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.
A cuddle would be strong motivation. And Mycroft is be an excellent story teller. Sherlock brought him John’s favorite book to read. The tiny doctor would creep closer and closer until he was practically in Mycroft’s lap anyways. By the time we learn why Grey crayon is so grumpy John is fully in his lap and helping to turn the page.
Sadie: Mycroft would be relieved…as narrow as Jawn’s little bum is, and as tiny as Sherlock could origami in his elbows and knees, he still had to hold onto both of them so they wouldn’t tumble right out of the chair they were crowded in. Hard to do that and turn the pages…let alone keep both boys from snipping at each other over who’s turn it was to turn said page.
They make it through the whole book without incident, but all hell breaks loose when it’s time to select the next book. Sherlock falls to the floor kicking when Mycroft informs him that it’s John’s turn to select a book. Sherlock “gave up his turn” for a book John would like and now John was going to pick another “crap” book. Which of course sets off John shouting about what a good book the crayon book is etc.
Mycroft learns the hard way that both little boys respond better to “Please” than they do to commands. Admittedly it works better on John who goes to select another book, while Sherlock wiggles on the floor trying to bite Mycroft’s ankles.Sadie: A smart tug on an unruly lock of hair put a stop to that as Mycroft continued to explain why Sherlock would now be sitting on the floor and not his lap with Jawn this time, who brought back another book in The Grey Crayon series: Grey Crayon Goes To The Zoo. He wouldn’t insist on Mycroft making the animal noises, but he informed him that it would only add to the experience.
Sherlock rubbed at his stingy scalp and pouted as Jawn sprawled on Mycroft’s lap. Without the immediate attention available on Mycroft’s lap, he quickly became bored of Jawn’s dumb book and wondered to the toy box. He’d use his action figures to play out his own story. No crayons allowed.
Sadie: Mycroft hears him rustling about and tries to keep a sharp ear on him and pay attention to Jawn at the same time, letting the little doctor take over the story and read out loud.
Mycroft still had to make the noises, though.
(and with that, I have to say goodnight for now :P)
“At last the Grey crayon had colored all the animals at the zoo.” Jawn said, patting the picture gently. “See! I told you this is a good book.”
Mycroft nodded, suddenly distracted by the silence in the rest of the room. That was not a good sign. Mycroft nudged the little doctor off his lap, causing him to whinge.
“We must find Sherlock so that he can select the next book.”Sadie: Jawn was slightly surprised at himself for forgetting his own friend; that’s just how deeply he’d been engrossed in his storytelling. Now that he was thinking about it, it had been awhile since he’d heard any snide remarks mumbled from behind a dummy, and in this case…silence was not always golden. There were no crashes or odd smells or discoloured smoke, so it couldn’t be too bad. He watched Mycroft stand, craning his neck to look up at him, and took his offered hand.
They moved through the few rooms on the first floor hand in hand. Mycroft opened cupboards and searched behind doors.
“It’s a good thing I’m being accompanied by a detective as it seems our Sherlock has vanished into thin air.” Mycroft said, pulling back the shower curtain to glance into the tub.
John blinked at Mycroft for a moment before steepling his small hands beneath his chin.Sadie: (omg, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever read)
Mycroft caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye and pressed his lips together tightly to keep from barking a laugh. Then he stood, sighed, and put his hands on his hips; “Sherlock HOLMES,” he called out, then waited for an answer. There was none.
“Sherlock HOLMES, one!…”
“Two!”
John tipped his head to listen, but the flat stayed stayed silent.
“If I get to three, I know one little boy who is going to have a stinging bottom!”
John tapped at Mycroft’s elbow, “I know where he is…I think.”
This time Mycroft could suppress his smile. “Let’s hear your deductions then.”
“Well…” John rocked on his heels, staring at the floor hard. “I don’t think he left the sitting room at all. We’d have noticed. And most of the toys at the top of the bin are soft, though that wasn’t true before…”Sadie: “Hmm,” Mycroft hummed. Perhaps his little brother was right…John wasn’t quite your average goldfish. “Sherlock’s reputation as the world’s ‘only’ consulting detective might need to be reevaluated,” he said, patting John on the head. “How should we lure him out? Threat of torture? Tie a string to a ox and a stick and set his microscope underneath?”
