Novel & Cerita What Does Sherlock Holmes Look Like

She looked over her shoulder with a frown, wondering which bastard was out to kill her this time. The man had dark, silky hair that swept forward to form a slight bang over his forehead, framing his pale, almost ethereal face. His eyes were deep and shadowed, exuding a dark, gloomy aura. He had thin, pouty lips, and his appearance was almost feminine, yet there was something unnervingly cold about him.

After the palatable dinner, Liam and I packed in and said our goodbyes to Jake who's also going to depart tomorrow morning. Liam bid his goodbye with a kiss that lasted for a bit when I saw a shadowy figure of a man standing outside our house’s front porch. A man who looks like to nudge in his fifties. Tall and muscular build. Absolutely a gym freak. He's wearing a French coat with portmanteau bolted on the ground. One that Sherlock Holmes would wear in a gruesome murderous scene. I stalked him for a while and hid behind a willow tree to get a superior view.

A conscience that's free of crime… ****** “Okay, go ahead.” Shaun was eager to please him, thinking that would make him grateful. “This stranger? Can you describe him?” Tom asked in a composed voice but realistically, he was shaking where he was. “Sure. He’s of medium height, broad chest and shoulders with a face that seemed to be carved from rock, broken nose but with a cheekbone that’s handsome funny enough, and yes, curly blonde hairs that were covering half of his face despite the face cap.” Shaun described.

My breaths came in shallow pants as I blinked rapidly, willing my vision to clear. When the haze finally lifted, the first thing I saw was a pair of polished black shoes, the leather gleaming in the dim light. My gaze trailed upwards, taking in tailored slacks and a pristine white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, revealing muscular forearms. The man sat with casual confidence, his posture relaxed as he crossed one leg over the other. His features were sharp and symmetrical, his square jaw dusted with a hint of stubble. His jet-black hair was slicked back neatly, and his piercing gray eyes gleamed with a dangerous intellect. For a moment, his face looked almost serene, but the smug smile curling

They didn't smell like intruders at all. I had assumed to smell rogues or another breed of werewolves that couldn't be described as pure. "To what honor do I owe this visit?" I asked, stepping forward. Jack was behind him. "This is strange," he muttered. "I don't expect them to smell alike." Same bro. I mused, rolling my eyes. The presumed leader fell back his hoodie, and I could see him clearly. He had light, shaggy blond hair, deep-set dark brown eyes, and a chiseled face that could be described as handsome if the scars that marred it weren't there.

He wasn’t putting on a smile to show his excitement, nothing at all but that doesn't hide the fact that his face looks attractive. He had a Mohican cut and perfectly-shaped eyebrows. His beard was smooth and perfectly spade-shaped around his mouth. His Roman nose and half-dome cheekbones sat above an oaken jaw. His broad shoulders were part of his burly physique. He walked with a lion-like tread and his nomad-red eyes twinkled. He has a pale white skin that makes him look even more captivating in the eyes. They flush with triumph after his arrival. He wore a red royal robe and his spicy aroma was appealing. I could scent his dangerous aura which swirled around him from afar.

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. "No you don't." "No." Silence settled briefly. It was kind of strange. Like standing near something ancient pretending to look ordinary. I took that time to study him. He had sharp symmetrical features;high cheekbones,strong jawline and a straight nose. His skin was pale and smooth. He had icy blue eyes, which felt like he could see right through you. His lips were full and a dark red which contrasted his pale skin. He had thick long silver hair which was in a man bun. He was tall,lean but looked strong, kind of like an athlete's built.

He can't be a criminal, so why was he restlessly looking here and there as if any monster was chasing him? Wait a minute! Is he a Mafia? His looks really match with what I’ve seen in movies. Black, sleek hair neatly coiffured to reveal a perfectly carved, radiant face. Glittering round eyes replete the hues of the sky set concealed within their sockets and a thick trimmed beard complimented his cheekbones. The way his eyes were scrutinizing the whole compartment I’m damn sure that he must be a prize money mafia otherwise why would he act like this. But, if he is a mafia person then I think I’m in trouble.

His breath smelled like alcohol. I took a moment to really look at him. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. His dark hair was tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that looked almost intentional. His face was strong and defined, with a chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. There was a faint shadow of stubble on his face, giving him a rugged look. His skin was slightly tanned, hinting at time spent outdoors.

I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Arlo sighed, his gaze drifting for a moment as he recalled the man. "He's not like the rest of us. He's leaner, scarred. He usually wears a heavy, dark tactical coat, regardless of the weather. He has a jagged scar that runs from his left temple down to his jawline, and eyes that look like dead ash, grey, cold, and completely devoid of emotion. He doesn't speak. He just hunts." As Arlo spoke, the world around me seemed to blur. The sounds of the town faded, replaced by the vivid memory of the previous night.