â--I chose us over him.
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@myfavouritecroft
â--I chose us over him.
DESKTOP ONLY! Semi-private, low-activity, Mycroft Holmes RP blog based on the Sherlock Holmes Chapter One and Sherlock Holmes the Awakened canon. [ Penned by Corpsie ]
LINKS: guidelines | bio DRAFTS: 0

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@cuttingcanine || starter call
 ââWhat a despicable thing, to have to deal with public events and getting out of his beloved stationary havens. Really, this time of evening, Mycroft would much rather spend at Diogenes. The only thing to get him out of his office with no regrets would be keeping his brother out of trouble-- but that seems to not be what's happening right now.
   However, his brother was supposed to be here, somewhere. Not that he is easy to spot. The night is dedicated to Scotland Yard to make connections with outside offices of law enforcement. Pathetic pleasantries and biting off more than one can chew, if you ask the elder Holmes brother.
   His invitation was expected due to his government status and making sure his eyes and ears were paying good attention. Not that it was clear what he did, or him advertising it. For now, he simply sat at his assigned table, drinking. This will do for now-- or... well, it would-- if his table was not currently entertained by a particularly sloshed high ranking officer. Mycroft turns slightly and whispers to the man sitting by him.
   âWould rather go deaf at this point...â
Like/reply for a starter. Multimuse, please specify for who. Length not promised. Remember to read rules and about. \
REMINDER: This is not a any random Mycroft Holmes. He is very much based and only will act as the verse he is from. If you have no interest in the games and will act like he's the BBC or any other equivalent, I will drop the thread.
You are not his father, Mycroftâ not any more.
â â-If you werenât so damn stubborn, youâd realize that means Iâm only here for you!

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bonus, outfit description:Â
The Holmes Family portrait from Sherlock Holmes Chapter One.
It is time you come to accept that some things are bigger than yourself.
atlf1526â:
âYou were never one to enjoy âleg workâ are you Mycroft. Luckily for you, thatâs our speciality.â
She had a bad feeling he was being deliberately optimistic about this case, it wasnât everyday that Sherlock got asked to help his brother withâŚwell anythingâŚ.so this must be big, important.
She moved closer to Sherlock by instinct as the elevator began to move.
 ââ Of course, the entire idea wasnât new. Mycroft had wanted to work arm in arm with Sherlock since he realized his brother was of a similarly working mind to his. With both of them together, the Empire would be served greatly. The honour, even in the shadows of it all... Impeccable as it should be. However, those hopes had long since been suppressed given that Sherlock preferred petty criminals and the chase.Â
   âNo, suppose I never did.â It could have been his fatal flaw, even, but he wasnât going to bring himself down over it. He worked better plotting, collecting and hoarding information and using it all to his advantage. Playing the long game, if one will. âUnfortunately, I will also be there but I will be tremendously preoccupied.â Mycroft confesses, not enjoying the way this will most likely unfold. âThereâs a Gala tonight, and many foreign politicians will be there-- you simply need to ensure me that nothing goes astray. As I said, childâs play.â
moonshinaesâ:
sheâs supposed to be in & out . thatâs all this was supposed to be , but no . sheâs there â still there , like sheâs stuck . like she doesnât know what to do . she feels indecent , as if her mindâs running back & forth , screaming at her . noting that itâs her fault for feeling this way , that she shouldâve done it & left .
â i donât need that . â sheâs responding , with nothing but her own loyalty to her employer â to herself , most of all . delilahâs hiding something , the mere fact that sheâs stalling . perhaps because heâs seen her for everything she is , or maybe he isnât scared of her . delilahâs trying her best â she wants to do this , she wants to kill him , to feel something besides this ache in her heart , the empty space that harbors whatever need she has . â are you scared ? â sheâs asking , brow arching at his words , chewing down on her lower lip to the distinct point where she can feel her own blood coming out . a way , a tell that sheâs having a hard time settling with things , with this . her hardest opponent . & it shouldnât be , she shouldnât still be there , it shouldâve been easier .
with the utter intensity that sheâs feeling , her heart rate higher & higher , noting that heâs a man without fear , sheâs gathering . she takes into utter considering that heâs her target , that she needs to get rid of him before they get rid of her . finger gently squeezing at the trigger , not pointed at him â sheâs going to regret this , isnât she ? letting someone like him go . delilah shouldnât be feeling this way , sheâs never one for second guessing things , much less herself . with her trembling notion , sheâs pointing the gun at the wall , pressing against the trigger , shooting at it . just like target practice . just like the first man she killed . & now , sheâs ready â completely & utterly concentrated on killing him .
