She's been feeling odd for eight days already. Now is even worse. They are running, as fast as they can, but she's falling behind. She feels weak, tired, dizzy, but she keep running. Until the Russians catches them. She falls to the ground, almost fainting. Sherlock shout at her to stand up, but she simply can't, everything is fading. She can see how two big guys covered on tattoos are beating him. Another comes to her, as she is in the ground, he kicks her, over and over. But she's already passing out.
A cold feeling wakes her, she is sitting on the ground leaned on a wall, surrounded by steam and trash bags. A typical alley on New York. Sherlock is standing in front of her, panting and sweating, trying to catch his breath. His face is swollen on the left side, and he has a cut on his cheekbone that is bleeding. He is asking questions, but she can't hear him, a sudden pain comes from her stomach, it's so strong it makes her bend. There is blood everywhere, hers. She can't see where is coming from. Everything is blurry and she is so dizzy. Sherlock picks her up and begin to walk fast. He's going to the flat where they are staying, carrying her through the alleys. The pain in her stomach is so strong it makes her shed tears, she can feel the blood flood. What's happening to her? Her mind wanders through all the possibilities, until one of them make a click. She has just count eight uninterrupted weeks of sex. Uninterrupted. That word echoes in her mind, until she cannot hold it any longer. The tears now are from sorrow, despair, impotence.
When they arrive at the flat, Sherlock takes her to the bathroom, and tried to find out where the blood is coming; but she already knows, she push him out of the bathroom, yells at him to leave her alone. The door is not locked, even so, he doesn't insist and walks away to find ice for his swollen face.
She gets rid of her bloodied clothes, enters the bathtub and let the water fall over her, to wash away the blood, the sorrow and the guilt. The track of time is lost. And the water don't wash away the tears, she began to think it will never do.
Sherlock is listening outside, he can smell the blood and something else in it. It take him a moment to realize, and another to believe it. He slowly walks inside, undress and gets in the bathtub with her. He is hugging her from behind, pressing his chest to her back, the tears slowly fade. Neither will forget this day, but life has to go on, and at the end, they are still alive, they are together.