How would Mycroft end up babysitting to begin with? I feel like he’d want to interact with Sherlock when he’s small because it’d let them both be as affectionate as they want without their usual reservations. Jawn would be incredulous at best about My. At least at first.

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

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.

“No, no, no! We’ll be good!” Sherlock said as John nodded emphatically. They both loved Nana, the sweet old dear, but she didn’t put up with fuss and was quick to deliver a smack.
Mycroft hummed to himself. “Sherlock. Pull out what we’ll need to change two nappies.” Mycroft shooed his baby brother off his lap and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Sherlock asked as he pulled the bin of changing supplies from under the bed.
“Gloves.” Mycroft said over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

Sadie: “Yes, Your Majesty!” Sherlock shouted mockingly at Mycroft’s back while John stuck his tongue out and then giggled as if it were the best joke in the world…then he stopped. “He’ll change..both of us?” he asked. He liked the man well enough at times, but, well…their interactions never involved his bits before.

“That’s what he implied,” Sherlock said with a shrug as he dug out a package of wipes, a bottle of talcum powder, and two nappies. Truth was, he sounded more blase’ than he felt…it wouldn’t be the first time Mycroft had changed him, but that had been when he was actually small. “Why…do you want to marinate in your own piss all day?”

“Language.” John said absently, his face scrunched in concentration. “Couldn’t we change each other?”

“Shouldn’t the babysitter be changing us?” Sherlock wasn’t sure why he was arguing, having john change him sounded like an excellent plan.

John shuffled uncomfortably, he’d already been wet for to long and his skin was starting to chafe. “Just seems strange to have a bloke who isn’t you touch my bits.”

“Mycroft is hardly a bloke.” Sherlock quipped, which set them off giggling again.

Sadie: “I could hear every word you said, despite the donkey-esque braying you both did.” Mycroft entered the room, snapping a pair of disposable black nitrile gloves over his hands. Like his brother, his fingers were long and tapered…a musician’s hands. Or someone who could at least be decent with an instrument.

“Are you psychic now, as well?” The defiant tone in Sherlock’s voice was undermined by the faint blush underlining his cheekbones at the snapping sound the medical gloves made. John had conditioned him well.

Mycroft nodded towards the head of their bed…where the traitorous little baby monitor sat. “Little boys shouldn’t be using such language, Sherlock. Up on the bed…you’re going first.”