You know, I've always wondered for my patients – what it's like to be shot, to die. I guess now I know. I died that day, on the floor of my bedroom flat. I could hear Sherlock shout for me – I think that was the most I've ever actually heard him use my name, actually. My senses were fading, but I could still vaguely hear Sherlock – I tried to focus on that. But then, nothing.
Rated: T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,373 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 3 - Published: 6/6/2013 - Sherlock H., Molly Hooper - Complete