Dr. John Watson

I hope the Christmas season is treating you well, in all of its twinkly, jingly warmth.

As you may be able to tell, I am the only human at 221B Baker Street this year.

I will of course pay Carol Watson a visit over the Christmas period, but...

Yeah, Marianna is heading back home for some family fun, and Sherlock is working away over this period.

What that means, I don't quite know, but yeah, he's not the most forthcoming man, so that might be his way of saying he's also spending time with family.

Yeah, he didn't want to talk about it.

I didn't want to probe.

So here we are.

The greenery of Regent's Park is crunching beneath my feet.

A light frosty sheen clings to every surface.

The swans, the ducks and the one or two geese that didn't get the migration memo move slowly across the icy waters.

I've got to say, the city feels quiet, like it's having a breather.

All those Christmas-celebrating residents have jumped on planes, trains, packed up cars and gone to family and friends the world over, I expect.

Universities are emptied, schools closed, out-of-office emails are pinging out from every commercial building around the place.

It is a different London, that is fair to say.

Yeah, you too, mate.

Mike, pop in Boxing Day.

Cheers, Matt.

Well, come on, Arch.

I think we line up a Christmas film.