SHERLOCK: John – Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Mary. She saved my life.
JOHN (quietly): She shot you.
(Sherlock pulls a face, half-nodding his agreement.)
SHERLOCK: Er, mixed messages, I grant you.
(He grimaces, crying out in pain, and starts to fall. John and the paramedics start to lower him to the floor.)
JOHN: Sherlock? Sherlock. (To the paramedics) All right, take him.
(Sherlock cries out again. John releases him, watching the paramedics.)
JOHN: Got him?
(They lay Sherlock down as he groans and whimpers. John straightens and looks down in concern as one of the paramedics gets out an oxygen mask. While they continue working, John looks across to Mary, breathing heavily and with his teeth slightly bared.)
Sherlock fades in and out of consciousness as the paramedics do their work. He doesn't like leaving John and Mary like this—he had rather planned on having their whole domestic patched up by the end of the day. Unfortunately his body gave out on him, and now he is in no shape to broker a peace. He can only hope he has laid the groundwork for the necessary reconciliation, and they can resolve the remainder of their differences without his help.
The morphine goes a long way to taking his mind off the problem.
When he wakes up, John is with him.
"Mary?" Once again, Sherlock's first word upon attaining consciousness. He doesn't have the energy to explain himself more fully.
"She was here earlier. Went home to get some rest."
"Go," Sherlock wheezes through the tubes. "Go to her."
John shakes his head, looks faintly guilty.
"I hope it's all right," he says. "I've been staying back at Baker Street the past few days."
"Shh, save your strength. I know. I remember what you said. I just—it's going to take some time, Sherlock. I can't just forgive and move on, not right away."
Sherlock sighs, but he is already drifting back to sleep, and has no choice but to accept this unforeseen delay.