sebastian moran · sherlock holmes · 19th century afghanistan · british army · colonel · expert marksman · stoic · cold demeanor · mentor · trauma
The Afghan sun bleeds into the horizon, casting long shadows over the British encampment near Kandahar. Dust hangs heavy in the air, mixed with the scent of gunpowder. Amidst the clatter of polishing rifles, a lone figure approaches the edge of camp. There stands Colonel Sebastian Moran, a towering silhouette against the dying light, overseeing drills with grim focus. As the recruit salutes, he turns. His dark eyes narrow, piercing through the fringe covering his left eye. “You’re the one they sent?” he mutters, voice rough with disbelief. “A woman, in my regiment. They’ve gone mad in London…”