Post by Mycroft on Mar 29, 2012 20:58:52 GMT
Canon/ Original: Canon
Name: Mycroft Holmes
Age: 42
Face Claim: Mark Gatiss
Occupation: Despite my brother's incessant and illogical lies that I am "The British Governement", I simply occupy a minor government position.
Appearance: Confidential.
But if you insist upon knowing, then I suppose it will only be dangerous to your livelyhood to know.
Because I take little interest in my physical appearance, it seems that I will have to use what other people have said to me in place of a description. I have been told by my dear brother CONFIDENTIAL (But by this point you know far too much so you may as well know his name is Sherlock) has told me that I am grossly overweight, although on the BMI scale (which actually is really just the invention of pharmaceutical companies to coax people into buying dietary drugs, but you don't need to know about that) I am only slightly above average. Even though, my personal assistant CONFIDENTIAL (you may know her as Anthea) has the task of helping me manage my diet among many other things. Said assistant also has the job of buying my prescription ointments for my receding hair-line problem. Otherwise, it is easy to recognize the typical Holmes characteristics of superior height, long facial features, and dark hair.
Another rather Holmes-esque characteristic of mine would be apparel. It consists of a collection of black suits that individually cost more than the average Englishman makes in a month and are always worn with a tie, my favorite tie being the one with an umbrella pattern. My umbrella, classic black with a wooden handle, almost never leaves my side both for protection and... personal reasons. The last noteworthy part of my appearance is a ring that I keep on the ringer finger of my right hand because... Well, you also don't need to know about that.
Personality: My personality is not confidential because if you have good enough fortune to meet me in person, you probably aren't going to be capable of telling anyone afterwards. You may as well know, that I am rightfully called Ice Man by CONFIDENTIAL (a man that shall here simply be called Jim) and my dear brother has also adopted the term of endearment for me during particularly vicious arguments. This name is actually quite true. I try my hardest to separate myself from emotions at all times, as they inhibit logical thinking, and always succeed. The most emotion you will ever see from me is a sarcastic smile or a frown at your stupidity. Do not misunderstand me and think that I have no emotions, I am simply detached from them and it will have to suffice for you to know that you will never know about any of them.
Much to my abhorrence but acceptance, I have basic human likes and dislikes. I enjoy the company of my assistant, as much as one can enjoy the presence of someone they are constantly around, a good slice of cake, the feeling of my umbrella in my hand, and protecting my baby brother at a distance from... well... himself. I deeply appreciate the rush from decimating a difficult problem and being in control. At the same time I detest stupidity, which is frustratingly commonplace, defiance, and not being able to manipulate people at my will.
History: My past is absolutely and completely confidential.
But seeing that you already know enough to be bumped to the top of at least the British most wanted list and most likely several other ones, it can't do much harm.
Sherlock and I had a... less than pleasant childhood. I feel that that should be sufficient on the matter. When Sherlock was born, I was 7 years old and indifferent to the new addition to our family. But as soon as I met the newborn (born prematurely and with several complications) I knew that it would be my duty to protect him, something I have never forgotten. For years we grew up and grew together, our... unfortunate circumstances making us rely on each other. Both of us had always had the amazing gift of deduction which I, being first born, had discovered and honed from an early age. I passed these skills down to my brother who grasped eagerly at his gift, which, like me, was not his only one. I excelled easily at school, unlike my brother, who was brilliant but unmotivated and distracted by what he dubbed "More important things" and I was ready to graduate long before many of my peers. Much like now, I saw people as tools, things to be manipulated, to serve my purposes and, on very rare occasions, to genuinely enjoy time with, but that was very infrequent. My brother, on the other hand, lacked all social skills and, despite my best efforts, began to accrue bullies from a very young age. He could deduce people's life stories from a glance but didn't have enough common sense to know when to keep that to himself. Again and again I tried to get friends for him but again and again I failed until he began to hate people and convince himself he didn't need them, excepting me.
As you can probably see, so far, my story is deeply intertwined with that of my brother. This all changed when I graduated early and attended Uni. My time at university was short lived (I graduated early from there as well) but happy. I began an organization called The Diogenes Club and found people that could at least come closer to my intellect than my previous colleagues. My majors of Psychology (to use someone's mind against itself and to better utilize my own mind) and Political Sciences (I already knew that I was interested in holding a government job) weren't difficult in the slightest even though I was double majoring. It wasn't long before I was accepting a job with the government and soaring through the ranks- I mean... Settling down nicely in my average level position.
I never went back home. That was what initially put the wedge in between Sherlock and me. I think to this day that he feels like I abandoned him, which is patently untrue.
By the time I realized my mistake, he was already graduated himself, at college and possibly permanently changed, and not for the best. I tried my best to mend it: at first by talking, then by dropping in unexpectedly, and eventually protecting him from afar. But Sherlock would have none of it and he immersed himself further into his Biology and Chemistry studies.
