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mama-orion · 8 years ago

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Sacre Coeur, chapter 3

Chapter one & chapter two Lots more to come, dear readers, though the timing of the next chapter depends on how well middle-of-the-night writing works out this week. This one begged to happen today. Thank you for your comments and likes. You keep me right.

~ ~ ~

John slowly drifts up from the blackness of deep, leaden sleep. He can still feel Sherlock’s arms around him, the warmth of his chest pressing against his back, can still feel his breath and tears on his neck. How long was I asleep? Couldn’t have been but a few minutes. But John feels… warm.

Warm. Soft bed. Smells like… home.

With a lurch of vertigo, John peels open eyes that are sticky and resistant, then squeezes them shut against blinding brightness. Though his body feels as heavy as granite, his heart is racing. Where is the forest? The mad sister? What the bloody hell is going on?

“Mrm.”

He feels Sherlock’s full-body twitch against his back as he suddenly wakes and—

“…John?” a hoarse whisper, then, “John!” a cry, his deep voice cracking, Sherlock lurching up from behind him. Long hands on his shoulder, feather-soft on his face, his hair. “Can you hear me? John, please, please be awake.”

“Mmph.”

“John!” The joy in Sherlock’s voice squeezes something inside John’s chest. It’s the delight he only ever hears when Sherlock’s solved a really tricky 9, or discovered a string of serial suicides have turned serial killer, or when…

…when he’s just saved John from a dangerous spot and he’s gotten him back, alive.

Feeling like he’s just swum the English Channel, John squints into the brightness and turns his head toward his friend. The tiny motion sends a terrific drumbeat of pain across his temple. From close by, Sherlock’s voice is sympathetic, though he's grinning so hard his glittering eyes are almost lost in the folds.

“Ah, headache, yes, that should last about twenty minutes. And you’ll be feeling intensely—“

“Wh…. water.”

“—thirsty. Here, let’s sit you up.”

John feels like he’s woken with the flu from a fevered sleep. Sherlock scoops him up from under his arms and props him against the pillows—pillows?—presses a straw to his lips. John gulps the water, can’t drink it fast enough to slake the thirst that’s clawing at his parched mouth. He tries to take the cup, but finds he still can’t make his fingers do as he asks and gratefully lets Sherlock hold the cup until he’s drained it. High-functioning sociopath, indeed.

“Better?”

“Mm. Ta,” he croaks. “Where…” He squints into the brightness and suddenly his eyes fly open.

He’s in Sherlock’s bedroom. In Sherlock’s bed. But it’s all been transformed—tables cluttered with lab equipment, an IV stands nearby. His eyes goggle. “What…” Sherlock is sitting right at his side, watching him closely, and gently places his hands on John’s shoulders. His voice is slow and patient, like when they were in the well.

“It’s okay, John, you’re safe. We’re at 221B. In my room.” His brow briefly furrows. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get you into your old room, but there wasn’t a lot of time. It was better for the equipment to be near the kitchen, anyhow, for the water source.”

Sherlock’s talking nonsense. But his face, hovering before him, makes John catch his breath. It’s grayish and lined, hollows under his eyes, tear-stained, a solid grizzle of beard darkening his usually sharp, smooth jaw. He looks utterly wrecked. Except that he’s positively glowing with relief. John blinks and blinks.

“How’d you get us… away from the well?” His voice is rough, unused. Talking makes his head pound harder, but he pushes past it. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrow again and he bites his lip, takes a small hiss of air, searches his eyes.

“Where were you, just now?”

John’s solar plexus prickles with panic. How could he not know? “Sherlock, we were just in a well. I was chained and the water was rising and…” Fumbling, John pulls aside the blanket to inspect his right leg, which should, by his account, be purpling with bruises where he kicked against the cuff. But his skin is plain, unmarred. He huffs, shaking his head with disbelief.

“John. Slow down. You’ve just woken. My god, John. You’ve actually woken…” and to his utter surprise Sherlock’s face crumples as he folds him into a fierce embrace. Despite the vertigo and confusion, John closes his eyes and leans into him, his racing heartbeat easing. I don’t know what’s happening, but he’s still here. And this… He breathes him in. This is good.