â youâre right . everyone should welcome death , just like you . â sheâs taking the deepest breath she can , before pointing the weapon at him once again , ready . sheâs born ready , sheâs calmed down . & this time ? sheâs doing it , aiming the gun straight for some part of his body , his chest , even . & sheâs shooting . with a â bang â echoing in the room , eyes watching as sheâs convincing that sheâs done justice .
  ââ It was true, a killer did not need such things as pride-- quite frankly, they did better if they had none. It was a thankless job, lowly even. He knows this, having employed countless of the like -- anonymous pawns-- to do his dirty work for him. Not that he took joy out of it, such low as it was. And he very much was merely one step above a pawn even if barely. Still anonymous, still invisible in his work. Really, he is curious who would decide to do this to him and heâs only somewhat sure of who it was... But maybe that makes no difference now.Â
  Now, was he scared? Not at all. His life only mattered if he served his country, expecting to be taken out like an old dog once he was no longer useful. This is only mildly what he expected and therefore, he has no intent on fighting it or gracing the other with fear. Mycroft would not afford that satisfaction for the other in front of him. He doesnât welcome death but he isnât afraid of it either. Itâs a constant in the human condition, why should he fight something as inevitable as death? Even if it could be avoided now it brought him no desire to exert himself.Â
  The gun fires, by whatever miracle, just as the door opens and Barbara steps in. She screams in horror at the sight of the gun and the act she just witnessed, dropping the tray. It all alerts the guards even more than the sound of the shot as they rush in, only to quickly piece together what happened. The bleeding Mycroft now fallen into his chair is damning evidence by itself. The other problem that follows is this: Mycroft is bleeding but heâs not yet dead, bullet lodged inside his side with no exit wound. Of course, if the injury isnât tended to and soon-- he will be but thatâs a given. He presses with what little force he can muster over the wound, trying to stop the endless pouring of blood. Heâs slowly losing consciousness and wouldnât even dare to taunt or say much, however, last words feel important...Â
  âTwo choices now... window or the cell-- You pick.â Â

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atlf1526â:
At this Elizabeth rolled her eyes, glancing at the younger Holmes brother beside her. He wouldnât take the job. No way in hellâŚwould heâŚ? Looking back to Mycroft she blew out a long breath. If he wanted a fight, she could give him one. She tensed.
âA favour? What in Gods name can Sherlock give you that you donât already have access too?â
For emphasise, she raised her hands, then dropped them too her sides. The familiar pang of nicotine withdrawal swirled in her body. She longed to be outside, pushing smoke into the blue sky. But no, she was here between these twoâŚ.clever idiots!
âI really want to knowâŚ.then we can talk about a dealâŚâ
  ââ Mycroft grimaced, of course. He was never a fan of such petulant behavior, immature as itâll always be according to him. Hell, he even raised the troublemaker out of this, through his ever so annoying rebellious phase and into an even more so infuriating and disrespectful adult-- he had little hope his brother would associate with somebody more worthy of both their time. Let alone, ones that would show understanding of what theyâre dragging themselves into. He never liked this anti-discipline act that was present, as if life was only mistreating them alone-- and yet, somehow, everyone else managed to endure.Â
  He enters the lift just at it pings him out of his thoughts.Â
  âItâs simple, absolute childâs play.â He waits for them to enter, urging them on even with his persisting glare. âJust some leg work. I need some eyes and ears on the field, you need my resources-- I think itâs only fair.â
atlf1526â:
Elizabeth stood next to Sherlock Holmes in front of the other Holmes brother in his stiflingly warm office. She hated that they were here in the first place, Mycroft was not her greatest fan at the best of times, and today was not the day to rile Lizzie up. She and Sherlock had already chased a suspect through the disgusting back alleys for hours in the warm sun, to no avail. He had escaped them. With no more choices, they had inlisted the help of Mycroft, wishing to use his connections to look at surveillance footage to find him. But all they got was his attitude. Fed up already, the red head gripped her hair in frustration,
âItâs very bloody practical Mycroft, how else would we have tracked him down? Party tricks my ass! We use our minds, more than I can say about the policeâŚ.we need to find him! So quit with your condescending attitude, this is no time for youâre personal opinions!â
Originally posted by where-our-stories-start
  ââ Now, Mycroft glared past his brother, towards the other occupant of the room, then after a moment sighed as if thatâll alleviate his annoyance. It does not.
