trashchildren | For Joan

She gets it. Direct comparison between Joan and Michelle isn't something either of them wants. Even though Joan is technically in a role in Ted's life that Michelle once held, she knows that she doesn't replace her. She's aware that Ted knows that, too. If she thought he felt otherwise, then Joan would have hit pause on the relationship to give him time and space to figure out if he wanted Joan or if he just wanted someone to keep Michelle's place warm.

Joan smiles at the thought of Ted being excited about having a girl and doing her hair. It's an incredibly sweet mental image.

"You can braid my hair if you want," she offers.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you when you end up with a 10 year old girl's hairstyle," he answers teasingly, though it's also evident he'd be kind of excited to do so.

A lot of the gunk in her hair is coming away fairly easily, but there is some that takes a fair amount of massaging and rinsing to get rid of it properly.

"I look forward to it," she says with a smile. "Although Sherlock will probably roll his eyes out of his head," she notes with a not-insubstantial eyeroll of her own. "Having my hair braided would probably be a good thing until I'm up and about again, just to keep it out of the way." And she wouldn't be able to do it herself with the current state of her fine motor skills, but she leaves that unsaid.

She knows that getting all the gunk out of her hair is a tough task, but she notes that he's being gentle and patient, and that is both perfect and so him. She loves him dearly.

Ted smiles with amusement at her eyeroll. He very much enjoys the banter between the two of them.

"I bet Keeley would just love to style your hair as well, if you want to go a bit more fancy than primary school chic," he points out.

"I bet she would!" Joan smiles at the thought. "It would be nice to see Keeley, too. And Roy. And Rebecca."

She knows Ted wants to be sure she's up for it before bringing people over. There's part of her that wants to be completely better before letting people see her. But a bigger part of her really misses these people Ted has brought into her life, enough that she thinks it would do her good to see them.

It's not even been that long since they've seen them, but they weren't exactly in a mindset to enjoy the socialising at the gala.

"We could have a FIFA tournament," he jokes mildly. Maybe at some point, but definitely not quite yet. Joan wouldn't be able to play anyway. And Ted would probably need to learn how to play first.

"Let's see how we feel tomorrow, maybe we can have someone over for dinner?" he says, a genuine suggestion this time. "OH, I just realised I would love to watch Roy and Sherlock talk. You know, assuming they would actually talk at all."

"Oh my god," Joan says, the idea so strong she can actually see Sherlock and Roy at the table together. "They would totally get into a misanthropic staring contest. The whole time. It would be amazing and we absolutely need to make sure it happens. So, have Keeley and Roy over for dinner, if we're feeling up to it?"

"Sounds good," Ted agrees. "If insults and then plates start flying, I'll shield you with my body, I promise," he adds jokingly. He knows even if they did end up that antagonistic, Keeley would diffuse it before it got that far, so he's not worried.

"Alright, I think I got all of it," he says, gently wringing the water out of Joan's hair.

"And they say chivalry is dead," she teases. It's unlikely Sherlock would be sufficiently riled to start throwing things, but to be fair...he's never met Roy Kent.

"Good job," she says fondly, absolutely meaning it. "Do you want to do the towel turban thing again?"

"Ooh, yup, I got it," he says immediately, hopping around to grab a towel.

He reaches around to pull it up behind her head, then folds the ends around her forehead, wraps it around and twists it, and... "Hey, first try!" he says excitedly. He knows to celebrate the simple things, clearly.

She reaches up to touch it. "Nice!" She's more than willing to celebrate with him, loving how happy it makes him, and loving how it offers her happiness too.

"Do we want to go back to bed?"

"Maybe some food first?" he suggests. He doesn't know if she's had any, but he certainly hasn't. "Not that we can't have that in bed," he adds. Might be easier than moving her around all the time. "I can make us something simple."

"Probably a good idea," she says. "At least for today."

Once she can walk on her own at least a little, she'll want to be out of bed as much as possible. But right now it will probably be easier for everyone if she just stays in bed.

"Well, since you're already in the wheelchair now, you could keep me company in the wheelchair, if you want?" he suggests, setting stuff back and getting ready to leave the bathroom.

"I can do that," she answers with a smile. It wouldn't be much more work than just wheeling her back to the bedroom.

"Excellent," he says, and cups her face from behind with both hands for a moment and plants a kiss on the top of her turban. "Alright, cutesyness on hold," he says teasingly, then heads for the kitchen.

"You hungry, Sherlock?"

She laughs as he kisses the turban, reaching out to touch his waist with her hands as he does so. "Alas," she answers to his teasing, smiling at him.

Sherlock is in the living room when they emerge, engrossed in something he's reading on his laptop. "Yeah," he says absently, not looking up. "Food is good."

Joan glances at Ted with a little shrug. That's Sherlock.

Ted smiles and shrugs back. Hey, at least he answered, that's the important part. He sets her up with a good view of the kitchen, then carefully limps to the fridge.

"Alright, you want to try that chicken and egg rice thing, or should we leave that for tomorrow and just do like a simple tomato soup?"

"It might be a good thing to have something solid in my stomach," she muses. "Just in case the medication doesn't agree with me. The chicken and egg rice sounds perfect."

It's a little adventurous, but she's feeling up for it.

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, and starts pulling out ingredients and arranging them on the counter. He pulls up the recipe on his phone as well, so he can check himself as he goes along, since he hasn't made this exact recipe before. It's not particularly complicated, but he wants to get it right.

She watches him moving about the kitchen, gathering the things he'll need, and she can't help but smile. She loves the simplicity of just being with him, keeping him company as he cooks. It's quiet and comfortable and sweet.

"How do you like this kitchen?" she asks.

"Better than the last one I cooked in," he says with a chuckle, starting to prepare the chicken. That underground bunker wasn't exactly very homey. "But yeah, it's nice. Though it's gonna take me a bit to remember where everything is, get comfortable, you know."

She smiles, remembering that kitchen. "Not that high of a bar," she says, amused.

"Yeah," she says. "Sometimes that takes a while. But at least you can arrange it just the way you want."

"Yeah, I've been lead to assume I'll probably be the only one cooking here," he says. "Do you even use the kitchen over there?" he asks, pointing at the wall that leads to apartment B.

"Oh yeah," she responds. "Mostly for coffee. Or my smoothies. Or Sherlock's eggs or Yorkshire puddings. Or the occasional body part in the fridge."

It sounds like she must be kidding. She's not kidding.

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