There’s a deep sniff and Sherlock pulls away, suddenly looking self-conscious and avoiding John’s eyes. He busies himself by pouring another cup of water and offering it to John, whose hands have woken up enough to support it if he uses both of them. Dazed from the hug, he drinks a while, watching Sherlock fidget with the equipment by his bedside. Finally, the thirst eases and John carefully places the cup on the bedside table. It feels like a notable achievement. His mind feels clearer, though the headache pounds on. John tries to catch his eyes.

“Just tell me what happened, how you got us back here.”

Sherlock fidgets with the edge of his blanket. Sucking in a gulp of air as if he’s about to dive deep under water, Sherlock finally meets his eyes. “John, we never left. We were attacked. You have been in a drugged sleep for several days, enduring, if my own experience is any reference, highly disturbing and lucid nightmares.”

John startles, blinks hard. “Drugged. Seriously?”

Sherlock sighs, shifting on the edge of the bed. “Both of us. But it affected me differently, only lasting a few hours. The effects were unpleasant to say the least. We were both rendered unconscious. I had a short period of vivid nightmares, woke with headache and thirst. I imagine you feel a bit like you’ve been hit by a lorry.”

“Mm.” John squirms slightly at the feverish ache in all of his limbs.

“I woke first and found you in your chair, still unconscious. I made you comfortable, figured you’d come round any moment while I dashed around calling my network, calling Mycroft to begin pursuit…” he grimaces. “Wait. I’ll get to that.” His face falls, radiating guilt. “I wish you’d woken first, with your medical instincts. I should have noticed right away you were in distress. We rushed you to Bart’s–”

“The ambulance–” John blurts out. “I remember you in my ambulance. So that part wasn’t a dream. You were…” John’s voice trails off because he remembers Sherlock had been holding his hand tightly while the paramedics worked on him. He’d looked over briefly to see his stricken face. And then more darkness, more nightmares.

“It’s as if you had an allergic reaction to it. Your body didn’t seem to want to be woken.” He turns away, hands balling into fists. “We tried so many things, ran rounds of toxicology screenings. We knew after 24 hours that there wasn’t any residue of the drug left in your system. Our bloodwork matched. But I couldn’t find the pattern.” There is self-loathing in his tone. “You stabilized. But you wouldn’t wake. For days you wouldn’t wake. It’s as though you were… trapped.”

John nods slowly. “I was.”

Sherlock studies him quietly, then looks away, suddenly shy. “We switched to alternative methods of waking you. It was Molly’s idea, actually. I made an arrangement with Mycroft–”

“Mycroft? What in hell has he got to do with–”

“I promise, John, I’ll get to that. He wasn’t in favor of our plan at all, but I was…convincing.”

John blinks, taking in the cluttered lab spread out in the room, suddenly comprehending.

“You… brought me home.”

“Yes.”

John’s chest squeezes very tightly, lips pulling into a thin line.

“While I could continue looking for a cure, we hoped that my… presence, coupled with the familiar setting, stimulating sound, would reassure the part of your mind that had barricaded you in, keeping you safe from further harm.”

“Stimulating sound? Oh…” John blinks, making the connections. “You played your violin for me.”

Sherlock smiles sheepishly. “When we lived together, I would often play outside your door when you had nightmares. It seemed to soothe you.”

“I remember,” John hums. “It always helped. And yes. I... I heard music, where I was. You and your crazy sister were playing duets while she plotted to destroy us.”

Sherlock shakes his head wonderingly. “Where have you been, Dr. Watson?”

John scrubs his face with his hands, taps is forehead which makes him grimace.

“Yea, I’ll be needing some help to sort out all the nonsense in here.”

“And not all of it nonsense, I’m afraid,” Sherlock mutters. John looks up, suddenly remembering.

“You were asking me to wake up, you know. After you’d wrapped me up in your coat.” He feels a blush creeping up his neck and decides not to divulge that part. “Didn’t make any sense in the… the dream.” It hurts to admit it, he realizes. The relief collides with a curious grief that all of Sherlock’s heroic actions in the well didn’t actually happen. He takes in the makeshift lab, the room incongruously well-equipped with nursing supplies. Well, maybe not exactly.

Sherlock blinks rapidly, digesting this.