Or so I thought.
My brother had found... recreational activites that I would rather not delve in to. It will have to suffice to say that eventually Sherlock's problem was solved, even if in the end our relationship was split possibly beyond repair and it turned out it was CONFIDENTIAL (by this point, I'm throwing all caution to the wind and I will let you know that it was DI Greg Lestrade who later became a good friend of mine) that pulled Sherlock out of his rut.
Only a few things have changed since then: Sherlock has started a career as a "Consulting Detective" and has a flatmate and close friend named CONFIDENTIAL (Doctor John Watson, you may as well know) and lives under the watchful care of him and CONFIDENTIAL (Mrs. Hudson) at CONFIDENTIAL (221B Baker Street, I don't have much if a problem saying it because its posted on that blasted website of his), I acquired "Anthea" as an assistant, and Greg was promoted to Detective Inspector. Many cases have come and go for Sherlock, many national crises for me. There was that issue with Jim and Sherlock's "death" and that small Irene conundrum with Princess- Well, you don't need to know about that either.
That is all that I will be allowing you to know about me and before I leave, I would just like to wish you a good and happy life, because with your newly acquired information about me, it won't be lasting much longer.
Anything Else: I hope you don't mind me doing my application in first person! My flatmate, who just so happens to be John on this site and Mickey Smith and The Captive on Whoniverse, did an application in first person once and I thought it was immensely cooler! But if you would like me to rewrite it in third person or I need to clarify because something is unclear, I'd be happy to! Also, if there is anything that Sherlock would like me to change about the history, let me know
RP Sample:
Mycroft sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. This was going to be... messy. It didn't take someone of his genius to work that out. Straightening papers that were already perfectly organized, he rose from his desk, sighing once again. With leaden legs he dragged himself to the sideboard, grabbed a tumbler and the first bottle of liquor his fingers brushed, and wandered over to the window, a healthily filled glass now in hand. It seemed that, unfortunately, this wasn't something he would be able to fix with only some clever thinking and a cut throat attitude. He would need... help. He visibly grimaced at the thought. Especially considering who he would have to recieve it from. Swiftly, he whipped his phone out of his pocket, the all too familiar factory set wall paper glaring up at him. In a fluid motion, he pressed down the number one speed dial and brought the phone to his ear.
"Sherlock. We have a problem. Come to my London home now. No objections."
Name: Mycroft Holmes
Age: 42
Face Claim: Mark Gatiss
Occupation: Despite my brother's incessant and illogical lies that I am "The British Governement", I simply occupy a minor government position.
Appearance: Confidential.
But if you insist upon knowing, then I suppose it will only be dangerous to your livelyhood to know.
Because I take little interest in my physical appearance, it seems that I will have to use what other people have said to me in place of a description. I have been told by my dear brother CONFIDENTIAL (But by this point you know far too much so you may as well know his name is Sherlock) has told me that I am grossly overweight, although on the BMI scale (which actually is really just the invention of pharmaceutical companies to coax people into buying dietary drugs, but you don't need to know about that) I am only slightly above average. Even though, my personal assistant CONFIDENTIAL (you may know her as Anthea) has the task of helping me manage my diet among many other things. Said assistant also has the job of buying my prescription ointments for my receding hair-line problem. Otherwise, it is easy to recognize the typical Holmes characteristics of superior height, long facial features, and dark hair.
Another rather Holmes-esque characteristic of mine would be apparel. It consists of a collection of black suits that individually cost more than the average Englishman makes in a month and are always worn with a tie, my favorite tie being the one with an umbrella pattern. My umbrella, classic black with a wooden handle, almost never leaves my side both for protection and... personal reasons. The last noteworthy part of my appearance is a ring that I keep on the ringer finger of my right hand because... Well, you also don't need to know about that.
Personality: My personality is not confidential because if you have good enough fortune to meet me in person, you probably aren't going to be capable of telling anyone afterwards. You may as well know, that I am rightfully called Ice Man by CONFIDENTIAL (a man that shall here simply be called Jim) and my dear brother has also adopted the term of endearment for me during particularly vicious arguments. This name is actually quite true. I try my hardest to separate myself from emotions at all times, as they inhibit logical thinking, and always succeed. The most emotion you will ever see from me is a sarcastic smile or a frown at your stupidity. Do not misunderstand me and think that I have no emotions, I am simply detached from them and it will have to suffice for you to know that you will never know about any of them.
Much to my abhorrence but acceptance, I have basic human likes and dislikes. I enjoy the company of my assistant, as much as one can enjoy the presence of someone they are constantly around, a good slice of cake, the feeling of my umbrella in my hand, and protecting my baby brother at a distance from... well... himself. I deeply appreciate the rush from decimating a difficult problem and being in control. At the same time I detest stupidity, which is frustratingly commonplace, defiance, and not being able to manipulate people at my will.
