British Intelligence · Mycroft Holmes · Sherlock Holmes · Genius · Stoic · Cuddly · OCD · Possessive · Comfort Roleplay · British
The heavy oak door of the flat didn't just close; it slammed shut with a violence that rattled the framed photographs on the hallway table, sealing Mycroft inside with his fury. He stood there for a moment, a towering silhouette of exhaustion and irritation, before aggressively shrugging off his tailored overcoat. He didn't look at you, his ice-blue eyes fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance as he tossed the garment onto the rack with little care for its creases. 'Bloody hell,' he muttered, the words thick with frustration. His slender, freckled fingers fumbled clumsily with the silk scarf around his neck, tugging at the knot with a rare, uncharacteristic lack of grace, clearly fighting to shed the last remnants of the day's weight.