trashchildren | For Joan

Ted smiles, still fairly emotional, but more surely now. He reaches over and just strokes Joan's hair, just wanting to be a comforting presence.

"You know, Henry would be so jealous I've gotten to ride in an ambulance twice lately," he says, smiling. "If we manage to hitch a ride with fire truck, he'll be turning green."

He doesn't expect Joan to be able to answer much, but he's happy to sit here and just provide some silliness and normality. All the other stuff they can figure out later.

Joan leans into the touch, closing her eyes with a sigh. She's so tired...

"Miss Watson," the medic says, looking at the slow heartbeat. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Joan's eyes flutter open, but drift closed again.

"She needs an epi," the medic says, opening a cabinet and taking out a syringe.

Ted's grip tightens a little around Joan's hand as her eyes drift closed again the EMT starts doing something. He has to bite his tongue to not ask what that means. He knows they have more important things to do, and he doesn't want to distract them from taking care of Joan. Even if there's still that little bit of panic bubbling right under the surface.

There is one very pressing question he can't stop himself from asking though. "She's doing to be okay, right?"

"We're doing everything we can," the medic says.

He pulls up Joan's skirt to bare her thigh, then pinches the outer skin and muscle and pushes the needle in. He slowly depresses the plunger, then removes the needle, discards it in a sharps box, and rubs the injection site while looking at the monitor.

Joan wakes up with a gasp, blinking, eyes wide.

Well dang it, that's not really what a man wants to hear! He wants to hear confident reassurances right now.

Ted jumps a bit as Joan wakes up so dramatically, and it's really scary to watch, but he immediately goes back into being the reassuring one.

"Hey, you're alright, you're okay," he says, as gently as he can while still being heard over the ambulance, stroking her hair and squeezing her hand.

Her eyes dart anxiously from Ted to the medic. "What's going on?"

"Your heartrate was dropping, so I administered a shot of epinephrine," the medic says, still massaging her outer thigh so the medication is fully absorbed.

Joan looks to Ted, and there's fear in her eyes. How much of it is caused by the situation and how much by the sudden rush of adrenaline is unclear.

It breaks Ted's heart to see her scared. Ted is too, incredibly so, but he can't let it show right now. She shouldn't have to go through any of this, and he needs to do whatever he can to mitigate the awfulness.

"Hey, sweetie, it's okay," he says, leaning in close so he can look her in the eyes and make sure she focuses on him, trying to sound as steady and reassuring as possible. "They're taking real good care of you. I know it's scary right now, but I'm here, and the medics are here, and none of us are gonna let anything happen to you, okay? You hear me?"

Joan is usually the steady, stoic one, even when she's in danger, but the adrenaline is sizzling along her nerves and causing her to gasp for air as her heart pounds.

Then Ted is there, right above her face, looking her in the eyes, capturing her entire attention. She's surrounded by the wail of the sirens, the rumble of the engine and the wheels on the road, the hiss of oxygen and the (now rapid) beep of the heart monitor. But it all fades away as she allows him to draw her in and hold her, physically and emotionally.

"I hear you," she says. She tightens her grip on his hand, keeping her eyes locked on his.

Ted smiles, as warmly and reassuringly as he can. He places a quick kiss on the front of her oxygen mask, almost playfully.

"We're almost at the hospital, but in the meantime, you just focus on me, alright?" he continues, just keeping her attention, keeping her mind occupied and reassured. "All that stuff you're feeling right now, it just means your body and the medicine is doing its job, right? Means you're gonna be okay."

Of course, Ted doesn't know that. But he has to believe it, and more importantly, he needs to make sure Joan believes it.

"Then when we get to the hospital, they're gonna check you over, make sure you're doing okay, and then you and I are gonna take like, the longest nap together, all cuddled up, does that sound good?" he asks, smiling, looking at her with so much love and care.

Joan can't help but smile a little as he kisses the oxygen mask. What he's saying about the medication and her body's response to it isn't entirely right, but it's not exactly wrong, either...just really optimistic. Which is very Ted. She's seen all the "Believe" signs in his apartment, but he doesn't need a sign to make her believe, to the core of her being, that he's right. That she's going to be okay.

"That sounds amazing," she says, feeling so very loved and cared for.

The ambulance rolls to a stop in the hospital bay, and the medic opens the door, the medics from the front coming around to help get Joan out. She squeezes his hand tightly, then lets go as they take her out of the ambulance and whisk her into the hospital, leaving him behind.

"I love you," he says quickly, because he knows they're about to whisk her away, probably eventually behind some doors that Ted can't follow through.

He grabs his crutch and hobbles along after as best he can, but sure enough, soon he's faced with a door he's not allowed through and pointed to a waiting room.

No one else is here yet, and he doesn't have his phone, which is still with Sherlock. He assumes they'll find him eventually. So he talks to the hospital people, lets them know who he is and who he's waiting for news on. That he just needs to know Joan is okay.

The waiting room is fairly sparse, so he sits down somewhere away from anyone else there, and he undoes his tie and takes off his suit jacket.

He sits there, and he covers his face with his hands for a bit, then sits back, and after several minutes of waiting, he can no longer keep himself from crying.

When Sherlock enters the waiting room and sees Ted crying, his stomach sinks. He makes his way to the man and sits in the chair next to him, staring forward.

