5th January
I should stop writing the blog. Honestly.
Today – Sherlock invited himself over and made himself at home on my (our? Since Harry is obviously now living with me) couch, sprawling in a way that was more than a bit provocative. And he asked me – or demanded me – to tell him about the little 'war' I am making and about Adam Ostranski. The cups I was carrying fell down from my hands.
Of course he didn't stop asking, even though I told him to let it go. I had to threaten him to stop every physical contact between us to make him shut about things.
I am not telling him. Ever. That's not his problem.
Harry came into the room, took in the way Sherlock was occupying the couch, squealed and ran out of the flat, probably going to hide by Clara's.
Sherlock was watching it with amusement, and proceeded to pull me onto himself with a grin. I kissed him, watching him as he shattered beneath my hands. He is delightfully sensitive and responsive.
At the end we somehow managed to laze the day away on the couch and watching Doctor Who – I managed to persuade Sherlock to try it, and he not-surprisingly criticized every second scene and surprisingly liked it.
It was late evening when I realized just what was he trying to do, as he refused to leave even though I tried telling him I had work to do. He just gave me a smirk, commenting that I 'can't really go out playing soldiers and leave his guest alone'. I told him he wasn't a guest, because he invited himself and he started explaining about etiquette and things.
I used the newly-found way of shutting him up – kiss him.
Harry came back in that moment, saying "Oh god, boys! You are still snogging?" did I say she is delightfully tactful?
Sherlock threw his usual amount of insults her way, which made her throw her pen at him. Just like children, they are.
While they were shouting and throwing things at each other, I managed to sneak out of the flat, going onto my usual walk.
That is another thing to write about – I got into a fight, which was honestly interesting. Three nervous teen boys thought me to be an easy pray, just because I was walking around the less welcoming streets of London.
It was actually quite fun to brush up my shantung skills, which I don't usually do, because I have to take care of the injuries after that. I didn't. It was irresponsible and unkind and horrid of me, but I just looked over them to see that their injuries weren't that serious and turned to leave.
I didn't. One of those kids called after me and in the end, I agreed to teach them fight, if they promised to join me. I sent them to one of the bases with a promise I will be there tomorrow.
That saved me one walk, because they agreed to take my message and then text me the answer. They would be the only ones in that base having a phone, which would automatically make them my link.
I returned home few minutes after midnight, noticing both Harry and Sherlock asleep on the couch, so I just repositioned them into position, that wouldn't hurt their backs and necks, threw a blanket over them and went to soak in a shower.
Dripping wet and finally not smelling that bad I crawled into my bed and got my laptop and phone.
Boys sent me a message that everything is 'ok' so I think I can go to sleep now.