trashchildren | For Joan

Ted gives Joan's hand a squeeze and smiles reassuringly at her, before going back to sit in the chair, watching quietly, nervously fidgeting. He hates this, the waiting for judgement of how bad it's going to be, while unable to do anything to help.

The doctor begins giving Joan directions, having her open and close her eyes, then having her breathe deeply. She holds a strobe light over her face, the light flashing at different speeds.

After a few minutes of those tests, the doctor leans down to Joan.

"All right...just relax and sleep if you can."

Joan smiles a little, her eyes closed. "That won't be hard," she murmurs.

The doctor stands back, looking at the display on the machine. Sherlock looks over at the display as well, frowning faintly. Slowly the brain waves, scribbles on the screen, start to smooth out into long slopes.

Joan's asleep.

Ted's not sure whether it's better or worse that he doesn't really know what's going on. He's usually okay with uncertainty, with taking challenges as they come. But this is different. He just hopes she's okay.

He watches Joan more than the screen, watching as she slowly falls asleep. He sits there for a few minutes, anxiously watching.

"How long do you need her to be asleep?" he whispers at the doctor.

"We'll give her half an hour," she whispers back, glancing at the display to make sure they're not waking her. The brainwaves continue to be smooth and slow.

Ten minutes go by. Sherlock begins to nervously tap his fingers against his lips again, watching Watson and every so often glancing at the display.

It's during one of those glances that he sees one of those smooth lines spike.

Joan's finger twitches.

Ted almost walks away to do something else, be somewhere else, the waiting kind of unbearable. Mostly because he can't just be in bed with her, holding her. Still, he remains, watching her, unable to do anything but worry.

He notices the shift in Sherlock's stance before he even notices Joan's twitching finger, and he sits up straighter, looking at the screen, then at the doctor. He has to stop himself from immediately asking multiple questions, biting his lip.

The doctor notices the spike and the twitch. She frowns faintly, her eyes shifting back and forth between the display and Joan. Sherlock has his hands balled at his sides, also looking back and forth from Joan to the display.

There's a second of stillness, where Sherlock is holding his breath.

Then multiple brainwave lines begin to go jagged, and Joan begins to twitch all over.

Ted claps his hands over his mouth, getting to his feet without even thinking about what he's doing. He wants to go shake Joan awake, like she's having a nightmare, but he knows that he shouldn't - or that if anyone should, it would be the doctor.

It's a lot harder to keep a brave face now. It's terrifying to watch, and all Ted can do is stand there, watching helplessly.

Sherlock steps forward and takes hold of Ted's arm, both to steady him and to stop him from following through with the very understandable urge to wake Watson up. He had felt it himself earlier, but knew that it wouldn't go well, and that it was more important to learn how long she was seizing. Still, it's hard for him as well to watch his partner and best friend twitching like that, and his stricken expression shows it.

The doctor looks over and taps a finger to her lips to warn them to be quiet.

Ted glances over at Sherlock, who looks like Ted feels. He shifts anxiously in place, pressing his hands together in front of his mouth, then runs a hand through his hair.

It's awful, and every second feels like an eternity, and Ted can feel himself tearing up. He would've noticed this, surely.

Like last time, the twitching lasts about a minute before it subsides, and Joan continues to sleep undisturbed.

The doctor comes over to Ted and Sherlock.

"So..." she whispers. "As you can probably guess, this confirms the seizure. This came in stage 1 of her sleep cycle, which is common. It's likely she's had similar episodes before, but it's possible they were smaller and went unnoticed. Either way, it is possible this will eventually resolve itself as her body recovers from the nerve damage caused by cyanide intoxication. In the meantime, though, I will prescribe her anti-seizure medication. I would recommend Miss Watson be admitted for observation, but if the two of you believe you can keep an eye on her 24 hours a day for the next three days or so, she can stay here." She spreads her hands. "Any questions?"

Ted desperately tries to process what he's being told, but his brain is working painfully slow in between all the panic and the worry. 'Possible' it will resolve itself. Not 'probable' or 'likely'.

