We have a spatula. We need pyrex bowls, baking sheets, tin foil, a hand mixer, a blender, pastry brushes, a large measuring jug, bowls for things like trifles and stuff, a garlic crusher and, well, a kitchen bin.
You don’t even have a bin? Where have you been putting your waste? Wait, don’t answer that. Sleeping in it, probably. Jeez, man. You’d best get cracking. I was planning for us to make cake.
Sometimes I have to stop, and sit down, and make myself a cup of tea, because I remember John Watson. John is extraordinary. Sherlock is extraordinary too, in the literal sense of the word; ‘very unusual or remarkable’. But Sherlock is a high-functioning sociopath with a mind like a supernova. He is by definition ‘very unusual or remarkable’. He can’t help it.
But John. John is just another bloke, one who believes in tea and justice and queen-and-country. But he’s also the kind of bloke who’d run towards the sound of screaming, who’d run head-first into a stupid war, who’d run to the scene of an accident with his sleeves rolled up, saying “stay calm, I’m a doctor.” John is thoroughly commonplace and utterly amazing. John is the word split down the middle. He is extra-ordinary.
Today as I was biking home, there was a police car on the shoulder of the road, with a speed thingy. Then, this pink Vespa with two men on it drove by really fast and there was this awesome chase for 10 seconds. They got pulled over.