I remember walking into the natatorium and saying Evening to Sherlock, who had the most bewildered expression on his face. I remember the look of understanding when I began talking in an over enunciated monotone, followed by horror when I opened my coat. I remember the conversation with Moriarty, the feeling of shame for letting myself getting caught like this. I remember grabbing hold of the villain, wrapping my arms around tightly and yelling at Sherlock to run only to have the laser sight that had once been on me move to him.
The next moments seemed to go so quickly, a blur but a memorable one. Moriarty making his threats before slipping out the back door; Sherlock getting the vest off me; my collapsing to the floor and making a comment about him ripping my clothes off in a darkened pool. We giggled. I thought then, as we had that giggle, that everything was going to be alright.
But then the laser sight came back not just one, a bunch. Moriarty was back, taunting us. I remember Sherlock standing by the pool, the gun aimed at the bomb that only moments before had been strapped to my chest. Moriarty actually looked surprised worried, even? Sherlocks hand never wavered; my eyes closed just as he pulled the trigger, I felt something press against me before the second shot there had been a second shot, why
I remember being pulled out of the rubble by Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan, telling the latter in quite a colorful way to shut her mouth when she started in on Sherlock and I told you to stay away from that guy. Sherlock. Lestrade said there was no trace of him, but he was there was he dead, did he make it out, did Moriarty take him where was he?
I remember getting to Charring Cross, getting checked out and put in a room for the night, just to make sure I was alright; my injuries consisted of a concussion, some bumps and bruises. I remember Sarah coming around midnight and going just before I fell asleep. Of all those things I remember, none of them included the young girl who was at my bedside when I woke up.