The buffer of Baker Street, rather

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[bloggerofbakerstreet]

Have you and your detective friend given up on social media? Did he blow the both of you up in an experiment? Maybe one of you finally snapped and did the other in? Enquiring minds and all that.

I suppose we did rather let it slide to the wayside a bit, haven’t we?  It’s all been a bit busier - not that Sherlock would tell you he’s been busy enough; ‘boring this, predictable that’ that he is - than I’d been expecting when I started this experiment, and then real life and the main blog just kept taking all my - our, apparently - attention.  Not sure if we’re quite through the current busy patch, but I assure you, we’re both alive and the flat is reasonably unharmed.

I can’t say quite as much about recent clients, but all is more or less well there, as well.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

I still think it was obvious...

He changed my password.  You make one comment about something being easy to guess (to be fair, there were cat photos EVERYWHERE in her flat), and suddenly it’s a challenge.  I couldn’t be bothered to put much time into figuring it out, but once I started trying combinations of Sherlock-grade insults, it didn’t take too long to get back in.

He left the proper blog alone (more or less.  I suppose that’s as close to admitting it brings in the bulk of business as he’ll get) but decided this would… what, teach me a lesson? 

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

consultinglimpet:

[consultinglimpet]

All things considered, and allowing for your tendency toward melodrama, what you have outlined is a rather impressive logical progression based on your superficial observations.  It would also explain what I initially took to be an inordinately disproportionate response to a bit of mess.

John, I may, indeed, owe you an apology. However, I’m going to take your threats of bondage at some future date as the result of lingering emotional fall-out, but if you should actually decide to try something of that nature, at least remember to time how long it takes me to get out of whatever restraints you devise. It should prove interesting, I’m sure.

I have, on several occasions in the past, found things you’ve hidden, John, and left them where they were. Including medications. In this particular instance, I was unbearably bored and was actually trying to find any cigarette stashes you might have still had in the flat. When I found your cache of medications, it was briefly diverting, but I also knew I had most likely found everything I was going to find. Of course, I started immediately considering ways to relieve the tedium of having absolutely nothing to do! I won’t go on about how much of a torment it is for me, because you’ve heard it many times before, so I need not reiterate yet again.

Given your emotional state, you may not care to believe me, but I did not, in fact, take all of the medications that were there in your little cache. I won’t say I wasn’t tempted more by some of them than others - I have no doubt that is exactly why you stashed them away in what was, really, a clever spot - however, I only took some of the tranquilisers in an effort to avoid acting on any of the ideas with which I might have entertained myself until your return. I was growing desperate by that point, I will freely admit, and did not anticipate the strength of the effect; I have been very resistant historically.

The rest of the tranquilisers and the pain-killers were in one of my own hiding places; you will now find them in your full med-kit, as I didn’t think it wise to leave them lying about.

When I began this particular reply, I intended to answer your own responses regarding medical care entirely differently; however, now I have considered what you’ve written - both the emotionally-charged exaggerations and the more rational points - and I would rather have you perform any stitching required on my person without anaesthetic than anyone else, no matter what chemical cocktail they might offer. You have, indeed, done so in the past - obviously I survived the experience.

You having made some deal with Mrs. Hudson explains her fluttering about in distress while not, in actuality, doing much of anything. There was a time I might have been surprised, even angry, but I know you better now. ‘The Substance’ was, as I said, brownie batter. It disturbs me that you seem to prefer clinging to the notion that it might’ve been something far more distasteful.

I have rested more than I can bear and Mrs. Hudson has checked on me with exactly the sort of regularity which I can now be sure stems from whatever conspiracy the two of you have hatched. You may not realise it, but I have been enormously patient with your tactics, especially once I realised the full extent of them, and, while I resent them viciously, I cannot deny either their effectiveness or the very real fact that I know you well enough to be sure you will carry out your more genuine threats if pressed. So, as you can plainly see, I have not pressed. I have, in fact, done as you requested. Please, return at once, this is intolerable.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

'Melodramatic', says the man with archenemies...  right.

Although, apologies being as rare on the ground as they are with you, I suppose I'll let that pass.

Right...   alright.  Points and preferences noted; we'll discuss this further when I return.  I'm in the middle of something now, but I'll come home, after.

We'll talk, then.

