How would Mycroft end up babysitting to begin with? I feel like he’d want to interact with Sherlock when he’s small because it’d let them both be as affectionate as they want without their usual reservations. Jawn would be incredulous at best about My. At least at first.

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

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.

Sherlock leaned back into Mycroft’s arms, head tipped back. “Whisper, Jawn?”

“Yes! Sherlock’s gotsta whisper.”

“I can get up now, My,” the little detective stage whispered.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “No, Sherlock. It’s time to rest.”

“Watch movie?”

“Yes.”

“The a’bengers win.”

John squawked indignantly. “No tell the endin’! Where is ur mute button?”

Sherlock’s eyes got huge as he patted his chest where is dummy was usually clipped. “Lost!

Sadie: “We’ll find it after the movie ends,” Mycroft said, rolling Sherlock at an angle onto his side so he could still see the screen and popping his bottle back into his mouth before there were anymore complaints. The little detective grunted and tried to spit it back out, but Mycroft was adamant. “Finish it.”

Sherlock glared at him with all of the impotent rage a two-year-old at heart could muster, but when he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he settled back and watched the action unfold (for what must have been the 50th time) while taking long, slow drags from his bottle.

Both Mycroft and John let out a deep sigh of relief; it was the first quiet moment they’d had since…well, since naptime ended. “What’s the Captain’s power?” Mycroft asked, absently patting Sherlock’s bum with his free hand

“Big an’ strong,” John replied, staring at the screen. Unlike Sherlock, he could always find some new detail going on in the background, no matter how small, and he took great pride in rubbing it in Sherlock’s face when he did so.

“So, like the Hulk? And Thor?”

“Nu-UH, s’diff’rent!”

“How so?”

…John didn’t quite know how to respond. He knew how it was different, or course, and how each hero had their own qualities to bring to the team, but he couldn’t put it into words.