When Jo came down after her shower Sherlock was waiting with a hot cup of overly sweet tea. She took it with a smile and didn't even grimace at the frankly heinous amount of sugar that had been added. They were both quiet as Sherlock placed bandages over her stitches and then wrapped her ribs. When he was finished Jo sat down on the couch with her tea in her right hand, trying to ignore how badly her left hand was shaking. Sherlock took the bandage scraps to the bin in the kitchen and returned with a hot water bottle for Jo's aching shoulder. She thanked him for it, her polite smile only half forced, and was just getting it settled when the doorbell rang and Sherlock bolted down the stairs to answer it. He came bounding back up to their flat, skipping two stairs at a time by the sound of it, and Jo was briefly afraid that he was going to miss one and knock himself out and then she'd have to either call an ambulance or figure out how to pick him up herself. Thankfully he made it to their sitting room in one piece, carrying several bags of food that smelled absolutely delicious; Jo's stomach rumbled loudly and upon hearing the sound, Sherlock beamed at her, looking almost childishly proud of himself.
"I ordered Italian," he announced, setting the bags on the coffee table. "I know that you like pasta when you are tired or had a bad day."
She smiled up at him. "You can use the term 'comfort food.' And thank you; I really appreciate it."
"I know you didn't eat very much at dinner," he continued, sounding as if he was trying to justify his actions. "I'll go get something to drink." He dashed out of the room again before Jo had the chance to say anything else. She just smiled to herself before leaning forward and unpacking the food, wincing a bit at how the motion pulled at her ribs. Sherlock came whirling back in and took over dispensing the food, glaring at her as if she were trying to spite him by serving herself.
The pair was sitting side by side on the sofa and had just started eating when Sherlock spoke again. "I cleaned up the kitchen."
"Thank you," Jo answered, refraining from mentioning that this was probably the first time in their acquaintance that he could honestly say such a thing. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier; I was just upset about everything, but I really shouldn't have taken it out on you. And I am very sorry about your chemistry set. It's a bit fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure I tried to throw it at him."
He waived off her apology. "It was the most effective weapon you had at hand."
"Effective isn't exactly the word I'd use," she responded dryly. Sherlock hummed and there was a long stretch of silence as the friends ate. Eventually Sherlock put his plate down on the table and turned so that he was facing his friend, his expression solemn. He looked as if he was searching for words, and Jo stayed silent in order to allow him to do so without any pressure from her.
Finally, he cleared his throat. "Jo, I really am very sorry about all of this. I should have known that he was going to come after you. You were the only one who could have read the messages he left; I knew that the killer would be at the banquet in order to watch if not openly taunt his intended victim, and McGovern was the only one who behaved in that way towards you. I saw but failed to observe, and for that I am truly sorry." He wore such an intense look of pained contrition that Jo couldn't help but reach out and take his hand.
"Sherlock," she said kindly, giving his hand a squeeze to make sure that he was paying attention. "It's not your fault. McGovern has had it out for me for years; this was bound to happen sometime. It is in no way your fault, understand?" After a few tense moments Sherlock nodded, dropping his eyes away from her piercing gaze. Jo held onto his hand for a few more seconds before giving it one last squeeze and returning to her meal.
After they finished eating Sherlock cleaned up, silencing Jo with a glare when she tried to protest. He returned a few minutes later with ibuprofen and another cup of (slightly less sweet) tea. Jo thanked him for both and then sank back into the couch. Sherlock resumed his position beside her, but he allowed the companionable silence to continue without interruption. Jo's hand was still shaking and she was half convinced that when she finally got up again her leg would give out, but they both did their best to ignore these physical signs of her continued distress. She was just about to get up and retreat to her room for the next twelve hours or so when Sherlock finally spoke again.
"Jo, there's still something I don't understand," he said quietly, sounding almost tentative (which really wasn't something that Jo had ever wanted to hear in her almost always confident friend). "I mean I know that McGovern was obviously extremely disturbed, but why was he so focused on you?" Jo stared at him for a long while, almost long enough to make Sherlock feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny; she looked as if she were trying to gauge his trustworthiness, and he wasn't really sure what to make of that. Finally she seemed to come to some sort of decision, and while she was still tense, her gaze did become less searching.
"I joined the army when I was 29. I had already been a doctor for four years and already had a fair bit of experience specializing in Lycans, so after basic training, and then officer's training, I was stationed at Base L967 in Northumberland, the same one as Rick Newman - we called it Wolfsbane because it had a better ring to it and we had greenhouses full of the stuff. I made Captain pretty quickly - sooner than a lot of people liked - but I was good at my job and I needed the rank in order to manage the research projects I was supposed to be heading. McGovern was the CO but Leads is the one who promoted me - he went over McGovern's head to do it and I don't think McGovern ever forgave me for that. He had other issues with me, of course, but I think that's the one that tipped it over from resentment to hate.
"I was the only woman on base; there aren't many female lycan specialists to begin with, and none of them really wanted to join the army. Then McGovern told me that I couldn't wear the women's uniform because it made me stand out too much, and that they couldn't spare any separate housing for me, so I had to live in the barracks with everyone else, which wasn't so bad; I still got to use the officer's showers, which weren't communal, and I never really had a problem changing in front of other people. But then McGovern made a rule that if you live in the barracks you had to use the communal shower. I dealt with that too, taking showers when no one else would be there, in the middle of the night or during lunch. He caught onto that after a few months and started rearranging my schedule so that the only times I could shower was when everyone else was. Next it was my hair; he dragged me to the base barber and watched as he shaved it all off until it was even shorter than the men's regulation required. It became a monthly ritual; on the first of each and every month he would take time out of his day to make sure that I got my head buzzed again.
