trashchildren | For Joan

Joan is now certain it wasn't something simple like cancer or a heart attack. She'd be willing to bet there's some blame involved, some anger, both things Ted has a tendency to try to swallow. Was his dad murdered? Did he overdose? Did he get into a car crash while driving drunk? Did Ted somehow have some part in it?

But she's not going to push. She squeezes his hand and gives him a small nod. "Okay."

He lets go of her hand, but only so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her a little closer, kissing the side of her head. He takes a breath and breathes a deep sigh through his nose, trying to let the worry and the sadness drain out of him before it gets any worse.

"What's Sherlock's favorite drink, do you know?" he asks curiously, going back to what they were talking about. "Non-alcoholic, obviously," he adds.

She snuggles against him and lifts her head to kiss his cheek. She can tell the thought of how his father died upsets him, which both makes her curious and makes her feel for him. It can't be easy to hold a secret like this, especially from those who love him.

She smiles at the question. "Well. You know Sherlock is a man of simple tastes. He takes his coffee black. He's British, so he likes tea." Her smile widens playfully. "He also drinks the Chinese herbal tea I was telling you about."

It's not a secret, exactly. His sexuality, sure, that's a secret. Would he be upset if Joan found out about his dad through other means? Or others did? Only if they insisted on discussing it with him. Secret, to him, implies he wants to hide it. He's not ashamed of it. It's just not something he wants to think about.

He nods with interest at her answer, although at the last part he huffs a laugh. "Now that I really don't want to know," he answers with a chuckle. Though knowing about his sex life bothers him less than Sherlock knowing about Ted's. He's used to locker room talk. He's heard a lot.

The idea of investigating Ted's dad's death has occurred to Joan. Whatever she found, she wouldn't force Ted to talk about it, but it might help to know where he's coming from, what trauma he's dealing with. It might be helpful for Joan to know where his triggers might lie.

She'll think about it more later. For the moment she grins, that mischievous look in her eyes again.

"Oh he doesn't drink it for that. Well...not that I know of. I introduced it to him when he came down with a terrible cold once. He was so sick, and still insisted on investigating a case. He was skeptical of the tea at first, but it helped him feel better. Now when I see him drinking it I know he's feeling a little under the weather." Her lips quirk playfully. "Or he's got plans with his 'exercise partners.'"

Ted listens, smiling a little at the thought of Sherlock being sick and insisting on working. Sounds like him. Clearly he valued the investigation higher than a) not infecting other people, and b) taking the time to recuperate so he could get well faster. But Ted would definitely insist on wrapping him up with a blanket and feeding him soup or something. He's glad Joan insisted about the tea.

At the last bit he looks playfully affronted. "So he does drink it for that!" he exclaims, amused. "What did you mean he didn't drink it for, his blood pressure?" he asks, grinning.

Joan had tried wrapping Sherlock up in a blanket and feeding him soup, but try telling Sherlock Holmes to stay in one place when there's a case to solve.

"What?" she says in mock innocence. "I said he doesn't drink it for that to my knowledge. I never said I didn't have my suspicions."

And to speak of the devil, there's a quiet knock on the door.

"Are you decent?" Sherlock's voice comes muffled from the other side of the door.

Maybe she just didn't wrap him tight enough. ...No wait, he's aware of their habit of breaking out of stuff and picking locks. There's probably not a blanket burrito tight enough to hold Sherlock.

And he's not fooled by this innocence, and he tuts playfully at her, before Sherlock knocks. "Both in dress and as people," Ted answers cheerfully.

Joan has witnessed Sherlock escaping from a straitjacket (and helped pop his shoulder back into the socket). She's pretty sure a blanket burrito would be no match for the detective.

Sherlock enters, and his expression is troubled. Joan sobers. Something is wrong.

"I heard back from Scotland Yard regarding Turner Chapman," he says to Ted.

Ted frowns softly. "Oh yeah?" he prompts. Ted obviously picks up on there being something wrong as well, but he finds it a little difficult to guess exactly what could be wrong. (What's worse than what's already happened, after all?)

Edited 2021-10-01 05:31 (UTC)

Joan moves closer to Ted, squeezing his hand. She can tell this, whatever it is, is going to be hard to hear.

"There are no funeral plans," Sherlock says quietly. "His body has lain unclaimed since his death."

"Oh no," Joan murmurs.

Ted's frown deepens as he processes this. He doesn't say anything.

No one. There's been no one there for him, even in death. He's been entirely abandoned, so much that he won't even have that last bit of respect shown to him. Something everyone, no matter what they've done, deserves.

Not even a friend, someone he knew at the pub, someone he worked with. He knows Turner didn't have parents anymore, probably no family. That was the whole point. Richmond was all they had.

Well, maybe Richmond should have him, then.

"Can we claim his body?" he asks finally, voice tight with emotion but also determined.

Sherlock looks at Watson, silently asking her to answer that question.