“So, you heard me.” He grins. “I talked to you every day, read to you, told you all sorts of things, probably drove you mad—would have been fine if it drove you to wake up, tell me to shut it. It was very important that you regain consciousness today, so yes, I was…imploring you to wake up. I made an agreement with Mycroft that if I couldn’t rouse you in three days I’d allow you to be moved to a secure facility. It felt wrong to send you there. I had to wake you.”

“So you found the antidote, then?”

“I didn’t, John. You just. Woke up.” They are silent for several heartbeats. John holds Sherlock’s gaze.

“You were... holding me. In my dream. And when I woke.”

It’s Sherlock’s turn to redden and turn away. “Yes. Human contact was part of our… hypothesis.”

“Your hypothesis?” He can’t help but smirk at Sherlock’s discomfort. “So, did Molly hold me, too?”

Sherlock looks aghast. “Certainly not.”

They are quiet for a long time as John absorbs Sherlock’s words.

“It worked, you know.”

“Hm?” It’s been so many minutes that Sherlock seems to have drifted off, lost the thread. John feels a twinge when he sees how exhausted he is. I’ve been his latest case. Bet he hasn’t had a night’s sleep or a proper meal for days.

“Your…techniques. They worked. You pulled me out. Literally. From a well.” The halting words tumble out. “I was so alone. Doesn’t take a great leap to see I was stuck in my head, chained, drowning, calling to you. But you found me, just before… before I went under. You held me up, helped me breathe, made me a harness and kept me warm. And then I fell asleep, and woke up… here. With you.” John’s nostrils flare and he sets his jaw. “You rescued me. Brilliantly, Sherlock. There, and here.” He takes a long shuddering breath. “If I’d died in that dream, I’m certain it would have been fairly permanent.”

The strangeness is too much. John folds his knees into his chest and buries his head, raking at his hair. Sherlock blinks rapidly as he absorbs this information.

“I rescued you. In your dream. Oh.”

Sherlock reaches out, tentatively presses a hand on John’s foot through the blanket. When John doesn’t twitch away, he experiments with keeping it there. John lifts his head and appraises Sherlock, thunder in his eyes.

“So go on, then. Tell me. Who did this to us?”

Sherlock is suddenly filled with an agitated energy and pushes off the bed, pacing the room.

“Please, this is complicated. Are you thirsty? Do you need–”

“Sherlock, you’re stalling. Out with it.”

Sherlock scrubs his face while he paces. “It’s… You’ve only just woken. And even though I’ve been going over and over it in my mind, I’m still not sure how best to tell you without–” His voice catches and he stops, drops his gaze to his feet. John can see the strain and exhaustion etched into his face.

“Without…what? And will you sit? You’re worn through. And making me nervous.” Reluctantly Sherlock returns to his perch on the edge of the bed, a careful space between them. “Thank you. Now. Explain.”

…

“John. You have been removed from certain truths for… for such a long time. It was horrible, keeping them from you. But the alternative was unbearable. Unacceptable.” He turns away, hands balling into fists. “All I have done, John, I have done to keep you safe. But it is quite possible and even justifiable that when I have told you everything, and I intend to tell you everything, you will want nothing to do with me. Not ever again.”

He stops, hunches his shoulders protectively, closing his eyes, steeling himself for the wave of John’s anger. He knows how much John hates being lied to, hates being left out. But the silence stretches on and still it doesn’t come.

Instead a hesitant hand, trembling with the simple effort of moving across the sheet, rests on top of his. He twitches slightly at the touch, his fist uncurling, then looks back at John, confused. John’s eyes glitter and his expression is baffling. His voice is unexpectedly soft.

“Sherlock, a short time ago I was drowning. Utterly real. And while as I was in that freezing water, I went through everyone in my head I should be struggling to stay alive for.” He gives Sherlock’s hand a small squeeze. “Maybe I was in this bed the whole time, warm and safe, but to me, Sherlock, it was reality. And so was every thought I had.”

He ducks his chin to catch his eyes. Sherlock sucks in his breath and makes himself brave them, because John woke up when I pulled him from a well. The blue of his irises is a color he was not sure he’d get to see again. He feels a throb in his chest.

