December 20: "Sherlock attempts to deduce what Lestrade got Gregson for Christmas this year." (from Wordwielder)
"Mind your own business, old fellow," said Watson gently.
Holmes gave a derisive snort. "Need I remind you that I make my living poking into others' affairs? This is a perfectly harmless activity."
They were in the sitting room at 221b, nearly ready to depart for the Scotland Yard Christmas party. Lestrade was going to accompany them, but when he arrived, he quickly realized he had forgotten the bottle of wine he intended to bring, and so made the (perhaps shortsighted) decision to entrust his small bag of gifts to Holmes and Watson while he went to fetch it.
Holmes reached in the bag and plucked out a sloppily wrapped rectangular package and laughed. "Why, the ink is easily twice as smudged on this package as all the others; written hastily and sloppily. Although, Gregson cannot complain; I would not be at all surprised if he has no gift at all for Lestrade."
"It would seem to be a book," said Watson, his curiosity at last overcoming his misgivings.
"Of course it is a book," Holmes replied. "It is only a question of what sort."
Watson leaned in closer. "A journal? A monograph? A work of fiction, perhaps?"
"It is difficult to say for certain," Holmes replied. "Given the label, though, not to mention the wrapping, very little effort was put into this purchase. I recall that Lestrade enjoys stopping by a particular bookshop, Mortimer's, on his way home from the Yard on Fridays, usually browsing but occasionally making a purchase. The window display in that establishment has contained an inexpensive journal bound in brown leather, advertised to be selling at half price. I suspect it is this that he has given Gregson."
"That seems a bit of a stretch." Watson shook his head. "Well, we shall have to wait and see."
When Gregson opened his gift and revealed a brown leather journal, one or two of those gathered noted the knowing look exchanged by Holmes and Watson, but none knew what it meant.