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.
John puffed his chest at the insult. “You’re not being nice!”
“Indoor voices, Jawn, I won’t tell you again.”
John stood up on the bed, towering over Mycroft. “Stop smacking my baby! I won’t tell you again!” John pointed an accusing finger at Mycroft.
“I think we’ve just officially counted out ice cream, don’t you.” Mycroft said with a roll of his eyes. “Get down, before you fall down, Jawn.”
“You! You think you can tell everybody what to do! Tell ‘em what’s what, even if they know different.” John had started to pace the length of the bed, waving his hands emphatically.
“Jawn, you need to get down. I’m going to count to three…one.”
“Stop being mean!”
“Two…”Sadie: Mycroft stood Sherlock up and moved him out of the way…he doubted John would stomp on him, accidentally or otherwise, but he wasn’t risking it. “Jawn, this is your last chance. Of course I’m going to tell you ‘what’s what’, I’m the adult. And I’m telling you to get your bum down before you get hurt.”
‘Whether it be on his north or south end,’ he added silently.John was on a roll, however. “NO, you are not the boss!” He jumped on the bed to emphasize each word, his hands balled into fists.
Now it was Mycroft’s turn to glare at him. He had no choice; it was time to use the last resort, the ultimate weapon. He looked down at Sherlock, who was holding him tightly around the waist and hiding his face against his big brother’s arm. “You’re scaring the baby.”
John froze, mid jump, which caused him to land his squishy bum on the bed.
“He throws bigger wobblers than me.” John scoffed, trying to get back on his feet.
“Perhaps, but you throwing one is frightening him.” Mycroft gestured at Sherlock who was still huddled behind him.
“Sherlock?” John called softly.
Sherlock pecked around Mycroft’s arm, eyes wet, his lower lip wobbly.
“Don’t be scare.” John scooted his bum off the bed and stood awkwardly shuffling his feet. It was clear he wanted to hold the little detective but didn’t want to force it. “My’coff was being mean. I didn’t mean to be scary. I just wanted him to be gentler with you.”Sadie: “No shouting,” Sherlock whimpered.
“No more shouting,” Mycroft repeated. “And Jawn’s not being very nice himself.”
John refused to look at the man. “You didn’t have to spank him again, is’all,” he mumbled.
“I very lightly swatted his bum to get his attention and keep him from squirming right off the bed.” Mycroft put his arm around Sherlock, letting his hand rest on hip and rubbing it. “Hurt your feelings more than it did your bum, didn’t it?” The little detective looked sheepish, but nodded.
“Still should’na done it.”
“Jawn, we had this discussion…I am the one in charge. You and Sherlock are only little. What exactly is it going to take for you to realize I’m not a bully?”
John scrunched his face in concentration, his thumb firmly wedged between teeth.
“I’m willing to bribe you, you know,” Mycroft said amicably, gently tugging john over and onto the bed while he was busy “thinking”.
John squinted at him in disbelief.
“Will ice cream convince you?” Mycroft stripped John of his sodden nappy efficiently, causing the little doctor to squeak. John tried to wiggle out of Mycroft’s reach only to recieve the same swat on his bottom that Sherlock had recieved. “Settle down, Jawn.”
John stared at him with doe eyes. the swat hadn’t hurt, not really. But it was surprising and he could feel his own eyes watering.
“Not another one!”
Sadie: John blinked rapidly to clear his eyes; “I’m n-not,” he said,, his voice shaky.
“No, you’re still a tough little soldier, aren’t you?” Mycroft cleaned John up thoroughly, getting all the little nooks and crannies as he’d been well and truly soaked to the point of almost leaking.
“C-cap, Captain,” John corrected.
Mycroft had to chuckle. “Of course, Captain…my sincerest apologies.”
The little Captain went quiet for a moment; “…Did you mean it?”
Mycroft coated him down in a cloud of powder. “Mean what?”
“Ice cream?” John peered up at him hopefully…hopeful about getting his ice cream, and hopeful that he could pull off ‘cute’ the way Sherlock could to help him out.
“A’ sp’inkles!” Sherlock peeped behind his dummy.
“If ice cream and sprinkles…”
“A’ ‘hip c’eme!”
Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Which of you am I bribing again?”
John giggled, and barely, sorta almost not at all, noticed when Mycroft closed the front of his nappy and taped it shut. “I love sprinkles.”
