Eating nightmares. Sherlock's willing to forgive a touch of poetry, particularly considering that things wouldn't work as expected in the Fade. He shouldn't make any presumptions. Maybe they really did eat nightmares.

He tries another, larger swallow next, suppressing the cough that tries to fight its way up from his chest. He's... somewhat successful.

"Fearlings," he repeats, with a slight sneer. What a quaint little name for swarming demons. "Who came up with that one?"