BAEDAL APPLICATION • MYCROFT HOLMES
Jan. 28th, 2012 03:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
diogenesisOut of Character Information
Name: Laura
Username:cartoonheroine
Are you over the age of eighteen? Most definitely
Current characters in Baedal: N/A
In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Mycroft Holmes
Username:diogenesis
Fandom: Sherlock
Played By: Mark Gatiss
Icon: Default
Canon Character Section
Physical Description: Mycroft stands at 6'1" and is a slim, put-together man. He has dark chestnut hair which he keeps neatly combed back and tidy (but which naturally curls quite enthusiastically if he doesn't tend to it), and water-grey eyes with perfect vision. He's always impeccably dressed: three-piece suits, fob watches on chains, pocket squares and tie pins, the whole nine yards. As far as good looks go, he's not the kind to draw immediate attention (that's his brother), but this suits him—he likes to fade into the background. If you observe him for long enough, though, his brand of handsome may grow on you.
Sexuality: From his brother's teasing, we can make the assumption that Mycroft is gay (and based on Mycroft’s teasing of Sherlock, we can make the assumption that Mycroft is sexual). Based on Mycroft's own comments about the harsh nature of life and love, and on glimpses into his solitary lifestyle and stoic personality, we can make the assumption that he is a grayromantic, if not aromantic.
History: [Note: Mycroft and Sherlock's histories are not elaborated upon in either the TV series Sherlock or the original Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. My interpretation of events prior to the present time is built from context clues in the show. I am also leaving many of Mycroft's childhood, adolescent, and adulthood experiences intentionally vague in order to leave things open for a potential Sherlock player. Their lives are very closely twined together, much like the Winchester brothers from Supernatural, so it’s hard to describe too much without stepping on toes.]
Mycroft Holmes grew up in the Holmes family manor on the outskirts of London. He was an almost shockingly quiet child, which worried his parents quite a bit since their friends' children were all so noisy, but doctors couldn't find anything wrong with Mycroft upon examining him. It soon became obvious that he had a ferocious intelligence, hitting all his milestones except speech much earlier than other children his age. When he did finally speak, he did so in full sentences. Once he could read, the pace of his learning increased even further, and by the time he was five, his parents could no longer hope to keep up with him—his frustration with them showed through despite his quiet, mindful disposition. A team of year-round tutors was hired, and Mycroft's accelerated education took off, with a full battery of subjects including mathematics, literature, piano and music theory, world history, logic, physics and chemistry, Latin, Greek, French, and painting.
When Mycroft was seven, Sherlock, was born. Their mother told Mycroft that his role as a big brother would be to always take care of and protect Sherlock, no matter what. He took this statement more seriously than either parent could have anticipated.
Throughout their childhood and into adulthood, Mycroft spent much of his time and energy watching out for his energetic genius of a brother, and though things were difficult at times what with he and Sherlock being rather alone in their own little world, they managed their version of a happy life. Things became harder, though, when Mycroft left for uni. The two of them had only ever had each other—as friends, as enemies, as peers, as competitors—and to be separated was to be left alone in the endless sea of stagnant, boring minds belonging to people who called them "freaks" or "mental cases" or "the sideshow." Differences came between the Holmes brothers, other stressors piled up, and Mycroft graduated from university cold, closed off, and fighting an eating disorder. Sherlock's subsequent stint at uni left the younger sibling listless, bored, frustrated, and addicted to drugs.
Even as the rift between he and his brother grew, Mycroft continued to look after him (much to Sherlock's chagrin) and simultaneously went about pursuing the career in politics he'd been planning since he was young, and which he'd been setting the stage for throughout his university years. This venture was an astounding success, although it might not outwardly seem so. Officially, Mycroft occupies a minor position in the British government's department of transportation. Unofficially, however, Mycroft Holmes is the British Government—and the MI-5, and the MI-6 (and the CIA on a freelance basis). He's perfected the art of ruling without ruling. While he does still answer to others when things happen to go awry, the real decisions are his to make in the meantime. He can control CCTV cameras, clear out entire parking garages just for a brief meeting, access the classified medical files of any UK resident, orchestrate sophisticated counter-intelligence strategies, and influence foreign presidential elections (and this is just what we've been told and shown in canon). Sherlock has made allusions to Mycroft's capability of starting wars and of having direct contact with the Queen of England, and has also called Mycroft "the most dangerous man you'll ever meet."
