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Location: Storybrooke
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alias: Bach
age in ##: 37
story: Elementary
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Joined: 5-March 17
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Last Seen: Jul 3 2018, 11:33 AM
Local Time: Aug 16 2018, 03:57 AM
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Sherlock Holmes


My Content
Jun 7 2018, 05:04 PM
Xavier loved his restaurant, though one of the things he loved about it the most was that it was nearly on the opposite side of the world from his overbearing unfeeling father back home in England. That was just a cherry on top so to speak. He really did flourish owning his own restaurant though, there was even talk of possibly franchising, though for now Xavier was fine with just the one. After all it wasn't about the money for him, he'd grown up in a wealthy prominent family, for him it was about having something of his own, something he hadn't gotten through his father.

Technically speaking it was Xavier's day off, Monday was one of the slowest days of the week for any restaurant so it was the easiest for Xavier to take off and leave the running of things to his Sous Chef. That didn't mean he didn't have things he had to do, he wasn't just head chef for his restaurant he was also the owner. That meant even though he had someone to do the accounting and another someone to do the general office management and being in charge of the front of the house staff, he still had paperwork that he had to see to. There were things to sign, bills to pay and numbers to look over.

He didn't like to work in the office during meal times, so usually he stopped off to work in the office during the lull between lunch and dinner. After saying hi to those working today in the kitchen, he ducked into the office and sat down, leaving the door open in case anyone needed to speak to him while he was there, as it was much easier to do so during these times instead of when Xavier was on shift to cook.

Hermione Granger
Jun 7 2018, 04:57 PM
It was hard for Xavier to remember what life had been like before he moved to Seattle, the weather wasn't really all that different from England, and he'd been there so long it felt like forever. Though realistically he'd only been there over a decade or so, long enough to make friends, and feel like he'd finally escaped the reach of his obnoxious father. His father had been overbearing and nothing but serious, that was when he even noticed Xavier. His father had always seemed to care more about his older brother than him, and in all honestly that suited Xavier because it meant he could do what he wanted at least a bit more.

He'd always had a passion for food, there was something freeing about cooking, and he'd always been really good at it. In the kitchen he was king, and only his rules mattered and he could watch his creations and ideas for food come to life. So at when an opportunity presented itself for him to open his own restaurant, it seemed like a no-brainer. It hadn't even taken him long to decide what sort of food to offer, because as much as he loved his new home in Seattle there were certain comforts from home he missed, namely in the way of food. So the idea of serving the best comfort foods from both American and British cuisine seemed the best way to go.

It seemed everyone in Seattle and especially in Hyperion Heights also loved the conglomeration of food. Over time he made quite a few friends, including one of his better friends Walter. He never made fun of Walter for being manager of a fast food restaurant like some three-star Michelin starred chefs might, in fact Xavier even ate fast food from time to time if he didn't feel like cooking.

Xavier hadn't had plans with Walter, but he realised he had some things he needed to drop off for his friend, some cook books Walter had asked to borrow as well as returning a DVD that Xavier had borrowed from him. He wasn't even sure if Walter would be home, but he stopped by just the same.

He stood out on the steps of Xavier's town-home that he shared with a room-mate Drake and knocked on the door.


OOC Hope this is OK, it can really be set any time since they arrived in HH, I didn't specify. Any changes you need just let me know. <3
Mar 3 2018, 12:59 PM
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<h1>Tiberius Thornton Xavier Huntington III</h1>

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<h3>Sherlock Holmes.</h3>
<h2>Cursed Personality:</h2>
Don't let his long pretentious name fool you, Tiberius who generally prefers to go by Xavier, is actually a warm laid back guy. Cooking is his passion and it is something he can do to a science. He is a master chef and loves to always find new ways to create old dishes or just to have fun in the kitchen. He's quite the ladies man and loves to woo. His typical idea of a first date is to close down his 3-star Michelin restaurant for the evening and cook a magnificent meal with a paid violinist serenading. He doesn't have a good relationship with his family however.
<h2>Cursed Life:</h2>
Xavier had everything growing up, he came from a wealthy family in the UK that even boasted of some dukes and duchesses in their lineage. His older brother was keen on going into the family business and following in their father's footsteps, while Xavier was a disappointment. He wanted nothing more than to cook for a living, something his father deemed frivolous and something only 'women' should spend their time doing. Wanting to get out from under his family and their money, he moved to America, Hyperion Heights specifically.
<p>Truth be told he had lost track of how long he'd been in Hyperion Heights, Weeks, months years, it all blurred together. He was happy though and quite proud of his restaurant where he cooks a mix of both American and British cuisines. He can't remember the last time he spoke with either his brother or father and that is perfectly fine with Xavier, he wants nothing to do with them.

