the expression on his face is almost bored. sherlock isn't playing games, he's tired, the flat is a mess and john will be home soon. the teacup shatters on the floor and he lets out a heavy, exasperated sigh. eurus is dangerous, but nowhere near as dangerous as mycroft, and he'll be furious if he finds sherlock dead. besides, then eurus would lose her playmate, and sherlock is sure that she doesn't want that. he rolls his eyes at her words, walking forward and kneeling down, scooping broken pieces of the cup into his hands. they only get dropped to the floor again when he spots the burns on her wrist. the blood was no surprised; eurus was prone to a scuffle or two and he hadn't spotted any cuts or gashes. but the burns, those were concerned. pale fingers wrap around her arm, just under the marks, and he pulls her wrist closer for inspection.
“ you could at least have the decency to not get hurt while you're
here, eurus. and stop stealing abigail's coffee; she thinks i'm
drinking it and i can't have that. you should let me see to these.
they aren't bad, but it would make me feel better. ”
