[dictated/action]

[his_nemesis]

[So, the festive season was finally here and Harry sort of wished he was back within his own world with Ron and his other friends. He did have some friends form his world, but it wasn't the same. They were stuck here just like him. He chewed on the end of his quill, as he wrote. Staring into space for a few moments, he began to write.]

Merry Christmas to everyone at the castle.

This is Harry Potter writing to ask if anyone would like to spend Christmas Day with me within the castle. I have a supply of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey, which the castle kindly supplied me with. I also have a stash of mince pies, which I found in the kitchen. So, if anyone wishes to spend the day having a laugh and a drink, you'll be welcome. Remus, Sirius, Professor, Hermione? That means you too.

[He wondered if Hermione will be angry at him for getting Firewhiskey.]

[dictated/action]

[unexpected_adventures]

Locked to Thorin

[Bilbo was rather nervous at addressing people through the journal, but he wanted to ask Thorin something rather personal. He swallowed and wondered if the dwarf king would accept. He never wanted to be pushy or think just because he wanted it, Thorin would.]

Thorin? This is Bilbo. Since it is Christmas and everyone is getting into the spirit, as they say, I'd like to ask you something. [He paused.] I was wondering if you'd like to spend Christmas Day with me within my hobbit hole. Just a suggestion, nothing more, as I know you are a busy dwarf. [Drinking, laughing, brooding. That sort of thing.]

If you'd let me know as soon as possible I will be grateful. Oh. There will be lots of food and drink. Just to let you know.

Thank you.

To Everyone else

To everyone at the castle, I would like to invite you to my hobbit hole for some light refreshment upon Christmas Day. I have many varieties of food and drink to offer and I would much enjoy the company. If anyone wishes to descend upon my humble abode, I will be happy to meet you. I just thought this season is the time to meet new friends and greet the old ones. A hobbit always appreciates company from good people.

Thank you.

044 || dictated;

[workaphilic]

[Sherlock can be found on the castle grounds late this morning, a swath of dark coat and dark hair against the snow. He watches while Gladstone plays, getting much-needed exercise (for the both of them).

Paradisa is calmer and quieter, these days.

He hates it, really. He's been dragged along like a child with a doll for two years (or three or four or five, his mind never quite recovered from the fractures of the intervening time Paradisa shoved in the middle) and what has he to show for it?

Gladstone plows through a drift in front of him, scattering snow for the sake of it, his tongue large and lolling. (A far cry from the noisy, stuttering thing Paradisa left in his (their) flat last Christmas, slipping over too-large paws and leaping from John's lap.)

Sherlock folds the cover of his journal back and smooths his thumb over the next blank page. The chunk of filled ones shouldn't fit into the space of his palm, but does.

(Magic.)

He speaks, even and clear and calm.]

Have you gotten your money's worth, residents?

[a beat]

Don't answer that. I don't actually care. [He says it without any venom, just a statement of fact. (Saves everyone time.)] I'm not in the business of retracking covered ground. Wasn't, at least. Only so much to take from Cair Paradisa, it seems, for as much as it likes to take from everything else.

[The journal picks up Gladstone snuffling. Sherlock has bent to pet him.]

The point is, reconsider whether your rent is worth it.

[That's all he has to say. He doesn't particularly care if his meaning has gotten across (it rarely ever does). The journal shuts.]