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.
“Mine.”
“Not if you can’t behave.” Mycroft tugged on the little doctors coat sleeve until he was in front of them. “Since I need to keep an eye on you.”
“I didn’t mean’a poke him.” John huffed, walking more heavily than was strictly necessary.
“Attitude, Jawn.”
Sherlock looked especially smug. “I can have cherries on my whip creme.”
“Me too!” Jawn nearly tripped over himself to get back the two steps to Sherlock, strop forgotten. “‘Member that one time Nana maked ice cream with worms!”
“Yeah!”
“Nana fed you worms?”
“G’een worms are the best worms.”
“Maybe they can make worm sundaes.”
Mycroft felt himself turn a little green. Green Mycroft’s are not the best Mycroft’s.
Sadie: Sherlock turned to Mycroft to ask him what kinds of worms he thought were the best and was surprised to see all the colour drained from his face….then he started giggling. “NO, My!…they’s candy!” he hooted.
Mycroft felt a rush of relief, but it was short-lived as John joined in with Sherlock’s cackling and ribbing. “Worms are foul,” he sniffed. “Even if they’re are candy ones.”
“You thought real worms!” John crowed, pulling faces.
“Gross!” Sherlock added.
“Yes, it is,” Mycroft agreed. “And that’s why we’re going to change the subject, NOW.”
A Cheshire cat-esque smile split John’s face. “My’coff gonna be sick? Don’t like worms? Squiggly, wiggly worms?”
“Jawn.”
“Wiggly worms in mou’f? Wiggle down into tummy?”
Mycroft felt that ‘green’ feeling lurch against his guts. “Jawn, I said no more.”
“Wiggly worms in–!”
“Let’s talk about Jawn’s padded bum, hm?”
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