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“Why did you find it necessary to kill Victor?” inquired Mycroft.
“You allowed Sherlock keep his toy.” Eurus replied coolly. “His Redbeard. They took mine away, my Spitfire.”
“The Crieff’s boy? Martin?” Mycroft inquired digging the name from the depths of his prodigious memory. “He wasn’t taken away from you. His family moved.”
"We could have kept him. Come to some arrangement. I needed him; they didn’t value him as I did. He understood about the air and the flying. I talked to him and I made him understand.”
Mycroft’s eyes widened. “Eurus, What did you do to that boy?”