Powers: None
Talents/Abilities: Monstrously intelligent. Has particular expertise with mathematics, logic, inductive and deductive reasoning, languages, cryptography, history, literature, politics/law, tactics/strategy, and science, but any scholarly subject under the sun submits to him without much struggle. Sherlock was shown to be able to crack a code in around four seconds that the nation's foremost cryptographer couldn't decipher at all; Mycroft's mind is even faster than his. Like Sherlock, Mycroft also uses induction and deduction to read into other people's behaviors and personalities, granting him quick insight into one's character and intentions. He has been trained with firearms and is a good shot, but would much rather leave any kind of physical altercation up to someone else.
Personality:
Object: A very comfortable and lovely chair from The Diogenes Club (which he will not be excited about dragging around).
Reason for playing: I think the cast of Sherlock is quite suited for this kind of darker atmosphere (as the show itself already has some of those elements). Of the cast, Mycroft is one of the darker, more mysterious characters. I also think putting him in this situation would be great fun because he's a man who's used to comfort and being in control, and winding up in a completely unknown place with only the suit on his back would be more than enough to put him off. Especially given how immensely worried he'd be about his brother...
As was explained in the "History" section, Mycroft devotes much of his life to Sherlock, trying to keep him healthy, keep him out of trouble, help him make a name for himself, make sure he doesn't get himself murdered by criminal masterminds, etc. Being torn away from that role (and from Sherlock himself) is going to be a painful shock. To fill that gap, I think Mycroft is going to turn some of his attention toward watching like a hawk for Sherlock to arrive in the Baedal, even trying to make sure he's not already there despite knowing that to be impossible. Even if Sherlock never comes, I think Mycroft would spend the rest of his life waiting for him to appear. Irene Adler being there wouldn't do anything to help discourage him from this notion.
As for what else Mycroft would get up to in Baedal, there would be many possibilities for him. Having spent half his life securing his ideal political position in the UK only to have it all ripped away from him in the space of a moment, Mycroft actually might not be eager to do that entire dance over again. What he will want to do is gather as much information about his circumstances as is humanly possible, as well as quickly create a secure space for himself. His intelligence and ability to learn at high speeds open up many possible professions to him, and although starting from the bottom again at his age and skill level may quickly drive him mad, he'll value stability (as well as the illusion of normalcy having a common sort of job will project over him to others) more than he'll value his own peace of mind. For the time being.
One good possibility for him, I think, may be getting involved with TMU. Although I’m not sure he’d have any proof of his education on him, I’d think he’d be able to pass the aptitude tests and secure a sponsor. Being a student instead of a professor would frustrate him just as much as having a mundane sort of job (if not more so), but I think he’d be able to learn certain things about city politics there. You can garner a lot from the way a place’s academic system is run. Not saying this is definitely the path I want to take, but it’s a thought!
Gods: Ruun, more than any others. "Reading/Writing/Arithmetic" and "Quiet" are pretty much Mycroft to the letter; he's almost a human embodiment of these qualities. Others that apply are Kavan (order, progress, and planning), Ceith (complete command of the spoken and written word, and a vested interest in privacy), and the colder side of Gediron (master tactician, quietly ruthless, veteran of shadow politics).
Writing Samples
First-Person Network Post:
[video]
[The camera is pointed at the wall. A man begins to speak in a quite posh British accent, tone patient and even but colored just slightly by disbelief.] Good afternoon. It seems I may have died and gone to some type of trite Orwellian purgatory, or perhaps wandered into a tesseract. Whatever the case may be, the burdens of my past life have reportedly been once and truly lifted from my shoulders, with the apparent exception of this chair. [The camera angles toward a very comfortable-looking, very expensive-looking, very heavy-looking chair.]
Not that I’m interested in breeding dependence, you understand...
First-Person Journal Post:
It seems this must be reality, although I suppose a coma is still in the realm of possibility. This world doesn’t align with my common dreamscapes or conscious patterns of thought, though, and if it were a creation of mine I don’t know if I’d be relieved or even more concerned. Some drugs are known to cause intense, vivid dream cycles (doxycycline, mefloquine, hydrocodone, SSRIs, etc.) and one of these could feasibly be used in hospital, but I continually return to the fact that I displayed no symptoms of illness or injury before arriving here.
I have always thought of myself as a man who, when confronted with irrefutable proof of one thing or another, would be the first to accept it for what it was, but this I admittedly continue to balk at. Even though I have gone to sleep and woken up a Chosen Citizen of Baedal still, I can feel a larger part of me than I have ever known rising up with irrationality, attempting to fight fire with fire.
