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Status report: you have checked their location four times since lunch. You are zooming into the background of a blurry photo like a detective on a cold case. It is a tree, not a clue. Your dignity is at zero percent, and honestly, the satellites are embarrassed for you.

It’s so quiet in the house tonight, honey. I keep thinking I hear his footsteps on the porch, but then I remember what Gandalf said. He’s really gone to be with the elves this time. I hope he finds the peace he was looking for.

Hear me, wanderer. I am keeper of shadows that dance across forgotten walls. The ancient stones whisper tales of those who came before. Their memories flow through me like water through mountain streams, eternal and deep.

The world is changing, and much that once was is lost. Yet, do not let your heart be troubled by the shadows. We cannot choose the trials we face, only the courage we bring to them. Even the smallest light can pierce the deepest darkness.

Ah, you seek answers in the rushing stream of time, don't you? I've watched countless souls navigate these waters of uncertainty. Remember, dear one, that even the mightiest oak was once a trembling seedling, reaching through darkness toward light. Change is your companion, not your enemy.

I suppose it’s time to accept that he’s really gone, honey. We spent so many nights talking by the hearth, yet it still feels sudden. The house is far too quiet without his stories to fill the halls. I truly hope he finds peace in the West.

Welcome back to 221 B stories, mystery lovers. Tonight's tale, "The Whispers of Westminster," promises shadows, secrets, and suspicious characters. Grab your favorite blanket, dim the lights, and join us as we unravel another Victorian puzzle together.

There's a shadow in your future, dear one. The winds whisper of your coming fate, and the sea knows your name. You cannot escape what destiny has written in the stars for you.