Her hair, wet with perspiration, lay plastered across her forehead and cheek. Joan shivered. She strained to open her eyes and for a split second caught sight of a blurry darkness with streaks of foggy yellow. Her eyes shut and she could hear his voice, soft and low as he sang….
Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,
When I am king, dilly, dilly, you shall be queen.
Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?
'Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so.
Sherlock sat on the ground with her, gently swaying. One hand held her tight at the waist staunching the wound, the other gripped at the small shoulders draped with his jacket. "They'll be here any minute, Watson. You'll be alright, hmm? We'll be home before morning I'm sure." He once again hummed into her hair the soothing tones of the nursery tune that had come without beckoning.
Fragments of memory returned to Joan …. the explosive bang … the scrape of dirt beneath her cheek … the searing pain at her side …
His voice found the words again ….
Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, Lavender's blue,
If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.
Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, And the lambs play,
We shall be safe, dilly, dilly, Out of harm's way.
He stopped abruptly and she felt his body tense. "I think I hear the sirens, Watson ….. Hear that? Sirens. You're going to fine. I promise you. I promise…." Sherlock murmured to her as he carefully lay her down on the ground, her head wobbling to the side as he did. He took in a sharp breath, quelling the panic that threatened to rip through his chest and stood up, running into the middle of the deserted road, arms waving at the ambulance as it approached.
—–
With its passengers safely settled in back, the ambulance came to life; lights flashed and sirens blared as it ripped up the road.
The haze was lifting. Joan was now conscious, aware of her surroundings, aware of the biting pain and the blood she'd lost and the very scared man that held her hand tight. Sherlock's eyes were glued to her, lest she slip away from him…
She tugged slightly on his hand, willing him down until his ear was at her lips. Joan whispered more than sang …
"When I am queen, dilly, dilly, You'll be my king….
Who told me so, dilly, dilly, Who told me so?
I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so."
A cheek, wet and stubbly, grazed her own cheek. He picked up his head and met her eyes, watching as they drifted shut and she fell into a comfortable sleep. A wry smile played on his lips, "Hopefully, you won't remember any of this …"