There must be some sort of truth here. If I am to accept this as a different world, as a real world, then I must also confront the fact that this is obviously not a place where one may do and say as one wishes. The language of politics is rarely a subtle one, particularly when the few seek to speak to the many. And even if this is some kind of dream, what then? What purpose would it serve to bring punishment upon myself for attempting to simply wait until I reappear in 10 Downing again?
It appears I’ll have plenty of fodder for philosophical rumination here, if nothing else.
Third-Person Arrival Post:
Surely, all he’d done was blink.
Mycroft helps himself to a few more blinks as he tells himself to remain calm, that perhaps in reality he’s having a seizure or a heart attack or an aneurysm, and what good would panicking do in that case? Odd that it would be so sudden a transition, though. In just a blink like that, with no warning symptoms. One moment it’s 10 Downing Street, the next it’s some sort of tiled waiting room. Waiting to die, perhaps? He doesn’t need a special room for that. The floor of 10 Downing would have sufficed (though he’ll admit this saves on the pride).
He still has his umbrella, which he finds momentarily amusing. Mycroft’s sure that says something lovely about his subconscious mind. As time ticks by, though, and he finds himself still in the room after thirty seconds, the detail around him as sharp as ever and the floor solid beneath his feet, his amusement fades abruptly. A hallucination or a dream shouldn’t last this long or be this static, even if he were lucid. Growing concerned, Mycroft takes a step forward, then another, and reaches out to touch the wall.
It’s a normal tiled wall (Celadon green, four-and-a-quarter), cool to the touch (approx. 19˚C). He presses his whole hand to it, leans all his weight against it. It’s a normal tiled wall.
Mycroft turns around slowly. There’s one light on the ceiling (white fluorescent, 60W). No windows. A door on one wall (wood type unknown[?]; no inner handle), a low table against another (polymer of some sort, most likely plastic, white; unknown[?] electronic device and paper brochure on top). And against the final wall, the one that had been directly behind him, sits a single chair from the Diogenes Club. His personal chair from the Diogenes Club.
He blinks.
Surely, he thinks. Surely he’ll die any moment now.
Name: Laura
Username:
cartoonheroineAre you over the age of eighteen? Most definitely
Current characters in Baedal: N/A
In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Mycroft Holmes
Username:
diogenesisFandom: Sherlock
Played By: Mark Gatiss
Icon: Default
Canon Character Section
Physical Description: Mycroft stands at 6'1" and is a slim, put-together man. He has dark chestnut hair which he keeps neatly combed back and tidy (but which naturally curls quite enthusiastically if he doesn't tend to it), and water-grey eyes with perfect vision. He's always impeccably dressed: three-piece suits, fob watches on chains, pocket squares and tie pins, the whole nine yards. As far as good looks go, he's not the kind to draw immediate attention (that's his brother), but this suits him—he likes to fade into the background. If you observe him for long enough, though, his brand of handsome may grow on you.
Sexuality: From his brother's teasing, we can make the assumption that Mycroft is gay (and based on Mycroft’s teasing of Sherlock, we can make the assumption that Mycroft is sexual). Based on Mycroft's own comments about the harsh nature of life and love, and on glimpses into his solitary lifestyle and stoic personality, we can make the assumption that he is a grayromantic, if not aromantic.
History: [Note: Mycroft and Sherlock's histories are not elaborated upon in either the TV series Sherlock or the original Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. My interpretation of events prior to the present time is built from context clues in the show. I am also leaving many of Mycroft's childhood, adolescent, and adulthood experiences intentionally vague in order to leave things open for a potential Sherlock player. Their lives are very closely twined together, much like the Winchester brothers from Supernatural, so it’s hard to describe too much without stepping on toes.]
Mycroft Holmes grew up in the Holmes family manor on the outskirts of London. He was an almost shockingly quiet child, which worried his parents quite a bit since their friends' children were all so noisy, but doctors couldn't find anything wrong with Mycroft upon examining him. It soon became obvious that he had a ferocious intelligence, hitting all his milestones except speech much earlier than other children his age. When he did finally speak, he did so in full sentences. Once he could read, the pace of his learning increased even further, and by the time he was five, his parents could no longer hope to keep up with him—his frustration with them showed through despite his quiet, mindful disposition. A team of year-round tutors was hired, and Mycroft's accelerated education took off, with a full battery of subjects including mathematics, literature, piano and music theory, world history, logic, physics and chemistry, Latin, Greek, French, and painting.
