Sherlock scowls, and he doesn't have to fake it. Of all the deaths he could have found in the arena, this ridiculousness had do be it?

"Oh no. My hair. Whatever will I do." Sherlock said, flatly, even as a vein in his forehead twitched, watching a curl fall down to to land in front of him.

With a sudden movement he slammed his body in Cuthbert's direction, all of his weight, even bound head to toe as he was.

Even if all it did was make him fall over.