His hair was an earthy red with small grey streaks and a receding hairline, the only giveaway of his age. It was neatly combed with no hair out of place and matched his smart demeanour. You could tell he was important.
His eyes were a withered grey, like a pond in the early dawn, and held a calculating stare. They filled with a raw power, like non I had ever seen before. Sparkling with expectation, they held my gaze as I got lost in his eyes; he was so like his brother.
His smile was a rare thing as his thin lips slightly turned upwards but he still kept a professional face, it was like getting a toddler to smile at the camera. His absent smile seldom crossed his pale pink lips and in its place a patronising smirk made its home, he was used to dealing with 5 year olds it seemed and never once did his white teeth make an appearance.
His suit was crisp and flawless, pinstriped and grey with his bleach white shirt peeping through under his navy blue tie. He was perfectly at home in the constricting 3 piece, so obviously he was used to wearing one. In his right hand he held an umbrella, an unusual accessory, with an auburn oak handle and sleek black material; clearly well looked after. His shoes were also well kept with no visible signs of wear and an incredible shade of darkest black.
His stance was confident and seethed importance: his shoulders back, head held high and weight slightly shifted to his left. He wasn't the tallest man yet his presence was known throughout the room and intimidating enough. Just from his posture I knew he was arrogant, with an impossibly straight back he was always looking down on people and this was the case with me. It was unnerving to say the least.
His voice was smooth and slow; it trickled off his tongue and was enough to bring me to my knees. It held a strong patronising tone behind it and yet was so sincere. He was a master manipulator, his tone darting between endearing and demanding in a second. He was so sure of himself, it was almost sickening and yet he drew me in like a moth to a flame.
I was listening to the voice of Sherlock Holmes' big brother, the man that kept Britain going, the gentleman as cold as ice.
I was discussing my escape with the British government himself...
Mycroft Holmes