- Joined
- Oct 17, 2014
- Location
- USA
Sitting on the chair, with pen in hand Philip, wrote the letter to the Yard. At their request he had looked over the material on the murder that had been bothering them, the answer seemed obvious but to assist he had dared to take a constitutional. That had taken more out of him than expected. She aided him in interviewing someone involved. Shannon helped, as always, and in the end the culprit had been found as Philip wrote it all down, in simple words, words even the Yard could understand. Finishing the letter sealed it, using wax and the family seal to close the envelope. One did not need to use such machinations in these days of the great Queen Victoria, yet some bit of theatrics always did impress the lower classes.
Cleaning the wax off the ring as a servant came and took the message as he walked to the window, the curtains hung close and heavy. The air within the study was often oppressive but it also maintained an undercurrent of secrecy that he liked. Light flashed as he ruffled the curtains to look out over his portion of London near Regents Park. Replacing the ring on his finger, the seal of Doyle glinted inside the ruby, his small baroncy near Devon. A grand estate still, though it had been years since he had last visited. He often sent Shannon there when there was need, and for the well timed check-up, as she usually discovered problems that needed resolving. Though they were resolved before her return and report, which was just fine with him.
Picking up the book he had started the other day took out a cigar from the humidor on the desk, lighting a match with his long, elegant fingers. Noticing the pale skin as if for the first time, seeing the web of veins under his skin, Philip stared at the match a moment, watching hit burn down, then lighting the slight cigar took his place on the wide backed seat before the fireplace. A servant brought him a sherry and with a nod dismissed the man, the sherry soothed his body as he tried to calm his thoughts, typically his mind raced from point to point drawing conclusions and placing facts and figures together like a puzzle. It was that talent he put to use aiding the Yard in their more difficult cases. There seemed to be more and more as the reign of Victoria brought further and further advancements. As if mankind was fighting against the new future that was coming.
The letter was already on its way, yet before two pages in the book were read of Herodotus in the original greek text, Philip found himself bored. Crossing long, lean legs under his velvet smoking jacket tapped his foot out with the pendulum clock, that amused him for a moment then taking up the small silver bell on the table rang it.
"Find me Shannon," he told the man whose head just made it in the door before he spoke, and dismissed the servant. As if the act of calling for his hand in the world, she was his hands outside the house he did not like to leave, a calm settled. She would bring him something, a task to bend his mind to and distract him from the ennui that circled him. Savoring the smoke and the brandy, all seemed right for the moment while he waited for her to come.
Cleaning the wax off the ring as a servant came and took the message as he walked to the window, the curtains hung close and heavy. The air within the study was often oppressive but it also maintained an undercurrent of secrecy that he liked. Light flashed as he ruffled the curtains to look out over his portion of London near Regents Park. Replacing the ring on his finger, the seal of Doyle glinted inside the ruby, his small baroncy near Devon. A grand estate still, though it had been years since he had last visited. He often sent Shannon there when there was need, and for the well timed check-up, as she usually discovered problems that needed resolving. Though they were resolved before her return and report, which was just fine with him.
Picking up the book he had started the other day took out a cigar from the humidor on the desk, lighting a match with his long, elegant fingers. Noticing the pale skin as if for the first time, seeing the web of veins under his skin, Philip stared at the match a moment, watching hit burn down, then lighting the slight cigar took his place on the wide backed seat before the fireplace. A servant brought him a sherry and with a nod dismissed the man, the sherry soothed his body as he tried to calm his thoughts, typically his mind raced from point to point drawing conclusions and placing facts and figures together like a puzzle. It was that talent he put to use aiding the Yard in their more difficult cases. There seemed to be more and more as the reign of Victoria brought further and further advancements. As if mankind was fighting against the new future that was coming.
The letter was already on its way, yet before two pages in the book were read of Herodotus in the original greek text, Philip found himself bored. Crossing long, lean legs under his velvet smoking jacket tapped his foot out with the pendulum clock, that amused him for a moment then taking up the small silver bell on the table rang it.
"Find me Shannon," he told the man whose head just made it in the door before he spoke, and dismissed the servant. As if the act of calling for his hand in the world, she was his hands outside the house he did not like to leave, a calm settled. She would bring him something, a task to bend his mind to and distract him from the ennui that circled him. Savoring the smoke and the brandy, all seemed right for the moment while he waited for her to come.