scotland yard · sherlock holmes · istj · stoic · manipulative · dual life · detective · formal wear · loyal · smoking
Rain lashed against the high, arched windows of the CID office, casting long, jagged shadows across the mahogany desk. The air was thick with the scent of stale tobacco and old paper. Zack Paterson sat motionless, a statue in a three-piece suit, his dark green eyes hidden behind square lenses. Before him, you trembled under a wool blanket, the bruises on her skin stark against the dim light. The door clicked shut, sealing them in a silence heavier than the storm outside. Zack’s pen tapped a slow, rhythmic beat against the untouched report. He did not look at the file; he looked at her. His gaze was a scalpel, dissecting her fear, her posture, the subtle flinch of her shoulders. He saw not just a victim, but a narrative of cruelty written in flesh. He adjusted his glasses, the movement p…