A/N: My intrepid little donkey that can outstare Holmes has returned once again. His initial début was in chapter 8, titled Nativity.
Prompt from Wordwielder: Away in a manger
"Holmes, did you notice the donkey on the kerb outside?" Watson leaned in closer for a view of the furry beast of burden oscillating contentedly by the lamppost.
"He's been there," Holmes looked over at the mantle's clock, "thirty-seven minutes."
"Maybe he wants to consult you again?"
"I daresay that Mrs Hudson would not appreciate our visitor. She continues to look pointedly at the bullet marks in the wallpaper when she dusts." Holmes gave a slight grimace.
"Perhaps we should go out to him? He's persistent. And, being a donkey, cannot send up his calling card."
At this pronouncement, the donkey outside gave a swivel of his ear and let out a loud bray.
"Oh!" Watson startled.
"I ascertain that our furry friend has found his calling card, Watson." The languid detective roused himself from his repose and agilely manoeuvred into his outerwear. "Come, duty calls."
Watson hastily dressed for the winter weather. His footsteps echoed after the detective's rapid descent down the stairs.
Outside, snow fell softly and sparkled in the lamplight. It muted the usual city raucous and coated the grime with a blanket of white. A triangle of snow capped the donkey's head. He raised his whiskers in greeting as the two men stepped off their front stoop. Abruptly, he tapped his forefoot on the kerb.
"Curious, he looks as if he's summoning someone," Watson cocked his head.
"Oscillations, in my experience, signal an affaire de coeur," Holmes said ominously.
Just then, a small band of colourfully bundled carollers crowded around. "Away in a manger…" the lyrics of the familiar tune rang out sweet and clear on the silent snowy streets of London.
Holmes' eyes closed in reflection as the melody opened dusty doors in his memory attic.
Watson, to this day, swears the enigmatic donkey winked.