<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kwzlhdUsp51qau6jbo1_400.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Ezekiel Mycroft<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd , 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gomorra<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong><br/><hr/><br/><br/><br/>Mycroft sat at his desk impassively look at the jumbled assortments of clues he had carelessly discarded onto it. The assortment of evidence more<br/>resembled that of hyperactive lunatic then that of a famed detective. A fine yet well worn pipe hung from the side of his mouth as a few puffs of smokes danced from within it's bowl. His cold blues focused intensely on the assortment of papers on his desk. He devoured each piece of information slow and methodically , carefully admiring every detail held within them. These were the few moments when the young man was actually happy. There was a new puzzle to solve and Mycroft was delighted about it. He picked up a photo of a young Chinese woman and carefully looked it over before jumping out of his seat.<br/><br/><strong>GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! HOW DID I MISS THAT?!</strong>Ezekiel screamed at the top of his lungs as he removed himself from his chair. He picked his well kept bowler hat from it's stand and rushed outside. He carelessly shuffled through the crowd amassed before the newly erected podium and into city hall. Where is the mayor? I must speak to him at once. I have proof that blackjack didn't  kill Sheriff Coleman." Ezekiel Mycroft  proclaimed with  devilish grin across his face. While he was unsure he would  be able to convince the mayor of his theory he was quite sure  his hypothesis was correct. He stood proudly at the entrance of Townhall and waited for someone to react to his claim.