"Oh yeah, breads and spreads," Ted answers. "Some charcuterie, you know? Though you don't have to go too fancy, sandwiches are great. You know, Beard and I do Secret Sandwich Switchroo."
"Well basically it's just that we make each other lunch, but what kind of sandwich we make is a surprise," he says with a chuckle. Reaching the bathroom, he parks the wheelchair next to the toilet, then offers his hands to help her to her feet.
Joan chuckles. "That is so you and Beard," she says. She adores the friendship between those two men, the dedication to one another and the clear affection they have for each other. Making each other sandwiches is such a simple example of that.
She grips Ted's hands and carefully stands up out of the wheelchair. The dizziness is a lot less now, which is good. She grips his arm with one hand and carefully works her dress up and her underwear down.
Once she's done, Joan flushes the toilet, and once again gazes at the wheelchair, wondering if she can make it by herself. It's really, really tempting to try. But she manages to rein in her pride once again, knowing that there are few things more embarrassing that dying of a head injury while trying to get off the toilet.
"You know that period early in dating where you're really in love but you're not ready to be aware of your partner's bathroom habits? Totally cool with skipping right past that into just being really in love," he quips.
She smiles at that, grasping his hands and carefully standing. "To be fair, it was kinda foisted on us. But I'm cool with it, too. There's something to be said for being really in love without being hung up on bodily functions."
She manages to get her clothes in decent order, then carefully sits in the wheelchair.
"Yeah, I'm too old to get hung up on bodily functions. And having a kid really gets rid of that stuff," he says with a chuckle, wheeling her over to the sink so she can wash her hands.
"I bet!" she says as he wheels her over. "Having been a doctor helps, too, although there's still some pride there when it comes to yourself." She turns on the water, wets her hands, and starts soaping up. "It's the same dynamic that makes doctors the worst patients."
"That takes a long time," she notes with a smile, drying her hands. "I do still use beeswax hand cream, though." She holds out her hand, showing the nails. "And I keep my nails short. That's how Sherlock knew I had been a surgeon when we met. He saw my nails and smelled the beeswax."
"He's an observant fella, I'll give him that. Maybe too observant," Ted comments with a (somewhat wry) smile. Makes it a little difficult to have secret or keep private things private.
"He can't help being observant. I can't help being observant. We can't choose what we see and what we notice. All we can choose is what we do with that information." She looks up at him. "Like I said before, people don't like to be deduced."
"Yeah, I think I understand that a bit better now," he answers. He leans down and wraps his arms around her, hugging her from behind. "You're a bit better than him with the whole boundaries thing though."
"I have better people skills," she says, leaning back against him and squeezing his arms. "Sherlock has gotten better, though."
Clearly Sherlock deduced something about Ted that upset him. Something that he was keeping secret, not just from Sherlock but from her, too. It worries Joan that he feels he can't tell her. But there's little she can do about it. He knows he can tell her when he's ready.
He kisses Joan's cheek, then straightens up again, ready to roll. "You ready to socialize with people who aren't me and Sherlock?" he asks with a smile.
Ted doubts very much he would do that without good reason, and not against Ted. Sherlock cares about him, which means a lot. Ted trusts him with a lot. And now he's starting to trust him with that if he does make some of those deductions, he'll keep them private.
"Alright," he answers, heading towards the living room, parking her next to the couch and going to offer her a hand (or two) to help her move over.
"We'll just do it the other way for the rest of the evening then," Ted answers and steps closer, looping an arm around her back, for the extra security and support. He's very glad Joan pays attention to her own limits, and lets him know, so they can be careful.
Ted wants to point out that it's not like they would judge her, but he gets that it's not about that. The potential worry and pity might be just as frustrating for her.
He helps her over in the couch and makes sure she's comfortable. "You want me to put the chair away in the bedroom?"
Worry and pity is exactly it. She wants to have as normal a time as possible, just friends hanging out and sharing a meal, and the best way to do that is to not have her present difficulties evident.
Like the wheelchair.
"Yes please," she answers, now that she's safe and comfortable on the couch.
"Alrighty," he answers, taking it back in there, and making sure he has his phone and everything he needs, before returning with both his crutches now. He's going to be good and not try to do everything, and let Sherlock bring them drinks and all that, so he heads for the couch to sit down and text Keeley.
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theodorelasso) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trashchildren2021-06-24 07:33 pm
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She grips Ted's hands and carefully stands up out of the wheelchair. The dizziness is a lot less now, which is good. She grips his arm with one hand and carefully works her dress up and her underwear down.
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"Alright, call me when you need me," he says, and grabs his crutch and goes to give her some privacy.
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Once she's done, Joan flushes the toilet, and once again gazes at the wheelchair, wondering if she can make it by herself. It's really, really tempting to try. But she manages to rein in her pride once again, knowing that there are few things more embarrassing that dying of a head injury while trying to get off the toilet.
"I'm done," she calls.
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"You know that period early in dating where you're really in love but you're not ready to be aware of your partner's bathroom habits? Totally cool with skipping right past that into just being really in love," he quips.
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She manages to get her clothes in decent order, then carefully sits in the wheelchair.
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She rinses her hands and shuts the water off.
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Clearly Sherlock deduced something about Ted that upset him. Something that he was keeping secret, not just from Sherlock but from her, too. It worries Joan that he feels he can't tell her. But there's little she can do about it. He knows he can tell her when he's ready.
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He kisses Joan's cheek, then straightens up again, ready to roll. "You ready to socialize with people who aren't me and Sherlock?" he asks with a smile.
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"Yep," she answers, smiling back.
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"Alright," he answers, heading towards the living room, parking her next to the couch and going to offer her a hand (or two) to help her move over.
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Joan takes Ted's hands to transfer from the wheelchair to the couch. She can feel the muscles in her legs trembling.
"I think I might be pushing my body a little too far."
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"Once it's just us," she says. Bad enough to be wheeled around in front of their guests, being carried is right out.
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He helps her over in the couch and makes sure she's comfortable. "You want me to put the chair away in the bedroom?"
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Like the wheelchair.
"Yes please," she answers, now that she's safe and comfortable on the couch.
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