For Joan

[theodorelasso]

Continued from here.

(warnings: sexytimes. also, panic attacks, brutal violence, attempted murder, discussion of suicide and actual murder... )

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[formersurgeon]

Joan frowns and lifts her head to look up at Ted. Was what Sherlock said really that bad?

"You okay?" she asks softly.

[theodorelasso]

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, apologising for not engaging properly in the conversation and evidently worrying her. "I'm just a little stuck in my head today, I guess." He gives her a small reassuring squeeze.

[formersurgeon]

He's keeping something from her, something more than what exactly Sherlock said. Something that's clearly really bothering him. And it worries her.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" she says softly.

[theodorelasso]

"Yeah," he answers with a soft smile. He thinks Sherlock's right about that at least. She wouldn't mind. That doesn't he wants her to know.

"I just need to cook for a little while," he answers, and he gives her a small smile reassuring smile.

[formersurgeon]

"Okay," she says, answering that small smile. She can't force him to talk. She can just trust that if and when he wants to tell her, he will.

She's still worried, though.

She settles her head on his chest again.

[theodorelasso]

He kisses the top of her head and gives her a little grateful squeeze.

And then he goes right back to cooking.

He should probably apologise to Sherlock. The more he thinks about it, the less he thinks Sherlock deserved that response. He just still doesn't very much want to talk about it.

"Oh, shoot," he says suddenly, shifting a little and going to sit up. "Forgot to take my meds." He was gonna do it after the session, but then Sherlock had distracted him.

[formersurgeon]

"You should do that!" she says, sitting up. She gives him a smile. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

[theodorelasso]

"I'll be right back," he promises, getting up. "Hey, Sherlock made smoothies for breakfast, would you like me to bring you yours?" She should probably eat something.

[formersurgeon]

She raises her eyebrows in interest. "I'd like that." She's definitely hungry, and starting with a smoothie is probably a good idea, just to make sure her stomach is steady.

[theodorelasso]

"Coming right up!" he says, putting on his usual cheer, before heading out to go take his meds (maybe the pain increase is making him cranky) and go fetch her smoothie.

[formersurgeon]

"Thanks," she says, smiling as she watches him leave, before her smile fades as she leans against the headboard with a sigh, wondering what is going on.

Sherlock is out in the living room on his laptop. He glances up as Ted exits the room, then looks back down at his screen.

[theodorelasso]

Ted goes to the bathroom, taking his morning dose. At least he'll probably feel a bit less irate now. He takes a moment to gather himself.

Then he leaves, but instead of heading straight to the kitchen, he walks over to where Sherlock is sitting.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," he says gently, and he does mean it. "You didn't deserve that, and I should've reacted better." He pauses, pressing his lips together. "But I stand by what I said. That stuff is none of your business."

[formersurgeon]

Sherlock lifts his eyes when Ted walks over, and listens to his apology and the addendum. He looks down, nods slowly.

"Are we friends?" he says, looking up again, eyebrows lifted inquisitively.

[theodorelasso]

"Yes, of course," Ted answers immediately, mildly confused and surprised by the question, but with zero doubt as to how to answer it.

[formersurgeon]

"I'm glad to hear it," Sherlock says. And he is. For much of his life Sherlock held little truck with friends, believing himself above such attachments, when in actuality he was protecting himself from the pain of rejection and loss. Then Watson came into his life.

"It was not my intention to upset you," he says. "And for that I am sorry. But as your friend, I stand by what I said as well. You're happiness matters to me. There are few things as inimical to happiness as not allowing yourself to be known by those who love you."

[theodorelasso]

Ted tries to absorb that without getting defensive or upset. (It's not easy.)

He considers it to be a negligible part of himself. What impact does it have on his life? And what impact could it have if it did become known - like Sherlock himself said.

"She knows everything that matters," he answers. Though he looks down as he considers that statement. It's not entirely true. But he does have every intention of sharing those things, eventually.

[formersurgeon]

Sherlock isn't surprised to see Ted second guessing that answer, although possibly not for the reason Ted is thinking of.

"What sports teams does Watson root for?" he asks Ted.

[theodorelasso]

"Mets and Jets," he answers, frowning gently, confused what that question has to do with anything. Which seems to be a common feeling when talking to Sherlock.

[formersurgeon]

Of course he knows. Sherlock himself suffered through a televised Mets game within days of meeting Watson.

"Does it matter?"

[theodorelasso]

"Well, you're asking a sports nerd that, and it matters to her, so, yeah, it matters to me," he answers with a shrug.

[formersurgeon]

"Who you love matters far more than who Watson roots for. I know she would agree with me on this. Assuming..." He pauses for a moment, a warning he's going to say something Ted won't like. "That Shaun is not the first man you have had feelings for, then I would imagine this has been difficult at times. And unless you believe Shaun will be the last, that difficulty is likely to recur. You don't have to face that alone. Likewise, what joys come of it you need not keep to yourself. They matter because you matter. You matter to Watson. You matter to me."

[theodorelasso]

Ted's having a real difficult time listening to this. There's definitely a part of him that wants to snap at Sherlock again, or walk away, or both. It makes him defensive to listen to someone talk about it. Like he's been caught out.

It's hard for him to imagine what joys could come of it. And he certainly doesn't think Joan needs more difficulties to handle right now.

And yet some of it is being absorbed. And the kindness behind it overpowers... whatever it is he's feeling. Fear, or shame, or guilt - whatever it is that makes him want to snap at Sherlock. Though it doesn't quite overpower the need to run away, this ache in his chest that makes it difficult to stay here, and even more difficult to go back in to Joan and pretend like nothing's wrong.

Ted looks away. "I, uh.." he starts, licking his lips. "Could you bring Joan her smoothie? I need to.. go for a walk or something," he says, turning towards the door.

[formersurgeon]

Sherlock nods and rises. He knows that Ted shouldn't be on his feet right now, but he's not going to say that. If he needs to take a walk, then he should, and Sherlock won't stand in his way.

[theodorelasso]

He heads for the door and grabs a hoodie on the way out, and that's about as much preparation as he has the wherewithal for. He doesn't even put on proper shoes, just puts on a slipper so he won't be barefoot. Nor does he grab his phone or wallet.

Chances are the walk will end up only as long as it needs to be before he can find somewhere to sit down to clear his thoughts.

[formersurgeon]

Sherlock watches him leave and sighs as the door closes behind him. He bows his head and stands there for a minute, tapping his middle finger against his thumb, dismayed. Then he takes a breath lifts his head, and goes into the kitchen to fetch the smoothie.

When he enters the bedroom, Joan looks up, expecting to see Ted, wondering what had taken him so long. When she sees Sherlock instead her forehead creases with worry.

"Where's Ted?" she asks.

Sherlock comes and sits next to her, holding out the smoothie. "He's gone for a walk."

"What?" Joan says, her frown deepening as she takes the smoothie. "Why?"

"I believe he needs some time."

"He shouldn't be on his feet."

"I am aware."

Joan shakes her head. Ted must be really upset.

"What did you say to him?"

Sherlock looks down at his hands and doesn't answer.

Joan leans toward him. "Sherlock..."

"I can't tell you," he tells her, looking up at her.

"Why not?"

"Because that is his prerogative."

Joan lowers her head a little, her eyes narrowed, trying to understand. "Is he okay?"

Sherlock looks away. "I certainly hope so."