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.
“I thought you didn’t want to watch a pirate film?” Mycroft pulled the heroes cup and a bottle from the cabinet and stepped back over Sherlock to get to the fridge.
“What? No. He’s an army Captain.” John fiddled with his dummy, rubbing it on his mouth.
“‘Ron man!” Sherlock slurred behind his dummy, reaching for the now full hero sip cup. Mycroft handed him the bottle instead. The little detective immediately dropped it onto the floor and continued to reach for the hero cup, grunting in frustration.
“Sherlock needs a nappy change before we start the film, does Jawn need changed too?” The little doctors face and ears turned three shades of red. Mycroft didn’t bother waiting for a response and instead tugged John close by the top of his trousers and checked the state of John’s nappy for himself. “You need changed as well. Come along lads.”
Sherlock immediately started to crawl down the hall after Mycroft. John dawdled in the kitchen. “Jawn, we don’t have to change your name to Captain Jawn Wet Pants,” Mycroft called out.
Shoving his dummy into his mouth, Jawn headed back to the bedroom to be changed.
Sadie: “So, this makes change number three…how many nappies do you go through in day?” Mycroft asked as they entered the nursery, Sherlock hot on his heels. He patted the bed and told the little detective to “Climb up,” then turned towards the dresser and started opening drawers.
John sauntered in after them…he was resigned to the fact of Mycroft changing him by now, but that didn’t mean he had to like it one bit. “ ‘unno,” he mumbled, then stopped staring at his feet long enough to notice what My was up to. “Wha’ doin’?
“We’re not leaving the flat for the rest of the day…at least not for a good, long while, so you’re both getting changed into something more appropriate.” Mycroft held up a pale yellow and white-striped onesie…he turned it around and along the backside were green ruffles, apparently made to look like grass, with embroidered flowers off all sorts of colours ‘growing’ from it, and of course, bees flitting among them.
“I don’t wan’ different clothes!” John protested, letting his dummy fall from his mouth and bounce on the floor.
“You don’t? Hm, there are an awful lot of cute, very comfortable-looking ones in here…and it would make it easier for me to see when you need a change.” Mycroft turned back to the bed, where Sherlock was laying on his back, playing with one of his feet. “What if Jawn gets to pick his own clothes out…would you like it better then?”
“I pick these clothes,” John said rubbing a hand down the belly of his grey jumper.
Mycroft smirked as he stripped Sherlock of his trousers. Smart arse little thing. “No, Jawn. Pick out something comfortable to wear to snuggle. I saw something green in the drawer.”
“G’een?”
“Yes, green. How did the two of you get this shirt on him this morning?” Mycroft asked as he undid the last of a dozen tiny buttons down the front of Sherlock’s shirt.
“He was sorta big this morning. I tole him to wear somethin’ else.” John stooped to pick up his dummy, shoving it back into his mouth before Mycroft could protest.
“Yes, a very thorough talking to about cleanliness,” Mycroft cooed, tickling Sherlock’s naked belly. “Pick an outfit, Jawn, or I’ll pick one for you.”
Mycroft pulled the nappy bin from beneath the bed and took out what he needed to change two nappies. He ignored the huff the little doctor put on while rummaging through the drawer for something to wear.
Sadie: Mycroft was in the midst of cleaning Sherlock up when John flopped down onto the top half of the bed with a wad of blue and green fabric bunched up in his hands. Sherlock squealed and reached for him while trying to roll over, giggling. “Hi, Jawn!”
John grinned and leaned over him; “Hi, ‘Lock!”
Mycroft held down his hips with one hand; “What’s that you picked, that’s going to look horribly wrinkled?”
John sat up on his knees and held up a…well, Mycroft didn’t know enough about infant-wear to know what it could be called, but it looked like another onesie, only with legs that would come down to mid-thigh, that zipped up the middle. Bright green frogs with huge goggle-eyes on a blue background stared back at him, with ladybugs in the empty spaces…the buttons were shaped like them, as well.
“More buttons, hm? Still…very cute,” Mycroft said with an approving nod. He sprinkled Sherlock with a liberal amount of powder and taped him up, then helped him sit up to get him dressed. “Are you going to let me pull this over your head without a fuss, yes?” he asked playfully, “…or are you going to scream bloody-murder again?”
Sherlock gave him a beatific grin, which quickly turned into a pouty shriek as Mycroft pulled his onesie over his head. “Oh hush, you’re alright.” Mycroft popped a kiss on his forehead before snugging the onesie down and under his bottom and snapping it closed.
“He always fusses ‘bout gettin’ dressed,” John said, his dummy lolling in his mouth.
“That’s not going to be a problem for Captain Jawn, though, is it.” Mycroft patted Sherlock’s thigh and then began to undo John’s trousers.
