"This," John looked at the naked child, "Boy. Has feelings."
"No one's giving a toss about them!"
"How can you actually stand yourself?"
"What do you mean?" Sherlock sounded suspicious.
"Sometimes you're so cold and cruel and heartless. What has this boy done to you?"
"I don't care about him! He doesn't matter! Didn't then, doesn't now. He suffered. Good. Past tense. It's over!" Sherlock was slowly getting very angry.
"No, it isn't. It can't ever be. Good. Children like this don't forget. Can't-"
"John! Stop."
"I'm taking these to the police!" John said sadly.
"No! John, no! NO police," a panic-stricken Sherlock wailed and jumped up from the sofa. His foot got tangled in the charging cable of his notebook and he stumbled onto the table gracelessly. John was almost sure Sherlock had hurt himself, but the man went on, "please, John. Don't do that!" He held out a shaking hand.