Three on the underground, one on a bus.

At the time the first bombs went off the stations/place the bus blew up stopped and had a minute's silence. The nation held a minute's silence at 11.30.

It does feel like yesterday, really. Or last week, maybe. We heard, at first, there had been a massive electrical fault and the underground was suspended. Then we began to hear the rumours, around the yard, that it had been a bomb - and not just one, but a few, at least. As it became clear that there had definitely been fatalities, from those first responders, we geared up to go, because it doesn't matter if you've been stabbed or killed in a bomb attack - murder is murder. And I remember being on the way out, and my phone ringing. And I almost ignored it, just to get going, but something made me stop, and run back to answer it. And it was telling us to wait, not because they were worried there were more bombs - they were, everyone was, there was no need to say it. But because they were worried they had been dirty bombs.

So then we sat, and waited, and watched the news and tried to get on with out work until we finally were sent in.

Right now we're trying to catch a man who is wanted because he stabbed another man in the back because he thought that man was a police officer (he was a barman)...so we really want to meet him.


Anyway, onto far happier things - here's a picture of Mycroft's bike!!

Just because you don't believe that I wanna dance

So...I'm home. Early. And with more of the NHS's supplies attached to my head.

We went to arrest someone who was known to be violent (I mean, to be fair, we mainly arrest people who've tried to kill someone...so it's not like any of them are going to welcome us with baked goods and a cuppa.) Anyway, we went with lots of help. Four of us, four uniform officers, all for one man.

But he didn't disappoint. Went absolutely postal, shaking us off like rag dolls.

He tried to run into the back garden, but, amazingly, we'd thought of that...so I burst out of the back door to find four officers clinging to him like ants on an elephant... and joined in, naturally. And ended up making close friends with a very badly made greenhouse.

So, by the time the CS gas and tasers were flying, I was mainly out of it, really.

We ended with one arrest, one fractured wrist (uniform), one frankenstein's-monster-ish head (me), one black eye and fat nose (Sal), plenty of bruises and scrapes and lots of streaming eyes from the CS...

Anyway, paramedics and even more officers showed up, took us all off to our various destinations...John showed up, because Sal called him - we weren't that far from home, so he arrived while the paramedics were busy mummifying my head. Followed us to the hospital, then followed the panda which dropped me home. Staples in the scalp mean putting on a bike helmet isn't happening for a while.

And eventually, after a lot of staples in A&E I was sent off home with him to care for me. Got to pretend I was a doctor though, in a fetching set of scrubs, as my suit is a. ruined and b. forensic evidence.

Mrs H fetched Sherlock, who has announced that staples are 'better than stitches'. I'm not 100% sure on how the hierarchy of medical fastenings runs...probably...sticky tape, glue, stitches, staples? He hasn't seen mine, as they are currently under a ridiculous sticky dressing which I'm sure nurses only put on my head for a laugh. But John thoughtfully took pictures at the hospital, so he was somewhat mollified.

He also showed me this - which is rather cool.

Anyway, John's now having great fun looking after me....honest...perfect patient, me. I'm apparently playing a game of 'the floor is lava' that I didn't sign up to, because every time I try to get off the sofa he's there, stopping me. Although, thus far, he hasn't catheterised me...so I must stop writing this and go and wee out some of the 20 cups of tea he's made me drink so far ;) Later on I might even let him pick some scabs out of my hair..

Everybody's on the run, Hang in there love, You gotta hold on

Work's been..busy. As you can probably imagine.

Otherwise, life is good! We've dialled our running schedule right back, in preparation for the weekend...Yes, we'll be doing the half marathon this weekend. Terrifyingly.

We are going to be cheered on (well, if they can drag themselves away from ice cream and the excitement of the parks) by Sherlock, Mrs Hudson, Jo, Lisa and Tadgh. Unless it's horribly rainy etc, in which case they might all amuse themselves doing far more fun things, and we shall wearily trudge home at the end with the hope of hot drinks and lots of food...

So here's our route.

John and Sherlock are going to pick up our 'race packs' after school on Wednesday - when we'll get our numbers, and it'll all feel horribly more real than it already does...

Distressingly, I qualify as a 'senior man'. Hrmm.

If I could only, I could only fly, I'd drift with them in endless space

So I've obviously bored everyone to death by moping about feeling sorry for myself for being here, and o counteract that, there's been a concerted effort in my inbox today to cheer me up.

