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 followed him docilely into the bathroom, holding his hand tightly. Mycroft wet a wash cloth and wiped Sherlock’s face, chuckling as Sherlock grumbled and tried to move his face out of reach. Mycroft untangled their hands to clean Sherlock’s hands as well.
“I should have washed Jawn’s hands before I sat him at the table.”
“Is ok. You still can. Jawn didn’t eat yet.”
“Oh? And how did you come by that deduction.”
“He was at the doo…oh! Oh no!! My! Please don’t spank Jawn, My!”
Mycroft frowned as he finished washing Sherlock’s hands. The sniffles that had abated began in full force.
Sadie: “Shhh, don’t start,” Mycroft said, reaching into his pocket
for Sherlock’s dummy and popping it in the sniffly detective’s mouth
with a practiced hand. “You let me take care of Jawn.”
After
cleaning him up a bit and letting him compose himself, Mycroft led
Sherlock into the kitchen, where a mighty-guilty-looking blond-headed
boy sat, staring at his food. Mycroft cleared his throat and grabbed a
small, squarish pillow from the couch, then placed it in a chair at the
table and had Sherlock sit down on it gingerly. “It’s been brought to my
attention that we had a little visitor back there, even after I asked
for privacy,” he said, taking Sherlock’s arm and rolling up his sleeve for him.
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