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brotherthineanagnorisis
\ an-ag-NAWR-uh-sis, -NOHR- \ , noun;
1.
(in ancient Greek tragedy) the critical moment of recognition or discovery, especially preceding peripeteia.
Mycroft didn't often lean on anything - it did hell on his clothes and really why would a minor government official be 'leaning' against a wall? It looked unbelievably unprofessional and sloppy. However, on his day off, he allowed himself the luxury of leaning against the stone edifice on Bridge St. He was, after all, wearing clothing that was about as casual that Mycroft Holmes could get - black courderoy slacks, a dark blue sweater, and of course sturdy walking shoes. The umbrella, naturally, was sitting right at his elbow.
Yes, naturally, he had his phone with him, but otherwise he looked like he was truly trying to have a day where he was simply off. He had cleared his schedule viciously and told Anthea that if he was going to be interrupted in the next four hours outside of nuclear wars, there would be Hell to Pay. Which was why he had the phone, and was currently typing a rather vicious text message to the Minister of Defense while he waited for Gregory - honestly man. Everyone knew that you didn't flinch in the face of Saudi Arabia. They were bullies with oil wells. He ordered him to go back into the meeting, and keep his chin up, like an Englishman.
"...Really going to have to speak to the Prime Minister about you..." He murmured to himself, as his long fingers tapped the keys quickly and bluntly.
\ an-ag-NAWR-uh-sis, -NOHR- \ , noun;
1.
(in ancient Greek tragedy) the critical moment of recognition or discovery, especially preceding peripeteia.
Mycroft didn't often lean on anything - it did hell on his clothes and really why would a minor government official be 'leaning' against a wall? It looked unbelievably unprofessional and sloppy. However, on his day off, he allowed himself the luxury of leaning against the stone edifice on Bridge St. He was, after all, wearing clothing that was about as casual that Mycroft Holmes could get - black courderoy slacks, a dark blue sweater, and of course sturdy walking shoes. The umbrella, naturally, was sitting right at his elbow.
Yes, naturally, he had his phone with him, but otherwise he looked like he was truly trying to have a day where he was simply off. He had cleared his schedule viciously and told Anthea that if he was going to be interrupted in the next four hours outside of nuclear wars, there would be Hell to Pay. Which was why he had the phone, and was currently typing a rather vicious text message to the Minister of Defense while he waited for Gregory - honestly man. Everyone knew that you didn't flinch in the face of Saudi Arabia. They were bullies with oil wells. He ordered him to go back into the meeting, and keep his chin up, like an Englishman.
"...Really going to have to speak to the Prime Minister about you..." He murmured to himself, as his long fingers tapped the keys quickly and bluntly.