"What?"

In the face of danger, the most unparalleled sort, people's priorities are revealed. The selfish are separated from the brave, love is proven true, and those with even a shred of forgiveness in their hearts suddenly find themselves consumed with it. In those final moments, no one wants to be weighed down by anger and heartbreak and longing, but rather be comforted by the memories of the life they hadn't expected to end quite so quickly. For Joanna Watson, it was almost ironic that her final moments would be now, right when the concept of planning ahead had become tangible… and even hopeful.

An irritated sigh came from the other end of her mobile, and Joanna could practically hear the eye roll that most certainly went with it. "Joanna, you know my dislike of calls and I'm in the middle of something rather important to the case, so speak quickly." Joanna swallowed and took a shaky breath, pulling the phone away from her mouth while she did so Sherlock wouldn't hear. She picked up on everything, that woman.

"I found Davies," she said in the strongest voice she could, grateful it didn't waiver. The brick supporting her back rubbed against her shoulders, a few strands of her hair catching on one of the rougher spots of the cement between them.

"Did you?" Sherlock replied in a surprised tone. Joanna listened to her shuffling around, obviously rising from either the sofa or the seat at the kitchen table to grab her jacket. "Where are you now?"

A spark of hope, instinctual, lit inside the army doctor's chest, but she quickly looked down at the blood seeping through her jumper and slicking her fingers and reminded herself it didn't matter. It was too late.

"I texted Lestrade the address," she replied, her voice a smidge quieter, filled with air and no backbone. "He'll get him." And me. She hadn't wanted her best friend to be the one to find her this way. Sherlock pretended to be unfazed by almost everything, but Joanna knew better. In truth she felt things more harshly than anyone, and the last thing Jo wanted was to leave the memory of her bloody and cold, propped up against an alley wall in that beautiful mind of hers. She coughed suddenly, unable to pull the phone away in time. She tasted metal and tang and squeezed her eyes shut. No matter how long or often she'd had to prepare for this, she was still so incredibly scared.

"Joanna? You're injured, aren't you? Where are you?" Sherlock spoke sharply, her voice laced with worry.

Joanna swallowed again. She didn't have enough time. It wasn't fair; they never had enough time. "I need to tell you something, and you better listen to every damn word of it," Jo started, and just as she predicted, Sherlock cut her off.

"Joanna, tell me where you are now. How serious is it?" Panic now. She hadn't ever meant to do that.

"I'm sorry," Joanna responded instead, opening her eyes to look up at the sky. Cloudy as typical, but for once she didn't mind. "Now shut up for once and listen to me. There's something you need to know." She took a breath and smirked a bit at herself; she was nervous. Here she was dying and she was still afraid to say the words. It would have been laughable if the action wasn't so painful. "The day-"

"Tell me in person," Sherlock cut her off again, the sound of the street filtering in through the background. Must have texted Lestrade for the address; Joanna didn't have time to wait.

"I have to say this," Jo continued stubbornly, undeterred. God, everything hurt and felt numb at the same time. "The day I met you, I'd reached such a low point in my life I forgot there was an up. I was alone in a way I didn't even know was possible. And you…" Joanna trailed off, her voice lost for a moment as her head sagged forward and her eyelids fell against her will.

"Joanna! Tell me! Don't stop speaking!" Sherlock's shout pulled Jo back from the brim of unconsciousness, her vision fuzzy and her thoughts turning to molasses. She coughed again, wincing in pain. "I what?" Sherlock coaxed, the sound thick with emotion. Joanna smiled a bit.

"You saved me. You saved my life," Jo told her, though her speech didn't sound quite right to her ears. But she had to keep going. "I met you and suddenly things mattered again. When I thought you were gone… I thought about following you. I wanted to. But I didn't because I felt like there needed to be someone on earth who knew you, who remembered exactly what you were and wasn't afraid to say it. When you came back I… I only punched you so I wouldn't grab your face and kiss you instead."

Sherlock chuckled a bit on the other end of the line, though it sounded so troubled and sad that it didn't make Joanna feel any lighter. In fact, she seemed to feel heavier with every breath. "If the strength of your fist was any indication, I missed out on quite a kiss," Sherlock responded, which made Joanna grin. It quickly faded.

"I just need you to know this wasn't your fault," Joanna pressed, using the last bit of what she had in her to convey her desperation. She had to understand. "And that without you my life would have been so empty. I never regretted a moment of any of it. You were my miracle." Joanna felt her eyes tear up in relief that she'd gotten the words out in time, the wind picking up and brushing her cheek as if to congratulate her on a job well done. It would be okay now. Sherlock would know, and she would be fine.

"Joanna, stop this past tense nonsense right now. I called an ambulance, and they'll be at your location any minute now, and I shan't be far behind. You'll be just fine, understand?"

"Joanna?"

"Joanna?!"