trashchildren | For Joan

"Just because I laud the benefits of orgasms to Watson's wellbeing doesn't mean I wish to watch you give them to her," Sherlock points out.

"Kisses are hardly the same thing," Joan says.

"Are they not?" Sherlock counters. "Your affection and attraction are just as much on display. When I entertain prostitutes, do I do so in your presence, Watson?"

"Okay, now that is definitely not the same thing," Joan protests.

Ted blinks, raising his eyebrows. He's not sure whether it's deeply surprising that Sherlock 'entertains' sex workers, or completely expected. Somehow it's both.

"Just as much on display, really?" he asks, mildly incredulous. It's not like this was a deeply suggestive or intense kiss, after all. He would be okay with Henry giving someone the kind of kiss he just gave.

"I think we're basing our distinction more on what would give NC-17 rating, versus PG rating," he points out.

Ted doesn't actually think it's weird that Sherlock doesn't like to see them kiss. That's fine. What's weird is that he simultaneously is totally okay with commenting on their sex life.

"I don't think it actually has anything to do with whether or not it's explicit," Joan says, her voice quiet. She leans forward a little, looking at Sherlock. "Love is hard for you. I get it. You've been hurt before."

Sherlock tightens his jaw and looks down.

And now Ted suddenly feels like he's the one walking in on something private. His hand tightens a little on Joan's shoulder. Not because he's uncomfortable, but because he feels a sudden sympathy for Sherlock.

He knows some of that already, of course. Perhaps all there is to really know, beyond the actual details of it. But he hadn't been thinking about that being a potential reason, but of course now it makes complete sense.

Sherlock takes a breath, looking up and away. He looks back at them and holds out the folded stepladder.

"Where would you like this?" he says.

Joan nods a little. She gets why he doesn't want to talk about it, especially if it's still painful enough that he doesn't even want to see Joan and Ted being cute and affectionate with each other. She looks up at Ted for his instruction.

"Bathroom, I guess," he answers, a bit more softly than he was speaking a moment ago. "Thanks."

And then, as Sherlock is about to leave the room, he speaks up, though still softly. "Hey, Sherlock. How about we try not to get too cutesy in front of you, and you refrain from commenting on or giving advice about our love life. Sound fair?" he asks, though he says it kindly, not confrontational. That's just some boundary setting he needs to do, while offering up a boundary for Sherlock as well.

Joan smiles up at Ted, fully on board with this plan.

Sherlock turns back, considering that for a moment, then nods. "Sounds fair," he agrees, then heads to the bathroom.

Joan leans her head against Ted's wrist with a contented sigh.

Ted smiles down at Joan, then looks back at the door Sherlock disappeared through.

"Okay, he's gone, quick," he whispers urgently, then leans down to kiss her. Mostly to make her laugh by being silly.

And laugh she does, as she kisses him with as much force and passion as she can, totally committing to the bit to get all their passion and cuteness out in one kiss.

Then she hears Sherlock coming out of the bathroom and she pulls back, grinning and trying to suppress a giggle.

Ted straightens up, trying to look as innocent as possible, probably comically so.

...They probably do look pretty cutesy even while not doing anything, huh? Whoops.

Sherlock sees them and shakes his head, but there's a twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

"I set it up in the shower for you," he says. "Do you need assistance getting Watson to the bathroom?" he asks Ted. He has no intention whatsoever of going past the door.

"I think we've got it, thanks," he answers, his smile going from silly to just generally pleasant. She's already in the wheelchair, so the actual moving will happen probably after they've started undressing.

He grabs his crutch and hangs it from his arm, so he can have it if he needs it, but for now he can just lean on the wheelchair. "You good?" he asks Joan, ready to wheel her along to the bathroom.

"I'm good," she says. She looks at Sherlock and smiles. "Thank you."

Sherlock nods and goes to sit down again. "Enjoy your shower, Watson."

And with that, Ted wheels her off to the bathroom, and parks her right next to the stool. "He didn't tell me to enjoy my shower," he comments jokingly, pretending to be pouty about it, as he goes to turn the shower on to warm it up.

"I'm sure it was just an oversight," Joan says with a smile. She suspects it's actually because he expects Ted to be focusing on Watson and making her feel good, and she suspects he's right about that.

She watches him turn on the shower, then looks around the bathroom. There's soap and shampoo and conditioner and body wash and loofahs and everything. Sherlock really spared no expense to make sure the place was ready for them.

"Alright, let's get like Leslie Nielsen's gun," he says, pulling off his hoodie and setting it down, then holding out his hands offering to help Joan with her clothes.

"Naked?" she responds, amused. She grasps the lower hem of her shirt and starts pulling it upward, but discovers to her confusion and consternation that the combination of her weakness and lack of fine motor skills is making it hard to pull it up all the way.

"Bingo Ringo," he answers with a chuckle. He's glad she usually gets his references. She's a well-informed lady.

He reaches out and gently helps her off with her shirt without comment. He doesn't want to completely take over though, and figures it's probably good exercise if she tries to do it herself, and he'll just help her along when she gets stuck.

She appreciates that he's there to assist her, not do everything for her. She imagines she'll need less and less assistance as the days go by. At least she hopes so.

"Could you get my bra?" she asks. She knows she can't get it and figures this will just save time and struggle.

"Oh how we've grown, you wouldn't even let me try first time we got together," he quips cheerfully, stepping behind her to unhook it for her, and putting it in the pile with all their other clothes.

She can't help but smile at that.

"The first time we got together I wanted to be naked as soon as possible," she teases. "Unfortunately, right now I would take way longer to remove it than you would, so really it's a cost-benefits analysis."

She looks down at her chest and sees she was right...there are several patches of adhesive residue where the electrodes had been.

"So basically you're saying we haven't grown at all and we'd still like to be naked as soon as possible," he answers with a chuckle. "I'm okay with that."

He takes a moment to pull off his own t-shirt, and then his sweatpants - always a bit finagling required to get them over his cast.

"Oh, we've grown a lot," she says, with a sly smile. "And we still want to get naked as soon as possible."

Getting Joan's own comfortable pants off is going to be a task that she's not especially looking forward to.

"Hey, if it ain't baroque," he says, smiling. "Hold on, I gotta wrap up my leg," he adds, grabbing the bag and sitting down on the closed toilet to put it over his cast. "I know it's gonna be weeks until I can take this thing off, but boy, I don't think I'll miss it."

"Don't fix it?" She frowns in thought. "Mmm. That joke needs a better punchline." She nods at his comment about his cast. "I bet. I've never had a cast. I did fracture the fifth metacarpal bone of my right hand. Had to tape it up and wear a splint for a while."

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