I squeaked. I think a squeak is an appropriate noise when you open up a drawer to perform an autopsy and the man inside attacks you. The drawers started opening on their own, and the corpses started attacking each other. Mr. Peterson, he wasn't attacking. I remember thinking that at least one of them wasn't attacking me. I felt so lucky.
Oh, yes, sorry. I barricaded them in the morgue. Right as Sherlock started begging me for one. I almost told him yes. I don't know how I would have gotten it, but I almost agreed. Instead I somehow got him out of the lab and upstairs. I suppose we were the only survivors.
He left and I met you. You looked so much fiercer than me. A wet cotton ball is fiercer than I am. I know it was brave of me to find Sherlock before we escaped. We all had to be brave that day.
I'll never forget having to drag you away. Otherwise you would have stayed to kill all the patients and been killed yourself. I managed to get us to the lobby, where we met a few other survivors. Then the police came and we escaped here.
Thank goodness.
Iris leans over and gave Molly a brief hug. "Thank you. Whether you realize it or not, you saved our lives. Lillian, Dr. Danielle, Kathy, and everyone else- we would have been stuck there and died if you hadn't organized us all."
Molly hugs her back awkwardly. "Oh, um, thank you."
Lestrade and John shift in their seats. "Is that everyone who was willing to talk to you?" John asks. His hand is reaching for the notebook when Iris exclaims, "Mrs. Hudson!"