“Sp’inkles,” Sherlock agreed.
“Ahh, so he’s being helpful and not a bit manipulative than?”
John wrinkled his nose, “What kind of ice cream.”
“Choc’ate.”
“What flavour would Jawn like.” Mycroft helped John up, and held him in a loose embrace.
“Mint.”
Sherlock made a choking noise behind his dummy.
Sadie: “Oh, hush you…Mummy used to have to hide any mints she had in the house, or you’d sit and eat the whole tin in one go.” Mycroft said, rubbing John’s back and kissing the top of his head before ruffling his hair. “BUT, before we go, I need a promise from the both of you.”
Sherlock and John shared a quick glance before peering back up at the man curiously. “…What kind of promise?” John asked, craning his neck back.
“The promise that this trip out won’t end like the last one. I need both of you to listen and OBEY me this time, or I’m not waiting to get back to the flat to turn a bum over my knee again.”
Two pairs of still-shiny eyes widened at the idea of such a thing. “We’ll listen, swear!” John said quickly. “P’omi’the!” Sherlock added, shaking his head and making his curls bounce.
“I’m going to hold you both to that. Now let’s get you both dressed, unless you want to go out in just your nappies…DON’T RUN!” he called out, but the two oversized toddlers were halfway back to the bedroom, giggling and trying to trip each other up in order to be first.
Sherlock wriggled into his trousers and then fiddled with his fly. “My, halp!”
Mycroft gently moved Sherlock’s less then dexterous fingers out of the way and closed the front of his trousers. “Buttons can be tricky.”
Sherlock nodded his agreement before taking off down the hall to find his shoes.
“Jawn, aren’t you going to wear trousers, lad?” The little doctor looked up from his spot on the floor. He’d gotten his lace ups on the correct feet and mostly tied.
“G’een.” He mumbled around the dummy that had been in Sherlock’s mouth moments ago.
“Yes, Jawn. Your green trousers. Where are they?”
John pointed at a pile of rumpled green across the floor.
“Do you want to wear those ones or different ones?”
“G’een.”
“Are your head spaces always this inconsistent?” Mycroft asked, helping John off the floor.Sadie: “Huh?” John asked, wrinkling his forehed.
“Nothing, nevermind…go get your trousers, and I’ll help you into them.” Mycroft sat on the side of the bed as he watched John pick up the horribly wrinkled garment, and wondered to himself if it was really a good idea to take them out while they were this…tiny. They could cause an even bigger scene, in an even more crowded place than some hole-in-the-wall chip shop…but on the other hand, it might take less effort to make them obedient. His thoughts were interrupted by a wad of bunched-up fabric being shoved under his nose. He cleared his throat; “Well done, Jawn…very good job using your listening ears.” He held the trousers up and made a slight face; “Are you sure this is what you want to wear?”
“G’een!” John said, nodding and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Jawn really likes green, hm? Is that why he wants mint ice cream?” Mycroft shook them out as best he could, but there were still horrid-looking creases in them. He sighed and held them down for the smaller man to step into.
John beamed, meaning Mycroft guessed right. “Ah-huh!”
Mycroft chuckled; “You’re cuter this way…I should have bribed you sooner. Did Sherlock find his shoes yet?” he called out. “I’d hate to leave without him!”
Sherlock hopped into the room, shoe on only one foot, the other shoes dangling by his knees. “Ima flamingo! Know why? Ask me why?!”
“Put your shoe on, Sherlock.” Mycroft pulled the little detective onto his lap
“Why, Sh’lock? Why?” John slurred behind his dummy, pressing his face next to Sherlock’s.
“I was on one foot, and eating shrimps makes me turn pink too!” He giggled, leaning back into john and almost toppling out of Mycroft’s lap.
“Careful!”
Sherlock twisted on Mycroft’s lap. “My’coff eat ice cream too?”
Mycroft scooted the little boy off his lap. “Perhaps. Though teasing will end in tears.” He said with an imperious sniff.
“Choc’ate?”
“Mint!”
“We’ll see. Let’s get coats on and see what flavors they have.”
“No mint?” John asked, wide eyed over his shoulder as he toddled down the hall.
“We’ll see.”Sadie: “But what does that mean?!” Sherlock whined, hopping along behind Mycroft and putting his hands on his big brother’s shoulders like a game of leap-frog.
