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.”
John held Mycroft’s hand on the walk home, glancing over his shoulder every few steps to see Sherlock trailing behind them. The little detective kept his eyes glued to the sidewalk. John wanted desperately to chew his thumb but he was being a big boy and helping carry the takeaway bag.
“You’re not going to be mean, are you, Mycroft?” John said softly.
Mycroft turned to glare at john, but softened when he saw John’s hopeful little face. He knew enough about John’s past to hold his temper. This wasn’t the little boy in trouble anyways.
“It may seem as if I’m being unkind. But following the rules is imperative. They are there to keep you safe.”
“Playing claw machines is unsafe?” John looked completely gobsmacked.
“Not staying put can be dangerous. Wondering away can be dangerous.”
Sadie: “Oh.” John stared ahead, puzzling it all out for himself. “But Sherlock’s big enough, inn’it he?” he asked, looking back up at Mycroft and wrinkling his nose.
“In stature only right now,” Mycroft sighed. “I managed to walk up behind him without him noticing, after all.”
“Oh.” John said again…that was true. But now he thought of another problem; “…You’re not gonna spank him, are you?” He didn’t quite know how he felt about that. Part of him agreed that the little detective deserved it, and would have done the same…but the other part was reluctant for Mycroft to be doing it.
“That’s going to be between me and Sherlock, Jawn.”
When they reached the front stoop, Mycroft put a hand on Sherlock’s chest to stop him and told John to wait at the top of the steps. “When we get inside, Sherlock is going to go to his room and wait, and Jawn is going to sit at the table and eat until we join him…does everyone understand?”
John watched Sherlock closely, waiting for his response. In this he would follow Sherlock’s lead. The little detective nodded minutely.
“Yes, we understand,” John said.Mycroft turned and unlocked the door, holding it open. John and Sherlock filed in and up the stairs. Sherlock hung his coat and scarf carefully before walking down the hall the the nursery. John fought the instinct to follow and instead took the takeaway packages out of the bag and laid the table. Mycroft helped him out of his coat before putting a gentle hand on his shoulder and guiding him into a chair.
“I would never harm, Sherlock,” Mycroft said softly, retrieving Mr. Bumble from the sitting room. “Spankings sting and Sherlock is a drama queen.” Mycroft handed the stuffed bee to John. “I need you to stay here. Alright.”
John chewed his thumb. “I can try.”
Sadie: “Good boy…we won’t be long.” Mycroft patted John on the head and quickly made him a sippy-cup before shedding himself of his outer coat, his gloves, and his suit coat. He entered the nursery, and shut the door behind him.
Sherlock was sitting on the side of the bed, hunched over and looking half his actual size while he stared at the floor. He looked up when Mycroft entered, his eyes already teary and full of worry.
Mycroft stood in front of him, looking down. “Well, it looks like your poor attitude finally caught up with you today.”
Sherlock sniffled and tucked his thumb in his mouth.
“No…you’re going to talk to me, little lad.” Mycroft wasn’t angry. Just very, very fed up. But he wouldn’t shout at an actual two year old, and he was not going to shout at someone who felt like one. “Why are you in trouble, Sherlock?”
“A’cause I was bad,” Sherlock sniffled, mostly to the floor.
“You’ve had some naughty behavior. You are not bad,” Mycroft corrected. “What naughty behavior are you in trouble for?”
“I didn’t stay at the table like you said. But I just wanted to win a prize for Jawn, My.” Sherlock glanced up at Mycroft through his fringe.
“I told you that you could play once we’d finished eating. Do you remember that?”
Sherlock nodded and shrunk into himself even more.
“What did I say would happen if you didn’t stay in you’re seat?”
“‘panking.” Sherlock whispered.
Sadie: “That’s right, a spanking.” Mycroft unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll up his sleeves. “Stand up and lets get your trousers down.”
Sherlock’s face crumbled while watching him…he never could be brave when facing a smacked bottom. A sob bubbled out of his throat and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “B-but I, I d-don’t want one!” he cried.
“I know you don’t.” Mycroft hardened his resolve, but it was *so* difficult to hear his little brother cry that way. He lifted Sherlock under both arms, since he seemed incapable of standing up on his own. “But this is what happens to little boys who choose not to listen. If you listen to me, listen to Mycroft, then it will all be over soon and you can have your chippies for lunch.”
Mycroft undid Sherlock’s trousers and then pushed nappy and all down around Sherlock’s thighs. The little detective wept openly as Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him over his thighs.
Deciding to get right to the point, Mycroft began to briskly spank Sherlock’s bum. Sherlock, for his part, howled like he was being electrocuted.
Mycroft’s hand stilled on Sherlock’s bottom.
“Sherlock!!!” Mycroft shouted over all the noise. When Sherlock continued to wail, Mycroft pinched his thigh.“Owwwww!” Sherlock whinged reaching back feebly to run at the sting.
“Play acting as if I’m murdering you will only increase the number of swats you’ve earned, William.”
Sadie: “But it hu-hur-ur-urrrrrts!” Sherlock hiccupped, not even registering the use of his first name.
Mycroft rolled his eyes…he was hardly striking him that hard. He gave a firmer slap to the chubbiest part of Sherlock’s bottom, setting off another string of wailing and blubbering. Mycroft couldn’t fathom how John dealt with this. He kept slapping, turning his little brother’s backside from a brighter pink to a dusky red. “Are you going to listen to my instructions next time?” he shouted, only half-expecting an answer.
“Y-yes, yes, p-p’omise, oooooowwwww-uh-huh-huh!!! Ow, My’coff….My’coff, stoooop!!” the poor little detective sobbed, his feet pedaling in the air.
“Yes, yes. All done.” Mycroft rolled his eyes at the hysterics but gently helped Sherlock stand up. The little detective bounced on his heels and desperately tried to rub the sting out of his bottom.
“Let’s get you dressed so we can join Jawn for lunch.” Mycroft tried to pull up Sherlock’s nappy and trousers, “Sherlock, move your hands.”
“Nooooo, My.” Sherlock cried, burying his face in Mycroft’s neck.
“Do we really need to discuss obedience so soon after a spanking?” Mycroft gave Sherlock’s as of yet pale thigh a meaningful pat.
Sherlock whimpered pitifully, but dutifully removed his hands from his bottom and clenched his fists in Mycroft’s waistcoat instead.
“Good boy.” Mycroft murmured, pulling up Sherlock’s nappy and trousers as gently as he could.
Sadie: Sherlock clung to his his brother even after he was redressed, and Mycroft could hear him snuffling wetly as he lay on his shoulder. Despite the dramatics, it was a sweet, sincere moment, and he knew it was what the little detective needed. He rubbed his hand slowly up and down Sherlock’s back, waiting for the hiccups and hitching sobs to slow down before stepping back to where he could see him. He cupped his little brother’s tear-streaked face in his hand, using his thumb to carefully wipe under his eye. “There, all over…are you ready to go join Jawn for lunch, hm? I bet he’s aching to give you a hug, too.”
Sherlock sniffed and nuzzled his cheek into Mycroft’s touch, then nodded. “Uh-uh-h-huh,” he said shakily. “S-sorry, My.”
Mycroft leaned forward and kissed Sherlock’s forehead. “All forgiven. Let’s wipe your face first, then you can eat.”
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