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?”
John’s mouth hung open before snapping closed with an audible click of his teeth. “I don’t want this anymore.” He said, shoving the umbrella into Sherlock’s hands before turning on his heels and walking away.
“Jawn Hamish, get your bottom back here.”
John’s shoulders shot up around his ears at the use of his middle name.
Mycroft softened his approach, “Come on now, lad. You can tease me but I can’t tease you?”
John glanced over his shoulder, his little face scrunched to keep from crying.
“I may have over stepped. I apologize. Can you forgive me?”
John nodded quickly and collided with Mycroft, wrapping short arms around his waist.Sadie: Mycroft wrapped his arms around John’s shoulders simultaneously. “There,” he said, lightly patting his back, “Let’s make a pact to stop teasing each other the first time one asks, yes? Good plan?”
John nodded, his face hidden against the taller man’s chest.
Mycroft chuckled…the pair was certainly a handful, but they were an adorable handful. “…It’s an awfully cute padded bum, though, you have to admit.”
John’s head snapped up, stricken. “You can really see…?!”
“Only because I know it’s already there.” Mycroft was quick to assure him. “No one else would think to look twice.”
A little of the tension left John’s shoulders, and they sagged with relief. But as soon as he seemed to be settling, the little Captain puffed up again; “Why do you think no one would look twice at my bum?”
“Oh, for…!” Mycroft turned John around and got the group moving again. “I’ll look at your bum all you want when it’s over my knee later, you little brat.”
John giggled and stuck out his tongue. “I wan’ the umbrella back.”
“No, you willingly gave it up; it’s Sherlock’s turn.”
Sherlock held the umbrella out as if he was leading an orchestra. “My turn.”
“I can have my dummy then?” John peeped over his shoulder, surreptitiously glancing down at his own bum.
Mycroft smirked. While it was true no one would know what they were looking at, John’s ‘g’een’ trousers did little disguise his nappy.
“No dummies outside the flat.”
“But, but, but…” John turned to face Mycroft to voice his rebuttal and stumbled. Mycroft deftly hooked his elbow through John’s and pulled the little doctor into his side.
“I traded the ‘brella for my dummy,” John pouted, tugging at Mycroft’s elbow, trying to get away.
“Yes, and then you gave the umbrella to Sherlock.”
“I don’t have the ‘brella, so I can have my dummy.”
“My dummy.”
“Is not!”
“Yes huh!” Sherlock pointed the umbrella menacingly at John.
Sadie: Mycroft pushed the point of the umbrella down. “I’m going to be taking MY umbrella back, if neither of you can treat it properly…and you can have your dummy back later, not now.”
“Why not?” John gave up trying to break free from the man’s surprisingly strong grip and cuddled close, looking up at Mycroft with woeful puppy-dog eyes and sticking out his bottom lip.
“Because.”
A’cause why, My?”
”Because…” Mycroft mentally sprinted to find a reason that didn’t include ‘because people would stare, and if you’re that worried about your nappy showing, why would you want your dummy?’…now was not the time to be so biting. “If you had your dummy in your mouth, how would you be able to eat your ice cream?”
John’s eyes widened, as if Mycroft had just bestowed the answer to life, love, and the universe unto him. “Ohhh….tha’ssa good reason,” he said, awed.
Mycroft was feeling pleased with himself, until a certain you-know-who had to chime in with a derisive snort; “You can take dummies out, Jawn.”
Mycroft leveled Sherlock his best rage sniff but the little detective was oblivious. He twisted the handle of the umbrella viciously.
“Why won’t the sword come out, My?”
“Sword?” John rubbed his face on Mycroft’s sleeve.
“It’s just an umbrella.” Mycroft scoffed, snatching the umbrella from his baby brother. “And if you break it, I’ll break your bottom.”
“My! I wan’ it!” The little detective made grabby hands.
Mycroft hooked the umbrella over his elbow and then took both Sherlock’s hands in his own. “Hush.”
Sherlock pouted but obeyed, dragging his feet as he walked.
“Why come you have a sword?” John asked, staring up at Mycroft in awe.