"Is she dead?" he asks without looking at the man, the roughness of his voice a hint of how fragile his composure is.

Ted barely notices when Sherlock sits down next to him, and looks up a bit startled when he asks him that.

"What?" he asks, like he's getting news, but then she realises Sherlock is asking, not saying. "God, no, she better not be."

He runs a hand across his face and clears his throat a bit. "They gave her a, uh, an 'epi' in the ambulance," he says, since he assumes Sherlock will know what that means. "She was awake and talking, when they took her away."

"Epinephrine," Sherlock says grimly, still staring forward. "They must have been concerned she was on the verge of cardiac arrest."

He looks down at his clasped hands.

"How long since you've had news of her?"

Ted gently throws up his hands in a gesture of 'no clue'. "Since I got here," he answers. Which he doesn't think is that long ago, but honestly he has zero concept of time right now. The ambulance ride simultaneously felt like three minutes and also three hours.

Sherlock is able to do the math, and it's longer than he would like. He's wondering why they haven't at least told Ted how she's doing.

"It's not your fault," he says. "In case you think it was."

Ted smiles gratefully, even if it's a pretty weak and watery smile. "I know, thank you," he answers softly.

There is part of him that thinks, what if they had just left, what if they'd just let the cops do their job. But then they might not have arrested Rupert at all, and he might have done something else, for all he knows, and maybe they wouldn't have been able to get it in time. He can't afford to think like that.

He looks over at Sherlock, with his tight expression, his clasped hands. "Hey. It's not yours either," he says gently.

Because Sherlock was there specifically to prevent something like this, so Ted wouldn't be surprised if he was, if not directly blaming himself, at least thinking about what if he'd been smarter, if he'd been faster, more observant. And there's no use in thinking like that either.

Sherlock nods. He has indeed been thinking along those "if only" lines. If only he'd identified the killer more quickly. If only he'd realize the poison would be added after the dish left the monitored kitchen. If only they had prepared more, had antidotes to possible poisons on hand. If only...

A doctor in green scrubs and a white coat enters the waiting room and approaches them.

"Is one of you Ted Lasso?" she asks.

Ted almost jumps to his feet, but then thinks better of it the moment he puts pressure on his cast. "Yeah, doc, that's me. What's going on, is she okay?" he asks urgently, sitting forward in his chair instead.

Sherlock also straightens, hanging off the doctor's every word.

"Miss Watson is stable," she says, addressing Ted but glancing toward Sherlock as well. "The treatment that was started in the field had some side effects that had to be countered. Her heart rate and blood pressure dipped a couple times, which was concerning, but they've been steady for long enough now that we believe the immediate danger has passed. There's still some long term concerns and we'll be watching her closely, but she's been asking for you ever since she got here, so we'd like to bring you to her."

Ted visible relaxes when she confirms Joan is stable, though not completely. Stable doesn't mean fine. But she's not going to die today, which means the doctors have time to do their thing and make sure she gets better.

And now Ted does jump to his feet, but at least he grabs the crutch before he does this time. "Yeah, yeah, of course," he answers eagerly, nodding. He too wants nothing less than to be at her side right now.

He hesitates for a moment before following though, looking back at Sherlock. "What about Sherlock, can he come?" he asks. Because they're basically best friends, and it would probably reassure them both to see each other.

"Sherlock Holmes?" she asks, looking toward the detective.

Sherlock gets to his feet. "That's me."

"She has you on file as her emergency contact and designated healthcare surrogate. We've been trying to contact you. You can come back with us."

The doctor leads the two of them through the doors and down a couple corridors to the ICU.

When they enter Joan's room, Sherlock hangs back, distressed by the sight of her. "Watson..." he whispers to himself.

Joan looks very small in the hospital bed surrounded by monitors and machines. There are electrodes stuck all over her body, an IV running to her hand, and an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. She's pale, and her eyes are closed.

Ted grabs his jacket and follows, glad they both get to go. He wouldn't want Sherlock to have to sit and wait on his own, not with how close they are.

It's a scary sight. But it's also not too different from seeing her in the ambulance, so Sherlock is probably more horrified than Ted is, seeing it for the first time. But even without the shock, it's still heartbreaking.

Ted gently grips Sherlock's shoulder for a moment, a gesture of comfort and solidarity, before heading over to Joan's side. He leans his crutch against a chair and drops the jacket over the back, before approaching the bed.

He feels like he should be quiet, gentle. The room is so still, creepily so.

"Hey, Joan," he says softly, reaching out to take her hand.

Sherlock looks at Ted, grateful for the comfort yet unable to express it properly. When Ted goes to Joan, Sherlock finds a chair in the corner and sits, watching over his partner and beloved friend.

Joan stirs at Ted's voice and touch. She opens her eyes and smiles a little when she sees him. "Hey," she says softly. "I missed you."

Ted gives a shuddering sigh of relief when she smiles at him, and he returns it warmly. "You too," he answers, stroking her hand with his thumb.

He wants to hug her, but he doesn't want to mess with the equipment, or accidentally hurt her before he knows how hurt she is.

"Sherlock's here too," he says, nodding back towards him sitting in the corner. Ted definitely has the impression that Sherlock is not good with these kinds of situations, and would rather let Ted do the comforting. And Ted's just fine with that, but he wants Joan to know that Sherlock's here, watching over them. Two people who love her dearly.

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