(I wouldn't call it a conspiracy, but Mrs. Hudson and I do have an understanding; she's been most helpful - enthusiastically so, in fact - perhaps I should pick her up something nice from the bakery on the way back...)

[consultinglimpet]

John, you are overreacting.  Threatening to foist me off on strange physicians should I become injured again is beneath you.  You’re rarely satisfied with the first-aid given by others and have many times simply redone their handiwork once I was in your care once more.  I hardly see you tolerating some bumbling hack bandaging or stitching me, given your previous behaviours. Nor do I see you being comfortable with our having an inadequately stocked first-aid kit. Furthermore, refusing to reply to my texts or calls is childish. 

Although, I must say, quite sincerely, I was amazed at your colourful grasp of angry invective.  Mrs. Hudson came up after you’d gone, blushing and yet smiling, as well.  Unfortunately, the first words out of her mouth were to ask what I’d done now.  She also refused to help me with cleaning the kitchen, which I suppose is no surprise, but does seem a bit harsh.  I am in a leg-brace, after all; and, considering how she fussed over us before, I would have expected her to insist on helping.  Obviously my expectations were erroneous. While your thoughts on the state of the kitchen were droll, they were an exaggeration.  Though I’m a bit unclear how the cookie dough got onto the ceiling, I did manage to climb up onto the kitchen table and scrape it off. 

Despite your innuendo, that was brownie batter on the floor of the bathroom.  I spilled some down my leg and into the top of the leg-brace, and went into the loo to take off and wipe down the leg-brace.  Consequently, I decided to make cookies with the remainder of the brownie batter.  It didn’t go as I anticipated.  I was lying on the sofa, contemplating what I may have missed in the conversion from batter to dough when I must’ve dozed off.  Next thing you’re cursing fit to shame a stevedore, prodding at me and flashing lights in my eyes, all the while asking questions without allowing me to answer. John, I did listen when we spoke of consequences.  I’ve cleaned the mess from the kitchen and loo.   Mrs. Hudson’s come back and made me lie down, but she said I didn’t do badly at all.  She asked where you were again, too.  Clearly she’s concerned for you.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

Overreacting?  No.  I’m really, really not.  Let me break this down for you, since you are clearly not thinking it through.  I have been led to believe you are an intelligent man, consider: I come home after properly leaving the flat for the first time in a solid month of helping you recuperate from a rather /nasty/ case, to find the place in what appeared to be violent disarray -  I would go so far as to say, looking like a disaster zone – and no response from you when I called out.  When I /found/ you – insensible and clearly drugged with some unknown substance – on the couch, what do you think my first thoughts were?

Do you think my first expectation was that you had simply thought it a good time to skulk around the place, poking around until you found my medical reserves and then had a merry old time drugging yourself to the gills and destroying our home, only to fall into a half-sleep on the couch when you had worn yourself out?  Or do you think maybe, just /maybe/ I had thought someone had attacked you, and forced drugs into your system to finish the job.

You don’t make friends easily, Sherlock - god do I know that - but you have a long and plentiful list of enemies, and there are enough among them with some devious intelligence, themselves, to /plot/ something like that; it wouldn’t be a far cry to think someone had decided they’d had enough of you and made it look like an accident brought on by your own hand.  A perfect murder, you might say – and /you/ wouldn’t be around to solve it – all it would take is a bit of knowledge about your history or personality, and an eye on the flat to see when I left.  So no, Sherlock – I’m not overreacting.

Although clearly it was my mistake to think you might show /some restraint/ or even, possibly – I know, a stretch for you – respect enough not to touch items I /clearly/ put away with the intent that you not touch them.  Items that I should not have /had/ to hide in the first place.  That elevated expectation of you was clearly my own folly; I’ll just have to let Lestrade move /himself/ next time – or drag you with me.  Possibly gagged.  I’m sure that would be best for all parties involved.

As for my use of invective, and communication – be glad I didn’t respond to this (or anything) last night; I am at least calm enough not to want to wring your neck, now.  It would be counterproductive, after all.

If I have to redo someone else’s handiwork, well then, I’m qualified to do it – at least you’ll have the benefit of a local, then – otherwise, I could just stitch you up, here, and give you a belt to bite on.  Stitches without anesthetic can be quite difficult, after all, but it’s not like I haven’t had to render similar aid in the past.  (You have proven to me I can’t trust you with drugs of any sort in the house; that’s not my choice, that was entirely yours.  I /tried/ to work around you, you clearly won’t let me.)

