trashchildren | For Joan

Sherlock looks up as Ted enters the room and gives him a small nod at the explanation. It makes sense, and Sherlock wouldn't doubt it save for two things: one, Ted isn't a great liar, and two, he's seen the man break down before. It's likely futile to confront the man about it now, but he resolves to mention it to Joan in the morning.

Ted might admit to it if cornered, but he wouldn't be up for having much of a conversation about it right now. He has a feeling Sherlock is onto him, but he's grateful he doesn't question it either way.

He lies back down and tries to get comfortable, but his discomfort seems to run through his entire being now, not something that can be fixed with a few pillows and some opioids. (Well, maybe a lot of opioids, but that's not really an option.)

He gently takes Joan's hand, holding onto her for comfort. At least he might actually fall asleep now, just by virtue of exhaustion.

Joan stirs as he takes her hand, opening her eyes. She smiles at him...but her smile fades into concern when she sees his face. Did something happen? Did she seize again?

"Hey..." She squeezes his hand. "Everything okay?"

Ted smiles reassuringly back at her. "Yeah, just upset stomach," he whispers, since that masks the tiredness of his voice. "You're good," he adds, because no doubt that would be at the top of her worries.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she murmurs sympathetically. Stomach issues suck, and the medications he's taking can sometimes cause them. She squeezes his hand again to comfort him.

Sherlock watches the exchange, and can understand why Ted wouldn't tell Watson the truth. He wouldn't want to worry her. Sherlock can't blame him; god knows he's lied to Watson tons of times for similar reasons. He knows that it would be better if he told her the truth, but he can hardly interfere now.

Sherlock might start to realize that burning themselves out to take care of other people is not a behavior exclusive to Joan. The two of them match in that regard. Which is another reason Ted doesn't want to tell her, at least not now.

He might've admitted it if the situation was slightly different. But now just isn't a good time. Either it won't happen again, and it won't be a problem, or it happens again and he can maybe retroactively admit to it then.

"S'okay," he answers gently. It's the least of his problems, honestly. "Hey, at least it was me and not you," he adds with a smile. She's the one with a fragile stomach right now, and who definitely needs all the nutrition she can get.

"Hey, how long till her meds?" he asks Sherlock, lifting his head a little. He knows he was in the bathroom for a while, so it must be getting close.

Sherlock has definitely been picking up on that, yeah. He believes that under most circumstances they will be fine, taking care of and looking out for each other. But in times like this, when both of them are suffering, it might be hard. Perhaps it's a good thing they have him as an outside observer.

"Fifteen minutes," Sherlock says, rising. "I'll fetch the medication and some water."

It might take them both a little longer to realize they can lean on other people as well. Ted at least has had very vocal support and many offers of help, for things both large and small. Joan really only has Sherlock here. But thankfully, the people who took Ted into their hearts are opening them to Joan as well, something which makes him very grateful.

"You sleeping alright?" he asks Joan quietly. He hopes now that she hasn't had any seizures, it's at least a bit more restful. She's certainly seemed more restful.

Joan is very grateful for the little family Ted has brought together here that have opened their arms and hearts to her as well. One of the reasons staying in London had never been attractive to her was because all of her family and friends are in New York. She still misses them, of course, but now she has friends here, and Ted...Ted is family.

"Yeah, I am," she answers softly with a smile. "I actually feel good right now."

She reaches out to tenderly brush his hair back from his forehead again, fingers still trembling.

"Good," Ted answers, and there's obvious relief in his voice. He reaches up and puts his hand on Joan's, closing his eyes and turning his head a little to kiss her palm, and then just letting her hand rest on his cheek. At least he doesn't need to tell her everything to be able to draw comfort from her.

She smiles softly as he kisses her palm, and gently strokes his cheek with her thumb. She's glad to hear that relief in her voice. She knows he's worried about her, and she dearly wishes he didn't have to. God knows he's had enough trauma to work through.

"You okay?" she whispers. It's not directed toward any particular observation, just love and concern.

Ted gives a quiet hum at the question. "Tired," he answers softly. He doesn't even have the energy to think of some folksy way to express that, but he knows he doesn't necessarily to do that with her. He can be a little bit vulnerable.

It's fairly easy to assume he doesn't just mean that he needs sleep. There's a definite exhaustion that runs through all of him, from everything that's been happening. He's tired on every level.

