"It's an accurate representation of what I used to be like," he says. "And apparently still am, underneath it all." He sighs. "Perhaps I shouldn't have merged my soul back in. I was getting along just fine without it."
And:
"You could unstick it."
And:
"She's - if you really don't want her, if she doesn't really want her - she's probably not hooked into your torching."
She sighs and adjusts her snuggling position and is silent for a bit, and then says, "I'm not planning to go get one, but I wonder what he'd be." She lets out a soft, brief chuckle. "I can guess what he'd do, though, if I had an independently ambulatory soul he'd go right up to you and want to be held."
Sherlock very carefully evicts the violin from his lap, and turns to Juliet, and hugs her.
"If you're going to torch her gone," Juliet murmurs, "I'm not sure if I want to meet her at least once - or not so I don't miss her."
Juliet nods. Just a little; she's pleasantly constrained by snuggles. "But you might."
"She's yours. She's you. Maybe it's more complicated than I'm thinking, though."
"I'm beginning to suspect that the entire trouble with Steph, my inability to predict her included, is symptomatic of a problem with my original merge," he says.
"...Did I do something wrong? I think I was careful..."
"No. I asked for the impossible. Apparently I cannot have the soul without the self-hatred."
"Self-hatred is a pretty alien concept to me," she says. "Shell Bell says that hers drives her up the wall with it sometimes, especially since she folded in Shell."