You did a fair job cleaning before I got back again, at least (Mrs. Hudson understands consequences as well, that’s why), so thank you for that.  I notice you didn’t touch anything you hadn’t directly affected yesterday, but it’s more than you can usually be bothered to do, so there’s that.  Regardless of what ‘the substance’ was, it was still 1) in the bathroom, and 2) disgusting.  Thank you for removing it.  I put the rest of the cleaning products away before I went to bed. 

I’ve checked in with Mrs. Hudson, and apologized for worrying her; she understands how it can be, sometimes, though, so that’s all sorted.  I suggest you get some rest, today.  Clearly you need it.

[consultinglimpet]

Found John’s secret cache of medications.  His methods of concealment have vastly improved.  Obviously not enough, though.

Feeling very pleased. Good.  Very good.  Very.  The display on my mobile is inordinately bright.  I don’t recall setting it to be that bright.

Hungry for something chocolate.  Brownies.  Shouldn’t be beyond my capabilities to make.  What’s the saying? ‘Cooking is just chemistry you can eat’

I am superb at chemistry. 

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

This... explains so much.

Initially, I had thought one of the irate bakers from several cases back had finally sought their revenge - and possibly a badly planned attempt to poison you - but I see it was just the result of your attempting to poison yourself.  You are lucky 1) that I did not return earlier (or you /would/ have had your stomach pumped, like it or not), and 2) that you did not actually /require/ your stomach to be pumped.  You are cleaning all of this up, yourself. 

Yes, even.... whatever ended up in the bathroom.

And the next time you need medical care beyond something a plaster can fix, guess who's going to be taking a trip down to the surgery?  Oh yes, to sit, and wait with all of those /boring/ people, and then let some unknown doctor - who you will actually have to watch your attitude with, because I assure you they will not take it - stitch you up, or whatever it is you've done to yourself this time.  Because clearly I can't trust you with medical supplies in the flat.

Remember that conversation we had about consequences?  Here, enjoy a firsthand example.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

You haven't given up on your tumblr, have you? I haven't seen anything from you or Consultinglimpet for a while. Hope you two are okay?

No, no, I'm sorry - I, well, I honestly hadn't thought anyone would notice while we were gone.  Although I'll admit it wasn't at the forefront of my mind, either, when we had to take that trip out to...  well. 

Things got a bit busy, then a bit complicated, and we took on a case that I'm not actually at liberty to comment on at the moment.  Possibly after the trial, but everything has been 'requested' rather pointedly to be kept quiet until then.  Given the people involved - well... we'll see.  I might get away with a bit of it in vague terms, after all is said and done.

There's a bit of recuperation ahead of both Sherlock and I, in the near future, but after that we should be back to business as usual.  Well, business as usual that I'm permitted to disclose, anyway.

Terribly sorry if I worried anyone with the, er - downtime.  Nobody's shot us, yet.  Accurately, anyway.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

consultinglimpet replied to your post: Not sure I’m doing this right, but I think it worked with Sherlock’s little ask thing. John, you mustn’t think Martha and I were laughing at you. You’re a lovely young man and Martha thinks of you and Sherlock almost like adopted sons, and I’m rather fond of the both of you, as well. Oh, it’s Mrs. Turner, by the by. I hope you and Sherlock liked the fruit basket. He looks so pale, don’t you think? Perhaps the two of you ought to go for a holiday somewhere sunny next time there’s nothing on?

That scam artist was pathetically obvious, YOU could have caught him out, John. And I eat enough to fuel my body - more than, lately, as we’ve discussed - so stop making me sound like a dyspeptic 5 year-old. Stop assuming what everyone thinks, too.

I'm not sure how I feel about the stress on 'you', there.  Somehow I feel like you've made the exchange with 'Anderson', here.  Or 'a blind dog'.  Or similar.  It's not complimentary.  In any case, that's not the point; the point is you did, and generally you wouldn't bother if it wasn't interesting in some way or another - which usually means at the very least that you feel kindly towards someone. 

I'll stop treating you like a dyspeptic 5 year-old when you stop displaying the traits of one.  In fairness, though, you have gotten better (and you may note, the pestering has also gotten less frequent in relation to that.)  You are now eating enough to fuel your body - most of the time - before you were barely eating enough to survive.

