trashchildren | For Joan

Ted smiles sadly, appreciating the comfort. He decides he's going to try to have a few hours with Henry tonight. It's not like Joan needs him to babysit her, especially now she's rapidly improving.

"You wanna try some of this food I spent forever making?" he asks playfully, trying to banish the sad wistfulness.

That sadness in his smile makes her heart ache for him. She reaches over to gently cup his cheek and kisses him tenderly.

"Yes please," she says with a smile when their lips part. She looks over at Sherlock. "Lunch?"

"If you insist," Sherlock says, getting up to sit cross-legged.

He feels so seen and looked after when she kisses him like that. To be treated so gently and kindly just fills his heart.

He smiles - less sadly - and pulls back to pick out sandwiches. He hands her a couple to choose from, and then pulls out one and tosses it to Sherlock. "Try this one, I want to hear what you think," he says to Sherlock. He is absolutely going to exploit those tastebuds of his.

She loves him so dearly. He's taken such good care of her, and she's more than happy to take care of him in return, whatever form that comes in.

Sherlock takes the sandwich and frowns faintly as he unwraps it, examining it, then taking a bite.

Joan looks at the sandwiches he's offering her. "What's in them?"

"That's a club sandwich, that's an egg salad, that's roast beef, that one's just vegetables," he says, pointing. He doesn't necessarily think they'll eat all of them now, especially since they have additional healthy snacks, but he wanted options and he'll happily eat the rest later. This is also why it took a while, cause he was making a bunch of different ones.

She considers for a moment, then chooses the roast beef. She takes a bite, chews, and nods with a hum. "Mmm! It's good!" she says, her mouth half full.

Sherlock chews his bite of sandwich. "What's in this one?" he asks.

Ted grabs the club for himself. "That's chicken salad, with uhh, celery, apple and pecans, but it's my first time trying a little bit of dried cranberries in there. How's it tasting?" he asks, curious to know the result. He did taste it himself while making it, and is somewhat undecided on the balance, but he likes the tartness.

"It works," Sherlock says. "Have you considered a bit of heat? Perhaps a touch of mustard? Or horseradish?"

Joan smiles as she takes another bite. Just like Sherlock to have a knack for something he usually scorns.

"Ooo, I'll try that!" Ted answers, happy for the feedback. He smiles a bit. "You know, I left horseradish off of Beard's sandwich once, cause I thought he was allergic. Turns out he's allergic to horses and radishes." He shrugs with amusement and takes a bite of his own sandwich, then nods with approval at it.

Joan laughs at that, smiling down at her sandwich. Sherlock gives Ted a lifted eyebrow but doesn't comment, choosing instead to take another bite of his sandwich.

"Do we have drinks?" Joan asks, looking at the basket.

"Mhm," Ted answers, nodding with his mouth full, and leans over to the basket, pulling out some bottles, offering her a choice between ice tea and juice. There's also plain (flat) water, though that's less interesting.

Joan takes a juice, and Sherlock takes a water.

"Are you okay with iced tea?" Joan asks between bites. "Is it just hot tea that you have such a strong aversion to?"

"Hot drinks should have a richness!" Ted answers immediately. "Cold drinks are just fine if they're a little bit bland, you know? But hot drinks - you got cocoa, a million kinds of coffee - including Irish - hot toddys, mulled wine, apple cider. Tea tastes like pigeon sweat. I don't get it!"

He's obviously very passionate about this, even if it's slightly for comedic effect.

Joan chuckles a little, sipping her juice. "I guess I can see that."

Sherlock scoffs and sips his water. "Typical American," he says wryly with a smirk. "Would you like to don Native American garb and toss some chests into the Boston harbor?"

He's obviously teasing, in his own way.

Ted does know Sherlock well enough to pick up on the teasing.

"Well no, I think the outfit would be cultural appropriation, but tossing tea into the ocean, sure," he quips right back, grinning cheerfully.

Joan's own smile deepens, watching them banter.

"However, add ungodly amounts of sugar and pour it over ice and suddenly Americans can't have enough," Sherlock continues, still teasing despite his gruffness.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Ted answers, chipper and playful. "See, you Brits already have that cold and unfeeling thing down pat, but we need ice to balance out our natural warmth, and the sugar is how we get so sweet." And part of the fun is that they're both displaying these exact attitudes.

Joan laughs quietly, while Sherlock scowls and takes another drink of water. Ted won this one.

Joan gently and affectionately bumps her shoulder against Ted's.

Ted grins and waggles his eyebrows at Joan. Hey, he has to win sometimes. He may not be as smart as Sherlock, but he's pretty well versed in banter. He's had a lot of practice.

He finishes off his sandwich, curling up the wrapping and tossing it into the basket as if making a basketball shot. "Woo, 3 points."

Joan smiles at that, remembering that he played basketball. She wonders idly how much Ted knew about American football when he started coaching. Probably more than soccer, considering a sports fan in the USA can hardly avoid it, but still.

Joan finishes her own sandwich, crumples her wrapper, looks at the can...then puts her wrapper down. "Yeah, no," she says with a smile.

Instead she carefully lies down, putting her head on Ted's lap, and smiles up at him.

Ted smiles happily down at her, stroking her hair for a second. He'd lean down and kiss her, but he doesn't really bend that way anymore.

He picks up her crumpled wrapper and makes another shot - but this one bounces off the edge of the basket and bounces onto Sherlock instead. "Oops. Sorry, bud."

Joan reaches up to stroke his arm a little as he's stroking her hair, reciprocating the affectionate touch. Lying here with him in the sun and the fresh air and with a comfortably full stomach is absolutely wonderful, and Joan feels happy and calm and content.

Then Ted accidentally hits Sherlock with her sandwich wrapper and she can't help an amused wince.

Sherlock takes it and tosses it into the can, then his own, then his empty water bottle. Nothing but net. He's got skills.

Ted gives a low whistle. "I'm definitely picking you for my team for my next basketball pickup game," he says with a chuckle. Disregarding, of course, his broken leg, the fact he hasn't played basketball even casually in ages, and that Sherlock probably would not be that interested in participating.

He reaches down and lifts Joan's head carefully, so that he can scoot over and lie down as well, breathing a deep content sigh.

"You should see him with a knife," Joan remarks, glancing at Sherlock with a faint smile, remembering a particular instance when he threw a tennis ball and hit her square between her shoulder blades.

When Ted lies down Joan reaches for his hand, threading her fingers through his. Sherlock lies down too, once again staring up at the blue sky, enjoying the sun and the air as much as Ted and Watson.

Ted idly strokes Joan's hand with his thumb. This break feels so important and revitalising, probably for all of them. He's so glad these two people are in his life.

He picks up a strawberry and eats one. Then he picks up another and offers to feed it to Joan. "I didn't buy grapes, sorry," he quips. Like they should have people fanning them with palm leaves.

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