26th December

Oh god. I am surrounded by lunatics. Honestly.

Harry is a lunatic.

Anderson is a lunatic.

Sherlock freaking Holmes is a lunatic.

Mycroft Holmes is a lunatic.

Principal Greg is a lunatic.

Sally Donovan is a lunatic.

And I am starting to thing that the most important man in my life right now (Adam Ostranski) is not only lunatic, but a fucking monkey with a fucking flower hair pin and yodelling halo.

I should probably elaborate, when I already managed to insult everyone who reads the blog.

Well, I haven't insulted Ella, yet. That's it – she should stop reading my blog, if I can't even insult her. I will tell her tomorrow.

Harry, let's start with my sister.

She came home this morning from Clara, wearing the summer dress with flowers and festive looking beanie. She was barefoot and grinning so widely, she would be able to eat banana sideways. I sent her to bed, since she will soon be sporting fever if her dilated pupils are anything to go by. Twenty minutes later I went to check on her and bring her tea, and she was fucking jumping around my bed and singing some pop song.

When I told her to stop being idiot, she just dragged me onto the bed as well and tried to make me dance waltz with her.

Next. Anderson.

He called me to tell me Holmes called him. Really nice from him, right? Well, he told me Sherlock told him never to hit on me again, if he doesn't want to have his head beaten into a cube.

Well, that doesn't really prove Anderson is a lunatic, right? But he is.

Sherlock Holmes.

That's almost self-explanatory, but I will write what happened today, when I went to school to get the study plans sorted.

Holmes told me he reads my blog and that yes, he will go out with me. I didn't mean it like that, but he felt it important to warn me that it will be his first date. Seriously? I mean, he is very charming, I find it weird no one ever got him out on a date.

So we went to get a coffee. And met Mycroft.

That's where the fun begins, because those two started arguing about fucking Christmas celebration, that Sherlock obviously decided to ignore. Then they proceeded to argue about whose fault it is that 'mummy' is angry.

Yes, they are brothers.

Also – Mycroft reads my blog and saw it fit to warn me that I should stop using swear words. He says it's unbecoming.

You know what, Mycroft?

You are a fucking lunatic. You are an pompous ass and idiotic bastard. And if that's not enough, I will ask Harry to tell me new swear words when she finally wakes up from her fever-induced haze.

Back to Sherlock. He's kind of cool, when he actually talks to you and not just about you in front of you.

I just hope we are not officially dating right now, because I have never dated a guy and he never dated and it would be a fucking mess.

It's almost midnight now and I have to get up earlier tomorrow, because I am meeting Ella.

I went out to chat with the underground net again and got some info about the whereabouts of my dearest Mr. Ostranski. He is studying to become a priest.

Fucking shit.

He is a fucking priest. Is that even possible for someone to change so much? From a fucking murderer and generally abusive bastard to person whose quest is to help people?

Well he did have a lot of time to think. I am twenty-eight now, that means he had been imprisoned for 19 years.

Is that possible?

I want to talk to him. I so badly want to talk to him. But I want to fucking punch him and kill him and destroy him, just like he destroyed us back then, even more. And I don't trust myself to stay calm.

I doubt I will be able to sleep very well today, but I have to at least try.