History: My past is absolutely and completely confidential.
But seeing that you already know enough to be bumped to the top of at least the British most wanted list and most likely several other ones, it can't do much harm.
Sherlock and I had a... less than pleasant childhood. I feel that that should be sufficient on the matter. When Sherlock was born, I was 7 years old and indifferent to the new addition to our family. But as soon as I met the newborn (born prematurely and with several complications) I knew that it would be my duty to protect him, something I have never forgotten. For years we grew up and grew together, our... unfortunate circumstances making us rely on each other. Both of us had always had the amazing gift of deduction which I, being first born, had discovered and honed from an early age. I passed these skills down to my brother who grasped eagerly at his gift, which, like me, was not his only one. I excelled easily at school, unlike my brother, who was brilliant but unmotivated and distracted by what he dubbed "More important things" and I was ready to graduate long before many of my peers. Much like now, I saw people as tools, things to be manipulated, to serve my purposes and, on very rare occasions, to genuinely enjoy time with, but that was very infrequent. My brother, on the other hand, lacked all social skills and, despite my best efforts, began to accrue bullies from a very young age. He could deduce people's life stories from a glance but didn't have enough common sense to know when to keep that to himself. Again and again I tried to get friends for him but again and again I failed until he began to hate people and convince himself he didn't need them, excepting me.
As you can probably see, so far, my story is deeply intertwined with that of my brother. This all changed when I graduated early and attended Uni. My time at university was short lived (I graduated early from there as well) but happy. I began an organization called The Diogenes Club and found people that could at least come closer to my intellect than my previous colleagues. My majors of Psychology (to use someone's mind against itself and to better utilize my own mind) and Political Sciences (I already knew that I was interested in holding a government job) weren't difficult in the slightest even though I was double majoring. It wasn't long before I was accepting a job with the government and soaring through the ranks- I mean... Settling down nicely in my average level position.
I never went back home. That was what initially put the wedge in between Sherlock and me. I think to this day that he feels like I abandoned him, which is patently untrue.
By the time I realized my mistake, he was already graduated himself, at college and possibly permanently changed, and not for the best. I tried my best to mend it: at first by talking, then by dropping in unexpectedly, and eventually protecting him from afar. But Sherlock would have none of it and he immersed himself further into his Biology and Chemistry studies.
Or so I thought.
My brother had found... recreational activites that I would rather not delve in to. It will have to suffice to say that eventually Sherlock's problem was solved, even if in the end our relationship was split possibly beyond repair and it turned out it was CONFIDENTIAL (by this point, I'm throwing all caution to the wind and I will let you know that it was DI Greg Lestrade who later became a good friend of mine) that pulled Sherlock out of his rut.
Only a few things have changed since then: Sherlock has started a career as a "Consulting Detective" and has a flatmate and close friend named CONFIDENTIAL (Doctor John Watson, you may as well know) and lives under the watchful care of him and CONFIDENTIAL (Mrs. Hudson) at CONFIDENTIAL (221B Baker Street, I don't have much if a problem saying it because its posted on that blasted website of his), I acquired "Anthea" as an assistant, and Greg was promoted to Detective Inspector. Many cases have come and go for Sherlock, many national crises for me. There was that issue with Jim and Sherlock's "death" and that small Irene conundrum with Princess- Well, you don't need to know about that either.
That is all that I will be allowing you to know about me and before I leave, I would just like to wish you a good and happy life, because with your newly acquired information about me, it won't be lasting much longer.
Anything Else: I hope you don't mind me doing my application in first person! My flatmate, who just so happens to be John on this site and Mickey Smith and The Captive on Whoniverse, did an application in first person once and I thought it was immensely cooler! But if you would like me to rewrite it in third person or I need to clarify because something is unclear, I'd be happy to! Also, if there is anything that Sherlock would like me to change about the history, let me know
RP Sample:
Mycroft sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. This was going to be... messy. It didn't take someone of his genius to work that out. Straightening papers that were already perfectly organized, he rose from his desk, sighing once again. With leaden legs he dragged himself to the sideboard, grabbed a tumbler and the first bottle of liquor his fingers brushed, and wandered over to the window, a healthily filled glass now in hand. It seemed that, unfortunately, this wasn't something he would be able to fix with only some clever thinking and a cut throat attitude. He would need... help. He visibly grimaced at the thought. Especially considering who he would have to recieve it from. Swiftly, he whipped his phone out of his pocket, the all too familiar factory set wall paper glaring up at him. In a fluid motion, he pressed down the number one speed dial and brought the phone to his ear.
"Sherlock. We have a problem. Come to my London home now. No objections."
[M:0]
