[Tension in the tick of her jaw. His comment has annoyed her somehow, that much is clear, though he suspects it will take very little.]

I’m going to wipe away excess blood, so I can better clean where your lip has been split.

[Warning enough, he supposes. Holmes lifts the washcloth and slowly, gently, starts with the near vicinity of her lip, where dried blood has wandered farthest. The cloth presses in.

And then, a little lighter, seeking more information and also trying to unwind her tension:]

Might I have your name? You’ve mine already.