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Muse Attitudes Today
Sherlock: *just contentedly eating and working on his case*
Martin: *sipping blood and doing paperwork, far away from Morse*
Morse: *is currently hiding under the covers of his bed, feeling awful and sickly*
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Me interacting with my muses:
me: Sherlock! Hi!
Sherlock: Unless you have a case or food, go away.
me: Uh...okay...Martin! How are you holding up?
Martin: Fine! Everything's great! I might need a feeding soon, though.
me: Okay, I'm on it. Morse?
Morse: *solving a murder*
me: Morse!
Morse: *playing with Tosca*
me: MORSE!
Morse: *listening to opera*
me: Endeavour!
Morse: What?
me: How are you holding up?
Morse: *sighs and goes back to ignoring me*
me: Yup. They're all in character!
Tempted to just go up to Anderson and say "penis" to his face.
I am not amused by any pathetic people who would choose to dictate my life choices or those of any others. They are disgusting, less than human, and most importantly, feed off of hate.
At the moment, I am trying to fight off my seething anger. Nothing upsets my digestion more than homegrown idiots.
((Wow, so fat shamers are picking on RP blogs now? What up with that?))
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Holiday in Paris: CLOSED
Sherlock was just finishing up the last of his packing. He was waiting for John to get back from his last shift at the surgery before they had to catch their flight. The shift was odd, in the middle of the night for what Sherlock assumed was A&E calls. Midnight until in the morning. His poor love would be exhausted.
Sherlock checked John's bag, trying to put himself in the mind of his lover. It seemed that John had everything he needed. Sherlock grabbed the emergency kit from its place in the kitchen and stuffed that into John's bag for safe keeping.
No matter. By seven, they would be on their flight to Paris and all would be well.
