Sherlock is honestly not expecting anywhere near this reaction, so he fails to respond quickly enough, his wrist has now been grabbed. He tugs, instantly on alert, his eyes wide. The scent of cat isn't helping.

"Beast?! Ashlynn? I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

The word bristled on his lips. The body was transport, yes, but the body was also much better when human and not a rodent. He hated being called what he was.

How did this man know what he was?

There was something wrong in his memory palace. A whole wing, collapsed. Debris everywhere. He knew he'd been missing something, he just didn't know what. And he could not trust a single person here.