John glowed under such high praise. “He’s already in the biggest box in the flat. And he’s not allowed to touch the microscope when he’s little. He made that rule himself.”
“How oddly thoughtful of him.” Mycroft opened a cupboard and pulled out a package of Jammie Dodgers. “Would you like a biscuit, John?”
Both John and Mycroft watched as the cardboard toy bin started to to wiggle.Sadie: The corner of Mycroft’s mouth ticked up. “It’s a shame there’s no one else here to share them with, isn’t it?” he said to no one in particular, gaze focused on the wiggling box. “What should we do with the rest of them? Throw them to the birds? Eat them ourselves?”
No sooner than the words left Mycroft’s lips, there was a bold, window-shaking cry of “NO!” as a red-faced detective exploded from his hiding spot, sending stuffed animals flying every which way.
“…It must have been getting uncomfortable in there, folded up that way,” Mycroft added, unfazed.
Sherlock nearly toppled out of the box in his haste to get to the proffered biscuits in Mycroft’s hands.
“Where you sitting on my dinosaur figures?!” John demanded, poking Sherlock in the shoulder with his cookie. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes and reached for another biscuit, growling when Mycroft pulled the package out of reach.
“Why were you hiding in the toy bin?”
“And why did you sit on my dinosaurs! If you bent the brachiosaurus’s neck…” John shoved the rest of his biscuit in his mouth and went to rescue his toys.
“Biscuit!” Sherlock demanded imperiously. But a cocked eyebrow from Mycroft had him shuffling in place. “Wasn’t hiding.”
Sadie: “You were pouting.” Mycroft didn’t have to ‘guess’; it was obvious. “You were pouting because it was Jawn’s turn to pick out a book, even though you were the one who picked out his favorite first. Selfless acts aren’t selfless when done with the expectation of reward, Sherlock.”
Sherlock folded his arms and looked down at the floor. “…I didn’t sit on his stupid dinosaurs,” he mumbled, ignoring his brother’s words.
John rushed back into the kitchen, a plastic triceratops clutched to his narrow chest. “His horn is broken!” The horn on the toy’s snout was bent at a strange angle.
Mycroft grimaced at the tears suddenly streaming down John’s cheeks. “Will a plaster fix it?”
“No, no, no.” John sobbed.
“Even if it was an Elmo plaster?” Sherlock offered, looking stricken.
“Elmo?” John hiccuped.
“Yes. I saved the last of the Sesame Street plasters. You can use it to save your rhino…”
“Isa triceratops.”Sadie: “Try-sarah-tops,” Sherlock repeated, overly enunciating the name, and darted off to find the first-aid kit John insisted they keep in the flat. Mycroft sat down and pulled the teary little man into his lap while giving the plastic dinosaur a good once-over. “A plaster is just what he needs,” he announced as his final verdict. “And he’ll be the snazziest dinosaur among his friends while it heals. ‘Elmo’ is all the rage,” he said, thought he didn’t have a clue what an ‘Elmo’ was.
Jawn sniffled and wiggled closer, leaning heavily into Mycroft. If anyone could fix a problem, it most certainly was Elmo.
Sherlock skidded into the kitchen, the bulky first aid box in tow. “We also have avengers and peppa pig plasters, Jawn!” Sherlock set the box on the kitchen table, opening it, before turning wide eyes on Mycroft.
“Oh, of course.” Mycroft huffed, pulling a pair of gloves out of the box and snapping them on. “Has the patient decided which plaster they would prefer?”
John chewed the thumb that had made its way into his mouth.
Sadie: “Don’t chew on your thumb, lad…” Mycroft said, taking John by the wrist and gently moving his hand away. “There’s all sorts of nasties that lik to live under fingernails.”
Sherlock nodded; “Jawn’s a chewer!” he said, opening the tin with superheroes on it. “There’s lots and lots of Hulks left, and lots of Captains…I used all the Iron Man’s, though,” he added. Sherlock was just as chatty when he was Little as he was when he was big (if not more so).
Sadie & Mo's Boutique 