You realize, that's pretty rich coming from a man who assumes he knows what people are thinking the majority of the time.  In any case, it's a pretty fair assumption towards 'what people are thinking' when they keep telling you.  Or making 'jokes' about it.  Or assumptions.  Really, should I start ignoring the facts in front of me?  Here and you tell me to use your methods...

[consultinglimpet]

bloggerofbakerstreet replied to your post:bloggerofbakerstreet replied to your post: Bored….

Yes, I’m sorry, the other 109 came after midnight; I see my mistake. I asked how it was going, not for you to give me a play by play of every microbe reaction. Keeping me in the loop is all well and good, but what would happen if you needed me after killing my battery (and…

[continued from your post (since the message cut me off)]:  battery (and sleep), or if I’d gone out and gotten into trouble with no way to get help because my mobile had died… as you’re so fond of saying ‘think it through next time’. (It’s not like you can’t email me on that thing.)

(Also, your askbox seems to be broken. That or you’ve somehow set it so I couldn’t leave you messages for some unfathomable reason, which would not actually surprise me at all.)

I copy/pasted the comment at the beginning of the submittal, to make it easier to respond properly. - SH

Firstly, you never said to stop texting, nor did you tell me your battery was dying.  For exactly those reasons, I would have held off until you’d had the chance to charge it again.  (Emailing on the mobile takes more steps. Inconvenient.)

I’ve done nothing to the askbox, John, other than to allow anonymous asks.  I have not blocked you, which is the only way I know of to prevent you being able to comment or leave asks.  Nor would I, if I knew how.

I made some very interesting breakthroughs and believed you to be interested.  Clearly an error I won’t repeat.  Your battery is safe.  Rejoice.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

I did actually send you two messages - which you apparently did not notice in your deluge of texts - one that I was a bit busy and could you just give me the abridged version, and the second that my mobile was about to go. Either you're not getting my texts again, or you simply didn't notice them, but I made an effort. I'm not saying not to keep me up to date, I'm not saying not to text me, but that was a bit much overall, don't you think?

I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions there, but I wouldn't put it past you if you thought I was going to complain about something; you have found really creative ways of ignoring me when I have something to say you don't want to hear.  It must just be Tumblr, then. 

(Emailing from your mobile takes exactly one additional step; I think you'll live with clicking down to the next contact.  I'm just saying, when you know I'm at the flat, it would save battery life.  You're the one who keeps going on about how my phone needs to be more accessible and not on the charger all the time - this would help.)

Listen - lets not go down this road right now.  I've got a good mood going, you've just given me a really nice apology gift - I'm letting it go; you do what you want.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

Not sure I'm doing this right, but I think it worked with Sherlock's little ask thing. John, you mustn't think Martha and I were laughing at you. You're a lovely young man and Martha thinks of you and Sherlock almost like adopted sons, and I'm rather fond of the both of you, as well. Oh, it's Mrs. Turner, by the by. I hope you and Sherlock liked the fruit basket. He looks so pale, don't you think? Perhaps the two of you ought to go for a holiday somewhere sunny next time there's nothing on?

Hello Mrs. Turner.  I didn’t realize you knew we had these.  Er, I don’t think you’re laughing at us, no; I think you’re both very fond of us and happy for us, but maybe you’ve got the wrong idea about our… 

Oh, never mind.  It’s not like everybody else doesn’t think it too. 

We’re fond of you, as well (It’s harder to tell with Sherlock, but he did stop that scam artist before he could get any of your information, and since those are ‘easy’, it’s a good indicator), and Mrs. Hudson is like family, so… yeah.  Um.  We’re okay. 

Thank you for the gift basket, by the way.  It was lovely, and Sherlock has actually eaten some of it which usually takes more of a fight.  (I’ve enjoyed it as well, but I need to mention he has, since it’s so hard to get him to eat.)  He’s a bit pale, yes, but I think that’s normal for him – he is too thin, though, and I’m making an effort to correct that.  (Oh god, no wonder everyone thinks it…)  As for a holiday - there’s no getting Sherlock out of London if it isn’t for a case, and I’d think about going myself, except I know the minute I leave, he’ll start texting and pestering me because he’s bored.  Nice thought, though; thanks for that.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

consultinglimpet replied to your post:John, since you took down the post-its. I’m reminding you here about the appointment with Nikolai. Also, before I delete it, the fruit basket on the kitchen table is from Mrs. Turner and I did not in any way encourage her. She just showed up this morning and gave it to me with congratulations. I was in the middle of an experiment and you were asleep, so I didn’t really listen to all that she said. I ate an orange, so you don’t need to ask if I had breakfast. Will be at Bart’s if required.