Nov 21 2017, 06:43 PM
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<p>Sherlock still wasn't sure if he liked Storybrooke or not, on one hand it opened up a whole new set of variables for him, which made things mildly less boring. However, at times they were also rather irksome, magic was certainly new but trying to figure out how it worked had so far alluded him. It was also a much smaller town than he was used to, having been a detective in London and then in New York City, he just wasn't used to the small town mundane. Storybrooke was tiny, a blip, the middle of no where. At least it had access to the internet, not that it did him that much good since he wasn't in his realm, so the world it opened up to him didn't mean as much, outside of it filling passive curiosities about the realm he was in and the similarities and differences from his own realm.

<p>In some ways he was glad Jamie was here as well, though he sometimes worried about how she was getting on here. She definitely wasn't used to being so constrained in one small place as well as what trouble she might get up to. Then of course he also worried about what was going on back in their realm. Was Joan and everyone worried, did anyone think perhaps Sherlock had helped Jamie escape and disappear. Had the pilots gotten off a distress call before the plane went into the vortex, so many questions, with no answers. At first he had done his best to keep busy, but in such a small town, a consulting detective who kept his services available only to the local constabulary, well there just wasn't that many crimes being committed in Storybrooke.

<p>So for awhile after they had arrived, outside of the occasional odd magical event, the topic of magic being one Sherlock knew absolutely nothing about, Sherlock had been bored out of his skull. If the town weren't so small and out of the way, he might have even feared for his sobriety, but he had a hard time believing he'd be able to get heroine in this town, the town was invisible to the outside world, he was confused enough just as to how the town kept so well supplied in the shops and such, let alone how the illegal world of drugs would make their way to this town. Eventually though Sherlock had found a need to fill, when he realised there was really no further education options for young adults, no universities of any sort. He supposed in some ways it made sense, it wasn't that big a town so why would they even need a university, especially since apparently for nearly thirty years of the town's existence no one had really aged, or so he'd been told.

<p>Still, as much as Sherlock abhorred teaching imbeciles, he also hated that there were no options for education, so he opted to open his own type of school down in an empty warehouse by the docks. Holmes Detective & Defence School. He even already had some help with teaching various aspects of defence, swordsmanship and archery. He wasn't a patient sort though, anyone that took classes with him sometimes left in frustration, anger or tears even since there was no filter in Sherlock's brain that allowed him to go easy on people if they weren't catching on immediately.

<p>As one small class let out for the day, one girl fell under that category, she burst out of the door to Sherlock's office, her eyes red with tears, sobbing. She tore up a slip of paper and kept running, once Sherlock finished making a few notes on the girl's records he kept for her marks, he yawned and walked out of his office into the larger area of the school where much of the defence training happened. Big open areas much like one would see in a gym. The building was two floors and had other rooms for defence as well, including an archery range up on the roof, and classrooms for the detective classes. As he currently had no classes to teach, he just stood there in the main room looking around, making a mental note of things he needed to buy at the store later.

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<div class="character-bach1-note">tag Christine Daaé // notes: meeting</div><br>
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Apr 3 2017, 01:51 PM
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tag OPEN / Notes: April Fools, meet Sean Harriman, teacher at Storybrooke High, Closet addict


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<p>Sean hated teaching kids, especially teenagers, though really just teaching in general drove him mad most days. He had a keen mind in general, but due to his love for certain extracurricular activities over the years, becoming a high school professor was all that he ended up amounting to. Wasted talent his parents used to say, parents who lived far away and he never had to see any more. Today was a good day though, it was Saturday, and Saturday meant not having to teach any stupid teenage brats.

<p>Sean had spent much of Friday evening getting drunk and other things, so by the time he woke up Saturday it was well into the afternoon. He tossed on an old sweatshirt and the cleanest pair of jeans he could find. He had lived in a room in Granny's Bed and Breakfast for as long as he could remember, he was never good enough with his money to save up for a proper place, and to his memory he'd been told off more than a dozen times for paying his rent late.

<p>He stumbled out of his room, ordered a large black coffee to go as well as some greasy burger and chips and headed into the park to eat. He hated the smell of the diner, and not that he was that keen on fresh air but it was better than the stale diner smell. He found a park bench that wasn't entirely covered with snow and sat down, he imagined he wouldn't be out long, the cold would get to him eventually. So much for spring, the weather lately seemed to not be able to make up its mind, warm one day, snow another. He sat on the bench and just drank his coffee, occasionally eating a chip or two, a general scowl on his face. At one point after he'd drunk a bit of the coffee, he spiked it with some whiskey from a half empty bottle in his coat jacket, and continued to sit and scowl at the world.

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<span class="libcred"><a href="">thanks!</a></span>

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