"I had been at Wolfsbane for about a year when the beatings started. I would get ambushed on my way home from the lab; I worked really long hours so it was always dark. I gave as good as I got, usually, but occasionally I would be caught off guard and things wouldn't go so well. It was supposed to be anonymous, but I knew who it was - McGovern couldn't help rewarding them for their services and it was more than a little obvious."
Sherlock was frowning and he couldn't help but shake his head. "Why didn't you complain? Surely there was something that could have been done."
"Because of the Work," she answered earnestly. "You don't have a monopoly of being completely devoted to your profession. And I was doing good work; I was helping people. I know that people hear "medical research" and think of torture chambers and cold examination tables and lots of blood and death, but that's not what I was doing. I ran the on base lycan hospital, which is where most lycans in the army are sent after receiving serious injuries. I was also doing research on the effects that different drugs has on different types of lycans. I was able to alter prescriptions and dosages so that there were fewer adverse reactions to medications. The survival rate was up by ten percent within the first eighteen months I was there, and by the time I left five years later it had increased by twenty five percent. I stayed because it was worth it; I loved what I was doing, more than anything else. It was my entire identity and it was worth anything. And so I couldn't complain because I couldn't risk losing the Work." She paused, her eyes begging for Sherlock to understand her. He nodded to show that he did, and she smiled brilliantly at him before continuing.
"And then Liam came. He was a nurse who had trained to be a lab assistant. He was assigned as my personal assistant; he worked in the lab and came with me on rounds. He was my best friend. He would walk me home and make sure that it was never just me, and he ended up working it out so that our beds were next to each other and that I could sleep in a corner. He made things so much better, and not just in practical things like that. He made the Work better, and I hadn't even thought that was possible. I was happy - more than happy; it was earth shattering."
"I can relate to that," Sherlock interrupted with a smile.
Jo flushed but continued speaking as if he hadn't said anything. "And then McGovern found out and he told us that he was going to get Liam transferred. I had no idea what to do, but Liam just said that he was going to have a word with him and marched straight into his office. I still don't know what Liam said, but McGovern never threatened to take him away again.
"After three years McGovern finally realized that if he really wanted to get to me, then he'd have to take my work away. He ordered me to widen my research to include Wolfsbane and it's effects on my patients' healing process. I couldn't do it - besides the fact that it was beyond illegal, there was no way that I could do that to my patients - so I went to General Leads and explained what had been happening and what McGovern had ordered me to do. Leads got him demoted and he was placed at another, less prestigious base. It ruined his career, and I guess he just wanted revenge."
The pair sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Jo's mind was surprisingly calm; she felt better after explaining herself, and since Sherlock didn't seem about to run off or give her the third degree she was content to just share space with him. Sherlock, on the other hand, could barely keep his thoughts ordered enough to focus; he had questions about Liam, why she left Wolfsbane for Afghanistan, the names of everyone who had ever hurt her, but mostly he just wanted to know how she could go through all of that and still be the patient, optimistic, wonderfully loving person that she was. He wanted to tell her all of it: that she was amazing and wonderful and that he had never dreamed of finding someone as wonderful as her - someone who could understand him so completely (better even then Mycroft) and yet still be so much better than him, but the words got stuck in his throat and he ended up staying silent. Finally, Jo realized that if she didn't get up soon she was going to end up falling asleep on the couch and that really didn't sound pleasant.
"Well, I'm off to bed," she said after she had struggled to her feet. She looked down at her friend fondly. "And before you ask: no, Liam and I never slept together. He was my best friend, and that was everything; it never needed to be any more."
"Was?" Sherlock asked, hating himself for sounding the slightest bit hopeful.
She smiled at him. "My world has always revolved around someone - it's just the way I am. Liam still means more to me than I can ever hope to explain, but it's kind of hard for your world to revolve around two someones at once." Before he could get his mouth to cooperate with his brain long enough to tell her that she wasn't alone in her revolution, that she was everything to him too, and that he wouldn't want it any other was she squeezed his shoulder and continued speaking. "Goodnight Sherlock. I'll see you sometime tomorrow."
"Goodnight," he answered, looking up at her with a smile of his own. He watched her climb the stairs, still limping and with her bad arm pressed tightly against her side, and prayed to some unknown deity that she wouldn't have nightmares this time. After a few more minutes of indecision Sherlock left the couch for his own room. He pulled his oldest most comfortable set of sleep pants out of his dresser and, after searching through his closet for the sewing kit he knew was there, set to work.
Jo didn't get up till almost one the next day, which was something that she refused to feel even slightly guilty for. She stumbled to the bathroom before she was even fully awake. It took her a few minutes of fumbling to get rid of the bandages around her torso so that she could take a shower, but she wasn't too bothered by it. Her leg was almost completely better - only a slight twinge if she moved wrong but she was sure that would sort itself out soon - but her shoulder still very, very sore. She knew that if it wasn't better within the next day or so then she would have to go in and have it properly examined, but she decided not to think about that until it was absolutely necessary.
Afterwards she was in her room trying to decide whether or not it was worth it to even get dressed at all when she found as set of Sherlock's old pajamas neatly folded on her dresser; she decided that real clothes could wait until another day. The shirt was soft in the way that only came with use and age, and although Sherlock had hemmed the bottoms, they were a still a bit long for her - which was actually oddly comforting. When she finally came downstairs Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table and examining something under his microscope. He looked up when she walked in and smiled when he saw her wearing what he had given her. She ruffled his hair fondly and he grimaced at her. She grinned and resisted the urge to laugh, happy that things seemed to be mostly back to normal.