I wanted to be sure you saw them, thus it worked. Shopping? I heard her, just didn’t retain. Why do you assume people are looking/tittering at or gossiping about you? That’s very egocentric, John. Don’t consult your therapist, though. She’s clueless.

Somehow I don’t think that’s the only reason.  I just found one in the med-kit and unless you had some plans for the evening I’m sure I’d veto, I think there’s probably a bit more to it. (And I maintain, I am not likely to forget my upcoming appointment to be perforated.)  I think you’re just amusing yourself with them.

I’m just going to take a moment here to appreciate the full irony of you calling me egocentric. 

Right.  Anyway, it’s not egocentric when you know for a fact that’s what’s happening.  Just like ‘you’re not paranoid if they’re really out to get you’.  We know what they’re gossiping about.  We somehow got a fruit-basket out of the deal (I wonder if that’s meant to imply something…  nah, not from those two.  Anderson, maybe.) so I’m not exactly imagining it.  In fact, a certain consulting detective was the one who informed me of the full extent of it, and as we all know, he is always right.

I have no real intention of going back to my therapist.  Though some days I wonder if I shouldn’t find a new one…

[consultinglimpet]

I will admit to having found a fresh pack of coloured post-its under my bed when I was searching for something else.  (I mentioned the appointment early this morning and you didn’t know what I was talking about. Before you covered your head with your pillow, you also accused me of taking your boot polish and told me to ‘Bugger off till after dawn, I’ve still got time to sleep!’  So, although it was fairly obvious you weren’t fully awake, I felt it a good idea to make certain.  I was also bored.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

While technically we could call that 'this morning', generally I'm not particularly coherent when woken at 3 bloody AM.  I'd only gone to bed four hours earlier and while that might be enough for you it is most certainly not enough for me.  Any time I've been awake, I've remembered the appointment.  A few times when I haven't been, too, if you count that weird dream with the scissors and the bolt of fabric that had tried to strangle me.  Anyway; bored I'll accept.  As your reason, not as an excuse - but that sounds a lot closer to your actual motivation than trying to make sure I didn't forget.

John.  I never said I wasn’t ego-centric; however, I do have far more reason to be, you must admit. Think it through.

You know, I know in your brain that sounded like a completely reasonable answer that shouldn't offend anyone 'because it's true', but that is not a proper answer you should give anyone, let alone me.  We'll talk about why, later.

I explained to you what I thought to be behind Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner’s behaviour on that one occasion.  I don’t think you and I should address any paranoia issues in this forum, because I know you don’t like talking about your PTSD.  Suffice to say, truly, I think you may be overreacting.  (That particular fruit basket is regularly stocked at a nearby shop and is keenly priced for what it includes. It is also promoted very visibly. Likely the choice was opportunistic and furthered by maternal instincts toward us. They’re constantly trying to feed the both of us, if you recall.)

Yes, let's not discuss those particular issues in public, thanks.  (I am not paranoid.  Not really.  Not with the things we deal with from day to day.  I merely take reasonable precautions.)  Oh, I'm sure it was opportunistic, and I will not argue that both ladies tend to feel kindly towards us (some days I wonder why) but given what you said at the time, and the comments they've made, between, I have no doubt they are both firmly of the impression that we are 'together'.  Apparently, quite vocally.  I'm going to stop thinking about this, now.  You just don't want to do the shopping, anyway.

If Anderson should offer one single word that offends you, I want you to tell me; I will deal with it. With great enjoyment!

Oh, I'm sure you would, which is why I will very specifically not say anything if he does.  (To you, anyway - I can take care of things myself.) 

You don’t require a therapist, John. In some ways you, like I do, fall outside the common parameters therapists are trained to recognise and address. I don’t want anyone convincing you there’s something wrong with you, or that your behaviours or mental processes require ‘adjusting’. You’re fine just the way you are.

