"Mmm." She rubs her eyes. "I need to put on some actual clothes."
"Which of your outfits would you like?" Sherlock says, rising to go fetch clothes from 221B. "May I suggest the black and white shift with the beige cardigan?"
"That works. Thanks."
Sherlock heads out and Joan turns to Ted.
"I can't count the number of times he's woken me up with an outfit in hand to speed things along." She smiles. "How are you doing?"
He shakes his head a little. "I'm sure you can imagine," he says and smiles softly. Honestly it would be weird if he didn't occasionally have bad dreams with everything that's going on. But it's not something he wants to dwell on.
"It helps waking up next to you though," he adds, his smile coming a bit easier as he leans over to give her a kiss.
She kisses him back, touching his cheek. When he pulls back she reaches up to gently brush his hair back from his forehead. Then her eyes widen a bit and she touches her own hair, still in Ted's braids.
"Did the braids get messed up while I was sleeping?"
Ted smiles at the question. "Only a bit," he answers. They've had a few sleeps since he made them, after all. "I can redo them after you get dressed," he offers. "Or undo them - you probably have really nice wavy hair right now."
"You should redo them," she says with a smile. "I'd love for Keeley and Roy to see your handiwork."
The front door to the apartment opens and closes, and Sherlock comes into the room carrying clothes. He sets them on the bad, then backs up. "I will leave you to it," he says with an open-palmed gesture toward the clothes, and turns around to exit the room again.
"Thanks, Sherlock," Ted answers, pushing himself up and stretching properly. He carefully gets to his feet, rubbing experimentally at his lower back, then nods to himself. Getting some good sleep (with supportive pillows) seems to be helping out his back at least.
He's about to head to the other side of the bed, then pauses and grabs at least one crutch, even if he's just going over there. He's trying to be good about it.
Ted smiles too, seeing how she's having a lot less trouble. "You look like you're feeling alright," he says, going to help her off with the tights. He imagines those will be harder for her to take off on her own.
Ted grins happily. "Aww shucks, turning my own words back on me, are ya?" he teases.
He sets the tights aside and then picks up the clothes to help her on with that. "So I'm more than happy to help you with clothes and braid your hair, but just as a warning, if you ask me to do your makeup then things are gonna take a turn for the worse," he says with a chuckle.
"They're good words," she says, answering his grin.
Joan is actually able to do a lot more than merely make it easier for Ted to dress her. She's not quite at the point where she can totally dress herself, but she's definitely getting there. She chuckles at Ted's words. "I'm probably going to just go without makeup. I don't tend to wear a lot anyway."
"Yeah, me neither," he answers with a playful smile. "But then neither of us need it to look gorgeous," he quips. Being silly and sweet to make up for that little pit in his stomach still hanging around, trying to chase it away.
She laughs a little, glancing down almost shyly at the silly and sweet compliment. You're always gorgeous," she says, looking up and smiling warmly, her eyes shining, so in love.
"It's the mustache, right? Makes ladies go crazy," he teases happily. When she looks at him like that it makes him feel all fuzzy inside, which is a far better feeling than the pit. He leans down to give her a kiss in between the getting dressed.
She hums into the kiss, then gives him a grin and a tilt of the head.
"I can't say the mustache is not doing it for me," she says playfully.
Joan looks over at the wheelchair. She knows she won't be able to make it to the dining room under her own power, but she's not crazy about just being wheeled around everywhere in front of people other than Sherlock and Ted.
"Maybe I could sit at the table before they get here?"
"You should see me without it," he answers just as playfully.
He glances over at the wheelchair too, getting what she's talking about. "Oh yeah. I figure we'll just order a bunch of take-out, so we can probably just sit on the couch. Comfier." Otherwise they'd have to move from the dining table to the couch at some point, which would be the same problem.
Ted scoffs playfully, letting himself be pulled in. "No, that's obviously Sherlock. Have you seen the man?" he teases, and kisses her. "You're the brawn, of course."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theodorelasso) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trashchildren2021-06-24 07:33 pm
no subject
"Hey." She frowns faintly. "What time were Keeley and Roy coming over?"
no subject
"Mmm. Soonish. I told them I was gonna let them know when we were ready for them," he answers.
no subject
"Which of your outfits would you like?" Sherlock says, rising to go fetch clothes from 221B. "May I suggest the black and white shift with the beige cardigan?"
"That works. Thanks."
Sherlock heads out and Joan turns to Ted.
"I can't count the number of times he's woken me up with an outfit in hand to speed things along." She smiles. "How are you doing?"
no subject
"Mmmm," he answers, frowning softly. "Bad dreams," he admits, rubbing at his chest a little. Still feels like there's a knot in there.
no subject
She sees him rubbing his chest, and wonders if he's feeling a tightness there, and if that's a precursor to his panic attacks.
no subject
"It helps waking up next to you though," he adds, his smile coming a bit easier as he leans over to give her a kiss.
no subject
"Did the braids get messed up while I was sleeping?"
no subject
no subject
The front door to the apartment opens and closes, and Sherlock comes into the room carrying clothes. He sets them on the bad, then backs up. "I will leave you to it," he says with an open-palmed gesture toward the clothes, and turns around to exit the room again.
no subject
He's about to head to the other side of the bed, then pauses and grabs at least one crutch, even if he's just going over there. He's trying to be good about it.
no subject
She sees Ted remember the crutch and her smile widens. Everything is going to be fine. They're both going to be fine.
Joan starts taking off her shirt. It's a bit of a struggle, but she does finally manage to pull it off.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He sets the tights aside and then picks up the clothes to help her on with that. "So I'm more than happy to help you with clothes and braid your hair, but just as a warning, if you ask me to do your makeup then things are gonna take a turn for the worse," he says with a chuckle.
no subject
Joan is actually able to do a lot more than merely make it easier for Ted to dress her. She's not quite at the point where she can totally dress herself, but she's definitely getting there. She chuckles at Ted's words. "I'm probably going to just go without makeup. I don't tend to wear a lot anyway."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"I can't say the mustache is not doing it for me," she says playfully.
Joan looks over at the wheelchair. She knows she won't be able to make it to the dining room under her own power, but she's not crazy about just being wheeled around everywhere in front of people other than Sherlock and Ted.
"Maybe I could sit at the table before they get here?"
no subject
He glances over at the wheelchair too, getting what she's talking about. "Oh yeah. I figure we'll just order a bunch of take-out, so we can probably just sit on the couch. Comfier." Otherwise they'd have to move from the dining table to the couch at some point, which would be the same problem.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...