“So whatever you’re about to tell me, Sherlock, I’d like you to tell me here." John pulls very lightly at Sherlock’s hand. "No truth you tell me is going to frighten me away. Not anymore.”

Wondering if perhaps he’s now the one dreaming, Sherlock shifts back onto the mattress slowly, gingerly settling next to John, shoulder and arm and thigh touching. Invited. It's different than when John was asleep. I’m shaking.

John folds Sherlock's hand into his and holds it like iron, then leans closer, settling against Sherlock’s shoulder. With a shiver and a spasm of breath, Sherlock drops his chin to rest on John’s soft hair, breathes in the scent of him. Moth wings unfold in his chest. This is a catalyst. John brushes his thumb over the soft skin of Sherlock’s palm, sending a shiver from toe to scalp. We can’t go back. What new chain reaction are they tumbling through? What comes after this? Whatever it is, it feels like home.

They sit very quietly. Where a moment ago Sherlock was ready to explain himself out of John’s life, now his mind is curiously blank while it catalogs the warmth and pressure of each place John has willingly pressed his body against his own.

…

“Thank you.” John hums a sigh. Sherlock gradually relaxes against him, his breath slowing. Look at us. John sleepily watches their fingers braided together, very slowly exploring knuckle, fingertip, palm. Something changed in the well. It’s as if some vital part inside of him, something that was loose and rattling, has settled into its place. It's the most peaceful he's felt in, well, in years. His eyelids droop closed, craving a simpler, natural sleep. His mind drifts.

In the bright afternoon light of Sherlock’s room, leaning into the man who has saved him, memories begin bobbing to the surface of John’s mind. He scrutinizes them, begins to feel the difference between the true memories and the dreams. The nightmares lack dimension. Upon closer inspection, they crackle apart into irrational logic. Like that wild one where Mrs. Hudson careened to his therapists’ in a sports car, Sherlock drugged in the boot, helicopters trailing. Or that awful one where he was hurting Sherlock, god, hurting him so badly in a morgue. Bloody hell. He leans against Sherlock and feels him lean back, which sends an effervescent ripple through his stomach. It steadies him. He is safe.

A dam bursts. A dark wave of memory floods John’s mind. Real memories.

Christ. He stares up at the ceiling, jaw working, seething. I knew. Knew all along.

John breaths in sharply, coming back to himself, and finds Sherlock watching him carefully. He’s worried. John gives Sherlock’s hand another reassuring squeeze and swallows hard.

“It’s okay,” he says very quietly, the anger a crackling current just below the surface of his words. “I remember now. It was Mary. She did this to us.”

___

Tagging those who liked/shared earlier chapters, because I’m a cliff-hanger jerk and when I’m reading a story I rage at the writer who leaves me hanging…

@clace-morgenstern-herondale71 @brilliantorinsane @tqosaw @tagnent @theseobsessions @is-that-a-designer @getwaterdamage @sherlockisnolongeravailable @min2chin @joynvrs @pinkrose423 @ineedhugz @allyhockeyfan @noshit-sherlovk

#fanfic #johnlock #fixitfic #sacrecoeurfic

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howardmackenzie75 · 5 years ago

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M25 crash: Air ambulance called to serious collision near Reigate involving two lorries and car

A driver of a car collided with a bridge barrier and two lorries from Surrey Live - Surrey News https://www.getsurrey.co.uk/news/surrey-news/m25-crash-air-ambulance-called-18220995

#Surrey Live - Surrey News

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abetheone · 5 years ago

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Vintage car driver, 80, dies when his 1903 classic vehicle collides with HGV lorry on M23

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Vintage car driver, 80, dies when his 35mph 1903 classic vehicle collides with HGV lorry on M23 on day of London to Brighton rally

Police are currently at the scene and the M23 has been closed in both directions

An air ambulance was in attendance as well as paramedics and the fire brigade

By Terri-ann Williams For Mailonline

Published: 09:19 EST, 3 November 2019 | Updated: 09:32 EST,…

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bharatiyamedia-blog · 5 years ago

