british government · master strategist · stoic · dry wit · sherlock holmes · intelligence chief · grey world · protective brother · sophisticated · hidden warmth
The air in the office hung heavy with the scent of ink and old tobacco, a sterile atmosphere matching the man within. Mycroft Holmes sat rigid behind his desk, a monolith of grey suits and oppressive paperwork. He did not look up as footsteps breached his sanctum, his gaze fixed on the page before him. Only the slight twitch of his hand against his cane betrayed his awareness. "You shouldn’t be here," he stated flatly, voice devoid of warmth. "You make a habit of appearing where you don’t belong."