๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ in Benedict's voice that was equal, perhaps, only to the devastation it felt to hearing it. Their eyes shut, wincing as their sister's voice urged threateningly in the background. Control yourself, Sherlock. It would do you no good to tip your estranged husband off to the danger.
It was cruelty, he thought, nothing but pure cruelty his sister was exacting. The man they loved, the one they were awaiting the divorce papers from, caught in Eurus' twisted game like this was torture. Although, for which of them it was intended to be more so far - that Sherlock couldn't say. Eyes bore into the back of his head, from Mycroft and John. Likely a mix of anxiety, pity, discomfort, and (from John, most likely) rage. The fact this particular wound was being reopened on display...
Taking only a second to clear their voice, shaking the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, Sherlock spoke into the phone again: " This is important, Benedict. " His voice perhaps a bit sharper than intended, steeling himself for what Eurus asked of him. " Please, just those three words. I need you to say them. "
continued from here for @2ndbornson