“Cause he’s really a Bond villain.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. They were only a block away. Keep them moving.
“Really?”Sadie: “Not really.”
“Yes really! My’s the best bad guy!”
“Why’s he the best?”
“Cause he hasn’t been caught yet, duh!”
“Sherlock, no need to be rude about it…you both need to use kinder words with each other.” Mycroft held them close to each side, no longer caring how the trio might look to passersby and wishing he hadn’t already said ‘no’ to giving the dummy back. ‘Just get them to the parlour…just get them to the parlour…’
“Says you!” Sherlock put his free hand on his hip, indignant.
“So it’s true?!” John’s eyes were nearly popping out of his skull.
“What? No, when did I say that?”
“You didn’ say it wasn’, you jus’ said for Sherlock not to be rude ‘bout it! Does it have smoke bombs?!” John reached for the umbrella.
“It is just an umbrella.”
“Maybe it has a poisonous dart gun!” Sherlock clapped hands, delighted.
“Tree fwog poison! Is fwogs bad like worms, My?”
“You are both going to be very disappointed when you finally realize…”
“it’s like Batman’s belt?! Of course!” Sherlock crowed, trying to get it off Mycroft’s arm.
John gaped at the umbrella. “Sherlock, like Mary Poppins bag!”
“‘Zactly, Jawn.”
“Oh look! We’re here! Thank the bloody lord!!!” Mycroft practically shoving both little boys in the door of the ice cream parlour.
Sadie: “You each get to pick one flavour for one cone,” Mycroft reminded them as they tumbled over each other to get to the big glass display case at the counter.
“Why just one?!”
“Can I have it in a cup instead?!”
Mycroft took a slow, deep breath…this had been his idea in the first place, after all. “Because I said so, and yes, Sherlock, you can have it in a cup instead. Actually, that’s a better idea…you’re both getting cups.”
“Awwww! But I like the cones!”
“You get more ice cream when you get it in a cup, Jawn.”
“…I want a cup.”
“That’s what I thought.” Mycroft stood with them, looking at the different tubs of ice cream and quietly deciding on his own. A youngish woman, probably late 20′s, came over and gave them a commercially-bright smile. “How can I help you gentlemen today?”
“Tell her what you wanted, Jawn.”
John said nothing…he only hooked his arm back through Mycroft’s and pressed himself close to his side, while looking sheepish.
Mycroft gave the little doctor a squeeze. “Why don’t you go first Sherlock.”
“I wan’ choc’ate ice cream, choc’ate sprinkles, choc’ate syrup, whip creme, cherries…”
“Sherlock.”
“And gummy worms. Thank you.’ Sherlock gave the girl behind the counter one of his best sham smiles.
Mycroft sighed, he’d said one scoop of ice cream each, he hadn’t thought to limit toppings. “In a cup please.”
“Do you have choc’ate spoons?”
“Sherlock. Why don’t you find us a table.”
Sherlock nodded seriously and went to find them the perfect table, inspecting each carefully before moving on to the next.
“What would you like Jawn?”
The little doctor craned his neck to peek into the display case, unwilling to leave the comfort of Mycroft’s side. “Mint?”
“We don’t have plain mint. We have mint chocolate chip though.” The young woman supplied. If she was alarmed by their odd behavior she kept it to herself.
“Would mint chocolate chip be alright?”
Sadie: John nodded, rubbing his cheek against Mycroft’s sleeve. “Uh-huh, and um, can I…can I have the same stuff Sherlock got?”
“My God, you’re both going to be bellyaching at me all afternoon…yes, you can. What do you say? “
John clutched his sleeve tighter and mumbled a quick “P’easeandthankyou,” before Mycroft took pity on him and shooed him over to the table with Sherlock so he could make his order and pay. He ordered himself a small cup of the Rose ice cream, and asked the woman to include “any and all extra napkins you can spare.”
“A fun day had by all, hm?” she asked with a knowing angle to her smile as she rang them up and started scooping ice cream and toppings into their cups.
“You have no idea.”
Sadie & Mo's Boutique 