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.
“Spoilt.” John grumbled, getting to his feet and leaning over the coffee table. Sherlock had ‘melted’ into a pile of whinge, leaning heavily against Mycroft’s leg. “Look, see.” John bared his teeth at Sherlock, clicking them together for emphasis. “No pink. I would have g’een tee’f anyways.”
Sherlock giggled and reached out to touch John’s exposed teeth. Before Mycroft could intercede john nipped gently at sherlock’s fingers, causing the little detective to squeak in delight.
“Jawn have nice tee’fs.”
The little doctor beamed with pride as he plopped his bottom back on the floor and took up his green crayon.
“My’coff have nice tee’fs?” Sherlock half crawled into his big brother’s lap, his bottom half still on the floor.
“They are splendid, thank you.” Mycroft leaned around the baby in his lap to draw the body of the chocolate snowman.
“I can see, My?” Sherlock rolled his lips back, demonstrating for Mycroft how easy it was to show off his teeth. “P’ease, My?”
Sadie:
“Who taught you that begging long enough gets you what you want, hm?” Mycroft asked, and then kissed the tip of the little detective’s nose without looking away from what he was doing. “Whomever taught you that needs a swift kick in the pants.”
Surprised by the kiss, Sherlock jerked his head back, startled, and blinked at his brother owlishly before he started giggling. “Noooo, My! I see tee’fs!” He gently butted his forehead against Mycroft’s shoulder and rubbed his face from side to side, chanting “Tee’f tee’f tee’f, I see tee’f!”
“You’re going to make the Tooth Fairy question her job security,” Mycroft said, then (once it was clear that Sherlock was only getting louder, and had energy yet to keep going) added a loud “FINE, yes, here they are!”, and bared most of his teeth in a wide, wolfish grin. “See?”
Sherlock leaned in close and hooked his finger in the man’s bottom lip, examining them with a comically professional gaze. “…They’s yellow,” he said, finally.
Mycroft nipped the tip of that finger, causing Sherlock to squeal again and yank it back. “You’re yellow.”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Your bum’s yellow. With flowers on it.”
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