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?”
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