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A Delicate Homeostasis

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When Oren moved to Chicago, Joan decided she had to do it.

She took her time, thought about what she wanted. She consulted a lawyer and the best of the counselors at the hospital. She bit the bullet and talked it over with her parents, explaining as gently as possible that she thought Sherlock would be best able to determine what she would want.

And then she presented Sherlock with all the paperwork necessary to make him her medical proxy. She knew if it had ever become necessary he wouldn’t have hesitated to call his father and make it happen on his own; but this way she could provide him a concrete example of how much she trusted him with herself.

* * *

Sherlock, being Sherlock, didn’t tell Joan for months.

He didn’t tell her at all; she found out when a case sent her to the Office of the City Register to see how residential deeds were accessed in person. Of course it only made sense to request the title to the brownstone.

She was surprised to discover that without her knowledge her name had been added to it.

It disturbed her, briefly, that her first reaction was being impressed by how well Sherlock had forged her signature. Her second was bogglement at real estate values. When the exasperation that Sherlock had done it behind her back placed a distant third, Joan decided that she would only throw something soft at him when she got home.

* * *

Marcus invited them over for dinner.

Sherlock spent the drive out to Marcus’s new house in Prospect Heights coming up with increasingly implausible motives. Joan ignored him.

None of Sherlock’s theories were as bizarre as the actual reason, however: Marcus wanted to name them his first child’s godparents. Even stranger: they ended up saying yes.