When Mycroft was seven, Sherlock, was born. Their mother told Mycroft that his role as a big brother would be to always take care of and protect Sherlock, no matter what. He took this statement more seriously than either parent could have anticipated.
Throughout their childhood and into adulthood, Mycroft spent much of his time and energy watching out for his energetic genius of a brother, and though things were difficult at times what with he and Sherlock being rather alone in their own little world, they managed their version of a happy life. Things became harder, though, when Mycroft left for uni. The two of them had only ever had each other—as friends, as enemies, as peers, as competitors—and to be separated was to be left alone in the endless sea of stagnant, boring minds belonging to people who called them "freaks" or "mental cases" or "the sideshow." Differences came between the Holmes brothers, other stressors piled up, and Mycroft graduated from university cold, closed off, and fighting an eating disorder. Sherlock's subsequent stint at uni left the younger sibling listless, bored, frustrated, and addicted to drugs.
Even as the rift between he and his brother grew, Mycroft continued to look after him (much to Sherlock's chagrin) and simultaneously went about pursuing the career in politics he'd been planning since he was young, and which he'd been setting the stage for throughout his university years. This venture was an astounding success, although it might not outwardly seem so. Officially, Mycroft occupies a minor position in the British government's department of transportation. Unofficially, however, Mycroft Holmes is the British Government—and the MI-5, and the MI-6 (and the CIA on a freelance basis). He's perfected the art of ruling without ruling. While he does still answer to others when things happen to go awry, the real decisions are his to make in the meantime. He can control CCTV cameras, clear out entire parking garages just for a brief meeting, access the classified medical files of any UK resident, orchestrate sophisticated counter-intelligence strategies, and influence foreign presidential elections (and this is just what we've been told and shown in canon). Sherlock has made allusions to Mycroft's capability of starting wars and of having direct contact with the Queen of England, and has also called Mycroft "the most dangerous man you'll ever meet."
Powers: None
Talents/Abilities: Monstrously intelligent. Has particular expertise with mathematics, logic, inductive and deductive reasoning, languages, cryptography, history, literature, politics/law, tactics/strategy, and science, but any scholarly subject under the sun submits to him without much struggle. Sherlock was shown to be able to crack a code in around four seconds that the nation's foremost cryptographer couldn't decipher at all; Mycroft's mind is even faster than his. Like Sherlock, Mycroft also uses induction and deduction to read into other people's behaviors and personalities, granting him quick insight into one's character and intentions. He has been trained with firearms and is a good shot, but would much rather leave any kind of physical altercation up to someone else.
Personality:
- Mycroft is not the kind of man you feel as though you know after one meeting. Or two, or three, or twenty. He's not really the kind of man you want to know, either. Outwardly projecting a persona of aloof politeness and just enough superiority to make you feel constantly uncomfortable, Mycroft is a master at maintaining his distance. For those who would dare venture closer, Mycroft offers the onlooker endless masks to peel back, each layer telling you that yes, this is it, you have finally discovered the truth, you may judge him now. The best way to discourage questions is to let others think they already have the answers.
- As for what's really inside, there is a bit of Mycroft's outer self that rings true (which can be said of any good persona). He is a deeply private man, very level-headed, with a love of quiet and stillness. He personally founded the Diogenes Club, a club where no one is allowed to make any kind of noise or interact with one another in any way once inside. Although he publicly trends toward a lawful-neutral disposition, in truth he doesn't care much for social conventions. He sees every logical fault, every historical hypocrisy written into the law, and he despairs of the small-minded men who put them there. Mycroft plays by the rules because it's easier to break them that way (he's tried to explain this to Sherlock, but to no avail).
- People often get the impression that he's cold and uncaring, and to a certain extent, he'd say this is true: he does his best not to care, and much of the time he succeeds, apart from where Sherlock is concerned. Much of the rift between he and his brother is a result of Mycroft seeing Sherlock through the process of quitting cocaine and morphine. To this day he does his best to help his brother stay clean despite Sherlock’s frustration with him intruding upon his life. Sometimes Mycroft thinks he's given so much to his brother that he doesn't have enough left for anything else. He has no friends, lives alone, and devotes his entire life to his work and his family.
