trashchildren | For Joan

"Must you? Well, you better do it then," Ted quips with a small smile, but then shakes his head, not wanting to make light of the compliment. Just a defense mechanism for how shitty he feels at the moment.

"Sorry, rough day," he says, as if that wasn't obvious. "I appreciate it."

Sherlock doesn't mind. He gets more sarcasm from Watson on a daily basis.

Once they've exited the station, Sherlock hails a cab. He opens the door for Ted and offers his arm to help the man inside.

Ted accepts the help, stepping inside and carefully going to sit down. It's always a little tricky walking around in these things when you're tall. And seat belts aren't the easiest things to deal with at the moment, giving the state of his ribs.

Once Sherlock has sat down and told the cab driver where to go, Ted lets out a long, tired sigh.

"That sucked," he comments. He doesn't usually let himself be negative for very long, but he feels like in this case, he's earned it at least a little bit.

"I am sorry for that," Sherlock says, lacing his fingers together, a nervous pose that emphasizes the awkwardness he feels. "Comforting people is more Watson's thing than mine, but do know I dearly wish that had not happened."

Ted looks over at Sherlock and smiles softly. "I know. Thanks," he answers. It's more of a comfort for Ted than it would be for most people. "And it's not your fault. But I meant... sort of the entire thing."

Talking to Turner had been stressful and unpleasant. Saddening. He wanted to try to connect, maybe try to steer him a tiny bit in the right direction, and he's pretty sure he failed. Even if he sees the person Turner could be, hiding deep in there. Instead he just got disparaged and threatened and eventually attacked.

Sherlock nods, knowing that Ted is taking it hard that he was unable to get through to the younger man. He did warn him that he was unlikely to be swayed by kindness. He supposes Ted had to try. It's in his nature.

"In my darker moments," Sherlock says carefully, "I have believed that people do not change. That what we are, who we are, is fixed. I believed that of myself as well. It was Watson who showed me that change is truly possible. That the events of my past need not be the shackles of my future. But it took time. A great deal of time." He looks at Ted. "Mr. Chapman was never going to make some sudden change due to the kindness you showed him. But that doesn't mean it was useless or foolish of you to try."

Ted listens quietly, and he is... incredibly touched by the sentiment. It really means a lot to him, especially after such an unpleasant and traumatic experience, and it's evident on his face how grateful he is.

He also appreciates seeing and hearing about Sherlock and Joan's friendship, and how Joan helped him. He's so proud and fond of her for that, and happy for both of them.

"You're better at comforting than you think you are," Ted softly points out with a smile.

"One of many ways in which I have changed, I assure you," he responds, looking away. It's not entirely true...he's been able to be comforting to victims on occasion even before Watson. But this sort of comfort that is not in service to a case but rather in consideration of a person is something that has grown under the patience, care, and no-nonsense of his partner and best friend.

Ted smiles to himself and looks out the window. He does feel a little better. Well, emotionally anyway. Physically, he still feels pretty exhausted and achy.

"Well, I hope at least the lead goes somewhere, so we can both get her back," he says. They both miss her, and Joan probably isn't doing much better, away on her own, and unable to truly open up to the people she has supporting her over there. Ted at least has Beard, who understands the situation.

...Beard is definitely going to be upset with him for putting himself in harm's way like that.

"As do I," Sherlock replies softly. He misses her, and he worries about her, and now he worries about Ted, too. Bringing Watson home would be the best thing for all three of them.

When the cab arrives at Ted's street, Sherlock pays the cabbie, then helps Ted out of the cab and to his apartment.

"Alright, I got it from here," he says once they reach the outside of his apartment. He considers inviting Sherlock up for a cup of tea or something, but even on a normal day he wouldn't expect him to accept, and now he's got a new lead he's probably itching to follow up on.

He's not wrong. Sherlock would likely refuse anyway, and he certainly wants to dive into this newest bit of information as quickly as possible.

"All right." He considers telling Ted to call if he needs anything, but he's sure Ted has a sufficient support system. He also seems unlikely to refrain from calling Sherlock if needed anyway.

"Give my best to her," he says as he turns away.

Both of those assessments are accurate. Ted's support system has gotten pretty robust since he moved here. And if there's something he needs specifically from Sherlock - well, he already proved he'll just call, since he did yesterday.

"I will," Ted answers, smiling at the brusque departure. "I appreciate you," he adds, a bit louder to make sure Sherlock hears as he's walking away. And he really does.

He goes inside, carefully making his way up the stairs, one step at a time. He changes out of the clothes that are still a tiny bit damp from the splashed water. He checks on his ribs (no new bruises forming there), and his cheekbone (a bit red, maybe bruising a little bit, but not too bad). Finally he sits down.

He considers calling Joan, but it's still a nonsense hour over there. Or maybe Sherlock is already updating her, and she's doing her own research. Still, she's probably worrying about him, so he should text her anyway.