I'm not entirely sure how I should be taking that, but I know how you meant it, and I know how I'm going to, so... thanks. (There are quite a few people who would argue I'm mad just for living with you, but then, never much cared for other people's opinions, anyway.)

(Yes, I know I mentioned your issues, but you manage them perfectly well on your own. You’re very likely making that face right now. Stop it. Don’t argue with me.)

There are days I really wonder if you've tapped into my webcam, do you know that? (You haven't, have you?) We'll talk about the other bit, later. But thank you. I think.

Also, do you ever actually look in your closet?

Why, have you left me another note? I'll go look now, then, but there better not be another experiment in there; it took three weeks to air out, the last time.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

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consultinglimpet replied to your post: Sent previously, but not sure it went through. Just a comment to say it was very kind of you to forgive your friend.

Everyone always complains about how difficult I am to live with. We should discuss your motown and those jumpers sometime. And the horrible telly torture. I put up with a lot, too.

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and assume you are being completely, indignantly serious, here. Let me suspend my incredulity for a moment.

I'm sorry, have my jumpers contaminated your food supplies? (With no warning, I might add, resulting in a very close call.) Has my enjoyment of Motown somehow blocked your normal usage of the bathroom 'until the results were conclusive', so you had to sheepishly beg usage of Mrs. Hudson's for a week straight? Oh, I know, my screeching, discordant telly watching unapologetically keeps you up all hours of the night.

I see, now. I'm sorry, Sherlock, I'm an absolutely horrible flatmate; how do you put up with me?

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

consultinglimpet replied to your post: John, since you took down the post-its. I’m reminding you here about the appointment with Nikolai. Also, before I delete it, the fruit basket on the kitchen table is from Mrs. Turner and I did not in any way encourage her. She just showed up this morning and gave it to me with congratulations. I was in the middle of an experiment and you were asleep, so I didn’t really listen to all that she said. I ate an orange, so you don’t need to ask if I had breakfast. Will be at Bart’s if required.

I wanted to be sure you saw them, thus it worked. Shopping? I heard her, just didn’t retain. Why do you assume people are looking/tittering at or gossiping about you? That’s very egocentric, John. Don’t consult your therapist, though. She’s clueless.

Somehow I don't think that's the only reason.  I just found one in the med-kit and unless you had some plans for the evening I'm sure I'd veto, I think there's probably a bit more to it. (And I maintain, I am not likely to forget my upcoming appointment to be perforated.)  I think you're just amusing yourself with them.

I'm just going to take a moment here to appreciate the full irony of you calling me egocentric. 

Right.  Anyway, it's not egocentric when you know for a fact that's what's happening.  Just like 'you're not paranoid if they're really out to get you'.  We know what they're gossiping about.  We somehow got a fruit-basket out of the deal (I wonder if that's meant to imply something...  nah, not from those two.  Anderson, maybe.) so I'm not exactly imagining it.  In fact, a certain consulting detective was the one who informed me of the full extent of it, and as we all know, he is always right.

I have no real intention of going back to my therapist.  Though some days I wonder if I shouldn't find a new one...

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

Sent previously, but not sure it went through. Just a comment to say it was very kind of you to forgive your friend.

Oh, I'm sorry - no, your last message must have gotten lost in the system; I always reply to my messages (Asks? They're called Asks on here, right?) but I understand sometimes Tumblr 'eats' them.

Thank you for the sentiment; really, Sherlock is just... Sherlock. You learn to live with certain- well, there's really no quantifying it, you just learn to live with the things that are a bit off. Most of the time it's brilliant, sometimes it's frustrating; if you think about it, that's the same with any other interpersonal relationship, it's just Sherlock's drawbacks tend to be in different areas than the norm. It takes a bit of getting used to. He generally doesn't mean to set me off, though; he tends to be if not apologetic, then at least put out when it happens.

This time around we both had a bit of a misunderstanding and it snowballed from there; we sat down and talked it out since then, though, and all's forgiven, now. All the same, thank you for the kind message.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

John, since you took down the post-its. I'm reminding you here about the appointment with Nikolai. Also, before I delete it, the fruit basket on the kitchen table is from Mrs. Turner and I did not in any way encourage her. She just showed up this morning and gave it to me with congratulations. I was in the middle of an experiment and you were asleep, so I didn't really listen to all that she said. I ate an orange, so you don't need to ask if I had breakfast. Will be at Bart's if required.

