trashchildren | For Joan

"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.

Ted's sleeping pretty lightly at this point, so he rouses easily, feeling - thank goodness - a lot more rested. There's still a deeper exhaustion that he thinks it's going to take weeks for him to truly recover from, but in relative terms, he feels pretty good.

He looks up at Sherlock, then glances down at Joan for a moment to make sure she's okay, before looking back up at him again.

"Hey," he greets lifting a hand to cover his mouth as he yawns. "What time is it?"

"A little before dawn," Sherlock answers. He saw how Ted's first thought was to check on Watson, and he appreciates him for that. They are on the same page.

"I'm afraid I am in need of some rest myself, if you feel sufficiently rested."

"Of course," he answers, giving him a smile. "Thanks for keeping an eye on us. Two eyes, I'm sure."

He looks down at Joan still slightly draped over him, and wonders if he can get up without waking her. If he stays lying down like this, so warm and comfortable and cuddly, there is a chance he'll fall back asleep even if his sole purpose is to stay awake.

So he carefully tries to roll her over little so he can sit up. It's probably not gonna work, since she usually sleeps pretty lightly, but he'll give it a shot anyway. At least she's also been falling back asleep easily.

Joan does wake, but just enough to smile for a moment at the two of them looking down at her, the two men she loves, who love her. Then the smile fades as she relaxes back into sleep.

Sherlock takes a step back from the bed, standing stiffly and opening and closing his hands, indecisive, needing to sleep yet not wanting to leave the room, to leave Watson.

Ted reaches out to grab his laptop, planning to just sit here right next to her, sitting so he can easily notice her moving even while looking at his screen.

He realizes Sherlock's still standing there, and looks up at him curiously, before he realizes why, from the way he's looking at Joan. "It's alright, I'll look after her. Promise," he says softly.

"Hey, could you maybe make me a coffee before you go to bed?" he asks as an afterthought, because that would definitely help him stay awake. And it'll give Sherlock a purpose for leaving the room that perhaps feels more productive than just the need for sleep.

Sherlock nods, and turns away from the bed, a movement that obviously takes a fair amount of determined effort. It's not that he doesn't trust Ted. He knows that Ted loves Watson dearly, and would do anything to keep her safe. Yet still he worries about turning his back. He still has some guilt for her having been in harm's way in the first place.

But he leaves the room and goes to the kitchen to get coffee brewing.

Ted definitely understands the - well, not the lack of trust, exactly, but the need to personally do as much as he can. Ted experiences the same. He knows Sherlock is utterly devoted to Joan, and that he's probably better than Ted at looking out for her, at least when it comes to stuff that requires being observant or knowledgeable. It's pretty much Sherlock's main thing. But that doesn't stop Ted from worrying if he stays away from Joan for too long anyway.

He looks forward to a time where he doesn't have to worry about her. Not because it's an obvious strain on him (and on Sherlock), but because he does know that Joan can take care of herself. But right now there's some specific ways in which she can't.

As he waits for Sherlock to return, Ted finds himself ignoring his computer in favor of just watching Joan. Not out of worry, but out of fondness. He gently reaches out and just strokes her hair, as softly as he can to avoid waking her.

Sherlock is looking forward to not having to be constantly concerned about Watson as well, and also mostly because he knows the toll it takes on her, as she is fiercely independent.

When the coffee is done he puts it on a tray along with a couple biscuits and some fruit, and heads to the bedroom. He sees Ted petting Watson's hair as she sleeps, and it's such a tender scene that even cynical Sherlock feels warmed by it.

Ted looks up when he realizes Sherlock's back.

"Hey, look at that," he says cheerfully, though still speaking very quietly to avoid waking Joan. "Breakfast in bed, what luxury."

He's still putting a little bit of effort into making sure he's cheerful and positive, but at least it comes a little easier today.

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