trashchildren | For Joan

Ted smiles at Joan's comment, and goes and takes a closer look at what he's amassed. Mostly about Rupert, of course. And then he spots a photo of Turner dead in his cell, and suddenly there's like there's an elephant sitting on his chest. It's not gruesome or anything, but it is horrifying in a personal way.

He turns away from the wall, face suddenly grim,
and he goes to sit next to her, leaning his crutch against the couch. He takes Joan's hand.

Joan sees that expression on his face and frowns. She looks up at the board to see what upset him, and sees the picture of Turner's body.

No wonder he's upset.

She squeezes his hand and rubs the back of it.

"You okay?" she murmurs.

He nods tightly, though he's not exactly okay. He can feel that anxiety creeping in. But he takes a few deep breaths through his nose, and squeezes Joan's hand, centering himself.

He already knew Turner was dead, it's just upsetting to see it. And if there's some pictures of the other guy up there, Ted doesn't want to see them.

"So, what's the plan?" he asks, to both Joan and Sherlock, once he's taken a moment.

Joan holds his hand tightly, keeping an eye on him, ready to call for a break if necessary.

Sherlock notes Ted's distress and pauses for that moment, hands clasped. When Ted asks for the plan he glances briefly at Watson, then back to Ted.

"Perhaps we should start by recognizing two apparent facts about how Rupert Mannion operates. First, that he rarely, perhaps never, does the dirty work himself. And second, he is ruthless in his use of catspaws."

Joan leans forward, frowning. "Wait...he's done this before?!"

"At least twice," Sherlock affirms.

Ted blinks, looking between the two of them in surprise. He wasn't even necessarily expecting a confirmation, but now apparently they're unraveling other attacks?

"Wh-- to whom??" Ted asks immediately.

Of course that's the first thing he wants to know. Who else was victimized like that, and whether they're okay or not.

"To be utterly precise," Sherlock prefaces, "I strongly suspect Rupert Mannion has been behind at least two other instances."

Sherlock gestures to a cluster of four photos, two men and two women, surrounding a photo of a plane crash site.

"October 15th, 2005," he says. "This is Rachel Panning, Christopher Fallon, Zachariah Smith, and Bonnie Fox. They were the other four members of the board of one of Mannion's companies. The four of them were about to move forward with selling the company, against Mannion's objections. They and Mannion were taking a charter flight to the Swiss Alps for a retreat. At the last minute Mannion pulled out of the trip."

"And the plane crashed," Joan says grimly.

Sherlock nods. "Sabotage was suspected but could not be proven."

Ted's mind doesn't even go to the assumption that the plane crashed. Even though it's obviously what Sherlock was building towards, and probably what Ted would have guessed if he was watching a crime show. But imagining someone doing that in real life, someone he knows, is just... too much.

He looks at the photos of the four people, people who had lives and loved ones, who are now dead because of Rupert. It doesn't even matter whether they were kind or cruel. No one should have that power.

Ted just sits there in silent shock as he tries to absorb this. He's scared to ask about the other instance.

Joan deals with things like this on a daily basis. This is different, though. This man had targeted Ted and almost succeeded in killing him. She's horrified and angry and a little scared at finding out that the man is truly evil.

"What was the other case?"

Sherlock pointed to a picture of a young woman.

"March 2nd, 1995. Marion McCarthy. Seventeen. Died in a single car crash."

At that, Ted lets go of Joan's hand and runs his hands through his hair, then down his face. He sits back, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands.

He doesn't know what to do with himself. He wants to get up and pace, and he almost does, but he can't really walk well enough that it would help.

1995. Ted was 20. She was barely younger than him. Rupert was... probably around how old Ted is now? This was way before Rebecca knew him.

"What, uh... Why was she.." Ted tries to ask, but he can't formulate a question. He gestures vaguely at Sherlock to go on. He can't stand this, it's horrifying, but waiting for the full story is worse.

Joan puts her hand on Ted's back, maintaining contact and letting him know she's there. She knows this is only going to get worse.

"Miss McCarthy's family," Sherlock continues quietly, "maintained that their daughter was intentionally run off the road because she had been involved with a highly influential older man and was about to reveal that man's identity."

Ted listens silently, staring up at Sherlock, his hands covering his mouth. It's about as devastating and horrifying as he feared. When Sherlock finished, he lets out what could closest be described as an angry growl.

"Hooo boy," he groans. "Oh heck. Nope." Ted actually gets to his feet now, takes a step, then turns around and picks up his crutch so he can walk rather than hobble.

"I mean, that's just--" Ted shakes his head vehemently. "He can't do that. He shouldn't be allowed to do that. That's not--" He breaks off and gestures angrily with his free hand.

"I mean, protecting his business, protecting his football team, protecting his millions-- But a seventeen year old girl?" he continues ranting, his volume increasing. "What is he, a fucking demon?"

That's how bad it is. That's how outraged and horrified Ted is.

Joan is pretty sure she's never heard him swear before. She gets up and goes to him, reaching out to put her hands gently on his arms.

"It's horrible," she says, her voice quiet yet intense, her eyes on his. "It's horrible Marion was murdered. It's horrible that Rupert Mannion did these things. It's horrible he hasn't been held accountable. We're going to do everything we can to make sure he never hurts anyone ever again."

