Sadie: That’s a very good point. John would fight tooth and nail to keep that ‘tough guy’ exterior up around Mycroft…his is not a baby, should anyone need to be reminded. But, Sherlock *does* look awfully content to sit in his older brother’s lap. And Mycroft, while still being his normal stuffy, proper self, doesn’t sound as nearly condescending as he usually does. And John is starting to feel a bit left out.
John scrubbed angrily at the tear stains on his cheeks. “I’m not a cry baby! You’re a whingey baby!” He shouted, struggling to get off Mycroft’s lap.
“Why don’t you cry about it some more you weepy willow!”
John gapped, affronted.
“Hold Jeffrey.” John said, shoving the plastic triceratops into Mycroft’s chest.
“Enough!”
Both little boys startled and stared wide eyed at Mycroft. “Until one of you can tell me what the problem is, you are both going to sit in time out. Now.”Sadie: Sherlock plopped down onto the floor, crosslegged, and folded his arms over his chest. “You can’t make me,” he grumbled.
“Sherlock…”
The little detective huffed, blowing a wave of hair off his forehead, but stayed silent.
“If that’s the way you want to go about it, fine with me. You go stand in that corner, “ Mycroft pointed to the opposite wall with his elbow. “And Jawn will go stand in the other-”
“You were here to see ME!”
Mycroft is speechless…not an easy state to catch him in. “But-”
“Me! Not him!”
John sat very still, tears building in his throat that he refused to let out. He was not a crybaby!
“Y..yo..you’re a jerk.” He stuttered, wrenching himself off of Mycroft’s lap. He turned in place once, unsure where to hide to lick his wounds, before stomping down the hallway and slamming the nursery door. Repeatedly.
Mycroft was at a loss. Sherlock had orchestrated this visit so that he and Jawn could build a relationship and now….
Mycroft carefully slid off his chair and sat next to Sherlock on the floor. The little detective’s lip trembled.
Sadie: Mycroft held his arm out and waited for his brother to decide what he wanted to do…before he could blink, Sherlock slid over and tucked himself at his side. “I did come here to see you.” Mycroft closed his arm around the little detective’s frail shoulders. “And I came to see Jawn, too…that was the plan.”
“But not more than me,” Sherlock said, his voice tight from holding back tears.
“No, not more than you…but you were the one to walk away and hide from us first, lad.”
“Because you…you both…” Sherlock gave up and pressed his lips together tightly.
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