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.

“No!” John stomped his foot for emphasis. “G’een in mines! Gimme it!” John made to grab the crayon but found himself being lifted and plopped on his bottom.

“Jawn has enough green crayons. If he needs the one that Sherlock is using, he can trade one of his other green crayons for it.” Mycroft said, hoping to head off a wobbler. Years of diplomatic work was no match for dealing with two whingy toddlers.

“Nonononono!” John’s heels thumping on the floor. “Is my g’een c’ayons!”

“What are you going to draw, Jawn?” Mycroft sat on the sofa and pulled a sheet of paper from the stack.

“A Hulk.” John sulked.

“My co’ders?” Sherlock nudged the crayon tub closer to his older brother, but keeping his green crayon cradled to his chest.

“We can put your pit’cher on our f’idge, too.” John kept his green crayons in his lap, fiddling with them, but his attention had turned back to the film, the final fight sequence playing on the screen.

“Perhaps. What should I draw?”

Sadie:

“Gol’fish,” Sherlock said, wrinkling his nose the same way he had earlier.

“That was cute exactly once,” Mycroft replied (although he could possibly be coerced into saying it was cute this time, too) and reached out to pinch the little detective’s cheek, making him squeal and fall to the side. “Besides, I thought that’s what you were drawing.”

“Uh-huh!” Sherlock sat up and dug into the pile of crayons again, swishing his hands around to make them rattle and clack against one another.

“That’s a bit unnecessary, lad.” Mycroft took his little brother’s wrist and held it still after noticing the annoyed look John had shot them. Seems that someone was still a mite touchy about missing a green crayon. “So, how do they calm the Hulk down after a fight? Does he stay green forever?” he asked, and picked out a brown crayon for himself, then a red one.