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YouTube Star Emily Hartridge Useless At 35 After Electrical Scooter Accident In London

http://tinyurl.com/yxbv25qe That is completely horrifying, particularly with somebody so younger and energetic… Ugh… Emily Hartridge, a notable British YouTube star, private coach, and TV host, has handed away after being concerned in an obvious electrical scooter accident on Friday afternoon in London. She was simply 35 years previous. Related: Here’s Why It’s Important To Talk To Your Kids About Death The loss of life was confirmed on Saturday afternoon by somebody on her Instagram account, who shared the message with the world and shocked Hartridge’s longtime followers and followers. The message on the IG submit stated, in full (under): “Hello everybody. This can be a horrible factor to need to say over Instagram however we all know a lot of you had been anticipating to see Emily at the moment and that is the one approach to contact you all of sudden. Emily was concerned in an accident yesterday and handed away. All of us beloved her to bits and she’s going to by no means be forgotten. She has touched so many lives it’s exhausting to think about issues with out her. She was a really particular individual xxx.” So, so terrible. As you possibly can see within the precise submit (under), hundreds of followers commented with their condolences and disappointment upon listening to the information, too: Such a shock… so, so terrible. In line with The Guardian, London’s Metropolitan Police Service launched particulars late Friday of an incident involving a girl on an electrical scooter, and a truck, which apparently collided at an intersection within the metro space (under): “Police had been known as at 08:36hrs on Friday, 12 July to reviews of an electrical scooter being in collision with a lorry at Queenstown Street, junction with Battersea Park Street SW8. Officers and London Ambulance Service attended. A lady in her 30s had suffered critical accidents and was sadly pronounced useless on the scene.” Regardless that Hartridge herself was not named within the assertion there, reviews have confirmed that she was the sufferer. Extra media consideration is bound to come back from right here, too, as The Guardian can be reporting that that is the “first deadly collision involving an e-scooter in Britain.” Hartridge had been on YouTube for years and had since transitioned in the direction of a rising profession as a TV host throughout Britain. Her passing was mourned by many fellow creators and YouTubers who knew her — and even those that beloved her work and her ardour from afar. Even the YT Creators Twitter account mourned her passing with a particular message on Saturday (under): We’re deeply saddened to be taught concerning the tragic lack of a really gifted British creator, Emily Hartridge. Our ideas and condolences exit to all of her family members and followers. — YouTube Creators (@YTCreators) July 13, 2019 So, so stunning and unhappy. Our ideas are with Hartridge’s boyfriend, household, pals, family members, and followers. R.I.P, Emily… [Picture through YouTube] Source link

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gyrlversion · 6 years ago

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Driver caught up in traffic jam after crash finds victim is girlfriend

Driver, 23, caught up in a huge traffic jam after a fatal motorway crash finds the victim is his 24-year-old girlfriend

Cristian Miculaiciuc among thousands stuck in a queues after a crash on the M5

It later emerged his partner Sorina Gheorghe, in a different vehicle, was killed

Police called him after he had been queuing for an hour to tell him she had died

Ms Gheorghe was driving to work when a 4×4 collided with her car at 5.40am

By Joe Middleton For Mailonline

Published: 13:14 EDT, 15 April 2019 | Updated: 14:07 EDT, 15 April 2019

A driver caught up in a huge traffic jam after a fatal motorway crash was horrified to discover the victim was his girlfriend.

Cristian Miculaiciuc, 23, was among thousands of drivers stuck in queues after the early-morning smash on the M5 on April 3.

Tragically, it later emerged his partner Sorina Gheorghe, who was in a different vehicle, had died earlier that day.

Cristian Miculaiciuc (pictured with Sorina Gheorghe) was among thousands of drivers stuck in queues after the early-morning smash on the M5 on April 3

Tragically, it later emerged his partner Sorina Gheorghe, who was in a different vehicle, had died. Ms Gheorghe was driving to work in Aston to inspect Jaguar parts when the collision with a 4×4 took place at around 5.40am

Police called Cristian after he’d been queuing for an hour to inform him his 24-year-old girlfriend had been killed when a 4×4 collided with her car.

Ms Gheorghe was driving to work in Aston to inspect Jaguar parts when the collision took place at around 5.40am.

Bystanders and an off-duty paramedic rushed to help but she was pronounced dead at the scene.

Two men from the 4×4 were unhurt and the carriageway was closed for more than six hours – sparking chaos for commuters.

