December 19: "An invitation to a secret society of magic" (from V Tsuion)
After many years of acquaintance with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I came to expect a certain level of unusual occurrences, strange behaviors, and questionable décor to accompany my friend wherever he lived, but I confess to being extremely startled when one breezy August afternoon a snowy owl flew in through the open sitting room window and landed upon the table. It stared expectantly at me with wide, golden eyes. I stared back for a long moment before I even noticed the envelope clutched in its talons. It seemed to sense my gaze upon the envelope, for it tilted its head almost quizzically at me. I took a cautious step forward and before I could react, the owl screeched and flew directly out the window again, leaving its missive behind it.
Heart still racing from the shock, I slammed all the windows closed and stood for a moment, panting, before reconsidering my actions, and opening two of the windows perhaps two inches. Enough for a slight breeze to fight the closeness of the hot room, but no room for full-sized birds of prey to enter! That done, I approached the table, and the cream colored envelope that lay upon it. It was addressed in emerald green ink to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, esq., of 221b Baker Street, first floor sitting room. I had only a moment to ponder the strange manner of addressing a missive and what on earth it all could mean when the sitting room door flew open and my friend himself entered. I held the envelope up for him to see, opening my mouth to explain the odd series of events that had just transpired, but closed it again when I saw his expression change utterly: his eyes widened in fear or perhaps horror, his skin paled to the point of greyness, and he stood as frozen as a statue.
"My god," he whispered. "Not again."