“No.” John blushed as he was stripped of his trousers. Mycroft sat him up and took off jump and vest in one fluid motion. “I don’t fuss.”
Mycroft hummed his agreement, unwilling to point out what a little fuss pot John actually was. Mycroft laid John back down and stripped him of his sodden nappy.
“Jawn?” Sherlock wiggled close to John, his dummy pressed to the little doctor’s cheek.
“Yea?” John shifted unhappily as Mycroft cleaned his bits. He was being a little too thorough if you asked John.
“I lub ‘Ron Man.”
John rolled his eyes, “Yes. I know.”
Sadie: Mycroft frowned slightly. John’s skin looked a redder than it had at the last change. “How long were you wet, little boy?”
John shrugged. He was a little boy; it wasn’t his job to keep track of these things.
“Does it hurt?”
John shook his head.
Sherlock craned his neck so he could see; “Owie?”
John frowned and reached up to cover Sherlock’s eyes. “Don’ look!”
While the two boys where scuffling with each other–Sherlock trying to push John’s hand out of his face and John trying to pull his head back down–Mycroft used the distraction to fetch a tube of rash creme from the nappy bin, squeeze a good amount onto his fingers, and apply it to John’s nappy area.
John nearly jumped out of his own skin.
“Thas cold!” John whined, trying to squirm away from Mycroft’s touch.
“Apologies, Captain,” Mycroft finished spreading the creme on John’s bits and then wiped what was left on his fingers on the inside of John’s new nappy. “Lift up.” But before the little doctor could obey, Mycroft had scooped behind his right knee and lifted his bum off the bed.
John’s blush rushed up his chest and across his cheeks. Why did Mycroft only lift him that way? He hadn’t done it to Sherlock.
“Owie? Owie, Jawn?” Sherlock very gently touched John’s face.
John turned into the touch ignoring Mycroft taping up his nappy. “Kinda.”
“C’eme!” Sherlock demanded, holding a hand out for the nappy creme.
“Noooo! Not like that, Sh’lock!” John groaned, pulling the duvet up to hide his face.
“C’eme fa’ owie!”
Sadie: “It’s not that kind of owie, lad…Jawn doesn’t need any on his face,” Mycroft said, batting his hand away and uncovering The Crimson Captain. “All he needs is to get dressed, have his juice, and snuggle on the couch, isn’t that right?”
John begrudgingly sat up and stepped into the onesie that Mycroft was holding for him and let him button it without complaint, but he had a permanent pout on his face.
Mycroft chuckled; John was cute when he was mad. “What would put a smile back on that face? You’ve got your dummy back, you’re full of ice cream, you’re nice and dry, you’re in soft clothes, you got to pick your movie…so where’s that stormy look coming from?”
John crossed his arms and glowered at him…which might have been more effective without the powder-blue dummy tucked in his mouth.
…Mycroft reached out and tickled his neck before John could twist away.
The little doctor squealed and tucked his neck down, giggling, and fell backwards onto the bed. When he realized what Mycroft had done, he stopped laughing and tried to glare at him again, but it was too late…now Sherlock was in on the act.
Sherlock’s long fingers dug into his ribs and up into his arm pits. John rolled from side to side, trying to lose the menacing fingers to no avail.
“S-s-sTop!” John howled, making a grab for Sherlock’s wrists, but, needing to keep his arms pressed into his sides, missed.
“Alright, Sherlock, that’s enough.” Mycroft gently pulled the baby away from John, tucking him against his side. “Are you done with the grumps now, John?”
John wheezed for breathe, a giggle breaking through every few seconds. “You guys…don’t…fight fair!”
Mycroft shrugged. Perhaps not, but the results were usually in their favor so…
Mycroft offered John a hand up and the little doctor eyed it warily before accepting it and standing up.
“I lost my dummy.” John lamented, eyeing the mess of bedclothes sadly.
“I halp!” Sherlock said, belly flopping back onto the bed, long fingers searching through the bedding.
Sadie: “You’re not gonna–!”
“Foun’it!” Sherlock sat up on his knees, dummy held aloft victoriously.
John hmphed. “Okay…give!”
“You say p’ease!”
“My’coff!” John squawked indignantly. “Make him give!”
“Sherlock does have a point, Jawn…it’s nice to say please.”
John had been right…they don’t play fair! “Fiiiiine,” he groaned. “P’ease give back!”
“Mean it!”
“Sherlock…he said please. Give it back to him.”
The little detective jumped and landed on his knees, bouncing heavily on the mattress, and tossed the dummy at John, hitting him square in the nose. Sherlock started laughing maniacally.
“Hey!” John bent to pick up his dummy and turned to look up at Mycroft. “Did you see that?! He threw!”
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