Bella is hanging out in a Jarvis - the familiar one - handwriting a nonaggression proposal-slash-bribe. Has to be handwritten. Damn fussy demons. At least it's okay for her to conjure rather than personally harvesting the weird ink she's supposed to use.
"She is like herself. I'm not especially good at describing personalities," says Sherlock.
"I asked Tony and he told me she plays softball," sighs Bella.
"I'm not sure what I could add to the situation," he says, "but if you want me to, yes."
"I don't know what you'd add to the situation either, but it's probably less awkward than me teleporting into her room and being like 'so... hi.'"
Soph is indeed in the room with the bunkbeds, eating directly from a pint of ice cream. The ice cream appears to be helping.
"Hi, guys," says Soph, when she has finished her spoonful. "Uh, how's tricks?"
Bella snorts. "Tricks are about as good as could be expected. Tony had an idea. But I'm not sure yet if I want to implement it. You know how Shell Bell forked and merged?"
"I could - whip up a custom fork, sort of, one who has the memories the spell was supposed to put in me. And splice with her."
"...That'd be. Weird? But maybe not as weird as having you not remember me at all."
"Apparently Sherlock's memories match up pretty closely, but he would've only known you since March and only through me, so. I'm looking at a bigger shift. And..." She shrugs, shifting her weight. "I don't know who I'd be shifting for. I don't know you yet."
"I'm..." Soph shrugs. "I'm not nearly as interesting as you are? I play softball," she offers.