trashchildren | For Joan

The EMT does basic neurological tests, and nods in satisfaction. "I recommend you put ice your face," he says. "But you should be fine to go home. Do you have anyone to take you?"

"I can accompany Mr. Lasso home," Sherlock says. He feels bad for putting Ted in danger and feels he owes it to Watson to at least make sure the man gets home all right.

Ted looks up at Sherlock in surprise, but then nods with gratitude.

At some point someone brought him his crutches, and he picks them up again, and lets the EMT help him to his feet. His body has that post-adrenaline ache and exhaustion. Like a deflated balloon. His shoulders are already hunched even before he uses them to support himself with the crutches.

Sherlock stays close to Ted as they walk, there to steady the man if he so requires. He's silent for the moment, wanting to leave a respectful space for Ted to speak if he desires. Sherlock is not usually the best listener, as he becomes impatient, his mind moving a mile a minute. But for Watson, and, by association, Ted, he will try.

Ted's not the best conversationalist at the moment either. Which is a shame, because he'd like to have a chance to chat properly with Sherlock. Still, he appreciates the concern, even if it takes him some moments to gather himself enough.

"Please tell me that at least helped," he says, voice still gruff and tired, glancing over at Sherlock.

"Time will tell," Sherlock answers. "However, you have given us an important piece of information that we could not have gotten otherwise. I must commend you."

"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.

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