  âUsually, I am not fond of wasting my time or the precious resources provided to me on such banal things-- and Iâd make an exception, provided Sherlock takes it upon himself to reconsider my offer to find a proper job.â Thereâs no hopefulness in the look he gives his kin but it surely says enough to warrant some kind of thought. âThe use of your mind when tracking down petty criminals, when the country needs you most...â Mycroft mutters, clearly trying to insult, as he stands from his chair and starts to exit his office.Â
  âIâll give you what you want but then I expect a favor in return.â He announces lastly, just as he turns a corner out.Â
moonshinaesâ:
she hated this , the fact that she was in view of someone else & they could see right through her . maybe thatâs why she does this , to get another personâs opinion on herself , like a mirror . god â even thinking about that makes her scream internally . delilahâs taking a deep breath , wavering , wanting for every single part of her mind to be blocked away from whatever heâs doing .
& sheâs smart , she really is . nonetheless , sheâs better than this , some observation that heâs probably doing mentally â trying to see how insane she really is , to be calm , to display herself as a good person , friendly â jovial , when in fact , sheâs nothing but a killer . always has been , truly . manipulative , too . no wonder sheâs good at this . â tell me , â sheâs sighing , putting a pause on her words as sheâs looking at him , directly , with the gun still pointed at him . â why would i go from my boss to you ? what can you offer me that they havenât ? â sheâs curious , with her brows raising , head tilted to the side . delilahâs studying the other , allowing his words to seep into her head . of course sheâs there by someone elseâs request & she does her job , quite well , if she could speak . â i canât disclose that information , â which means , she is . she just canât say more about it , considering her status , at the moment .
â is this another way for you to fully investigate me ? who i am & things like that ? â sheâs chuckling , wanting so badly to pull it , to shoot him , right in that petty face of his . â killing you would be the one thing that fulfills me . â & whilst she doesnât care about anything else , this is what makes her feel better , what brings her joy . the feeling of killing someone & washing their blood off in the shower â sheâs designed to do this , no matter what . & nevermind how heartless she can be , & no wonder why she doesnât have any close prospects , theyâre alike , yet so different . alone , of course . but loneliness is everywhere , really .
& his words are what hit her , the way heâs granting her permission to do it â is he setting her up for something terrible ? has he already called the police ? no , he doesnât seem like the type to do that , not right off the bat . which is why , sheâs curious , watching as her fingers shake right above the trigger , as if sheâs having a panic attack . â welcoming death already ? â sheâs asking , like thereâs a worry sinking in her bones , contemplating on actually doing it . no second guessing , sheâs doing it . lifting up her weapon , pointed directly at the other â taking a deep breath , however , sheâs wondering if itâll count if she shoots somewhere else in the room , acting like she did it .
 ââ Her breathing is enough to alarm him to the fact that this isnât a lost cause. He merely notes it, glancing at the clock on the wall then back at her. Heâd consider more but then it makes him think he can drag this to itâs full extent.
  âTruly I can only offer you the unseen servitude for the Empire and nothing else.â He says, with a light hint of amusement as if heâs all too aware of the ironyânever remembered, never mentioned. He does good work but nobody knows, or could even tell what with his lowly income. Heâs humble yet oh so arrogant, too, itâs the paradox of his work. âAh, of course, contract confidentiality. Familiar with that as I am,  all things consideredâItâs such a shame. Who would have known, maybe thatâd be thing to inspire fear in meâŚ?â He eggs on, still sounding nonchalant.Â
  The only time heâs ever was truly scared when a gun was pointed at him was at Stonewood manor⌠nothing else cuts as close and clear, than his kin in an irrationally emotional state, waving around a weapon like it didnât matter. But that would have added salt to injury, not being shotâbut the person who would have done it. Other times have been so banal that Mycroft didnât grace them with the fear it should have evoked. When the topic was brought up by his colleagues, he merely shrugged and the one time he was forced into counseling he raised the question out of curiosity. Then it was described to him as Blunted Affect, which Mycroft found no interest in dwelling on. He was not his motherâs son, never was close to it. Siger was the only one who ever found semblance of pride in him, before his early passing. Nothing else came to a connection. This is no different. He blinks, standing up and pointing at his head momentarily.