“SherlockifyoujumponmeI’lldropyoulikeahotstone.” Mycroft pulled the hyper man in front of him to prevent just that, and tried to wrangle him into his blasted coat. “And ‘we’ll see’ means exactly that; we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Thought you knew everything,” Sherlock pouted, then tried to brush Mycroft’s fingers away. “I can do that part!” he announced, wanting to prove that he could indeed do his own buttons after failing with his trousers.
“We’re not buttoning it; you’ll melt.”
The little detective’s eyes widened comically; “I will?” he whispered with a muted reverence…almost as if he weren’t horrified at the idea, but excited about experimenting to see if it were possible.
“Like sugar in the rain.” Mycroft fixed the younger man’s collar so that it wouldn’t stick up in that ridiculous manner. “Is Jawn ready?”
“Uh-huh!”
Mycroft turned to look and had to resist the urge to put his face in his hands. “Oh, for Gods’sake.”
John had on Mycroft’s coat and was struggling to close Mycroft’s umbrella, but the sleeves were to long and giving him trouble.
“Jawn didn’t do the buttons right.” Sherlock moved around his brother to help John rebutton the coat. “Buttons are tricky, Jawn.”
Mycroft took the umbrella from the little boy who promptly twisted away from Sherlock and reached for it.
“Mine!”
Mycroft cocked an eyebrow, closing the umbrella and setting it behind him in one fluid motion. “Captain Jawn needs his own coat on if he’d like to join us for ice cream.”
John frowned mutinously behind his dummy for a moment before stripping off Mycroft’s coat and handing it to him.
Sherlock helped john into his coat, while Mycroft put on his own. His nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of baby powder and milk in the lining.
“I wan’. John said, reaching for the umbrella.
“I’ll trade you your dummy for it.”Sadie: These were intense negotiations. John put his hand over the dummy in his mouth, thinking. “Wan’ bo’ff.”
Mycroft shook his head; “No, you can’t have both…it’s one or the other.” There was no chance he was letting them leave the flat with that thing in his mouth, but he let John have the illusion of choice…for now.
“He never lets anyone hold it,” Sherlock whispered in John’s ear. “No one but ‘Thea, an’ she’s special.”
Special, huh? John was a little more intrigued. “I hold?…”
“Unless you strike someone with it, you can hold it the entire time…and no more opening it indoors; it could tear, and I would be very, very upset.”
John eyed the umbrella and sucked on the dummy as he weighed his options, then finally spat it into his hand and held it out. “ ‘kay, trade.”
“How are you supposed to ask?”
“P’ease?” John said sweetly, and beamed as Mycroft put the umbrella into his hand and took the wet soother with two fingers.
Sherlock watched with unbridled envy; “I never get to hold it!”
“Perhaps you can carry it on the way home.” Mycroft wrapped the dummy in a handkerchief and put it in his pocket.
“Mine!” The little doctor curled himself around the umbrella so it couldn’t be taken from him.
“Or another time.” Mycroft linked his fingers with Sherlock’s, giving them a gentle squeeze. “What kind of sprinkles do you prefer?” He guided them down the stairs and out the front door.
“Choc’ate.” Sherlock mumbled, distracted by John hopping down the stairs with the umbrella over his shoulder.
“I thought they were just brown. Do they actually taste like chocolate?”
Sherlock gave him an affronted look. “A’course! Is choc’ate flavor.”
Mycroft nodded and checked over his shoulder to make sure the little doctor was close. “Jawn, you are not gene kelly, keep up.”
“Ima better dancer than, Jawn.”
Sadie: “I know you are.”
“Are not!”
“Are too! I even tried’a show you!”
“Boys.”
“You didn’ do a better job!”
“Ah-HUH! I did so–!”
“I suppose no one wants ice cream anymore?”
Things quieted down instantly, and for a few precious minutes, Mycroft was actually enjoying the quiet stroll with his little brother, with John trailing behind.
Suddenly, Sherlock whipped his head around; “Stooooooooooop!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Jawn poking me!”
Mycroft felt the corner of his mouth twitch; no, he couldn’t say THAT. “…And that’s anything new?” Well, he’d tried.
“MY!”
Mycroft sighed…”Jawn, one more time, and I’m taking it away.”
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