Mr Miculaiciuc was caught up in the huge queues unaware his girlfriend had been killed in the collision ahead.

The 23-year-old said: ‘When the accident happened I was stuck in the queue in the back for hours with the lorry having no power to help her or to get there.

‘I got on the M5 about 9am but it happened at 5.40am.

‘I was doing deliveries that way. I only found it out it was her an hour into sitting in the queue.’

It was then that officers from West Mercia Police rang Cristian to give him the horrifying news.

He added: ‘Police called me and her mum. Then we were diverted at the junction before the crash and I returned home.’

‘She was heading to work in Aston where she was inspecting Jaguar car parts.’

And he paid tribute to his Romanian girlfriend, who he had been with for over three years after meeting in the UK.

He added: ‘Sorina was very kind and loving, and she was a very hard worker.

‘She always had a positive attitude and did every little thing for us to be happy in her presence.’

The crash happened between junctions five, at Droitwich, and 4A, for the M42, on April 3.

A West Midlands Ambulance Service spokesman said: ‘On arrival, ambulance staff found a car that had suffered considerable damage.

‘An off duty paramedic and bystanders were trying to assist the car driver.

‘Unfortunately, despite all efforts, it was not possible to save her and she was confirmed dead at the scene.

‘Two men in the 4×4 were assessed but were unhurt and were discharged at the scene.’

West Mercia Police launched an investigation into the circumstances of the fatal crash.

Anyone with information or dashcam footage is urged to contact the force. Chief Supt Tom Harding previously said: ‘As the public would expect in such tragic cases, a thorough investigation has been launched to establish the circumstances behind the collision and our thoughts are with the families involved at this difficult time.

‘Enquiries are currently ongoing and we would encourage anyone who saw the collision or has dashcam footage of the moments leading up to it to come forward.’

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The post Driver caught up in traffic jam after crash finds victim is girlfriend appeared first on Gyrlversion.

from WordPress https://www.gyrlversion.net/driver-caught-up-in-traffic-jam-after-crash-finds-victim-is-girlfriend/

#Entertainment News

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skyebanks83 · 6 years ago

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Air ambulance lands after lorries collide

The Dartford Crossing was closed after two lorries collided heading towards Kent causing long delays. from KentOnline News https://www.kentonline.co.uk/dartford/news/air-ambulance-lands-after-lorries-collide-188782/

#KentOnline News

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robertmcangusgroup · 7 years ago

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The Daily Thistle

The Daily Thistle – News From Scotland

Wednesday 8th November 2017

"Madainn Mhath” …Fellow Scot, I hope the day brings joy to you…." Good Morning, from a very cold Estepona, Spain, thick jacket to walk Bella this morning… and regrets at not wearing gloves, the temperature is indicated to be 9c but with the wind blowing off the Mediterranean it feels a dam sight colder than that.. I would suspect we are looking at 7c again like yesterday, but no rain, and clear skies promised for the rest of the week.. all the winter cactus are coming out in flower and the Poinsettia flowers traditionally associated with winter and the Christmas season are all coming into bloom.. The Poinsettia is indigenous to Mexico and Central America. It is particularly well known for its red and green foliage and is widely used in Christmas floral displays. It derives its common English name from Joel Roberts Poinsett, the first United States Minister to Mexico, who introduced the plant into the United States in 1825…. Several plants were brought back to Spain by the Conquistadors and grow in profusion on the coast to huge sizes… So when someone asks where do Poinsettia come from, now you can tell them rather than say from the supermarket or the nursery down the street….. On that note let’s have a look at what’s happening in the world..

PATIENT SCANS BEING SENT FROM AMBULANCES IN NEW TRIAL…. Images of patients' injuries are being sent from ambulances to a hospital emergency department in a trial involving the European Space Agency. The technology allows hospital-based specialists to assess patients' condition and their needs before they arrive at A&E. Paramedics are able to send scans and videos from their vehicles to Raigmore Hospital in Inverness. The European Space Agency is part-funding the pilot called SatCare. The University of Aberdeen, NHS Highland and the Scottish Ambulance Service are testing the new technology. It enables paramedics to send high-quality video and ultrasound images ahead of a patient's arrival at Raigmore. This allows hospital-based specialists to provide expert advice to paramedics during long journeys and could potentially improve patients' treatment.

