[She crumples under his hand, the tears quiet but audible. It wasn't the dying part she particularly minded--it was what death did to her John. Her Rosie. To the man in front of her, confirming that her attempts to protect her unusual little family had failed.]

Tell me that John and Rosie are safe. [It's not a question, but a request. That her past had caught up with her and her alone, that her husband and daughter walked out the other end uninjured.]

...oh God--tell me it's not my fault they end up dead. That you end up dead. Please, Sherlock.

[She barely gets the words out this time before she can no longer speak, choking on sobs.] Please, please,--