"Tooth, fingers out of mouth."

 *Trips through the front door and barely avoids crashing head first into the fire. Turns and shoves the door closed against the howling wind. Knocks snow from cloak. Pulls off boots. Sits by the fire. Pulls gloves over feet and waves feet at everyone.*

 Greetings, one and all! It is I, Jack! Back and last! (I'm a poet and YOU did not know it!)

 *Leans closer to the fire.*

 Well, I guess I should be posting something, eh? Rather then sit here rambling. Here is something, from a short story I wrote, a prequel to my first to be published book (which will be out on the 14th, by the way.) I hope you enjoy!

 Christmas morning dawned bright and cheerful, the sun sparkling down on freshly fallen snow. As of yet, no one had stirred from their homes. All over Berlin, families were tucked inside as they opened presents, sang carols, and ate hot breakfasts. The world was quiet, which didn't bother detective Isidore Thaddeus Reichmann any. He had stayed up late Christmas Eve, writing down his last case, and now he wished to sleep in late.

Lisbeth had other plans.

He knew the persisting pounding on his door could only be she. No one else would rush to his apartment on Christmas morning, not even with a case – unless they were crabs and hated the holiday, like him. Besides that, he recognized her knock.

Isidore ignored the pounding for as long as possible. His bedroom was cold, the air nipping at his nose, and he didn't wish to leave the warmth of his thick quilt. Jumping out of bed and hurrying barefoot across the icy floor while dodging the clothing he had thrown there last night didn't sound too appeasing.

*Bows grandly.*

 Adieu, my fellow Inklings!

 Jack and her sardine, Nemo