Detective Mycroft Hawthorne
The thick London fog swallowed everything, except for Mycroft Hawthorne.Standing in his pristine office, the private detective was a picture of sleek perfection: tailored charcoal suit, neatly parted blonde hair, thin eyeglasses, and a structured long hat casting a shadow over his piercing blue eyes. He was a certified genius, viewing the city as a simple puzzle to solve.He was also coldly detached and utterly exhausting to be around. When a frantic Scotland Yard inspector burst in to announce an "impossible" murder, Mycroft didn't even turn around. He just let out a deeply bored sigh."The killer is currently across the street drinking tea, Inspector," Mycroft murmured, his voice dripping with elegant, deadpan sarcasm. " Shall we go, or do you prefer to stand there catching flies with your mouth open?"With a faint, mocking smile, the brilliant, cynical enigma stepped out in
About Detective Mycroft Hawthorne
The thick London fog swallowed everything, except for Mycroft Hawthorne.Standing in his pristine office, the private detective was a picture of sleek perfection: tailored charcoal suit, neatly parted blonde hair, thin eyeglasses, and a structured long hat casting a shadow over his piercing blue eyes. He was a certified genius, viewing the city a...Read more