Home safe. Thanks for the talk. Will call you later. ♥

Joan is up and pacing, worried about Ted, anxious to hear this new evidence. Her regular phone buzzes and she digs it out to find a text from Sherlock.

Perry, shrt & skny. More soon.

Then her burner phone rings and she pulls it out to see the text from Ted. She sighs a little in relief and texts back.

I'm glad you're okay. Call when you're ready.

She figures he probably needs some time to rest before talking.

He does. In fact he ends up taking an unplanned nap right there in the chair for a few hours. He feels less worn out when he wakes up again. Though he's always a bit tired these days, his body busy rebuilding itself. And he didn't sleep much last night, nervous about the interrogation.

He makes himself some lunch, and then finally he feels more or less human again.

He absolutely isn't going to wait till evening to call Joan. He makes himself some cocoa, settles back into a chair, and phones her up.

Joan spends that time online, scouring the newspapers and databases for the name Perry in conjunction with London or Richmond. And there are a lot. She combs through the results, trying to sort and eliminate based on what she knows and what she can deduce. He's short and skinny. He's probably the same age as Turner. He probably has some sort of record.

She's sending a list of a dozen candidates to Sherlock, complete with photos, when her burner rings. She answers the phone.

"Hey," she says as she's heading upstairs to her room. "How are you doing?"

"Hey," Ted answers, the drawn-out word holding a lot of affection and relief at hearing her voice. "I'm alright, all things considered. You?"

"I'm fine." She gets to her room and closes the door, then sits on her bed.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answers, trying to think of how to say it. He doesn't want to worry her too much about the attack, but neither does he want her to think he's likely to get panic attacks all over the place, since that would surely worry her more.

"He got really mad when I went to leave, and I think the chain of his handcuffs broke, so he managed to shove me. And he threw water in my face, and I guess it triggered some sort of flashback in me."

He tries to say it as conversationally as possible, to reassure her that he is in fact fine now. "They checked me over afterwards, and I'm fine."

She listens, frowning. Sherlock said he was attacked before he handed the phone over to Ted, and Ted had been clearly freaking out. What he's telling her right now...it sound like he's holding something back.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asks, her tone concerned with a touch of alarm.

Oh, well, this is the trouble with dating a detective, apparently. To be fair, he did say most of it, he was just underplaying how much shoving was involved.

"Well, okay, there may have been a bit of a scuffle, but I really am fine," he answers reassuringly. "He also punched me in the face once, but that's about it."

He doubts he needs to actually go into detail about the panic attack, since she was there for that. He can't go into detail about more of the attack, because it was all a bit of a blur.

"Look, it happened so fast, I can't exactly give you a play-by-play here," he explains, and there may be a hint of frustration. Not with her, just with... all of it. "It was just... an unexpected ending to an already unpleasant conversation, so I got a little freaked out."

She hears the frustration, and she knows this whole thing has been so hard on him. She's regretting not objecting more to him talking to Turner. Because, yeah, they got a name and a basic description, but was it worth it for what happened?

"Hey, it's okay," she says gently, hoping to soothe him. "I'm sorry this happened. Can you tell me about the interview?"

Edited 2021-07-13 03:18 (UTC)

Ted is tempted to just request that she asks Sherlock about it, since he could probably give a better perspective, having watched it all with that keen analytical mind of his and all that. Ted's not entirely sure he wants to talk about it. Except... well, no, he does want to talk about it. He wants to talk about most things. It just makes him sad, and he's still working through it.

"Yeah, uh.." he says, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. The ending had sort of scrambled the whole thing in his head a little bit, he doesn't know that he's fully processed it all yet.

"I mean, he was as angry and mocking as he was last time I met him," he answers. "Uh..." He trails off a little, thinking of how to explain it. "I think I shocked him into telling me, honestly. Or confused him. Antagonized him. Some combination of the three, I guess."

He's clearly having difficulty talking about what happened. Joan wishes she was there, so she could see his face, hold his hand, rub his back, help make it easier for him to open up. If she wanted the details for investigative purposes, she would ask Sherlock. This is for Ted's sake. She thinks it's important for him to talk, to not hold it inside.

"It must have been hard to face him again," she says softly. "How did you feel when you saw him?"

Ted sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "Sad, I guess," he answers thoughtfully. "He's just... so broken. All the bad stuff that happened to him, he just turned it into anger and hate."

Which, even just as a concept, is something so heartbreaking to Ted. There are those who turn their privilege into hate, those who have it easy but who fear not being on top, not being powerful. Like Rupert. Ted has very little sympathy for those kind of people. Then there are those whose powerlessness and hardship turned them bitter. It's no less wrong for people like Turner to hurt people, but Ted wonders if he'd had a loving mother, would he still have ended up like this?

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