[Irene is at his feet, grooming herself anxiously in the form of a hare. Sholmes thinks for a good moment.]

I cannot deny it. [He inhales and exhales, slow, before looking up at the both of them.] I have deep feelings for the both of you. Of a most equal level.

[He bows his head.]

I cannot explain it. But this is the truth. And to pick one over the over is a thought that most vexes me. I'd rather tear myself into two.