Sherlock sent me a picture of John asleep in bed (John probably doesn't know that yet) with Maf wrapped around his head so her tail looks like he's grown an unfortunate beard.

Or maybe he's grown an unfortunate beard.

Then Jo sent me this, of Tadhg.

It's only forever, Not long at all, Lost and lonely

Nine years ago today, 52 people were killed on public transport in London. 700 were injured. Doesn't seem real it's nine years ago, feels like...months, maybe. Sometimes far far less.

And, as with all such happenings, as people ran, shocked, injured, horrified, other people went to help. Tube staff, police, bystanders. Some people who were down in those tunnels, injured themselves, didn't run, didn't leave, even though they could. They stayed and they saved lives.

I was at work, not one of the first responders, but once it became clear the scale of what had happened, teams were dispatched.

I worked on the Piccadilly, where the most people died. It was a long, painstaking investigation, with pressure to both explain who had been responsible, how they had done it, why they had done it, and also - and it is important, no matter how mundane it sounds - to get the transport system back working. And to allow the friends and families of the dead to mourn and move on. And that's hard, when the damage to the bodies is so vast. You don't get to see a body, have a final moment, say a proper goodbye.


Anyway, been thinking about that a lot today, as I've spent the day with John, and waved Mycroft off to work, and thought about a lot of things.

And now I've been writing this for bloody ages and still not written anything. I don't think I'm 100% back to normal. Or maybe I'm just examining everything I do too closely now. I feel like I keep sort of...zoning out. Or forgetting what I was doing/saying.

On Saturday, we were...well, I still can't say too much, but I'd been in communication with this man. On a Gay Sex Chatline. Because that had been the one link in a series of cases.

We expected him to try and talk me into going back to his. We didn't expect him to slip a drug in my drink. Or...well, I still don't know how he did it.

Luckily I had a wire on, and there were other officers in the club. So when I stopped talking, Sal could call up someone to get a bit closer, check up on me, and they knew something was up.

Ketamine, when you take enough, paralyses you. Your mind still works fine, or mine did, to begin with, except...yeah, well, before I even knew what was happening I was in trouble. The music was immense, I could feel it, it was as if it was slow motion, washing over me, and the lights were all...instead of strobes, they were wrapping around me, like something sci-fi.

I don't really know how to describe it. And it felt like it took a long time, hours, days maybe. Even when John arrived, it took me hours to reach him, because the noises and the lights still had me. I thought I was reaching out to him, but I wasn't. And anyway, he wasn't real.

The most lasting thing, I guess, the thing I still feel, in an odd way, was that I was incredibly lonely.


Upshot is, I think it's for the best that I don't go to the boat. Mycroft and I will have a nice night in, John can cope with what will seem like hundreds of tiny banshees all refusing to sleep, in a confined space, and we'll think of him as we relax with some gourmet food and maybe a bottle of wine ;)

Yes I am the fox, a fascinating cross Of sharp as a whip and tough as an ox

Mycroft has just made me an exquisite bacon sarnie for lunch! Perfect, with some mayo, avocado, bacon, black pepper... we should keep him around ;)

Sherlock has announced he could run the marathon tomorrow. Sadly he's left it a bit late to enter. Or train. Or be born - I'm pretty sure you need to be 16 or something. Apparently this shouldn't matter.

I think John really wishes he had entered though. We might go and watch a bit tomorrow, or they might, if I'm asleep...


Last night was surveillance, which is always boring. But we ended up getting some good intelligence by the end of the night.

Also had this girl visiting us.

She was obviously doing her own surveillance. Hope she had a good night too.


There were lots of ginger and white hairs on my side of the bed this morning... although John tried to keep up his denial that she's taking over ;)

She also followed me to the toilet, which left me in fear of what sort of things she might pounce on...plus it's very odd, going about your ablutions whilst under close scrutiny of a small moglet.


Anyway, got a far more interesting op running tonight, trying to find a guy who stabbed someone last week. Going to be out on the street, actually doing things, which makes me happy.

You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to

I found this.

Sherlock is not allowed to use the first expression.

Nor is anyone to call me the one which refers to policemen.

I read something about World War One slang which made it into common use (much of it still in common use, too) and one which I wish had stuck is 'zeppelins in the clouds' meaning bangers and mash. Brilliant.