  âFaster this way, isnât it?â Heâd reward her with a fall, why not⌠He spares a glance at the clock once more, noting the sparring one minute left. Barbara was well scheduled, never being a minute early or late. Truly only a miracle could save him now, not that it really bothered him. He wasnât amazingly well versed in combat so a fight was out of the question⌠He waits patiently, for the next move by his guest.
ochrepaintsâ:
Jamie inclined her head slightly. âQuite,â she agreed. âI have never found opposition like Sherlock Holmes. No offence to present company, of course.â She flashed him a quick smile, quite sure that he wouldnât be offended in the slightest. One thing she had gathered from observing Mycroft Holmes was that the man was very like his brother â he rarely took offence, and understood that this polite talk was merely a façade, a necessary game played out between them, even in the absence of Sherlock.
He said that his club was supposed to be a quiet place, and Jamie leaned forwards a little, lowering her voice conspiratorially, in a way which could have been taken as serious or disparaging, depending on oneâs opinion. âI apologise, Mr. Holmes, I did not mean to disturb the other guests,â she said softly. âI am indeed here to discuss something.â She paused, resting her elbows on her knees and placing one arm over the other in a stiff gesture, unlike her usually poised countenance.Â
âI am curious about the extent of your knowledge,â she said, meeting his gaze with her own cool one. âYou refer to me by an incredibly vague moniker, one used only by people very far removed from me personally. And yet, here I sit opposite you.â She frowned a little. âI am curious as to whether you are playing at ignorance, or whether your brother simply hasnât divulged what he knows about me. In short, I want to know the extent of what you know.â
  ââ Of course, no offense was taken to the statement; he knew that Sherlock was the more proactive of them and therefore most likely more fun to lead around. Like throwing something to a dog who excitedly gnaws away at it, obsessing and not letting go till he starts to grow bored⌠Mycroft found that to be a waste of precious energy. Meanwhile, as Jamie lowers her tone and he does appreciate it, even if this was his own private quarters in the clubâas one of the perks of being a founding memberâhe had no interest in setting a poor example... And even if he isnât one to react, not like this â surely not easily, but⌠as the words ring in the air he replies too urgently, as it was something spilling out of him.
  âAnd what? You actually expect me to just answer you? Tell the full extent of it all?â Thereâs genuine amusement there, booming in the laughter that tries to break out, as evident from his voice despite the lowness of it. After another moment, and a rather prominent huff, he grasps himself back together. A total tonal shift as he looks back in utter seriousness, despite the smirk on his face now back in full effect. âNow, somebody in your position, I am sure, would know how powerful and useful information is. I see no reason to tell you anything, at least without incentive to do so.â
 He wasnât one to not take his own advice-- Silence was golden. Whether Sherlock liked being constantly reminded of that or not, and here he would apply it for the nth time himself. He knew better than to just be stupid and open. He could talk about nothing for hours, just ramble on, which he might as well do here. Moriarty, as she was right in front of him, wasnât even a fraction of as intimidating or nerve-wracking as Sherlock made the then anonymous figure out to be. And here Mycroft thought he could enjoy something of a discussion with non-flesh and blood for once...Or maybe he was just being ignorant and arrogant as he tended to be when anyone addressed him.
