trashchildren | For Joan

"No, I'm fine," he answers automatically. "I mean.. Just a little bit," he admits, finally. He does feel achy, more than he usually does with his injuries.

When she feels his forehead he does have a very slight fever. Not a lot, but just enough to be noticeable.

She lowers her hand, trembling a little. "You're a little warm," she says, frowning faintly in concern. She looks at Sherlock. "Do we have acetaminophen at home?"

"We should," Sherlock answers.

"We'll give you some of that. It should help with the fever. Any other symptoms?"

"Just the regular fever yuckiness," he answers with a shrug. Sweats, chills, achy body, lil bit queasy. "It's not that bad."

He also feels anxious, but he doesn't mention that cause, you know, he's got plenty to feel anxious about.

"I'm sorry, that sucks," she says softly. "Are you still taking meds for your injuries?"

She wants to make sure acetaminophen isn't going to react with anything he's taking. It would also be good to know if his meds should be keeping a fever down, since that would mean this is a breakthrough fever and things could be worse than they appear.

Ted nods. "Yeah, gonna be on them for a least a few weeks," he answers. Given his injures were pretty significant, it takes longer for than to heal than if he'd just broken the one leg. And it's only been two weeks so far.

She nods. That makes sense.

"What are you taking?"

"Uh," Ted answers, then starts rooting in his bag. He's keenly aware he's talking about this next to Sherlock, and doesn't want to make things hard on him. So instead of saying it out loud, he just shows her the bottle of Vicodin.

Oh. Crap. Joan should have thought of that. She looks up at Sherlock, who is pointedly looking away from the two of them. She's particularly glad now that they aren't going to be staying in 221B, although they're going to be careful about where Ted keeps the Vicodin when Sherlock comes over.

In addition to the issue with Sherlock's sobriety, Vicodin has acetaminophen as one of its components.

"This should be keeping your temperature down," she says, looking up at Ted, the concern plain on her face.

Ted has been rather careful about not taking pills in front of Sherlock, and keeping it packed away. Not out of distrust, but out of concern. He got a big talk from the doctor when he was prescribed these, so he knows they're fairly potent, and can be addictive. It's also one of the reasons he was getting so much follow up with Shaun visiting.

He frowns softly when she mentions his fever though, and he pulls out the pill caddy he uses to keep track of his doses.

"...Oh," he says, realising as he looks at it. "I forgot to take them this morning."

Sherlock turns his head at that, catching Joan's eyes, knowing that they're both thinking the same thing.

Sherlock is the one to say it, all too familiar with what Ted is going through.

"You're in withdrawal."

Ted looks over at Sherlock. Well, he would know, wouldn't he?

"Oh," he answers. "Well, that makes sense."

He shouldn't be too worried about this - he knew it was a possibility, and he's also taking his evening dose soon, which should fix the suckiness. But, well. There's that anxiety gnawing away at him, making him feel worried even so. But mostly what he finds himself worried about is Sherlock.

It's good that it isn't something contagious, because Ted was right to think that it might be a problem for Joan to get sick now while her body is still recovering from hypoxia. However, it does suggest a future problem.

"When you stop taking these, we'll need to be careful to wean you off of them slowly," she says.

Ted nods. "Yeah, my doctor told me that," he answers. "Had a whole speech about being careful with my dose and everything. But... You know, there was so much stuff this morning, I guess I forgot."

He might have been craving them more if he knew that's what was going on.

"Luckily for you," Sherlock says, "you will be sharing a domicile with a woman trained in narcotic dependency mitigation. There is likely no better person you could be sharing your bed with right now."

Joan rolls her eyes a little at the way he put that, but aside from the unnecessary allusion to their sex life, Sherlock's not wrong.

"Well, I knew that well before this, but that's just based on her being a great person," Ted answers with a chuckle, trying to inject some cheer into this conversation. And maybe distract a little from the topic.

Joan smiles at that, and takes his hand in hers.

Sherlock sighs a little, the outside party to Ted and Watson's cuteness. He doesn't mind all that much, though. Not as much as usual. It's nice to see Watson happy.

Ted squeezes her hand and smiles back at her. Hey, Sherlock opened the door for that. He's just going to have to deal.

"And then right before someone tries to, you know, have me dealt with, I befriend not one but two detectives. Impressive, being that lucky and unlucky at the same time," he muses.

"It is a fortunate coincidence, " Sherlock replies, not one for luck.

Joan, on the other hand, is willing to go with the premise. "I think we were meant to be together," she says with a smile.

Ted, a believer, obviously believes in luck. While also being sensible enough to know he can't blame everything on luck, of course.

When Joan says that incredibly sweet line though, Ted looks over at Sherlock. "Sorry, Sherlock, but we're gonna be annoyingly cutesy now," he warns.

And then he turns and leans over to give Joan a kiss and then rub their noses together, smiling happily at her.

Sherlock sighs again, looking away, his expression sourly exasperated.

Joan, on the other hand, is so happy. She kisses him back, then rubs her nose against his in turn, enjoying the affection and not really caring if it's annoying or cutesy.

"I love you," she murmurs with a smile.

Hey, at least he warned him.

"You too," he answers quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the cab. They can't properly cuddle in here, but he leans lightly against her, holding her hand for the rest of the ride back.

She leans against him, smiling. She's definitely not at a hundred percent...not even close if she was being honest...but in this moment she can forget, and just be with him.

When the cab pulls up at 221A Baker Street, Sherlock hops out to get the wheelchair from the trunk.

Ted himself is feeling pretty awful. (He does shiver a couple times.) But Joan's lovely presence does a lot to mitigate it. And it helps to know he'll soon feel better.

Ted gets to his feet as well, opening the door for her, then helping her out once Sherlock has taken out the wheelchair and come to join him.

The cab driver even comes to help them get up the few steps into the apartment, and Ted thanks him profusely, since he himself is limited help.

Joan doesn't like this part, feeling keenly her helplessness and loss of control. It takes a mercifully short amount of time, though, and then they're in the apartment.

The place has been aired out and cleaned, and it smells pleasantly like lemon. The living room is furnished, with a sofa and a couple chairs. There's also a work room with a couple tables and a desk. The main bedroom is upstairs, but there's a smaller room on the first floor that has been made up for them, the queen sized bed sporting incredibly soft cotton sheets.

"This is nice," Ted comments as he glances around, appreciating how it's been made ready for them. "You hungry, or just wanna get ready for bed?" he asks Joan. He's basically intent on just following her every whim for the forseeable future.

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