Back to School

Tomorrow we're going to Harrow. I think it'll be really interesting. And I hope Mycroft likes it.

I think this visit is just to meet the Masters and look around, and then later in the holidays there are days when Mycroft can meet other pupils who'll be starting there.

He's been really good with Sherlock so far in the holidays - I know it's only a few days in, but it's lovely to see.

John and I are doing fairly well on the running front. Which is good - I think first practice may be next week. Although he let me off tonight, because I look tired, apparently. I take back what I said about him being a slave driver.

All the things that might have been

Twenty five years ago today a friend of mine died. He was twenty three. His name was Steve.

Not long after I arrived in London I met him through mutual friends. He was only three years older than me, but a Londoner born and bred. And a genuinely nice bloke. To me, it felt like he knew everything and everyone. He had tireless energy, for work, for music, for clubbing, for everyone.

People used to call us boyfriends, but we weren't really. We were close - I was probably, emotionally, closer to him than a few of the people who were my boyfriends, over the time we knew one another. We'd crash in each other's beds, spend evenings on each other's sofas, and probably did seem, from the outside, like and old married couple.

Normal service is resumed...

...with the aid of bike-gear porn. I mean...that's the sort of thing John says when I look at bike gear. I can't help coveting some stuff, can I??

Anyway, finally finally we got back to the shops and bought Mycroft some biker gear. [Biker gear makes me sound like, well, a biker. Which I'm not. M]

We got him some black jeans, and ...what the...Mycroft! How do you do that? You are a biker, I mean, you will be. Enough to need biker gear, anyway. Now either come down here and contribute to the post with me or stop...doing that thing. [Okay. M]

Okay to which? Oh, he's here. Right. So, jeans, a nice plain black helmet, some decent boots and gloves, and The Jacket. Yes, Mycroft, it does need capitals.

Has the world gone mad?

As if the famine in Africa isn't completely terrible enough for the world to cope with (try to cope with? Try to help? How do you even begin? I just sort of sit and stare at the pictures and can't even imagine the scale of the disaster.) Then there's a bomb in Norway, and before that news has even sunk in then this same guy (reportedly) has killed...how many now? 92 people. And he was dressed as a policeman. And that just...that just hurts in so many ways. I can't imagine how anyone who is linked in any way to that entire situation is coping. It's so many people - young people - and for what? I know it's nothing in scale compared to the famine - but that's one person, one person has taken all of those lives. One person who dressed in a uniform and gathered those kids around him, before shooting them in cold blood.

And now the media has gone mad because Amy Winehouse is dead. Again, a young person, who could have been and done so much - who was so talented, who touched so many people - and what happened? How did her life get so out of control?

It's all on such different scales, but...but nothing is more or less tragic than anything else, in its own way. Just like all the other deaths, all the other small, personal tragedies that happen every day, that all touch someone...sometimes it's just too much, isn't it?

And...I feel like I should have something more insightful to say. And I don't.

I just know I'll be thinking about all those people. And all the people who I see, frozen in death. All the friends I've lost. And all the families I still remember, even after years in the job. And even all the people I've watched step down from the dock. I'll think about all of those.

And in the midst of all that, try to think about all the living too, everyone who makes the world a better place. And I suppose all we can do, when it gets too much, is to think about people like that. Like a life-buoy to cling to.

caught. court. banged up.

Spent the day in court. It's been slow going. Legal wrangling going on for hours. It was pretty tedious.

But over now. Unless i get called back. Can't see what else they could ask me. But you never know.

Started feeling a bit rough this afternoon. Really didn't want to be there after that. Just felt all...like being drunk, dizzy, sort of. And sick.

Sherlock is wildly excited about his sports day tomorrow. I think just because it's a chance to be outside and run about, not because he's particularly competitive at sports. He's asked if there could be a dog race, apparently. I can just imagine how well that would go...

Mycroft seems happy to be going to visit Harrow (less said about Eton the better.) I hope it'll be a good day for him - interesting, and maybe put his mind at rest about a few things. Maybe put ours at rest, too.

When I was at primary school kids in the village didn't want to know us, because they all lived in big farm houses and we were from the council houses. I liked going to big school better, because we all had to get the bus, so no one ever saw where you lived to judge you.

Home, Holmeses and Horrible weather.

There's a lot to be said for waking up in your own bed, wrapped up in your own boyfriend, happy in your own city.

Even if you are woken up by a Sherlock travelling at high velocity.

But even that was kind of nice.

We had pancakes for breakfast, with fruit in them, and watched as the rain varied between hard and harder...with occasional moments looking as if it may clear up...before raining again. So baking was done, stories told, pictures drawn, pretend arrests made, some attempts at further dog training done (sadly Sherlock's wish to train them to bring him food keep getting thwarted by them eating everything that comes near them).

Still, it was just lovely being with everyone. We did get out with the dogs this afternoon - although we didn't let them off the leads, because of the massive potential for excessive mud rolling and general chaos. And the lack of a hose to wash them down with afterward.

And tonight...Mrs H is going to mind the boys, and Danger is letting me cook for him, at my place, to get a bit of time alone.

I'm thinking pork chops, blue cheese and apple sauce, veg and probably mash, or crushed and roasted spuds. Sound okay, Danger? You get to choose dessert...

Crime in the countryside....

I'm home. Finally. There were times when I thought I may never get back.

The case...well, yeah, local knowledge was vital. But so was being that step away from the community, being the outsider.

Basically...

There was a girl and a boy, who've kknown each other since they were just little kids, who had a brief fling. He's pretty introverted, a bit awkward.

They broke up - I'm not even sure it was more than a one night stand. But she found out she was pregnant. She told him. He was over the moon. She...wasn't, but she wasn't devestated either. She seemed to be dealing with it, was thinking about keeping it, even. But her parents said no way, that she was to go to university, not waste her life, all that. Arranged an abortion. Even drove her to the clinic. Without telling him.

Obviously she had to tell him at some point. And she could never have anticipated his reaction. Which was to get his Dad's shotgun and kill them. Then he panicked and hid the gun. Which his father, after asking a few questions, reported as stolen. Which made him panic more, so he took it back, which meant his father had to withdraw the report. Which was part of what made me very suspicious.

All of this was fairly secret, but the gossip had got about that something had happened between the two of them. That, plus the gun, meant I overrode all the 'he's a sweet boy, known him since he was a toddler', all that.

So when we turned up he tried to shoot us, but from way too far away, so it damaged the car a bit. Even if we'd been out of the car, we'd have been okay.

And now, thank God, I'm home, the boys are being wonderful. We all had a big group hug when I got in. Sherlock is pleading for his own set of handcuffs.

John is just...brilliant, and wonderful, and I've missed him so much.

All is well with the world.

Anyway, bloody glad it's over.