[Instead of his face, the cloak comes to rest on his shoulder and it feels like the skin is being shredded underneath from those invisible knives. He yelps in pain, the noise sounding like a strange double echo of two voices in one.]
You shouldn't have done that, my pretty one.
[It's Moriarty's voice, no Sherlock's, as he raises his free hand to fire again directly at Royce.]
no subject
You shouldn't have done that, my pretty one.
[It's Moriarty's voice, no Sherlock's, as he raises his free hand to fire again directly at Royce.]