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"If you want to go out and let the door close, Giles, you will have to do exactly zero waiting should something that might interest you come up and cause me to lean out and tap you on the shoulder. Remain at your own risk to the cleanliness of your glasses."

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Giles goes out and lets the door close.
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Meanwhile, Mark and Sherlock are exchanging grins. The sexual tension is so thick you could bite it.

"Dear Juliet," says Sherlock, "will you be annoyed if we go off somewhere appropriately secluded and try to kill one another?"
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"Uh, I'll be annoyed if you succeed and crushed if he does."
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"I was being a little imprecise," he says. "For lack of vocabulary. 'Try to damage one another' might be closer."

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"Avoid brain damage and permanently crippling injuries and we're probably good."

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"So noted."

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"Outside or upstairs, is the question."

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"Upstairs."

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"Oh good."

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"There's an upstairs?"

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"Yes, I was not idle while you were gone. They have rooms," he says. "I can easily afford one."

And off to Bar to get a key he goes.
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"I don't expect either of us to actually end up dead," says Sherlock, watching him go. "But I do expect it to be more than a sparring match."

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"Bar, do you have first-aid stuff?"

Yes.

"Okay. Beat each other up at your own respective risks, I guess."
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"Thank you."

And he follows the insane midget.
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And Bella amuses herself by quizzing the bar about the multiverse.

She gets ahold of a research paper published by Mark's sister in law and skims it, among other things.
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A couple of hours later, Sherlock returns. He looks pretty well beat up, but all parts appear to be in good working condition.

"Mark is sleeping off non-fatal blood loss," he reports. "I wouldn't swear he couldn't have killed me if we'd been trying in earnest. I am very impressed. Also, he wants me to turn him."
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"I lack the diagnostic tools to tell if he has a soul, but the parts of him that are me are me," he says. "Very much congruent with the soul-free version. I genuinely do not know what would happen. Except that if he turned out to need killing we would all be very doomed. Which is a large part of the reason I haven't done it."

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"Yyyyyeah. The insane midget half could have any sort of effect on the process, the fact that he's like you now, before the soulectomy, could have any sort of effect on the process... I suspect this isn't a good idea."

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"I suspect likewise. He can be talked out of it," says Sherlock. "The sunlight problem was a major con."

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"Sunlight, crosses, holy water, invitations to dwellings, dietary requirements, it's not exactly a convenient no-strings upgrade. Also, he does not have a me at home, except insofar as his sister-in-law who he's ambivalent about ever seeing again counts, to inspire him to not eat people."

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"He doesn't eat people now," Sherlock points out. "If he made it through turning with his personality intact, and I'll grant you that's a hell of an if, he'd be unlikely to start."

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"He's not a vampire now. People are not particularly appetizing or nutritious now."

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