I do like language, especially when it's all the same language, and dialect bits, or just changes from historical splits - like English and American/Canadian/Australian etc. But even more when it's just English dialect. Although it was the source of a lot of teasing when I first moved to London.


We've said goodbye to Mycroft once more. I swear that the dogs have as much stuff as he does. And we couldn't find Phobos' favourite chew toy. It's a big...like a fake tyre, on a rope. He loves it. Deimos didn't help by parading about with the huge red bone he likes in his mouth. All smug and 'I'm ready to go, what's the hold up?'

John did provide a perfect moment when he stood in the middle of the room, Phobos looking up at him, all wide eyed, and John looked at him and said "Well where did you see it last?" Exactly like he does with Sherlock...

Anyway, found in the kitchen cupboard. Don't ask me how it got there.

So, yes, Mycroft's gone back. And dropped the bombshell that he's considering other 6th Forms, not just Harrow, for next year...

 We're back home. We've been fed. I'm putting the final touches to my seminar, which I'm delivering on Tuesday...now, leave early Tuesday morning, stay over until Weds... or leave Monday night, back Weds....which one?

John is checking Sherlock's homework, piece by piece, to check he hasn't only done the ones he wants to...although it's a bit late now!

And tomorrow, everyone will be back to their respective workplaces, or in John's case, he'll get his workplace back and undoubtedly try to rebuild it, after a week of boys and dogs and chaos.

The skipper lay with his nob in gore

So, here we are again. All together :)

I'd intended to cook Mycroft a nice dinner, to celebrate his finishing his exams and being back with us.

But work sort of put the kybosh on that plan. And instead I was eating a semi-warm wrap at ten thousand feet, or however high planes fligh. Or fly. Spelling....

Anyway, he cooked for me/all of us, instead. Which was lovely. Ably abetted by John.

My day really wasn't that bad. The bloke had given himself up - so he wasn't that bothered about being escorted 'home'. Wasn't angry or anything. He...well, he didn't seem that bad, in the grand scheme of things. Averagley homophobic...thought he was God's gift, so immediately found it odd that I didn't fancy him. Slightly amusing, trying to convince everyone he was the officer and I was the prisoner. Sadly he didn't have a warrant card...

Sherlock was very pleased to see me home - I mean, they all were. But Sherlock wanted to ask me a million questions. Including 'If he was bad, you should have just thrown him out of the plane'.

John didn't sleep much the night before - as you've all seen, so he was looking a bit zombie-fied by the time we went to bed. But I was inexplicably awake. Which has meant I've been a zombie today. But that was fine, as we headed out, and it was a lovely day. We went along the river.

Saw a man with an Eagle.

(That is a random man. The man with the eagle wasn't wearing a suit...)

Got a boat way out to North Greenwich, just because we could. Sherlock likes seeing the police boats (Why don't you have a boat?) and, on the way back, we stopped at the Maritime Museum, because we hadn't been there before.

Mycroft liked the incredibly old, incredibly detailed models the best, and the strange star-map...thing, below. Sherlock liked the swords. And blunderbus, and guns which fired 7 bullets at once...

Once we were done, and had sheltered from a thunderstorm by stopping for coffee, we headed home. Where I promptly fell asleep. Which means I'm awake now... the cycle continues.


Mycroft wants to find a job for the summer. John and I are both very much in favour of this, but it's not an easy economic climate to find a first job. Especially when it'll only be for the summer...

He's pondered just going for a shop job - as in supermarket. He's thought about maybe seeing if a computer/IT place might take him on as additional technical help for customers (John and I will lay bets on how long before he goes on a killing spree amongst unfortunate technically illiterate folks...). I suggested being a waiter...or asking if he could help in a coffee shop (providing I get family discount.) Not a chain one, but a little indy nice one. Or a bakery.

Anyway, he's thinking. I'm sure he'll find something.

And it's further to fall down, 'Cause you fly so high

Had a lovely day today.

We got up to clear skies and sunshine, so John and I had a gentle stroll in the park, and Sherlock took his bike. I wanted to jog, but John gave me one of those 'are you actually stupid?' looks, and gave his medical opinion that my ankle wasn't ready for it.

Which it isn't. But I probably wouldn't have accepted that until I'd tried and failed ;)

Anyway, strolling was fine. Sherlock was manic, it was nice.

