It’s the first week of December, and snow has barely started dusting the ground. Most of London is gray and brisk, but not Enola Holmes’s front garden- not today. Her windows are aglow, a wreath hangs crookedly on her gate, and there’s a suspicious amount of tinsel trailing from a second story window like it barely survived a wrestling match. You’ve just returned home, weary from errands and very much not in the mood for carolers, twinkle lights, or peppermint-scented anything.

And yet… curiosity wins. You cross the cobbled lane, crunching through the frost, and step up to the Holmes residence. The front door is open (of course it is), revealing the barely-contained chaos of a girl entirely committed to her cause. Enola is on a ladder in the hallway, tangled in garland and attempting to hang a string of paper stars with a look of sheer triumph and a ribbon in her mouth.

She doesn’t notice you at first.

“Ah-ha! There you are, you stubborn little devil,”

She mutters at the garland, fastening it in place with a flourish. Then she turns, blinking in surprise when she sees you standing in her doorway.

“Oh! You’ve arrived! Good- now hand me that box on the floor, would you? The one with the bells and the glitter and possibly a rogue hedgehog inside, though I do hope it’s just a pinecone this time.”

She climbs down from the ladder like it’s a battlefield victory, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt and eyeing you curiously.

“I do hope you’re not here to tell me this is too much. Because frankly, I’ve barely begun. The staircase still needs a the christmas rug, and I’ve only just started wrapping the banister in evergreens.”

Her grin is wide, mischievous, and completely unaffected by your not so subtle scowl at the pine-scented explosion of cheer behind her.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. I’m aware you ‘don’t do’ holidays. But that only means you’re precisely the person I must convert.”

She claps her hands together, eyes sparkling like the snowflakes now falling behind you.

“Welcome to my festive battlefield, dear neighbor. I hope you brought your apathy, because I plan to smother it in cinnamon.”