Ted is almost a little breathless just from how agitated he is. He absolutely needed to vent that. And right now he kind of wants to punch something. Or go for a run. Or yell at something. None of which are things he can really do.

But Joan is trying to calm him down, so he does his best to do so. "You're dang right we will," he agrees, quieter but still kind of seething.

"Do you guys have-- No, sorry, of course you don't, never mind," he starts before cutting himself off. They wouldn't have any alcohol here. He really feels like he needs one right about now.

Both Joan and Sherlock know exactly what Ted was asking for.

"We have tea," Sherlock says.

"He doesn't like tea," Joan says, still facing Ted, her hands on his arms.

"He doesn't like tea?"

"Can I get you some water?" she asks Ted. "The kind without bubbles, I promise."

"Sure, yeah," he answers. Not like water is going to fix anything, but it'll give them something to do, something to distract him until his blood stops boiling.

To be fair, alcohol wasn't really going to fix anything, either.

"Go ahead and sit down, I'll be right back," Joan says, rubbing his arm gently before heading for the kitchen.

Sherlock follows her, standing next to her, hands in his pockets, as she fills a glass with water.

"Yes?" Joan says.

"Are you certain he can take this?" Sherlock asks quietly, looking toward the door to the living room.

"I'm certain we don't have a choice," Joan answers, putting the pitcher back in the fridge. "And neither does he. He didn't choose what happened to him. And now that Moriarty has dropped this in his lap..."

She sighs and shakes her head. She's furious at Moriarty for doing this to him, to them, but they can't unknow what they know. And they can't just let it go.

Fix things? No. Make everything just a tiny bit more bearable in the meantime? Maybe. But he'll have to do without for now.

He nods a bit, but before he sits down, he goes and unpins the photo of Marion, so he can look at it. She looks so young. She's got that Jennifer Aniston hairstyle and everything.

He sighs heavily and sits down, dropping the photo of the table. He can hear them speak quietly in the kitchen, and assumes they're either speaking about him, or about something they don't want to worry him with. At this point he's fine with that.

They come back in the room, and Joan hands Ted the glass of water. She sits next to him and takes his free hand.

Sherlock sees the photo on the table, and leaves it there. He returns to the board and considers it for a moment before turning back around to address Joan and Ted.

"In the past," he says, "Rupert Mannion has escaped reckoning for his actions because of a lack of connections. It is only in extreme retrospect that it is clear that he is the influential older man Marion McCarthy's parents insisted was responsible for the rest of their lives. And while there was naturally some suspicion when his co-chairs were killed in a crash he conveniently avoided, evidence of sabotage was destroyed in the crash and even if there was sabotage, there was no way to connect Mannion to it. However...this time is different. This time we know what he did to set up the kidnapping. We know who he hired. We know how he paid. And...we know that his intent was left undone. And Rupert Mannion does not strike me as a man who will leave things undone."

Ted accepts the glass with a quiet 'thank you', and gulps down half of it before setting the rest on the table. He wasn't even that thirsty, but doing it makes him feel a tiny bit better.

Joan's hand in his helps too, and he gives it a little grateful squeeze.

He listens to Sherlock speak, the anger still bubbling inside him, listening to how Rupert evaded repercussions. But he's right, they know more now, and that is encouraging.

At the last sentence, Ted actually huffs a humorless laugh. "That's a very polite way of telling me you think I'm going to be murdered."

She squeezes his hand back. She knows this is hard, and she's worried about him, but what she told Sherlock is true. They don't have a choice. They have to deal with this. Pretty much for exactly the reason highlighted in Ted's response to Sherlock.

"I believe Mannion will try," Sherlock agrees. "While Moriarty is evil incarnate, in this she has given us a great gift. After what happened to Chapman and Perkins, it will be extremely difficult for Mannion to find anyone willing to take on the job. Which means..."

Joan sits up. She gets it. "He'll have to shop around."

Sherlock points at her. "And that cannot be done without making some noise. Noise that we are well placed to detect."

Ted looks between them as Joan makes the connection. If things weren't so dire, it'd be kind of exciting to watch. It's still impressive.

"So... basically if he does try again, you'll catch him?" Ted clarifies.

"I have associates embedded in the criminal underworld of London," Sherlock answers. "And Everyone is monitoring the deep web for any mention of a hit on your life. When Rupert tries again to have you murdered, we will have the evidence necessary to ensure he goes to jail for the rest of his life."

"Alright, well... I think that's the first time I've hoped for someone to try to assassinate me," he says. He needs to inject at least a tiny bit of levity into this conversation, otherwise it gets entirely overwhelming.

Joan squeezes his hand, giving him a small smile, trying to be comforting but also unable to keep her own worry out of her expression. They're essentially using Ted as bait, and she doesn't like it, but she knows it has to be done.

Ted sees that worry, and he smiles back reassuringly. He's worried too, but he's got faith in the two of them, and he knows to be careful.

"But hey. He don't know that we know, right?" Ted points out. "Which means he's not going to be stupid about it, so as long as we're careful, I should be fine."

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