"We can't claim the body per se," she says carefully. "But I'm pretty sure we can donate the money needed to pay for a funeral and a burial plot. That way he isn't just buried anonymously in an unmarked grave. And you'll be able to pay your respects."

Ted nods his head, jaw set. He sets aside his coffee mug, letting go of Joan and leaning forward a bit. "Let's do that," he says. "He deserves better."

He feels angry on Turner's behalf. Not really for this, but for... everyone he was ever failed by. No one starts off bad, or angry or broken. There was so much pain in him, and however misguided and hurtful, in his own twisted way he had good intentions.

Edited 2021-10-01 06:31 (UTC)

Sherlock nods, tapping his middle fingers against his thumbs. "I shall inform them of our intentions," he says, turning and leaving the room.

Joan looks at Ted in concern.

"You okay?" she asks quietly.

Ted shakes his head a little at her question. "No, I'm not okay, I'm very angry," he answers honestly, his eyes darting back and forth, as he's still processing. "And I'm not sure what to do about it," he adds.

Usually he would do something physical to get it out of his system. At the very least get up and pace. But he can't really do that, so now he's just setting here with all this pent up energy, his whole body tense.

"Oh," she murmurs. Her heart is breaking for him, a man so very kind that feels angry on the behalf of a man who hurt him so badly. She reaches out to gently touch his hair, then begins lightly rubbing his back.

"I'm so sorry," she says softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She knows he would probably rather do something physical, but she's glad he's refraining from that. He needs time and rest to heal.

It could be that Ted has just misplaced most of the blame for what happened away from Turner, and onto Turner's surroundings. Like Turner was just the vessel. Otherwise, Turner would just end up like the boogeyman for Ted. The anger is easier than the fear, and he can't be angry at just Turner. Partly because more than once, he had to try to get into Turner's head.

He appreciates her touching him, even if he can't really lean into right now. He nods a bit at her question.

"I mean... you don't get like he was without having been failed by just about everyone," he starts. His voice is not very quiet, especially compared to Joan. "You should've heard him in the interrogation, Joan. He didn't have anyone but his dad, and they didn't have anything but the team. He thought he was helping. I mean, what do you think happened to him to make him think that hurting someone could possibly be a way to help?"

She continues to rub his back as she listens. "I wish I could have been there with you," she says softly. "And I wish you could have had more time with him. That he could have had more time to get help. He would have been so lucky to have you as an advocate."

Joan is furious at Moriarty for having him murdered. She also feels guilty about having drawn Moriarty's attention in the first place. If she hadn't, Turner would still be alive, and Ted would be able to help him become a better person. Now he can only make sure the man's body is treated with care and respect.

But if she hadn't gotten Moriarty's attention, Ted might be dead. Because what would have happened at gala if they weren't cautious?

And now they might get justice for others as well. So Ted doesn't regret it, not really. He just regrets everything that led to Turner being so easily manipulated in the first place.

"He was just.. lonely and hurting, and he was clinging to whatever he had left, because he missed his dad," he continues, and as he talks he sounds more upset than he does angry. "And he died having lost everything, and no one cares."

By now Ted seems to have deflated, his face screwed up and his eyes watery, but not quite crying. He takes a shaky breath and leans against Joan.

Joan can tell this has become personal. Ted is clearly identifying with Turner because they both lost their dads, which suggests that Ted was...maybe still is...lonely and hurting, clinging to what he had left because he missed his dad.

Joan wraps her arms around Ted and settles one hand gently on his head, guiding his head to her shoulder. She presses a kiss into his hair.

"You care," she says softly. "I care."

It's not that Ted really feels that way now... But he definitely felt that way back then, and maybe he never fully processed that, so it just comes back to the surface feeling almost just as fresh as it did back then.

He lets Joan pull him close, wrapping his arms around her as well, as well as he can from this angle.

"I appreciate that," he whispers, nodding a little. He knows she does, and he's so grateful for it. But it seems as far as the world is concerned, no one would even miss Turner, and Ted can't stand thinking about it.

She kisses his head again, then just holds him close, stroking his hair. She knows there's more going on here than she fully understands, but she knows he'll tell her if and when he wants. For the moment she's here with him and for him. If he wants to talk she'll listen, but if he just wants to be held she will hold him.

He doesn't know what else to say about it, so he just sits there, closing his eyes, drawing comfort from her. He's so grateful he doesn't have to go through this alone.

Slowly the pain starts to lessen, become less urgent, less sharp. He lets himself sit there for a while longer still, allowing himself some time to just be quiet and vulnerable and just... not worrying about being positive. He feels comfortable enough with her that he can just exist alongside her.

Finally he needs to pull back, his back achy from sitting all crooked.

"I think I'm gonna hit the shower," he says quietly. He needs a little bit of alone time and to feel a bit fresher before he talks to Henry.

"Okay," she murmurs. A shower is a good idea. Hot water can be soothing, and she knows he'll feel better talking to Henry if he's washed all this away.

She reaches out to gently take his face in her hands and kisses him softly. "I love you."

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