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.
Mycroft rubbed Sherlock’s back absently and began to hum. The little detective sighed and rested his ear against Mycroft’s chest. A few moments later the humming became a duet as John joined in.
Sherlock popped up as if he were spring loaded. “Jawn! Jawn, Jawn, Jawn! Up, Jawn, up!” Sherlock wiggled to try and get out of Mycroft’s arms and into John’s. “My’coff! Jawn!”
“I like that song,” John said, a wistful look on his face. He touched Sherlock’s hair and the little boys settled immediately, blinking huge eyes at his Jawn. “Our Mam used to sing it for me and Harry.”
Mycroft smiled softly at John. “It’s a lovely song. I’m glad we both know it.”
“Up, My?” Sherlock peeped, dropping his binky onto Mycroft’s chest.
“Yes, fine. Up.” Mycroft released his hold on his baby brother and watched him bolt out of bed. “How shall we spend the rest of our afternoon?”Sadie: “Can we, um…can we try for ice cream again?”
Mycroft was in the midst of rubbing the sleep from his face, and gave John a look through his fingers.
“We’ll be good this time, swear!”
“Maybe…and that’s a BIG ‘maybe’,” he replied. “You’ll both have to prove to me that you can behave and listen to me first.” Mycroft sat up on the side of the bed and stretched, making his back pop.
John giggled.
Mycroft swatted behind him without looking and smirked when he connected with something puffy and heard a yelp. “Let’s go find your Sherlock before he gets into anything, and you both probably need a chan–”
A loud *THUD* from the kitchen interrupted him, followed by a beat pause, then a cry. Mycroft looked up sharply and hurried to see what had happened.
John skittered after Mycroft down the hall and bumped his nose on the taller man’s back when he stopped abruptly in the doorway of the kitchen.
“What on Earth…”
John pressed himself around Mycroft; he had to get to his baby. The baby in question was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, his big toe in his mouth. He reached one handedlyZ for John, one large hand supporting his foot.
John immediately dropped onto the floor next to Sherlock and snuggled him close.
“Lemme see it quick.” John tugged gently on Sherlock’s foot. The little boy whinged but allowed John to pull his toe from his mouth and examine it.
“Not broken,” John announced. Sherlock promptly stuffed his toe back into his mouth. “No kisses for you until you brush your teeth,” He teased, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s temple.
“Why have you flipped over the table?”Sadie: Sherlock shrank down and looked away, expecting to be scolded or worse…spanked again. Mycroft crouched down to his level and removed Sherlock’s foot from his mouth (while managing to hide his utter disgust at the thought); “No, that’s icky…why did Sherlock flip the table?” he asked again.
Sherlock finally met his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip. “Only wanted my cup,” he admitted, barely speaking above a whisper. Mycroft looked over to the side and there they were…the sippy-cups that he’d filled for naptime and then promptly forgotten about in his hurry to get the little detective into bed before he conked out in the middle of the floor. They’d rolled nearly all the way into the sitting room, and were now dripping milk from their spouts. He sighed; “Now, this is why you should wait and ask an adult for help when you’re this little…accidents can happen so easily!” Mycroft stood and helped both Sherlock, and then John, to their feet. “And you shouldn’t be drinking those anyway, not as long as they say out!”
Sherlock started to worry his bottom lip with his teeth; “…Trouble, My?” He asked, reaching back to clasp his hands over his backside instinctvely.
“No trouble,” Mycroft ran a reassuring hand down Sherlock’s back. “But there will be if Sherlock doesn’t ask for help next time.”
“M’kay.” Sherlock nodded solemnly.
John hopped around them and picked up the dribbling sippy cups. “Yuck!” John exclaimed, holding the cups at arms length.
“Yes, the milk has likely soured while we napped. Be a good lad and put them in the sink.” Mycroft pulled two fresh cups out of the cupboard and swiftly filled them with milk. Sherlock followed him like a shadow, a hand sneaking up the back of his waist coat.
“Let’s get changed and then we can play a game,” Mycroft said, handing each little boy a cup.
“No change!” John huffed around the spout of his cup. Mycroft sighed to himself, so much for cups of milk being a distraction.
Sadie: “Alright, if Jawn wants to sit and stink all day, that’s fine.”
John looked surprised, then triumphant, then suspicious. All expressed quite vividly without removing his cup from his mouth.
“But…” Mycroft continued, and John’s brow furrowed even deeper. “Only little boys with dry bums can play the game I have in mind. Wet little babies…like you…would have to sit and watch.”
“I am not!” John shouted.
“Inside voice.” Mycroft reached behind his back and took Sherlock’s hand before the little detective untucked his shirt and wrinkled it beyond decency. “So you’ll agree to be changed?”
John huffed again and plopped down onto the floor with an audible squish, then immediately looked as if he realized that hadn’t been the best idea.
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