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.
Sherlock took John’s smaller hand in his own. He was practically vibrating with excitement. When John was the Daddy there were far to many vegetables and far to few chips. He swung John’s hand wide as they hurried down the steps after Mycroft.
Mycroft paused at the front door and glanced over his shoulder at squirmy little boys behind him.
“What kind of behavior do I expect?” Mycroft said, hoping to drive his point home.
Sherlock threw his head back and sighed. “The best behavior. We know! They are gunna run out of chips!”
Mycroft cocked an eyebrow but turned and swung the door wide, ushering the little boys out before shutting the door.
Luckily the street was nearly deserted, the midmorning rush over. Sherlock, to far into headspace to put on his mask, chattered at John about everything that he saw.
Sadie: Mycroft now understood why there were people who put their children on leads. He would remember to check online if they made any in adult sizes before the next time he babysat…though considering half the stuff John and Sherlock had found and purchased, he’d be willing to bet a large sum of money that finding a pair wouldn’t be that difficult. “Stay in sight,” he reminded.
“Oh-KAY,” Sherlock snapped. There was a lot of attitude from the little detective today, which was only *half* his fault…the other half was usually remedied by a full swat from John’s calloused hand that drove any snark right out of him in a hurry.
John squeezed his hand and glared; “If I miss out on chips and ice cream because of YOU, I’m not playing with you anymore!”
“Yes, you will.” Sherlock smooched John’s cheek.
Johns scrubbed at his cheek with his free hand. “Will not.”
“Yes-huh, cause I think up the best games.”
“Do not!”
“Shush, both of you.” Mycroft held open the door to the chippy, grateful for the mercifully short walk. He snagged Sherlock’s arm before he could drag John to the back of the eating area to an array of video games and claw machines.
“But My, we want to play the games!” Sherlock whinged, trying, and failing, to pull his arm out of Mycroft’s grasp. “I wanna show Jawn how good I am at claw machines!”
Holding firmly to his little brothers arm, Mycroft placed their order with the disinterested teenager behind the counter.
Sadie: Sherlock stared balefully back at the rows of games and tried one more time to free himself…with no such luck. “My, please?!” he begged, with little regard to the volume of his voice. “We’ll stay right there!”
“Shhh…you’ll stay right here.” Mycroft pulled his wallet out to pay, with Sherlock’s elbow hooked within his. “You can play after you eat.”
“But why not now?!”
“Because now you’ll have something to look forward to.”
“But I’m looking forward to it now!” Sherlock tugged again, his face growing stormy.
Mycroft turned his back to the teenager and moved Sherlock in front of him. “Sherlock Holmes,” he said, speaking low. “Do you want your chips, or do you want to go home for a nap?”
“I want to play the claw machines.” Sherlock grumbled, seemingly oblivious to the thunderous look on Mycroft’s face.
“You have exactly three seconds to change your attitude before an early nap is the least of you’re worries.” Mycroft growled.
“We’re not getting ice cream are we?” John said with a frown.
Mycroft shot him a withering look. “No. I should think not. Naughty boys don’t get treats.”
“Jawn was being good! Why don’t you want us to have fun?”
Mycroft ignored him, turning instead to the girl behind the counter. “We’ll be taking our order to go, thank you.”
Sadie: Mycroft made both men sit at a nearby table while their food was packed up. “Bums stay in the chairs, or they become targets,” he said before walking back to the counter. Thankfully, there were only three other customers in the place, and two grown men pitching fits and pouting were hardly the strangest sight London had ever seen.
John propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. “It’s not fair…you were the one being a baby!”
Sherlock sneered at him. “Shut up.” He then slouched low in his seat and folded his arms across his chest; “…I only wanted to play a game, just one,” he mumbled. “Not even a long one.”
“I wanted ice cream. I guess neither of us get what we want cause you are naughty,” John stuck his tongue out at Sherlock before turning his attention back to Mycroft.
Sherlock scowled at the table for a moment before stealthily sliding out of his chair. Despite being heavily padded he moved gracefully around the few other patrons and to the back of the dining room.
Within seconds his was pushing quarters into the claw machine and guiding the claw expertly. He dropped it over his selected prize and the machine scooped it with ease and dropped it into the bin. Sherlock, completely forgetting he was supposed to be sneaky let out a whoop as he bent to collect his prize. The loud squeak he made when a large hand connected with his padded bottom was less dignified. Sherlock bolted upright, spinning on his heels to face the very red face of his older brother.
Sadie: “What did I tell you?!” Mycroft scolded, all but wagging his finger in his little brother’s surprised face. “ ‘Stay in your seat’ means stay in your seat, not ‘get up and do as you please!’”
Sherlock’s mouth opened and closed but for once, he didn’t have a clever retort. His hands drifted back over his bum…not that it had hurt, not over his coat, trousers, and his nappy, but it had shocked him nonetheless. He looked out over the rest of the restaurant to see if anybody had seen only to find that each and every one was staring back at him before they all politely averted their gaze. Sherlock blushed heavily and looked down at the floor instead, blinking furiously to keep the tears that were forming at bay.
Mycroft continued to glare at him and reached down to collect the small toy Sherlock had won, then put it in his coat pocket. “We’ll finish this little discussion at home,” he said, putting his hand on the small of the younger man’s back, and then turned to John. “Let’s go, Jawn…bring the food with you, please.”
Sadie & Mo's Boutique 