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.
"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."
"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."
"Absolutely," Sherlock says. "To that end, I would like to offer you one of my safehouses. You can stay there as this plays out. Watson too, if you like."
"Do you think his apartment isn't safe enough?" Joan asks with a faint frown.
"This is a man who successfully brought down an airplane," Sherlock points out.
"Uh... I mean sure, if you think I should," Ted agrees. He definitely feels weird about it, but as long as he can stay with Joan, he'll put up with it for now. "What about the gala, though?"
Joan is definitely not leaving Ted's side in all of this, and she knows Sherlock wouldn't expect her to. She's grateful for that.
"I believe you should attend the gala as expected," Sherlock says. "Lest we tip our hand. Hopefully by tomorrow evening we will have the information we need to have Mannion taken into custody."
"Alright, so... What do I do, I mean. Do I not accept drinks from strangers, not go to the bathroom by myself, like. What level of paranoia should I be working with here?" he asks. The first part specifically because he knows that's what happened to Andrew.
Her hand tightens in his at the mention of the drink, and she looks at the floor, trying and failing to not picture herself performing endless and useless CPR on Ted.
"I have arranged for there to be plainclothes officers in attendance," Sherlock assures him. "As long as you are reasonably cautious, you should be fine."
Ted strokes her hand reassuringly with his thumb when her hand tightens. Honestly, he doubts Rupert would time something like this right before the gala. Maybe at the gala, if he wants to be dramatic. (Ted can't believe he's actually thinking like this.) But he's going to be cautious, and go to the safe house, and do everything they ask of him, not just for his own safety, but to make Joan feel safe. This is already hard enough on her.
"Alright, that's good," he answers, nodding. He gently pulls his hand from Joan's, but just so he can put his arm around her instead, holding her close and giving her a slight reassuring squeeze.
"So... I assume we're keeping all this very much at the down-low, right?" he asks. "Does Rebecca know any of this?" Cause while he knows it's important, he feels bad keeping her out of the loop. It's her gala, and her ex-husband.
Joan leans into the embrace, resting her head on Ted's shoulder. They're going to be okay, she tells herself. They'll be careful. And they'll be together.
"Miss Welton is not aware, no," Sherlock answers. "I'm afraid that, for her safety, it shall have to remain that way."
"Okay..." Ted answers with a nod, though it's obvious he doesn't think it's actually okay. He just understands that it's necessary and for the best.
"Um... Did Marion have any family who's still alive?" he asks. Sherlock made it sound like her parents had passed away, but in case there's a sibling or a close aunt or something like that, he wants to know.
Joan knows Ted doesn't like keeping important things from Rebecca. "The minute it's safe to do so, we'll sit down with her and tell her everything," she promises.
"Marion had a younger brother," Sherlock answers. "He was ten years old at the time."
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"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."
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"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.
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"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."
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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.
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"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."
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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."
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"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."
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"So... basically if he does try again, you'll catch him?" Ted clarifies.
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"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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"Do you think his apartment isn't safe enough?" Joan asks with a faint frown.
"This is a man who successfully brought down an airplane," Sherlock points out.
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"I believe you should attend the gala as expected," Sherlock says. "Lest we tip our hand. Hopefully by tomorrow evening we will have the information we need to have Mannion taken into custody."
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"I have arranged for there to be plainclothes officers in attendance," Sherlock assures him. "As long as you are reasonably cautious, you should be fine."
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"Alright, that's good," he answers, nodding. He gently pulls his hand from Joan's, but just so he can put his arm around her instead, holding her close and giving her a slight reassuring squeeze.
"So... I assume we're keeping all this very much at the down-low, right?" he asks. "Does Rebecca know any of this?" Cause while he knows it's important, he feels bad keeping her out of the loop. It's her gala, and her ex-husband.
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"Miss Welton is not aware, no," Sherlock answers. "I'm afraid that, for her safety, it shall have to remain that way."
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"Um... Did Marion have any family who's still alive?" he asks. Sherlock made it sound like her parents had passed away, but in case there's a sibling or a close aunt or something like that, he wants to know.
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"Marion had a younger brother," Sherlock answers. "He was ten years old at the time."
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