Her ears were still ringing from the gunshots as she lowered Marcus to the pavement. "Stay with me," she said, over and over as she ripped open his shirt to get a look at the wound. A gut wound, the worst, she thought. "Get an ambulance!" she yelled as she pressed her hands over the wound. "You're going to be okay, we'll take care of you-" she said, but the blood was seeping around her fingers, pulsing with his heartbeat. "Marcus-" she said, but when she looked up at his face it wasn't him, it was Sherlock, pale and still, and her heart stopped.
"No!" she shouted. She sat up in bed, blinking in the dark, disoriented. She heard Sherlock clatter up the stairs, calling her name, but she couldn't answer.
"Watson!" he said as he burst through the door.
"Sherlock-" she managed, finally, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry."
"You were dreaming?" he asked. He walked around to the side of the bed, and she shifted so he could sit next to her. He sat down, gingerly, and waited.
"You got shot," she said. "In the dream. Instead of -"
"Instead of Detective Bell."
"I was trying to stop the bleeding-"
"It was a dream," he said, taking her hand. "I'm right here. And you did save Marcus."
She shook her head. "There was so much blood." She could still smell it, still hear the gunshots and the shouting.
His eyes were huge and dark. He swallowed a few times, and his fingers tightened on hers. "My actions have put us - you - in real danger." She wondered whether he had slept enough to be having nightmares of his own.
"Yes," she said. There was little point in denying it. She thought of him turning to shield her from Dillon, moving faster than she could react. "You still didn't make Dillon shoot Marcus."
He shook his head. "I failed to anticipate violence. I deliberately provoked him. I should have-"
"Sherlock-"
"No. You were right. Gregson was right. I should...tread more lightly."
She was silent, but she tightened her grip on his hand.
"I went to see Bell. This afternoon."
"And?"
He shifted on the bed and his leg bumped up against hers. She didn't move away. "I apologized. And thanked him."
"For saving your life."
"And offered him options for other doctors. To help him recover."
"How did he take that?" she asked.
"He...declined. And said he didn't want to see me any more."
"Hm."
"You don't sound surprised."
She paused, considering. "Not really. He's dealing with a lot right now, not least whether he'll get to be a police detective again. You're a reminder of what happened, and why. Also, he's a pretty independent guy."
He nodded. "There may come a time when you will no longer...put up with me."
She shook her head. "I don't consider myself to be 'putting up with' you," she said with a smile.
"All the same."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly, squeezing his hand. But when she closed her eyes, she could still see him, cold and still as the life seeped out of him under her fingers, and she shivered.