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"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."

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"You were," agrees Juliet.

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."
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"No," he agrees slowly, "I suppose she isn't."

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"Seems sad, though," Juliet murmurs.

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."
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Sherlock very carefully evicts the violin from his lap, and turns to Juliet, and hugs her.
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Hugs.

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"I love you," she murmurs.

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"I love you too, dear Juliet."

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Yes. Those.

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"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."

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"I'm not sure if I'm going to torch her gone."

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Juliet nods. Just a little; she's pleasantly constrained by snuggles. "But you might."

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"But I might. If she is immovably determined."

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"Does that seem likely?"

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"Am I meant to have a guess?"

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"She's yours. She's you. Maybe it's more complicated than I'm thinking, though."

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"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.

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"...Did I do something wrong? I think I was careful..."

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"No. I asked for the impossible. Apparently I cannot have the soul without the self-hatred."

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Bella squeezes him tight.

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He hugs her back.

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"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."

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"It seems to be a staple of Sherlocks."

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