What Does Sherlock Holmes Look Like Novels & Stories

Detective Inspector Smith mumbled as he walked out of the forensic lab, feet scratching the tiled floor as he went. It was a dark corridor; full of twisted low ceilinged rooms, as he passed he noticed a potent smell of bleach rush up his nostrils. Harper, who had rushed ahead, stopped and watched him approach. At the entrance of the forensic building stood a figure, Smith taking an instant dislike observed that the man was about six foot two, dark hair and eyes, pale features, and wore the most unusual clothing.

Was that radiant, charming smile on his face meant for me? His dark brown hair was short, styled in a modern cut, neatly combed but with a smoothness that hinted at the slight curls I’d seen in some photos. His eyes were grayish, though they looked light brown in pictures. I liked them better in person—no, I loved them. His gaze was expressive, almost gentle. He was probably close to six feet tall, though next to Dad, everyone seemed short. His Stuart Hughes suit was clearly tailored, and a wave of heat washed over me as I imagined what lay beneath all that fabric.

He wore dark tactical pants, black boots, and a simple black t-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest. He had broad shoulders, a sharp, square jawline, and thick dark hair that fell over his forehead. But it was his face that made my heart stop in my chest. He looked so much like Hayes that for a second, I thought I was having a terrible dream. He had the same broad nose, the same thick eyebrows, and the same lethal, powerful build of a high-ranking wolf. But his eyes were different. They were not golden like Hayes's eyes. They were a cool, calm hazel, watching me with a quiet, unbothered expression.

One of them was the one that most aroused his curiosity. He was a hunter, she could recognize him because he wore a bow on his back, a grayish colored cloak and a green hood over his head. He had a kind face, not as scary as she imagined a hunter to look. But it gave her chills that he had similar features to her own. It seemed kind of impossible.

He smelled like green forest and wild flowers. He looked at her, waiting for her to take the glass as she looked at his neatly styled black hair, rolled up sleeves of white shirt and chain hanging low from his neck. Which has face of a wolf as a locket, it looks more like some royal emblem. "Who are you?"

He was white, early 30’s, hair in a ponytail, always wearing John Lennon-style round sunglasses, always dressed in black. This guy was really dark-skinned, with a long, ugly scar across his right cheek that was lighter than the rest of his face. He wasn’t shaved bald, but his hair was so closely cropped next to his head that he might as well have been. His angry eyes flitted back and forth like they were on a seek-and-destroy mission. He was dressed in a shark-skin suit, an electric blue tie, and a white shirt so crisp you could have cut yourself on the edges of the collar. He looked a little like Don Cheadle, if Don Cheadle were perpetually pissed-off and dressed like a gangster in a Guy Ri

He then followed and closed the door behind him. I glanced at him and caught him smiling. He had golden brown hair and ocean blue eyes, a face with soft features that made him look like a really handsome gentleman, and a captivating smile which all she-wolves must fall head over heels for in their pack. Well, probably not only in this pack but in a whole world setting. He wore simple clothings, black jeans and a white fitted shirt that shaped his muscles and broad shoulders.

“Can this be the Golden Land we are looking for?” “ Why were you looking for the Golden Land?” Someone said walking towards us. He was surrounded by such a blinding light that it was difficult to make out his shape. When my eyes were finally able to adjust I could see him. He looked like a model out of a fashion magazine. Though the clothes he wore were very different; a long cloak over a pair of loose pants. He didn’t wear a shirt exposing his muscular chest. His face oozed handsomeness; sharp features, arched eyebrows, and full red lips. He made me feel like a beggar on the street.

“Oh. He’s…he looks…interesting.” He looked attractive, Oliver couldn’t deny. He had fair skin and though he had a head warmer on, Oliver could spot hints of his hair bleached in a bright peach color. With brown eyes that shone as he smiled in the picture, his eyebrows were perfectly carved and his lips, a light shade of pink were perfectly shaped. Underneath his head warmer, he could catch a glimpse of a diamond on his ear making Oliver wonder if that was the only piercing he had.

He is even more gorgeous now than I remember him to be, his features more sharp and rugged than they were before. His most distinctive characteristic still remains his long, jet-black hair, cascading down his back like a shroud of shadows. It framed his angular face, emphasizing his chiseled jawline; which I notice is now covered with a full beard and high cheekbones. His eyes are an intense, deep gray, often described as the windows to his enigmatic soul. They held a cold, calculating glint, a testament to his unwavering determination.