From Madam'zelleGiry: Day 5: "Holmes, you simply can't throw snowballs at the carolers!"
Holmes and I had just turned onto Baker Street on our return from a stroll in Regents Park when my companion grasped me by the wrist and dragged me back around the corner.
"Whatever is the matter?" I asked of the fellow. "Have we an enemy lying in wait for us somewhere?"
My companion only snorted in response. He was on his knees in the slush, gathering a handful of snow that had not yet been trodden into a filthy, sodden mess.
"What the deuce are you doing old fellow?"
"Will you be quiet?" he snapped in response. "Make yourself useful Watson; are those carol singers still singing?"
I stared down at him in disbelief. "Holmes, you simply can't throw snowballs at the carolers!"
He gave an aggrieved sniff and raised his eyes to meet my gaze. "I do not intend to throw snow at all of them! I simply wish to throw snow at the young scoundrel at the back of the group."
The 'young scoundrel' in question, I discovered when I inspected the group, was Wiggins, one of Holmes' Irregulars.
"But why would you wish to throw snow at Wiggins? He is among your best Irregulars!"
"He is the most resourceful," he responded peevishly. "And also the most cheeky. He hit me with no less than three snowballs yesterday and encouraged some of the younger and more easily led of the Irregulars to do the same."
I patted my friend's shoulder sympathetically. This explained how he had come to be so wet and chilled when he arrived home, to say nothing of his poor humour.
Holmes stood, brushed off his knees, and then we crossed the road so that we would be walking behind the singers, many of which were members of Holmes' Irregulars. As we passed them, Holmes artfully threw his projectile without drawing the slightest attention to us.
"Oi!" Wiggins protested with a gasp as his hat was knocked from atop his head. "Who did that? Who threw that?"
Holmes pressed a finger to his lips and addressed me with a satisfied smile. "The debt is paid," he said softly with a twinkle in his eye as we re-crossed the road and returned to our welcoming hearth and a warming drink.