He takes a deep breath. "Uh," he answers, when she asks if they have questions. "Wh- what do we do if it happens again?"

The doctor nods at the question. "Mr. Holmes knows how to get in touch with me. If it happens again, let me know and I'll adjust her dosage or try another medication. Now, the greatest danger of these sorts of seizures are the possibility of arrested breathing. If that happens, in most cases the patient will resume breathing if rolled onto their side. If that does not happen, and the arrest lasts for longer than 30 seconds, call 999 and begin rescue breathing. All right?"

"She could stop breathing?" Ted asks in a loud whisper that definitely approaches on panicked.

The idea that he could look away for, what, a minute, and she could stop breathing, it-- It's absolutely terrifying. Ted doesn't know what to do with himself.

"It's possible," the doctor says, being simultaneously gentle and honest. "Unlikely, but possible. Once we get her on the proper dosage of anti-seizure medication, we can be confident it won't happen. That's why those three days of monitoring are so important." She looks from Ted to Sherlock. "Do you feel comfortable with watching her?"

"Absolutely," Sherlock says, looking at Ted.

Okay, so, once she has proper medication, that won't happen. So at least he doesn't need to be indefinitely worried about that. That's something, but right now it only does so much to reassure him.

Ted doesn't answer immediately, looking between the two of them. Of course he's fine with watching her. And he's probably going to be doing that regardless of whether she's in the hospital or at home. But they missed this. What if they miss something else?

Sherlock can tell Ted is freaking out. He reaches out and puts a gentle hand on Ted's upper arm.

"We're not going to let anything happen to her," he says, meeting his eyes.

Ted looks at Sherlock, and tries to take in the reassurances. He appreciates the comfort, because it's sorely needed right now.

After a moment he nods a bit, unsure at first but then more confident. "I mean.. Yeah, of course we're going to watch her."

Sherlock nods, squeezing Ted's arm before letting go to turn back to the doctor.

Dr. Bergen nods as well. "All right. Let's wake Miss Watson."

"Perhaps Ted would like to be the one to wake her," Sherlock suggests, looking back at Ted.

Ted nods appreciatively, as yes, he would very much like that. Though he has to take a moment to take another deep breath, and make sure he isn't looking quite so teary and distressed. He carefully limps over to the bed, and sits down next to Joan, taking her hand. "Hey, sweetie..." he says, gently stirring her.

It takes a moment before Joan stirs. She opens her eyes and blinks blearily at Ted. "Hey," she says. She notices worry in his expression and she frowns faintly. She looks over to Sherlock and then the doctor.

Crap.

"It happened again, didn't it."

Ted nods softly, and strokes her hand with his thumb.

"But doctor Bergen's going to prescribe you medicine, and we're gonna keep an eye on you and make sure you're alright," he promises, and he's thankful that he sounds more reassuring than he feels.

"I know you will," she responds softly. She's absolutely certain. She trusts Sherlock and Ted with her life. It's unfortunate that happens to be literal in this case, but that doesn't make it any less true.

She looks at the doctor. "Dilantin?"

"Actually I was thinking Keppra. Less initial titration."

Joan nods. "That makes sense." She looks back at Ted, giving him a small smile and squeezing his hand. "It's going to be okay."

Ted glances between them, grateful that Joan is also a doctor and can be involved in her own treatment. At least she'll know what to expect.

When she reassures him, he smiles, trying not to look too emotional. "We're supposed to be comforting you," he points out quietly.

She smiles, her heart absolutely breaking for him. This has to be so hard and terrifying for him. Joan has seen seizures of all sorts, and they're not pretty. She can only imagine what it must have been like for him to watch her seizing and not being able to do anything about it.

"How about giving me a hug?" she says, so much love in her smile and her eyes.

"That I can do," he affirms, leaning down and pulling her up a little into a hug, as warm and as comfortable as he can make it. He bumps a little against all the electrodes on her head, but he doesn't really care.

He hugs her tighter and longer than he really needs to. Like he's scared he's going to lose her. Which he is.

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