Warmth, cinnamon, chocolate, shampoo, floor, blanket. It was deathly quiet, and I could feel the excitement radiating off of my unconscious comrades. Everything felt warm, comforting, and friendly. It was like how Christmases used to before my father died. All this I could detect without moving. I opened my eyes and promptly got a piece of hair in my eye, then the peace was shattered

"Ow!" I shouted, "Ow, ow ow, hair in my eye!"

Everyone woke up at once, and then it was a confusion of limbs and voices as George tried to sit up, Lockwood tried to figure out what was happening, Holly looked around in concern, and I tried to get the hair out of my eye.

I finally got it out, and sat up.

"What was that?" Holly asked.

"Who screamed?" George asked. Lockwood didn't say anything.

"It must've been one of the neighbors." I told them.

"What's that?" Lockwood asked, and pointed. Underneath the tree was a big pile of gifts. And behind all of those, leaning against the wall was a large, rectangle covered in wrapping paper.

"We'll look at that later." George said, "Breakfast first."

And so we ate. It was a meager affair since nobody really wanted to cook actual food for us, so we settled for some toast and some old orange juice. We ate quickly and dumped the dirty dishes in the sink for some unfortunate soul to wash later. Then, we all wandered into the other room, as if we were magnetically drawn to it.

We sat down half circle around the tree, and George reached out a hand to grab the nearest present. It was addressed to Holly, so he passed it to her. It was the red dress Lockwood had gotten with me when we went shopping. She went upstairs to put it on. When she came back, even I was impressed. Next, George grabbed one for himself. It was also from Lockwood, it was the enormous map of London. He rolled it out on the floor and stared at it for a while, wearing a face that for once wasn't so unhappy.

"Luce, here." George nudged me in the shoulder with something, and I grabbed it. It was about the size of a shoe box, and wrapped in green and red paper. I tore the paper open eagerly, It was a shoe

box. "It's a box!" George said with mock surprise. I took the lid off and looked inside, and burst out laughing.

It was filled to the brim with gum. The good kind.

"Thanks George." I said, and pushed it to the side. "It's your turn Lockwood!" He had been staring intently at the large gift in the back, as if he could see through the wrapping paper. He turned back to us when I spoke and took the present. He shook it gently, and turned it over in his hands before he actually looked inside. It was the leather journal I had gotten for him. He smiled broadly, and thanked me profusely. I felt my face grow hot, and looked away. It wasn't a great gift, but it would do.

Then it was Holly's turn again. Then George's, me, then Lockwood. And so we went, until there was only one present left. I had gotten a new watch from Holly, and a pair of heavy-duty, ectoplasm-proof boots from Lockwood. George had received my gift with much excitement. And Holly had given him some sort of device that I didn't understand.

Lockwood had gotten a rapier polishing set from Holly, and a book on how to relax from George. Then he got up to peer around the edges of the rectangle of mystery.

It was about four feet tall, and maybe two and a half feet wide. Very thin, except for around the edges, where it bulged out sharply.

"Is it a picture?" He asked, and looked at us. His hair hung in his face, and be brushed it aside with barely contained excitement. He was rocking back and for on the balls of his feet like a small child waiting for a gift. Which technically he was, we were all still young. I felt a brief pang of sadness, for some reason that had reminded me of my family. Even if I didn't like them, or didn't want to see them again, I still had good memories with them. I shoved it out of my mind, and stood up.

"In a way." I said, and moved towards in. George, and Holly stood up and came with me. Together we lifted it up, and presented it to him.

"For you." Holly said. At first he looked presently surprised, then ecstatic. He leaned forward, and began peeling the paper off. First gently, then ferociously. Once all the snowman paper had been discarded, he took a few steps back to survey our work.

It was a picture frame, a plain wooden one, and inside was a picture. Well several pictures, and some words. It was a collage of newspapers, all of them from cases we've solved. There were pictures of us in black and white, and articles about our success. From Combe Carey Hall, to the parade that Rotwells had put on. They were all there. We presented it to him proudly.

Lockwood was still, and a ghost of a smile was upon his lips.

"How?" he asked, and looked us each in the eyes.

"When you went to bed the other day, me and George got started on it." I said happily, "And Holly "brought the frame and helped us fix all our mistakes."

"It would've been a lot easier if you had just gone to bed." George said, and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"So that's what it was about." He whispered. He stepped forward and took the frame from us gently, he propped it against the wall and approached us. Then, he gathered us all in his long arms, and squeezed. I was directly underneath him, and could feel his chin on my head. George, and Holly were on either side of me. I hugged Lockwood back, enjoying the warmth that came from being surrounded my friends.

