I was- no, I am a nurse at St. Barts. Pediatrics floor. If there still is a Pediatrics floor. I had been texted by my mum -a nurse in an ICU at a smaller hospital- that her 85 year old heart failure patient who had died hadn't quite died. That was the last I heard of my family.
So I grabbed the crowbar my dad got me and brought it to work. I thought all I would need to do is kill my patients I'd seen die once already. No big deal. But I was wrong. I got there right when the virus, curse, punishment for our sins, whatever it really is struck. Suddenly I wasn't killing patients who had died. I was killing the patients before they could die. For some reason, they never reanimated once I was through with them. Or maybe they did, and I was too busy to notice. It wasn't just patients. It was therapists. It was aides. It was other nurses. It was doctors and interns and residents. It was students. Anyone on the floor, and anyone who sensed a living body, was attacking.
I was never more grateful for the tomboy streak that led me to help my dad with projects around the house. It meant I had tools in my flat and the strength to use them. Not that it helped much. All I had was the crowbar that I kept in my car.
I was lucky. I heard that Kathy used an IV pole to fend off the zombies and escape. Dr. Danielle used charts of all things.
Yeah, Molly was right. Peds is right by the stairs to the morgue. Little bit grisly, but it saved my life. I didn't become a nurse because I liked the hours or the abuse that patients and families hurl at us daily. I became a nurse to do the best thing I could for my patients. And that meant destroying them. Molly nearly dragged me away before I wised up.
We met the other survivors and got out while the getting was good.
Iris finishes her tale with, "Sometimes, at night, I wish my family and I had died together. I hope they're at peace." She holds out her hand for the notebook.
John silently places it in her hand and nudges Lestrade. They leave the women together.
"Here's that tea I promised." Mrs. Hudson appears suddenly from behind Iris. She settles herself comfortably. "You did the right thing. I know it's hard, love. Survivor's guilt is the worst kind of guilt." She nudges a plate towards Molly. "Now, have a biscuit and we'll talk about boys and soaps and other guilty pleasures, hmm?"
