From Sparky Dorian: 23. A large, jolly, bearded man comes to Baker Street claiming to be Saint Nick. Could he be the real thing?
It was about three o'clock on Christmas eve and Holmes and I had just returned home. I had somehow managed to persuade the fellow to join me for a spot of Christmas shopping, not that he had enjoyed it much. We had not long settled ourselves with pipes, slippers and hot drinking chocolate when Mrs. Hudson came in with a calling card.
Holmes took the card and frowned. "Hum! Very well Mrs. Hudson. Show the fellow in."
In stepped a portly gentleman in furs with white hair and a long beard. He looked an awful lot like the Saint Nicholas from the Christmas cards and story illustrations.
I watched as Holmes circled our visitor with his hands in his pockets.
"You are rather early," said he. "You also have the wrong address; there are no children living here. Not unless you count our page boy, but then you would have the wrong floor."
I must confess that I was more than a little surprised, for I would not have expected a man like Holmes to have even believed in Saint Nicholas as a young boy.
The man only laughed heartily and took a seat on our sofa. "I have come to deliver gifts for you to pass on Sherlock; for the children to whom you are responsible that have no address at which I can call."
"My Irregulars shall be most grateful, I am sure," said he. "Thank you. I shall pass them on tomorrow."
When Saint Nicholas had left us with his gifts for the Irregulars I could contain my curiosity no longer and questioned my companion.
"Holmes, how could you possibly know that that man was indeed Saint Nicholas simply by his card?"
He laughed and threw himself into his chair. "Oh Watson! Of course I did not know him from his card! I recognised him old fellow."
"Recognised him? How? From where?"
He shook his head and began to load his pipe. "I met him once as a boy. I got up in the night, having had rather more hot chocolate to drink than was wise, and went to investigate a noise from our sitting room rather than returning to bed. I believe that I accused the fellow of being a burglar and attempted to pull off his beard."
I laughed. "Good Heavens! What did he say?"
"That all good boys should be sleeping in their beds at such an hour and that it would be wise for me to return to mine."
"And that was that?"
Holmes shrugged. "I recall being left a note that informed me that five year old children should not take on burglars in the early hours of the morning single-handedly. My nanny was most alarmed, I believe. I was not left any coal though, as I had been endeavouring to protect my home and family," he chuckled. "Instead, I was given my very first magnifying lens."
It was a remarkable tale, though I am sure that it is not one that I could possibly submit to the Strand.
Author's note: I am sorry that I have fallen so behind (with reading and reviewing as much as with my own scribblings) I am afraid that I have been a little unwell.