Although I left for my holiday thinking I never wanted to see Baker Street again, I missed it all, especially my dear friend. I opened the door, hung my hat, jogged up the stairs, and walked into the sitting room. I was relieved to find Holmes out. At least he was keeping busy.
There were three large packages and at least twenty different letters in a pile on my desk. On top of it all was a box of cigars and a note. "Watson, here is your mail. I'm sorry but I opened one, it looked interesting." -Holmes. I smiled.