After lunch we went for a swim, and Sherlock practised his underwater swimming. He can go quite a long way - between five and ten metres, on a good attempt. I'm trying to get back to being able to do a length. Smoking stopped all that, but I can get about 20 metres now (although not right now, breaststroke kick is something my ankle doesn't enjoy much.)

John did a bit of 'serious' swimming, but was then roped in to doing diving with Sherlock :)

Afterward I need coffee and Sherlock needed food. And, apparently, a huge hot chocolate with sprinkles and marshmallows and cream. And then when we got home he needed a chocolate cake...

So, all in all, a lovely day.

Quite a contrast from yesterday, which was ups and downs. Some charges brought, which made me happy. And a crime scene which just... well, very hard to take in. Nothing prepares you for some of them. I mean, not what you see, but thinking about what's led to it. Thinking about what people have gone through, to lead to the moment you're there. What their last moments must have been like. What was going on in their minds. Sometimes it makes you wonder about the world we live in. How someone can feel that there really is nothing else left for them to do...but that. I don't know, makes you sad for them, for society, for futures lost.


And I think I'll be back at work tomorrow...which Sherlock doesn't appreciate. But I will definitely appreciate having some time off with John later in the week.

Have a picture which has been sent around the office. Sums up the job perfectly.

Oh, and I am doing a seminar. On the hidden world of murder etc. amongst the 'invisible population' - people who've been trafficked, who are held in slavery, or who are otherwise not officially known about within our population.

Love, reign o'er me, Rain on me, rain on me

Hello 2014.

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...

And there’s a hand my trusty friend! And give me a hand o’ thine!

Right. I have napped. I am ready.

I think.

I'm 'running a pro-active team to respond to street-incidents' or something like that.

Basically means I get a van-full of officers, and we're plain clothes (apart from the big 'police' flashes across our stab vests), and we'll turn up at certain places and check all is well, or be sent to 'hotspots', or generally mop up the idiots who can't just enjoy themselves without hitting anyone or generally causing trouble. But I think, until it really kicks off, we'll just call in other units to take away most of our arrests, so some understaffed custody suite can take the strain.

My forecast for the night is...a bit wet, fairly miserable, with moments of excitement. Might even get near to wherever this tasty snow/foam/mist is going to be...

To be honest, I quite like getting back to the streets. I will have a sergeant on my team, too, so if I get called away to a murder scene, there's little disruption to us. This will doubtless happen just before refs, because that's life. Meanwhile, my team will operate on skeleton without me, Sal or any of my other sergeants.


Sherlock wanted me to show you this - he made it at his Mum's. He has now informed her he wants the Meccano delivered to him. I can't lie...I want it delivered to him too! And by the look on John's face, he does too.

It was hers, I think. Or possibly their father's, but I get the impression it was probably Mrs Holmes', doubt she let stereotypical boy/girl toys stand in her way as a kid!

Now I've found a real love, you'll never fool me again.

Today's been nice. If a bit busy. All kicked off by pancakes, which Sherlock somehow managed to have chocolate on. I'm fairly sure there's some sort of minimum-sleep-quantity that one should have before being allowed to care for children.

Still, won't kill him.

My Christmas shift had highs and lows...

Lows: finding out I'd have to work New Years too.
Having to talk to a family who'd been woken up Christmas morning to be told their son was dead.

Highs: One of my officers being proposed to, via an elaborate ruse involving a cell, a custody sergeant and her boyfriend (also an officer, but who should have been off-duty and far away with his family). She said yes. The radio was a-buzz for the rest of the day with congratulatory messages.

John coming to visit me at the Yard. He said he was tempted to take the long way back home, the roads were so quiet, and biking was so nice! I didn't ask if he did or not...I suspect he might have, if just to keep away from the card games which were becoming very high-stakes!

And this story.

Anyway, here's a (small part) of our Christmas tree, becuase...well, because you have to see it to believe any tree could support the sheer amount of tinsel.

'Cos I find comfort in decay

Sherlock took my stitches out earlier. He was fairly careful. Hard to balance care with excitement, sometimes.

John watched (very carefully) over him. He snipped through them (and almost me, on one occasion), then used tweezers to pull them out ("Your skin is stretchy!" "Will there be a scar? I want there to be a scar.")

Then gave me a swipe with an antiseptic wipe and shot off to look up scar tissue on the internet. Leaving John to give me the all-important 'all better now' kiss ;)

John frowned and said there might be a slight scar from the stitches, because they were in for so long - but that was because it was quite deep. So, we'll see. I'm not sure you'd see it if I didn't tan quite so vigorously!

