Yet another gift for Sherlock Holmes. This time the 'present' is sitting on the couch of his shared flat. It looks harmless enough. A carved wooden phone resting there. Like some forgotten children's toy from long ago. There's a phone number hand carved into the 'screen'. It doesn't call an actual phone if tried, however. The number you have dialed does not exist.

Who doesn't love a good party?

The party was a lot of fun, right? I was glad to see so many people enjoying themselves after such a difficult few weeks.

If it's not too soon, and if anyone was interested, I thought maybe it would also be nice to celebrate Kupala Night? You know, kind of summer solstice? It's supposed to be a courtship celebration where you play in the water and couples do rituals that are supposed to bless their union and then go into the forest to look for fern flowers, but I'm pretty sure the only person who really cares about that is me, so I guess what I'm trying to say is that it would still be nice to celebrate it with more than just me and Poland, and parties are always fun! Bonfires and drinking and dancing sound nice, don't they? And if you let me know that you want to come, I can make you a wreath to wear! I'll make you one even if you're a boy, so no one feels left out!

Um, please?

It's too bad.

Although I don't prefer to work with this type of quality, I guess I'll have to do the best with what I have again.

I know that I haven't been here too terribly long, but I gather from the residents that murder isn't a horribly common occurrence, and when it is, it is dealt with swiftly. So when a case like this seems to linger in the periphery of the mind for so long without any resolution, flaring up occasionally like a wildfire, is it really any wonder that shortly after a known criminal mastermind arrives that people start to drop like flies?

The dots aren't hard to connect, frankly, but what they make up is a little harder to determine. And that's what Sherlock and I have been dealing with as of late.

I can't explain the details just yet, but I think we're getting closer.

I am pleased to see that the overcrowding of disgusting meat has dissipated from the city for the time being. While some of it still remains, the overpowering stench is not quite so nauseating.

The microwave particle experiments have proved fruitless. How can one be expected to work under such conditions? All of this is USELESS to me! I grow weary of consistently being held back by inadequate materials and technology.

I thought they looked good.

[ Having spent most of his time at the hotel or the police station since his arrival, Garrus figured it was high time he actually checked out his 'assigned' living space. He'd spoken with his roommate over the network; Peter Parker, he seemed like a nice enough kid.

Taking out his key, he entered the apartment and looked about. He wasn't entirely accustomed to typical human settlements, considering he'd spent most of his life on the Citadel or space ships. It was still a bit of a learning experience, especially since New Moore appeared to be rather... outdated. ]

Parker? You around?