FIREFIGHTERS ATTACKED AFTER TACKLING BLAZE…. Police have launched an investigation after two firefighters were attacked while attending an emergency call in Midlothian. They were assaulted after tackling a fire on land near Dalkeith, but they were not injured and were able to finish their shift. They were part of a crew from Dalkeith that was mobilised to deal with the blaze at Lawfield Farm on Friday night. Station manager Andy McDermott said the attack was "completely unacceptable". He said: "I am pleased to report that the two firefighters didn't require medical attention and remained on duty. "Our firefighters' main purpose is to save lives. It's completely unacceptable that our firefighters have been physically assaulted when they have been trying to assist their communities. "This type of behaviour not only prevents our crews from bringing an emergency to a safe and successful conclusion, but it can impact on our emergency service colleagues, including the police when they have to escort us. It can't be condoned."

RELOCATED SQUIRRELS MOVING TO NEW AREAS, SAYS CHARITY…. Red squirrels relocated to woodlands in the north west Highlands are "flourishing and breeding", according to a conservation charity. More than 80 squirrels were trapped in other parts of the Highlands in phases of the project led by Findhorn-based Trees for Life. The animals were released in areas that had no squirrels, including Shieldaig. Tree for Life said many of the squirrels were not only breeding but also spreading to other new areas. Becky Priestley, the charity's wildlife officer, said: "Early indications are that this could be a real wildlife success story. "The new squirrel populations are not only flourishing and breeding in their new homes, they are also starting to spread out into new areas - with squirrels being sighted as far as 15km away." The project's initial relocations took place between the springs of 2016 and 2017, with the first 33 squirrels from near Inverness and also in Moray released at Shieldaig in Wester Ross. This was followed by 22 more released at the Coulin Estate next to Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve near Kinlochewe. Thirty squirrels were also released at Plockton, in Lochalsh, where the landowners include The National Trust for Scotland.

ROADWORKS ON A82 CAUSE 55-MILE DIVERSION…. Drivers are facing a 55-mile diversion with the closure of one of Scotland's busiest roads for 12 days of maintenance. The trunk road between Tarbet and Crianlarich has been shut, creating problems on the A82 near Loch Lomond. A crash barrier damaged in a lorry crash in May will be replaced during the £1m works. Part of the road will be resurfaced, drainage works carried out, signage replaced, and vegetation cut back. Construction firm Bear Scotland said it has invited other organisations to make full use of the road closure. Teams from 12 different contractors will be involved in the maintenance work, which also includes removing unstable walls and bridge repairs.

LOCKERBIE TO PENRITH POLICE CHASE DRIVER HIT 137MPH…. A man has appeared in court on a dangerous driving charge after a 40-mile cross-border chase which ended with his car crashing into a wall. Joseph Mjemer, 34, of Glasgow, admitted driving at speeds of up to 137mph on the motorway from Lockerbie to Penrith. Police on both sides of the Scotland-England border were involved in the chase on Thursday. A sheriff called for background reports and remanded Mjemer in custody for a month. Dumfries Sheriff Court heard how Mjemer collided with a marked police car on his way into Penrith. He then went into the town at speeds of up to 59mph, went along a one-way street in the wrong direction, overtook queuing traffic at a red light and collided with a road sign and a wall. He also pleaded guilty to driving without a valid licence and using a car without insurance. Solicitor Ranald Lindsay said Mjemer was travelling to London to see his son when the incident happened.

On that note I will say that I hope you have enjoyed the news from Scotland today,

Our look at Scotland today is of the Red Squirrels……

A Sincere Thank You for your company and Thank You for your likes and comments I love them and always try to reply, so please keep them coming, it's always good fun, As is my custom, I will go and get myself another mug of "Colombian" Coffee and wish you a safe Wednesday 8th November 2017 from my home on the southern coast of Spain, where the blue waters of the Alboran Sea washes the coast of Africa and Europe and the smell of the night blooming Jasmine and Honeysuckle fills the air…and a crazy old guy and his dog Bella go out for a walk at 4:00 am…on the streets of Estepona…

All good stuff....But remember it’s a dangerous world we live in

Be safe out there…

Robert McAngus

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