  âIf you must know, my brother has talked in length of your so called ârun inâ at Il Palazzo del Lusso, back in Cordona. All the staged clues, the planted documents in regards to killing off my informantâwhich, I must admit, I did not appreciate.â He tilts his head then, as if in thought. âBut as you can imagine, thatâs not entirely as infuriating as your following attempts in targeting my agent here in London. The vehicle lost was not as damning as the carried documents. I imagine it was quite a disappointment when she managed to escape with some of them intact, however?â That was as much as heâd be willing to give, for now.Â
@atlf1526â || Starter Call
 ââ âSeems like youâre wasting yourself on a party trick, rather than really using your skillset.â He states, absolutely condescending as he always is in this regard. He didnât enjoy his younger brotherâs choice of profession, certainly he wasnât going to make an exception to only dislike it for him, however. It was more so to do with how belittling this profession-- wait, no, excuse him-- trade felt. âHowever, I would lie to say I donât see a practical use of it.â

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moonshinaesâ:
truthfully , she doesnât look suspicious . or even seem it , considering her friendly & positive attitude , who could suspect her as a hitwoman ? no one , thatâs who . & thatâs why it made sense , why she made sense . of course , sheâs still studying the other â wondering what makes him really tick , glide with fear , all of that . delilah can tell that nothing , well , as of now , truly scares him . & maybe thatâs holding her back from placing her gun on the desk â because heâs showing a different emotion , blank . she already wants to throw up at the dĂŠcor , itâs ⌠dingy , itâs too oddly colored for her , but , whatever calms her down , right ?
â walk ins , â sheâs chuckling to herself , shaking her head at his words , hand holding down on her weapon so close to her skin , she can feel it practically bruise her . nonetheless , not too worried about that , sheâs more concentrated on the man in front of her . fuck it , sheâs doing it , no overthinking â sheâs slamming her gun on the desk , fingers curled against the trigger . eyes directly on the male , not going back .
delilahâs listening to his words , huffing . it sounds pathetic , like heâs trying to analyze her , which , wonât work as much as he thinks it might . â hitwoman . for a private employer , â sheâs musing , head tilted to the side as sheâs trying to figure out why heâs asking her about it , what she does . it feels like utter nonsense , though , sheâs going to play his game , see what he wants . â do you always try to therapize people before dying ? â sheâs contemplating , with nothing but a brazen chuckle leaving her lips . even then , she thinks itâs something of a waste of time to ask her questions , seeing how sheâs a woman on a mission , clearly so .
  ââ And now, thankfully, he can drop the pretense. With a heavy, and very annoyed sigh, he closes his eyes then shrugs. He didnât see a point of a discussion but biting time and all that-- the security staff here was abysmal. War Office? What a farce.
  âHmm... Is that how it is then, and yet I was going to offer you a job.â The sarcasm emits from that sentence so strongly it could be beyond just palpable. âVery well, Miss Monroe, I would ask if your employer is my chance one famous consultant but I take it the answer is obvious enough as it is. Despite his sometimes too cruel sense of humor, and desire to make me uncomfortable, I donât think his paranoia would allow this... In which case, I take it, youâre here on somebody elseâs request?â Mycroft locks eyes with her, face nearly blank apart the utter disinterest in this scenario, almost as if the answer will not sway him any which way.Â
  âTell me, then... how much are they paying you for this? Is it truly worth the effort?â Says the one man who disliked getting his hands dirty or even a hint of fieldwork, yet finds himself risking other people's lives on daily basis, like he has a say in this. Regardless, his eyes settle into a glare. âOn another account, why bother killing somebody whose death makes no difference? Nobody knows my name, or ever will, and the only person who might be truly upset by my passing, would -- all things considered-- either set out to hunt you down or carry on. Admittedly it is hard to differentiate what his reaction would be these days...â He makes a vague gesture with his hand, almost seeming frustrated-- but not putting enough energy into it to make it convincing.Â
  âIf this is truly the life you wish to lead, I see no reason to hold you back.â Mycroft finally states, knowing that within three minutes the doors will be open to his office, secretary carrying his two oâclock tea, and whether he is dead or not will not matter -- because the other sitting across from him will have think fast. Unless, she sits it out. Three minutes is ample time to kill him and escaped, as well as quick enough to just waste it.. such a shame. Here he was expecting to go watch the Oxford and Cambridge University boat race later today.
;;ooc|| The continuation will have eldritch horrors beyond human comprehension, right...? So, hey, baby girl Mycroft, are these horrors well within your comprehension? *bites lip*