She can tell it's not just a physical tiredness, and she doesn't blame him. All the extreme things that have happened, both good and bad, are enough individually to wear on someone. Have them all happen in the span of a couple weeks? Or a couple months, if you want to add in the two of them meeting and falling hard and fast for each other?

She shifts a little closer, and leans in to very softly kiss his lips.

"Rest with me," she whispers. She's talking about more than sleep, and more than just now.

Ted opens his eyes after she kisses him, and smiles softly, just giving a very slight nod in response. He knows she means more by that. And even if she didn't it would still be an immense comfort.

He can feel himself tearing up a little, just from the depths of his love for her, the gratitude for her being who she is, for taking care of him, for loving him. He closes his eyes again.

She sees those tears welling in his eyes, and her heart aches for him. She kisses him again, still soft and sweet and gentle, lingering, brushing her thumb against his cheekbone, wanting to soothe and comfort him.

Sherlock enters with the pill in one hand and a cup of water in the other, but hangs back, letting the two of them seek comfort in each other without interruption.

She's definitely succeeding in comforting him. He can't imagine going through this without her. He can't imagine what it would've been like to go through the loss of her, and he tries very hard not to let himself think of it. He feels like she saved her life in more ways than just physically.

He hears Sherlock enter though, and after a moment he pulls back a little, clearing his throat softly and sitting up a little in case she needs help getting up.

She opens her eyes as he pulls back and glances toward the door to see Sherlock standing there with her medicine. Ah.

She works at pushing herself up, reaching for Ted's hand for a little help.

Ted helps, putting a hand on her back as well to help push her out, without necessarily doing all the work for her. Just making it a little easier.

"How are you doing, Sherlock?" he asks softly. "Need sleep?" (Of course, Ted himself definitely still looks like he needs it too. Almost more-so now than when he originally went to bed.)

Joan smiles her thanks at Ted before turning her attention to Sherlock, who has sat down on the bed next to her. He hands her the pill, then the water, and Joan gulps it down.

"I can remain awake for a few more hours," Sherlock says as he takes the cup back from Watson. He turns toward Ted. "If you wish to sleep a little longer, you can."

He sees how worn the man is, and saw how much comfort he was taking in his contact with Watson. If Sherlock can give Ted a bit more time to rest with her, he will.

Ted nods with gratitude. He hopes Sherlock is doing okay, and that Ted can give him some comfort later too, though less physical one. For now he hopes it's enough that he's helping in comforting and looking after Joan. He's pretty sure that's Sherlock's number one priority, anyway.

He puts his hand on Joan's back again, to help her lie down carefully without exhausting herself.

Watson's wellbeing is certainly Sherlock's number one priority. If he thought there was any danger of him falling asleep at his post, he would have said so. But he's used to long sleepless nights, and of the three of them is the one uninjured. He can tell Watson is sleeping more soundly, yet he also knows that she will be even more restored in Ted's arms. And she'll be happier if Ted is happier as well.

And Sherlock cares about Ted. Even if it is the last thing he will admit to.

Joan lies down again, grateful for that help. She's feeling remarkably good right now, but she's still sleepy and still fairly weak, so she'll allow him to help her. For now.

When Joan lies down, Ted almost immediately cuddles up to her, shifting a bit to make sure he's still comfortable with all the pillows. He'd been slightly worried of holding onto her too tightly if she was going to have another seizure, or if she's too weak, but he feels fairly reassured in that regard at least. He figures he can safely snuggle up to her.

Joan snuggles in close, her arm over his waist, her head on his shoulder, letting him hold her. She closes her eyes with a sigh, relaxing, drifting almost immediately.

"I love you," she whispers.

Sherlock moves to the chair, settling in to continue his vigil.

"You too," he whispers back, kissing the top of her head. "So much," he adds, even quieter.

Ted takes a bit longer to fall asleep, gently caressing her arm with his fingertips as he just lies there, listening to her breathing. Closing his eyes and taking comfort from having her in his arms.

When he does finally drift off, it as at least more peaceful than earlier, and not just because of his exhaustion.

"So much," she answers, although she's barely more that mouthing the words as she slips into sleep. Her sleep is peaceful and her dreams are quiet, formless, with a sense of weightlessness, being buoyed by warmth and peace. It's the best she's slept in a long time.

Sherlock can't help but smile ever so slightly as he sees both of them sleeping so peacefully. He keeps watch for four more hours, allowing both of them time for a complete sleep cycle before going to wake Ted. He looks at the man for a moment, wondering how best to wake him. In the end he reaches down to gently shake his shoulder.

For Joan

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