4th December : From Catherine Spark - One of the Irregulars catapults something through the windowpane of 221B
Snowballs Are A Dangerous Weapon
When it has occasion to snow in our dear city, I feel almost as though I am catching a glimpse of what Watson was like in childhood - he certainly spent enough time roasting in army uniform and desert heat to justify intense relief in the extreme cold. And I must admit there is something rather pleasing in the effect produced on him by what seems to most such a commonplace occurrence.
"Come now, Holmes!" he asked of me this morning, after the Irregulars had begged him to join their snowball fight. "Surely you don't want to miss out on all the fun!?"
I shook my head. "No thank you Watson. I, along with the saner majority of London, far prefer the warmth of a lit fireplace to the chill of the city streets."
He shrugged, grinning, and headed outside where he was greeted with a raucous cheer that could be heard even through the closed windows of our living room. Soon I suppose the game must have been well underway. I say "must have" because after half an hour, during which time I smoked my pipe and read the agony columns in the paper at a leisurely pace, there was an almighty SMASH! and the window (thankfully on the other side of the room) shattered inwards.
I sighed. One of the Irregulars must have-
"DOCTOR WATSON!"
... or perhaps not.
I hurried over, picking my way carefully over the remnants of smashed window and now-melting snowball, to peer outside. Watson stood alone in the street, the Irregulars having apparently scattered at Mrs Hudson's furious bellow. She now stood nearly nose to nose with Watson, her glare something terrible to behold.
I chuckled and left them to it - "miss out on all the fun" indeed...