The London fog had been replaced by a fierce, driving blizzard that paralyzed the railways and trapped us within the ancient, oak-panelled walls of Hatherley Hall. I had accompanied Sherlock Holmes to this remote Yorkshire estate at the earnest invitation of Sir Reginald Musgrave, an old acquaintance who sought my friend’s counsel on a matter of family security. It was Christmas Eve, and outside, the wind howled like a banshee, drifting snow high against the leaded glass windows.

This episode includes AI-generated content.

The midday sun beats down mercilessly on the Brighton seafront. Waves crash against the boiling hot pebble beach, sending up puffs of salty steam. Inside Scoops & Strands, an independent ice cream parlour, the air conditioning unit moans in protest.

The Florida sun cuts through the blinds like a laser. Outside, humidity wraps around the neighborhood like a warm, wet blanket. Inside, Chloe stares at her coffee mug, waiting for the inevitable.

There was more talking. Then the bell rang again, and Ruth fetched a cab. The children heard boots go out and down the steps. The cab drove away, and the front door shut. Then Mother
came in. Her dear face was as white as her lace collar, and her eyes looked very big and shining. Her mouth looked like just a line of pale red--her lips were thin and not their proper shape at all.

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Leo props his phone against a cereal box on the kitchen counter. He taps the red record button on his screen. "What is up, guys?" he whispered loudly into the microphone. "Today, we are doing a deep-dive archaeological dig into the deepest, darkest trench of the family pantry."

The afternoon sun beats down on Elm Street. Sweat drips from Marcus’s forehead as he carries a heavy cardboard box. He is a postal carrier, and June is proving to be brutally hot. He sighs, steps onto the neat porch of house number 42, and sets the package down.

Leo walks into the glass lobby of the Grandview Apartments and stops. He blinks twice. The heat outside is thirty degrees, but the building lobby has a permanent guest from December. A giant, wooden Nutcracker soldier stands right next to the entrance doors. The bright June sun pours through the floor-to-ceiling glass, baking the soldier's face.