Micolash looks at least marginally befuddled by the denial, his manic smile still present but his brows furrowed in confusion. His head turns to one side as his eyes flit up and down over Sherlock's form and increasing vexation.

"...No?" he finally says, the word not a question but a confused statement. "No." Firmer now, asserting it. "No, she said Sherlock was her friend. I am unquestionably certain of it." He won't add that she described a man that sounded a lot like himself, down to the same height, but it's still a detail the scholar retains. "And she said that he was a man who changed into a beast, a rodent, at will. And that is where my interest-"

The eyes returning to blue is what makes him notice they'd changed at all. Micolash stops mid-sentence when he spots it. And then his own starts to searching feverishly over Sherlock once again, skimming for clues, for changes.

...fur.

Micolash's arm jerks, as if he'd been tempted to grab the other man's wrist again. But he stops himself. And then just wordlessly points at the man's wrist instead, his smile reappearing. Oh, but he feels so wonderfully validated right now.