Post by leviafan on Jan 21, 2012 18:41:26 GMT -8
SHERLOCK HOLMES.
name Sherlock Holmes
race Human
gender Male
age 34
residence 221B Baker Street. London, England.
hair So dark as to look black, slightly wavy
eyes Blue-grey
height 6’1”
other Has prominent cheekbones. Wears a distinctive long black coat and often a scarf.
personality Sherlock Holmes is not an easy man to get on with. Over the years he has grown a shell round himself for protection. His intelligence level is so high as to be isolating, and so he took that as a cue and isolated himself. He is blunt and though he knows the dictionary definition of tact, he would never dream of actually using it. He knows his intelligence is stratospheres above everyone else and it causes him to belittle ordinary people. He has absolutely no use for social niceties— but if he wounds with his words, it’s not out of malice. He just doesn’t quite get how emotions work, especially his own.
Sherlock’s mind is (or at least has been up to now) everything to him, the sun to his earth; he’s defined by it, consumed by it. His thoughts race so fast that at times it’s unbearable. He cannot stand boredom, yet it strikes him so easily. He will try nearly anything to fight the lassitude that seizes him whenever there is a lull in the action. It was his constant search for mental stimulation that led to his drug addiction, but that only served to make things worse. He is keenly observant of everything and admittedly enjoys showing off his skills to anyone who will listen, and often to those who don’t even want to. Genius is nothing without an audience, after all.
However, the magician is not totally cut off from his audience. There are a select few people Sherlock would go to extraordinary lengths to protect. Still, he is very sparing as to who he calls friend. He is extremely competitive in the field of mental endeavors, which is probably at the root of his feud with his brother Mycroft. Because he relies so exclusively on his rational mind, the paranormal holds no interest for him insofar as there’s no proof; and doubt is far, far worse than fear. He is dedicated, persistent, and full of restless intense energy while on the trail of some intriguing mystery. His eagerness can seem obscene when it’s a question of murder, but all he cares about is the stimulus, the thrill of the chase.
miscellaneous He is constantly experimenting, but unfortunately this often involves working with body parts, and he’s not too particular about where he puts them. The fridge is the best bet, but they’ve also been known to turn up in the microwave.
history Sherlock was born seven years after his brother, a fact that Mycroft will never let him live down. As the younger brother, he had this vague feeling that he had to make up for lost time and so he competed fiercely for his parents’ attention. This led him to torment Mycroft, who in addition to being older was— to Sherlock’s horror— smarter than he was. The torments were for the most part minor, but they added up to a lot of resentment over the years. So they were both relieved when Mycroft went off to university.
Sherlock followed him several years later, carefully choosing any university but the one his brother had attended. He did not enjoy his time there and nor did anyone who had to deal with him. He constantly corrected his professors, publicly, with his usual lack of tact, and he didn’t make friends. Most of his coursework was just boring to him, which made the whole thing worse. His marks were spotty because he sometimes took offense at the simplicity of the assignments and just refused to do them. His professors were exasperated by him; he was clearly brilliant, far above their level, yet he couldn’t seem to pull himself together.
He would have probably failed to graduate if it hadn’t been for the ever-protective Mycroft. Though he dislikes legwork, he was no slouch when it came to his little brother and from Sherlock’s occasional grudging e-mails he could tell something was wrong. Without telling Sherlock he arranged to have a professor approach him. Mycroft had done his research (horrors!) and had found just the right man for the job. Professor Trevelyan was cold, inscrutable and he brooked absolutely no nonsense. He took Sherlock under his wing despite the young man’s objections, managing to respark his interest in everything. Professor Trevelyan also had a keen mind, one that was nearly able to keep up with his pupil’s, and so Sherlock had some respect for him, though eh thought the man was wasted as a university lecturer.
With Trevelyan’s support and encouragement he scraped his way back up to graduation and then Sherlock Holmes was set loose on the world. At first he tried his hand at various white-collar jobs; he even briefly went to work with a school acquaintance, Seb Wilkes, in banking. However, none of these jobs held his interest for very long, and as often as he quit his abrasive nature got him fired. He finally went abroad for a few months to try and combat his boredom, spending time with distant relatives in France. It didn’t really help; after he got back, he fell into depression and became addicted to drugs, searching for some kind of escape.
It nearly destroyed him, but again Mycroft came to his aid. It was a hard slog but he got Sherlock off the drugs and arranged for him to help out the police on one of their most puzzling cases. “On a trial basis, mind,” DI Lestrade had told him, but they were forced to admit his usefulness when he worked out the answer after five minutes’ investigation.
However, Sherlock couldn’t bear the restrictions and rules of bureaucracy, couldn’t see himself as a cog in the police machine, and so he set himself up as a consulting detective— the only one in the world. From the very start he wondered why it had taken him so long to come up with this solution. It was a perfect fit, the perfect outlet or his observational skills. Like any addict Sherlock had a rough road to recovery and he weaned himself off the drugs with cigarettes, which he later replaced with nicotine patches; but he was on the upswing.
He gradually settled in to his self-created role, but he discovered that even as successful as he was, it didn’t quite cover the rent for his flat. Finally Mycroft— who had been helping him financially as long as he was still a recovering addict— gave him an ultimatum. Pay your own rent or find someplace else to live. After some shrewd calculation Sherlock turned to Mrs Hudson. Years ago he had helped ensure her husband’s execution and she was grateful enough to offer him a flat at a reduced rate.
Still, money would be tight and having a flatmate would help. He asked around at St Bart’s Hospital (where he spent a lot of time in the morgue) but didn’t find any takers until Mike Stamford brought around an old school friend of his. John Watson was an ex-military doctor recently returned from Afghanistan. After a very brief conversation he agreed to go look at the flat together... and that was that.
roleplay sample
He lay on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, willing the clock to hurry up and get to midnight.
John was gone. Therefore, the flat was more stifling than usual.
True, Sherlock didn’t always notice whether he was here or not, occasionally spoke to the empty silence out of habit; but this time he’d specifically asked him to go, and all towards this grand purpose. The minute the door closed behind him, Sherlock had thrown himself upon his laptop like a hungry creature, tapping out a fateful digital telegram to the enemy who’d been behind so much mayhem lately.
But it wasn’t quite midnight. Sherlock had spent an hour already with his violin, playing the most dramatic pieces he knew. Finally even that was played-out, and he’d set it aside for the more pedestrian option of plaster-watching. He couldn’t stand this endless waiting. It preyed on his mind like a creeping disease. The real work was done and now he was ready for this whole thing to be over. He had sent John away because for once, this would be too dangerous even for him. He couldn’t ask John to come along on this adventure. It wasn’t his fight.
No, this game had been arranged for Sherlock, and Sherlock alone.
So Sherlock would go to the pool.
Alone.
