"Hello cupcake" a voice sounds from just outside the doorway and Greg looks up from his paperwork.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" he smiles at the unexpected visitor, standing up and walking around his desk to met him at the open door.
"I was driving by and realised you'd be on your break in a few minutes and decided I should take my darling Browneyes out for lunch" Mycroft explains, leaning down to give his lover a soft kiss in greeting.
"Oh, now. That. That is just-" the two men turn around to see John looking at Sherlock in concern. The consulting detective (who Greg recognizes as the speaker) has stopped himself with a hand pressed firmly to his mouth. He looks faintly green, and his shoulders tremble every so often - like he's forcing himself not to heave.
"What's wrong? Sherlock?" Greg questions and Mycroft chuckles.
"He's talking about our pet-names, dearest"
Sherlock whimpers pathetically around his palm and turns and runs for the nearest bathroom, pushing desperately past an irate Anderson as he goes. They all stare at the door Sherlock slams behind him, and wince together as a group as the sound of violent retching reaches them, quickly getting loud enough for the entire office floor to hear.
"What the hell's his problem now?" Anderson turns and asks the assembled men.
John shrugs, looking slightly bemused.
"Apparently Sherlock's allergic to pet-names"
A slightly worrying light flicks on in Anderson's eyes and he raises his eyebrows in mock sympathy.
"Oh really? Poor thing." He breaks into a grin that wouldn't look entirely out of place on a velociraptor before turning away, a skip in his step that wasn't present before.
"Oh Sally-bear? Where have you got to Snookums?"
The other day I was derping around on the ever so wonderful Cabin-Pressure and I came across some lovely artwork by roanoah - being rather bored, I asked if could use and abuse her talent to practice my photoshop colouring. What can I say? i'm like a four year old with a box of crayons. Anyway, HERE is the link to the gorgeous originals; please do go and comment, as they deserve all the love you can give! The coloured versions are below.
Have a slightly scary, but oh-so-brilliant Arthur gif.
I'm currenly at University, studying all the things that I (supposedly) love - and i'm not enjoying it at all. These are meant to be the best years of my life and at the moment, I just want to press fast forward. It's like a movie i've never seen before, and I'm at a really dull part and so I skip the scene, not knowing what comes next. What if the next scene's even worse? Everything just seems so boring. Nothing excites me anymore. I just feel heavy and tired and aimless. All my friends have plans; they know where they're going and who they're going with and when they're going to stop and head out into the real world as adults.
And I got nothing. Seriouly, I have no freaking clue.
I have no idea what I want to do for a career, where I want to live or even if I want to keep studying. I'm considering dropping out and god isn't that awful? To have wasted nearly an entire year, just to think in August 'I fucking hate this'. So I go and look at Au Pair websites and Gap Year websites - and I don't like the look of that either. I don't particularly want to work with kids. Which is even better, because at the moment the only thing I can think to do with the Arts degree I'm meant to be studying towards is fucking teaching.
I was looking at an essay that I was meant to hand in three days ago, trying to bring myself to type it and I thought to myself - this shouldn't be this hard. I'm meant to enjoy this. I'm at university; isn't the whole point of university to have a good time with friends and to immerse yourself in something you love doing?
Because that's not what's happened to me. I get along with people, sure - but I don't have any best friends here. They're all off, doing their thing whilst I just sit here and try to force myself to write about a subject that, half a year ago, I could have written pages on.
Right now I've got 77 words.
And they're not even very good.
(scrap that; they're fucking awful. Like, really, really bad. Like, something you'd see in middleschool).
I feel worried and stressed all the time. And if I don't, I'm only ok. My whole life is one great big 'meh'. I'm never just happy anymore - I can't remember the last time I laughed at something and it didn't feel scripted - like I was laughing because that's the correct response. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard I cried and my stomach hurt. I used to laugh all the time; it's what I love so much about my friends (yes, the one's with the plans). Because I'm writing like they're all very serious people - and they're not. They're bloody ridiculous. Last year one of them kidnapped me as a joke and the others stood and laughed as I was dragged across the schoolyard. We used to tell stupid jokes until we couldn't breath from laughing. And I haven't done that in a very, very long time. The littlest thing will set me off - I'll be absolutely okay one moment and then, all I want to do is go hide alone in my room, waiting for my now invisible friends to hug me. Our group was a very touchy-feely group at school. We'd sit all over each other at lunch; boys and girls alike. It was nice. I knew them - as cliche as it is, we went through hell and back together.
I don't have any friends like that now. No one i'm that comfortable with; no one I can hug simply because I feel like it, no one I can fall asleep on their should, no one who'll tip the couch I fall asleep on just for a laugh. I miss being able to hug them whenever I feel like it. I miss not being beaten down by every little thing, again and again.
It's like every time I finish an assignment or get over something that's pissed me off, another something falls into place. Another assignment on a subject I used to be interested in. Another deadline to worry over. Another moment where I swear and curse and cry because it shouldn't be this difficult to write a fucking 1200 word essay. Another moment where I let the deadline pass because I can't bring myself to care. And I want to care, I really do. This is my future. I want a future. I just don't know how to get it without feeling like I'm being forcefed molten glass. I'm spending thousands upon thousands of dollars on a future that I can't picture, on an education that I can't bring myself to care about and on someone that I don't want to be. I don't want to be this person.
I want to travel, and meet people, and make a difference in people's lives. I want to write about things I love and I want to paint and most of all I just want to be happy.
And I'm not. I'm really, really not. I'm bored and sad and feel heavy and useless and constricted and I don't know why. I don't know what I should do, or where I should go. I'm being pathetic and emo and I fucking hate it, but that's just to god damn bad because what else can I do?
I want a plan. One that I actually want. One that will work for me, because nothing else will.
Currently, I'm ignoring my studies in favour of being sick and tired and sniffly. BUT, when I do manage to drag my arse out into the world, I'm studying towards a Bachelor of Arts, double majoring in English and Art History.
Ah, I hear you say. A Bachelor of Arts? How very useful. Are you going to be a teacher then?
First things first: I have no fucking clue what I want to be when I 'grow up'. I never have. I've entertained brief fancies of being an actress (don't have the looks) or a world famous football player (never mind that I'm about as athletic as a four day old piece of toast) but have I ever honestly had any serious thoughts about what I want to do with my life?
I tend to think of things like 'changing the world' and 'making a difference' and 'being happy' - all unhelpfully ambiguous terms for what I want out of life. After finishing High School last year, I simply decided that studying was something I knew; something I was (vaguely) good at - might as well get a degree whilst I'm waiting for inspiration to strike. So here I am, nearly 3/4s of the way through my first year at University, studying subjects I love, and trying out some new ones, like Psychology (ew) and Philosophy (I haven't seen arguing like this since... well, ever. Not the useless swearing I'm used to, but rather thought out arguments that go around and around in circles just the same. At least that's familiar).
I've got assignments to procrastinate on, notes to tidy up and lectures to sleep through. I'm enjoying all of it - well, okay. Most of it. But I have no idea where it's leading. So, to answer the question truthfully (if a bit whimsically) I'm just going to leave it at this.
I'm studying things I love, with a dabbling of things I just enjoy and some I don't like at all. Maybe I'll follow that media course and become a columnist? Or perhaps I'll work in an art gallery in Italy somewhere.
Bugger it. Maybe I'll just become a teacher.