Had a fairly good day today. But got nights on Saturday and Sunday... still, means days with JOhn and Sherlock. It's not a bad trade.


I think allowing Sherlock to unstitch me has made up for my terrible sin of feeding the degus last night. I... wow, Sherlock has just leapt all over the room yelling about exploding whales, I just have to go and see...


...Well, thank you, HHHG - you've made his day! He's watching it over and over, identifying exploding sperm-whale parts!

Anyway, away from exploding animals, back to cute ones.

Look at them! How could I resist giving them a treat, looking like little tiny furry prisoners in their travel cage!

The redoubtable beast has had Pegasus pills

I definitely need a day off. And I haven't got one, but two :)

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...

Today

So...today.

Been staring at this blank page for quite a while now. And still not sure how I feel or what I think or how I say any of it. Here or to John or...anything.

Started so well. A solid arrest, based on good evidence.

Then this afternoon...it was horrible.

When I walked the beat, and was on treble nine calls all the time, well, inevitably, you see people die. From accidents, natural causes, all sorts. You're the one people call.

And that's...well, it's what you sign up for, and you sort of know. You get the calls over the radio, you get a bit of information. Even just a sentence. I don't know why it's different, it just is.


Today we were in the house of our suspect. Doing a search. I had a team of uniforms going through the house, I was downstairs, in the kitchen, talking to another family member. One who was understandably distressed, given the relationship between them and the suspect. But we were calming things down - trying to, explaining what would happen, how it would go.

Then there was a noise outside, and a kid slammed up against the back door - more than one kid. The door flew open, and he pretty much fell into the room. Already stabbed. More boys just...clambering over him, still trying to hurt him.

The officer I was with shoved some of them off him, I managed to grab his coat, drag him into the kitchen, we were all shouting, so uniform were heading for us.

We just tried to stop the bleeding. There was a lot. And as we were on the floor the kids were going for him and us.

It's...an odd feeling, when someone...stops being alive, under your hands. Can't describe it.

Uniform saved our skins, and then we're...it's just two of us, the other family member, and the kid.

We started CPR, but...you can't do it all, CPR and try to stem bleeding. We just kept going. I mean, you have to. You just keep going and hope when the paramedics show up that there's still enough for them to bring back. Hope there's something, and their magic machine can bring the person back.

It was only a small kitchen. There was blood soaking through our trousers. Running down my arm onto him. Just...you know, in this job, how much there can be, before...well, before you know there's too much on the floor, and nothing replacing it.

We just kept going.

And finally, when the ambulance arrived, for the first bit...I don't know, even when someone takes over, you don't want to stop.

They worked on him, but there was just nothing left. No life.

It wasn't a peaceful death. It was terrifying. He spent his last moments completely terrified. And it's hard to think about. Hard to know.


So...well, I won't be on that case now. And I've requested the whole investigation is turned over to the IPCC, just...to be sure.

So...I don't know. Feels quite surreal now. Can't quite believe it all happened.

‘Cause she’s a cruel mistress

Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink...

Six, so far, people.

That's times John has got up and tried to fill the kettle from the tap, since I've been at home.

It seems we're not getting water back until tomorrow, at the earliest. I really wanted an exceptionally long hot shower, too...But there we go.

Today has been long. Filled with many arguments with other officers, the CPS, families of suspects... I did want to lock certain people in a room together by the end of it, let them fight to the death.


Sherlock is being oddly joyous at not having to wash - it's not like we force him into a bath every night! I think he's just enjoying the novelty.

He and Mrs H made some lovely flapjack this afternoon. It's got smashed up nuts and all sorts in it. He took great joy in smashing things with a rolling pin, apparently.


Have a little video. Share it around.

 https://www.allout.org/LoveAlwaysWins


Some scrote smashed one of the Met's police dogs in the head with a baton, when it caught him. The dog - Fuzz - didn't let go though, and is now on sick leave, poor thing. Still, amazing that the dog held on. Can't say I would have.


I think I'm off at the weekend. Mycroft's home weekend after this one, so maybe we can get to the bike place. It would be fantastic to get out there while it's really muddy and slidey. I love riding off road in those conditions - even if it does mean falling off more! It's so much fun. And even Mycroft doesn't mind too much - when he's dressed to get filthy.