I stood awkwardly at the counter, watching Archie bounce on the balls of his feet.
"Careful!" I told him. "That water is BOILING hot."
"I know, GFS!" He said, placing it on the table with immaculate care. I appreciated that.
GFS, by the way, stands for Godfather Sherlock. It's what he's been calling me for two days now. I don't want to shoot him down by correcting it, and also,-but don't you dare tell anyone I said this-I kind of liked it when he called me that. It's nice to be appreciated.
"Do you want me to-"
"No, GFS! Let me do it!"
He poured sugar into the bowl, licking up most of it on the way. There goes my experiment. Oh well. I didn't really mind.
He opened the packet with some difficulty, and then poured it into the bowl. We put it in the fridge.
We sat on the couch while we were waiting, and then Archie turned to me.
"GFS, I have something to show you! May I please go get it?"
"Of Course you can, Archie."
Well, at least he had manners.
When he came in, I admitted I had to laugh. Around his neck he wore the most ridiculously knitted and hastily made blue scarf. It looked like It had been made my a drunk hedgehog-and believe me, I know what I'm talking about. But I didn't say any of that out loud. What I did say was "Come here Archie, let me fix that for you."
What have I done? Did I just tell the small child that I knitted? Even John didn't know that. Even MYCROFT didn't know that! Oh well. It wasn't the first cat I'd let out of the bag this week. He sat on my lap and we fixed up his scarf until it looked just like mine, minus a few loose threads here and there.
"Thank you so much, GFS! Now we're twinsies!"
That night, after tucking him into bed, I went and sat in my favorite armchair with a bowl of jello, which I had to admit I was enjoying. After a few minutes, I took the scarf off my neck and started tugging at a few of the threads. It's perfection had started annoying me.
"Thank you, GSA," I whispered.