I took down the post-it's because I don't need the reminder; I'm not about to forget about my upcoming pincushion session. (I think you were just enjoying sneaking them into 'interesting places' to be discovered later, anyway. I'll give you the sock drawer, the bathroom and the refrigerator - although most people stick with the outside - but really, there was no reason for you to think I'd be rummaging through the back of my closet in time for it to be worth that 'reminder'.) As for the rest - well, I suppose it's good she brought a fruit basket; at least we'll have something to eat until you deign to do the shopping. God, I'm halfway between wishing you had paid attention - so I know what, exactly, is being assumed (although I suppose I can guess) - and being very glad you didn't, because I'm not sure I want to know what you would have said back.

Oh well. It's not like we didn't already know this was brewing. Still not likely to go out during daylight hours unless you need me for a few days. I don't think I can take the cheerfully knowing titters. You know where I'll be, then; text if you need me. (Need me, Sherlock, not want coffee, or a pen, or a pipette and don't feel like getting up.)

An orange - good choice. I'll leave you alone until dinner at least, then.  (Although taking the initiative and eating some lunch would not be a waste of your time or effort.  Coffee does not count.  Neither does tea.)

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

consultinglimpet replied to your post: consultinglimpet replied to your post:...

Again, you are not as amusing as you think. Also, that third Sinkiang Black Beer at dinner is showing. You need to make us tea. Yes, I was busy with something important. Turn off the telly, I’ve been composing. Are there any hob nobs?

I don't know what you're talking about, I'm barely tipsy.  Probably.  Maybe I'm moving a little slowly, but I have full use of my faculties.  Although the beer was rather nice, I'll have to get that again in future.  I still maintain, I'm hilarious.  If you weren't faking your little smirk through dinner, you thought so, too.  Then again, that could have been a ploy to get into my good graces and acquire more of my Crab Rangoon - and I'm only half joking, I know the lenths you'll go to for them.

You know, you could make the tea yourself every now and then.  You're lucky I'm done out here.  Yeah, I'll put the kettle on.  Will have to check on the hob nobs - I'll just bring some back if there are any left.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

consultinglimpet replied to your post: consultinglimpet replied to your post: // ]]]]]]>...

The coat is designed to flow well with its wearer, it has nothing to do with how it’s worn. The dressing gown’s comfortable, nothing more. This is what you’ve been sniggering at, not the telly. This is revenge, isn’t it? I’m coming out there.

I'm not arguing either of these points - your wardrobe is very well tailored and aside from a few (disturbingly few) articles of clothing you keep for working on the more caustic experiments and an occasional costume piece - all built to be comfortable, from what I understand.  (Certainly from what you've told me of Nikolai's work, when attempting to talk me into coming down for a 'simple fitting'.)  This does not preclude your ability to wear them in a dramatic fashion, or to gravitate towards the 'swishy ones' when you're in a sulk.  Which, the more I think about, you do.

Well, I was sniggering at the telly, but I may be finding the amusement in this, now.   More so now that you've gotten so defensive about it (protesting too much, there, Sherlock?)  No need to come out, though, really.  I'm sure you're busy with... something important.

[bloggerofbakerstreet]

consultinglimpet replied to your post: // ]]]]]]> // ]]]]>]]> consultinglimpet replied to...

Thus far, to my knowledge, no cocoa-producing nations have felt the heavy hand of Mycroft in a sulk. (I suspect he doesn’t phone you because he knows you’ll hang up if he makes you angry.) Flouncing Around? Next time I’m eating all the rangoons!

I'm a bit concerned that you specified cocoa-producing nations, alone.  (He's right. Abducting me doesn't keep me from stalking off, either, though; it just makes me more stroppy.  He hasn't gone far enough yet to actually tie me down - although, now that I think about it, I wouldn't put it past him.)   Yes, flouncing - do you have a better word for it?  That's about as accurately descriptive as I could get for the particular way you move when you're in a sulk.  It's all overly dramatic motions and swishing cloth.  I just realized in bringing up the coat, you do the same thing with your dressing gown.  That explains why you're so fond of it, now that I think about it.)

You say that like it's a threat; it was a foregone conclusion, already.