Prompt: Describe an Irregular Christmas tradition (trustingHim17)

I've had more than my share of Christmas in real life (hence the short chapters), so I hope you'll forgive me for not including it here.

Holmes and I hurried into the hotel, out of the cold, wintry evening, in good spirits despite the chill and the late hour of our return. Outside, the rain had turned to snow, which drifted lazily down from the heavens.

"Then your investigation is truly at its end?" I leaned in closer to Holmes to ask quietly as we passed through the lobby.

I confess I felt some pride at Holmes's answering smile. "Our investigation, yes, but if you do not object to waiting a little longer, it is past time I sent my yearly missive to young Wiggins. I believe he may find the matter to be of some interest in his new line of work—my own relations are not the only ones who have grown."

"Certainly. Has it truly been more than a year since we saw him last?"

Holmes did not deny it. "But my sources indicate he is doing well, as I expected he would, and if he is available to visit Baker Street upon our return, I am sure we will hear all about it."

"The adventures of youth."

"Perhaps you could even write an account of them."

I attempted a glare at Holmes for his facetious remark, but there was a fond warmth beneath the humour which danced in his eyes with the lamplight, and I could hardly bring myself to censure him for it. I could only follow him back to our rooms.