He came into the room quietly and went straight up to the window. Staring out for some time, he asked softly, "You were with her in her last moments? Was it too bad?"
Molly lay her head on the pillow, a slight shudder passing through her injured body when as she remembered those last frantic, crazy moments. "Yes, she wasn't alone. And she passed out on my lap before...before…." taking a big gulp of air, she continued, "She had already passed out before she died."
Sherlock closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the cool window glass. "Did….." He faltered a bit. "Did she say anything?"
Molly was quiet. Sherlock turned to her and asked her again, his voice shaking slightly but louder. "Did she say anything?"
"I lost this game Sherlock, I lost it for you. But I will win, Mr Holmes. You will win it for me."
"Did she say my name? Molly, did she actually say my name?"
"I lost this game Sherlock, I lost it for you. But I will win, Mr Holmes. You will win it for me."
Molly repeated in an emotionless tone.
Sherlock turned around quickly and left the hospital room.
Molly was totally drained, but what little emotions she had, she used them to mourn for Sherlock; to mourn for his loss. Because it was all she could do; that was all there was left for her to do.