Cal is aware once again of how something isn't jiving right here. Of how, when referring to their childhood (right up through their parents' death), Sherlock talks as though Tony is the only one whose existence was even acknowledged.

(The computer must be named after the Jarvis who raised him.)

He's begun to have his doubts about the generally accepted theory that Sherlock's change in identity was a reaction to grief, because there don't seem to be a lot of reasons why Sherlock would grieve for Howard and Maria Stark at all. Maybe it's simpler than that.

Maybe he just didn't want to be the boy whose parents ignored him in favor of his brother. Sherlock Holmes is brilliant, accomplished, his stories still loved a century after they were written. Why not be him instead?

Cal's approach to this is still not to ask. Sherlock will tell him if he wants Cal to know. And if he never wants to talk about it, then - fine. Without Obadiah Stane's intervention, Cal probably never would have told Sherlock about Uncle Grahame, so he's in no position to complain.

So Cal tucks all these thoughts away again as he says,

"I can't even remember what I did when I was eleven." That was almost seven years ago, after all.