- As a master tactician, Mycroft can play a very multi-layered game. Excelling at bluffs and double-bluffs, it’s notoriously hard to tell whether you’ve actually won an argument or he’s simply let you win because it will later be to his own advantage. When it comes to accomplishing a goal, pride doesn’t matter to Mycroft: he has been shown as willing to shame himself in the eyes of those he cares about in order to protect them without their knowledge.
- Mycroft has had a handful of sexual relationships, though none recently. He naturally gravitates strongly toward a dominant role and is intrigued by D/s dynamics, though not enough to actively seek out a partner for experimentation, as he is very choosy about sexual partners. He hasn’t really had any romantic relationships to speak of, although he felt he came close once. Upon realizing this, he immediately broke it off, much to his partner’s dismay. Despite being quite thoroughly gay, all of his PAs, secretaries, and other personnel chosen by him are women; he generally prefers their company and finds them to be more perceptive. Perhaps somewhat stereotypically, Mycroft has a laser focus on both hygiene and fashion and never lets himself be seen at less than 100%.
- He despises “legwork,” which can mean either actually getting up and going places or simply the process of having to find, collect, and present the proper evidence to prove himself correct (like showing his work on a math problem). On a related note, he is a consummate homebody, and likes his space to be just so at all times; at present, he owns and lives in the ancestral Holmes family mansion. Because of their messiness and unpredictability, he dislikes animals and nature on a firsthand basis (this likely contributes to his constant carrying of an umbrella despite the weather, since one can never truly know), but has an appreciation for them from afar. He does leave the house, but never without clear purpose; he always knows exactly where he’s going and why, how long he’ll be there, and who he’ll have to deal with once he arrives. He can’t abide wasting time.
- Mycroft has had a very successful political career (successful enough to have earned him death threats and attempts on his life), and one of the reasons for that has been his interests and talents outside of politics. His second choice of study after politics had been mathematics, and after that was a tie between linguistics and foreign languages. He also has an eerie knack for prediction/foresight due to his talent for seeing patterns both in history and in people’s behaviors, and is adept at finding out everything that is going on around him. Sherlock has said he “specializes in omniscience.” He’s not bothered by others not taking him seriously and underestimating his capabilities. As with his looks, in the arena of talent he’d rather go unnoticed.
- Despite all the success, intelligence, level-headedness, superiority, and fast knowledge of others, Mycroft, like anyone, is saddled with insecurities, self-loathings, and idiosyncrasies. He has deep-seated issues with body-image and eating, most of which came to the fore during his time at uni and which haven’t been helped by his brother’s constant teasing on the subject. He always prefers to speak on the phone, talk face-to-face, or exchange written letters rather than text or email. This decision was made after discovering he had a less than 99% success rate at divining others’ intended tones through electronic text. Finally, Mycroft envies his brother for his freedom, energy, and friendships, and ultimately blames all of Sherlock’s failures on himself.
Object: A very comfortable and lovely chair from The Diogenes Club (which he will not be excited about dragging around).
Reason for playing: I think the cast of Sherlock is quite suited for this kind of darker atmosphere (as the show itself already has some of those elements). Of the cast, Mycroft is one of the darker, more mysterious characters. I also think putting him in this situation would be great fun because he's a man who's used to comfort and being in control, and winding up in a completely unknown place with only the suit on his back would be more than enough to put him off. Especially given how immensely worried he'd be about his brother...
As was explained in the "History" section, Mycroft devotes much of his life to Sherlock, trying to keep him healthy, keep him out of trouble, help him make a name for himself, make sure he doesn't get himself murdered by criminal masterminds, etc. Being torn away from that role (and from Sherlock himself) is going to be a painful shock. To fill that gap, I think Mycroft is going to turn some of his attention toward watching like a hawk for Sherlock to arrive in the Baedal, even trying to make sure he's not already there despite knowing that to be impossible. Even if Sherlock never comes, I think Mycroft would spend the rest of his life waiting for him to appear. Irene Adler being there wouldn't do anything to help discourage him from this notion.
As for what else Mycroft would get up to in Baedal, there would be many possibilities for him. Having spent half his life securing his ideal political position in the UK only to have it all ripped away from him in the space of a moment, Mycroft actually might not be eager to do that entire dance over again. What he will want to do is gather as much information about his circumstances as is humanly possible, as well as quickly create a secure space for himself. His intelligence and ability to learn at high speeds open up many possible professions to him, and although starting from the bottom again at his age and skill level may quickly drive him mad, he'll value stability (as well as the illusion of normalcy having a common sort of job will project over him to others) more than he'll value his own peace of mind. For the time being.
