When Sherlock entered the room she didn't look up, didn't acknowledge him. She saw the raised eyebrows from the corner of her vision and her hands, clasped together in her lap, clenched slightly. Almost the same expression he'd had the first time they'd meet. Less disarmed, yes, but still. But then he spoke her name and she knew she had to accept that he was here, that he was seeing her like this, not naked and beautiful but flawed and broken.
She glanced up at him briefly and nodded, wincing without meaning to. "Sherlock." Then her gaze returned to her bed sheets and she closed her eyes. "I'm not sure where to start. I assume Watson has filled you in on all that happened between us, about how you took my protection from me? I was brought here directly after that, and have harboured more than a small amount of resentment since then. And when you arrived, and didn't know me...well, I was bitter, and then Jim contacted me. We met, and I resumed my normal work here, but any information I acquired I passed to him. He promised he would make you lose, feel like I had, hence my cooperation with him."
She paused, swallowing heavily, and she opened her eyes, looking properly at him for the first time. "As...as you can see" her voice quavered slightly "I stopped cooperating when I learned the extent of his plans, and it did not end well for me." That was an understatement, but he could see the results of her betrayal of Moriarty in front of him, she didn't need to elaborate on that point.
Pausing again, she reached for a glass of water on the bed side table, but the stretch was too much and she lay back, grimacing. "Would you mind? I haven't spoken in several days, and my throat is not dealing very well with it."