trashchildren | For Joan

Joan likes the fact that they both like saying and hearing it so much. Maybe they say it so often because they're spending all their time together, or maybe because they're working through a difficult time and it gives them reassurance and strength to be reminded of how deeply they love each other, a constant touchstone even when things get dark. Maybe when things are easier and they are interacting with the world more the frequency of those words will abate, but Joan is in no hurry to deprive them of those expressions of love.

Hearing that Beard is on his way breaks the quiet moment, and Joan sits up. "Great! Let's get me into the living room so I'm ready when he gets here."

Probably also because they very recently admitted it for the first time, just two weeks ago, so they're still in that state when it's kind of new. But even without all those things, he doesn't think he'll ever want to stop saying it occasionally.

"Yup," he answers, finishing buttoning up his shirt as he gets to his feet, then holds his hands out to Joan to help her into the chair so they can head to the couch.

There are couples who seldom say those words. Joan and Ted are clearly not one of those couples. While the frequency may drop, Joan can't imagine them not saying "I love you" to each other on a fairly regular basis.

Joan grips Ted's hands and lets him help her up and into the chair. She could probably walk into the living room just fine, but for the moment she'll conserve her strength and reassure Ted that she's safe, so he's not too anxious about leaving her side.

He appreciates not having to worry too much. He's sure if it was just her, she would be pushing herself a lot more. Maybe not quite being reckless, but definitely harder on herself. He's glad that a side benefit of him worrying about her makes her a little kinder to herself and more patient with her body.

Ted grabs a sweater and puts it over his shoulder, then his crutches which he hangs off his arm, then heads towards the living room. "You want some food or drink before we head out?"

He's absolutely right about that. She is being far gentler with herself than she would if it was just her. And maybe that's a good thing.

"We should offer Beard a drink and some snacks," she says as he wheels her into the living room.

Sherlock looks up from his laptop and closes it, takes out his earbuds, and stands, ready to help as needed.

Ted smiles at Sherlock as he stands. "Beard's on his way," he informs.

"We can put on some coffee," he suggests. As for snacks, he doesn't know if they actually have any, but he's also pretty sure Beard won't be expecting any in their current state. He's not exactly a demanding friend - he's usually the one doing the providing.

Ted stops the couch and an armchair, then goes to help Joan up, but points questioningly to each seat, for where she wants to sit.

Joan points to the armchair. It's probably a little easier to remain upright, and it gives Beard plenty of space to stretch out.

"I shall make the coffee," Sherlock says, heading to the kitchen. There might be some biscuits they could have with the coffee as well.

"Thanks, bud," Ted answers Sherlock, holding his hands out to Joan and helping her up so she can sit in the chair. Before he lets go after she's let go though, he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it with a playful smile, before he sits down in the couch closest to her, to wait until Beard arrives.

She smiles at the kiss, absolutely charmed by it, and after he sits down she reaches for his hand. She can hear Sherlock in the kitchen preparing coffee, and she thinks about what he and Ted are on their way to do. It's not a pleasant thought.

"How are you feeling about the trip to the morgue?"

Ted purses his lips as he considers the question. "Something like this, I guess," he answers, and then he does an exaggerated full-body shudder, then smiles at her. As a location, it creeps him out a little.

"No, I mean, it's gonna be alright," he adds. "We're just gonna talk. It's not like he needs to be identified."

She smiles at his demonstration of the willies.

"True. There's no mystery about his identity." That's something about being killed in custody...they know exactly who you are. "They might offer to let you see him," she suggests. "If you want. I imagine they'll also leave the decision about whether the casket is open or closed up to you."

Ted nods a bit, considering that, and then shakes his head. "No, I'd rather not," he answers softly. He can't exactly point to any good memories of Turner and say he'd rather remember him that way. But he remembers him more as scared and sad and lonely, than as angry and lashing out. Or at least he tries to.

He pauses for a bit. "I mean, if no one came to claim him, I doubt there'll be a lot of people at the funeral.." he says sadly.

"It might just be the three of us," she says softly. Because of course Sherlock will come. He knows how important this is to Ted.

"Have you ever been to a morgue before? Maybe when your father died?"

She says it very gently, and with a squeeze of his hand, knowing it's going to be painful to think about. She feels it's important to bring it up, though, because if he has associations it would be better to address them ahead of time.

He knows others will come if he asks, to support him. He just doesn't know if he wants to. If they'll understand why he's doing it.

He shakes his head at her question. "No, I didn't deal with any of that stuff," he answers. Which is not completely strange - he was 16, after all.

He might not have dealt with it, but he might have still gone with his mother, to support her. Apparently not, though, and Joan won't push further.

"If anything happens," she says, "I'm always just a phone call away, okay?" She knows that if Ted has a panic attack the first thing Sherlock will do is call her, but it's important that Ted knows that so maybe it can help him keep calm.

Ted smiles and gives her hand a grateful squeeze. "I know. It'll be fine," he reassures. Ted figures she's more thinking about whatever unexpected thing could happen, not whether or not he has a panic attack. As far as she knows, he's only had one, and that was when he was outright attacked.

She smiles back and squeezes his hand. That might have been the only full-blown panic attack, but he had definitely started to panic when he was being questioned by the police. This situation upsets him greatly, and she wants him to know she's here for him.

He definitely won't deny it upsets him, but he can keep it together and get a nice long hug from Joan afterwards. Besides, there's stuff to do, and having a purpose makes things a little bit easier.

He's about to say something else, but then the doorbell rings, and Ted smiles at Joan and gets to his feet, grabbing his crutches so he can open the door.

Joan smiles back, excited, and turns in her chair so that she can watch him heading toward the door. Sherlock enters carrying a tray with a french press, a couple mugs, and a plate of biscuits. He sets it down on the table and straightens to look toward the door as well.

Ted opens the door and greets Beard, who's his usual calm self, and shows him inside. Beard gives a polite nod at both Joan and Sherlock, and Ted ushers him to go sit down and have some coffee.

Beard doesn't ask how Joan is doing, figuring she'll have more than enough of that particular question.

Sherlock nods back, but Joan positively beams at Beard. She's fond of the taciturn man. "Hey! It's so good to see you! How are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright, all things considered," he answers with a nod. "You look like you could say the same," he observes. Which is a compliment, really. She looks like she's doing well. The last time he saw her, she was in the hospital and it was apparently still pretty touch-and-go.

"Can't complain," she says with a smile, totally getting the compliment. As understated as her words are, her smile tells him that things are actually pretty good right now. He's here in part to make sure she's okay, but she's definitely focusing on this also being an opportunity to see someone she's come to consider a good friend.

"How's the team?"

Beard gestures with a wobbly hand, indicating the answer is so-so. "Personally? I think they're alright. Professionally? They're still struggling a bit."

It doesn't exactly come as a surprise to Ted, but it is sad. Then again, would it be better if they suddenly started kicking ass while he was gone?

"I'm sorry to hear that," Joan says. "It must be hard with everything going on. Not having Ted, then finding out the man they used to play for tried to have.him killed. I mean, if there's anything that can put a damper on a team's morale, that would be up there."

Sherlock looks at Ted. "Whenever you are ready to go," he says.

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