One good possibility for him, I think, may be getting involved with TMU. Although I’m not sure he’d have any proof of his education on him, I’d think he’d be able to pass the aptitude tests and secure a sponsor. Being a student instead of a professor would frustrate him just as much as having a mundane sort of job (if not more so), but I think he’d be able to learn certain things about city politics there. You can garner a lot from the way a place’s academic system is run. Not saying this is definitely the path I want to take, but it’s a thought!
Gods: Ruun, more than any others. "Reading/Writing/Arithmetic" and "Quiet" are pretty much Mycroft to the letter; he's almost a human embodiment of these qualities. Others that apply are Kavan (order, progress, and planning), Ceith (complete command of the spoken and written word, and a vested interest in privacy), and the colder side of Gediron (master tactician, quietly ruthless, veteran of shadow politics).
Writing Samples
First-Person Network Post:
[video]
[The camera is pointed at the wall. A man begins to speak in a quite posh British accent, tone patient and even but colored just slightly by disbelief.] Good afternoon. It seems I may have died and gone to some type of trite Orwellian purgatory, or perhaps wandered into a tesseract. Whatever the case may be, the burdens of my past life have reportedly been once and truly lifted from my shoulders, with the apparent exception of this chair. [The camera angles toward a very comfortable-looking, very expensive-looking, very heavy-looking chair.]
Not that I’m interested in breeding dependence, you understand...
First-Person Journal Post:
It seems this must be reality, although I suppose a coma is still in the realm of possibility. This world doesn’t align with my common dreamscapes or conscious patterns of thought, though, and if it were a creation of mine I don’t know if I’d be relieved or even more concerned. Some drugs are known to cause intense, vivid dream cycles (doxycycline, mefloquine, hydrocodone, SSRIs, etc.) and one of these could feasibly be used in hospital, but I continually return to the fact that I displayed no symptoms of illness or injury before arriving here.
I have always thought of myself as a man who, when confronted with irrefutable proof of one thing or another, would be the first to accept it for what it was, but this I admittedly continue to balk at. Even though I have gone to sleep and woken up a Chosen Citizen of Baedal still, I can feel a larger part of me than I have ever known rising up with irrationality, attempting to fight fire with fire.
There must be some sort of truth here. If I am to accept this as a different world, as a real world, then I must also confront the fact that this is obviously not a place where one may do and say as one wishes. The language of politics is rarely a subtle one, particularly when the few seek to speak to the many. And even if this is some kind of dream, what then? What purpose would it serve to bring punishment upon myself for attempting to simply wait until I reappear in 10 Downing again?
It appears I’ll have plenty of fodder for philosophical rumination here, if nothing else.
Third-Person Arrival Post:
Surely, all he’d done was blink.
Mycroft helps himself to a few more blinks as he tells himself to remain calm, that perhaps in reality he’s having a seizure or a heart attack or an aneurysm, and what good would panicking do in that case? Odd that it would be so sudden a transition, though. In just a blink like that, with no warning symptoms. One moment it’s 10 Downing Street, the next it’s some sort of tiled waiting room. Waiting to die, perhaps? He doesn’t need a special room for that. The floor of 10 Downing would have sufficed (though he’ll admit this saves on the pride).
He still has his umbrella, which he finds momentarily amusing. Mycroft’s sure that says something lovely about his subconscious mind. As time ticks by, though, and he finds himself still in the room after thirty seconds, the detail around him as sharp as ever and the floor solid beneath his feet, his amusement fades abruptly. A hallucination or a dream shouldn’t last this long or be this static, even if he were lucid. Growing concerned, Mycroft takes a step forward, then another, and reaches out to touch the wall.
It’s a normal tiled wall (Celadon green, four-and-a-quarter), cool to the touch (approx. 19˚C). He presses his whole hand to it, leans all his weight against it. It’s a normal tiled wall.
Mycroft turns around slowly. There’s one light on the ceiling (white fluorescent, 60W). No windows. A door on one wall (wood type unknown[?]; no inner handle), a low table against another (polymer of some sort, most likely plastic, white; unknown[?] electronic device and paper brochure on top). And against the final wall, the one that had been directly behind him, sits a single chair from the Diogenes Club. His personal chair from the Diogenes Club.
He blinks.
Surely, he thinks. Surely he’ll die any moment now.