And before he let us go, I thought I felt something small, and wet fall onto my head.

This is the first time I have ever written a journal entry before. So later, when I come back to read this, I will probably think it's childish. My name is Anthony Lockwood, owner, and founder of Lockwood and Co. The smallest, yet best agency in all of London. Today it's Christmas. This journal was given to me by Lucy. I also received some rapier polishing stuff, and the latest copy of Relaxing for Dummies. They also gave me something amazing. It was a piece of art, made up of all of the newspapers we've been in. All the articles, all the pictures. They're all there. Including our failures, but they are almost all good. And seeing how many times we've been in the paper can't help but make me proud. When I started this I had no idea how it would turn out, all I had was a little money, my dreams, and my rapier. Yet now I've created a family, not just my family, but Lucy's now too. Her parents are dead now. And one of her sisters. She wasn't close to them, but I can tell she was hurting for a while, it's getting better now. I'm glad. After we ate breakfast, and opened presents we laid around for a while and tinkered with our new stuff. I polished my rapier, Lucy chewed some gum, George read, and Holly started making cookies. Once she was done we ate them, and then had some leftover soup for lunch. It wasn't my soup, George insisted on throwing it away, and Lucy agreed. It was some tomato based soup George had made last week. It was delicious. Then I took a shower, and when I came back George was still engrossed in his new book, Holly was going to visit her family, and Lucy was writing something. I went to practice rapier for a while, when I came back up it was getting dark. Lucy was wearing her coat, and the new boots I had given her. When I came down she smiled at me and made for the door. She said she was going to get some air, I asked if I could come and she agreed. When we were outside she shivered, and put her hands in her pockets. I was content to follow where she led. After a while we reached an small post office. She went inside, and I followed. Lucy stopped at the drop off station, took a slightly crumpled envelope out of her pocket, and dropped it in. We left without talking, but I had saw the address on the envelope, and knew it was to one of her sisters. After that she seemed in much better spirits. We walked for maybe an hour, before I saw a faint type one, and we decided to go home. Neither of us had our rapiers, and while we could deal with most type ones at this time of night, it was better to be safe than sorry. When we were nearly back to Portland Row she told me about her letter. It was to Tia, she said, I can faintly remember her address if I think about it. It's to tell her that I'm sorry, about what I said I mean. She looked a little nervous, and that I never hated anyone else in the family. Also that I appreciate everything you all did for me, even if I wished you could've done more. She also said that she wished she could write a letter to her mother, and her father as well as her sister. Because, as she said, she never got a chance to say goodbye. After that we finished our walk, and ate a spectacular dinner George had whipped up in record time. Lucy left, saying something about tucking in early, and as she passed by the other room I heard her yelling at the skull. Then George left to finish his book, leaving me alone with my thoughts. After awhile I decided to put this journal to good use, and write about my day. Talking with Lucy about her dead family made me think, what if she died? We risk our lives almost every night, and even George has been ghost touched now. Lucy has almost fallen down a well, fallen down a massive pit in the floor, almost toppled off the top story of a staircase, and has crossed to other side when her cape ripped. That moment was terrifying. So below this I'm going to write a letter to her, in case I ever die. If she dies, I won't be able to talk to her, but if I die, she at least deserves to talk to me one last time as a reasonable person, not a panic-stricken man running from a visitor. So here it is, my first, and best attempt at a goodbye letter.

Dear Lucy,

We've come so far since I first told you the cookie rule, through hard times, and good. And through it all you've been by my side. Well, I guess not a first, but the vast majority of the time you've been with me. If you're reading this, I am dead, and you are now going through my stuff. Normally I would tell you not to do that, and it's rude, but under the circumstances I would forgive you. I give you permission to go through all my stuff, it's not like I'll be using it again. I want you to know, that I really loved working with you, and you were more than I could've imagined. Without you Lockwood and Co, and I wouldn't be who we are today. And I'm thanking you for that. I also want to say, please don't be to sad. It's okay be upset when someone dies, but I've had this coming for a long time. I'd prefer for you to be happy, and smiling, rather than crying and upset. So please, don't worry, I'm okay with how it is now. I would have liked to have more time with you, but I can't. Thank you, Lucy, for everything. Thank you so much, goodbye.

Love,

A. J. Lockwood

This is the last author note I will write on this story. So here are all of my thanks, first of all, thank you for reading thus far. You don't know how much I appreciate that. Second, thank you all who favorited, commented, and liked. I may not have responded to all of you (I don't know how) but I read, and will continue to read each and every note sent to me. And most of all thank you (No not my readers, I bet you thought I was going to say that again!) but Jonathan Stroud for writing such amazing books.