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.
His recently smacked bottom kept Sherlock from doing more than pout around his thumb as Jawn babbled happily.
“C’ute baby. My’coff. My baby a c’ute baby.” Jawn crooned, gently rubbing Sherlock’s hitching chest as if hiccuping was the greatest most clever thing Sherlock had ever done. The praise made his cheeks warm and his heart beat a bit faster, and also made other “feelings” start to happen. ‘feelings’ that should be strictly avoided with Mycroft’s hands pulling a nappy over his bits.
“’Uck, Jawn.” Sherlock grimaced as he showed Jawn his saliva damp thumb, hoping to stop the barrage of praise. “’Uck.”
“Yea, drool is gross.” Jawn said, eyeing the thumb while still rubbing lazy circles on his chest.
“Noooo, tas’ Jawn. ‘Uck!”
“Tas’ bad?”
“Soap!”
“Sher’yock said bad words?” Jawn gasped, staring at Mycroft with huge eyes.
“What?” Mycroft looked up from the t-shirt he’d been turning over in his hands. The confounding thing didn’t appear to have a ‘right side out’. He supposed it didn’t matter. He helped Sherlock sit up, tutting when he whinged about his sore bum. “Bad words?”Sadie:
“I don’t recall Sherlock saying any bad words, not in any sort of language.” Mycroft pulled the shirt don over Sherlock’s head, ignoring the small fuss he put up as it went over his face. “Did Sherlock use bad words?” he asked pointedly, looking down his nose at his little brother.
Sherlock pouted and quickly shook his head, making his curls bounce.
“Then why his thumb tas’ soap?” John piped in.
“His hands were covered in soap, and he decided to suck his thumb before I could clean them. He soaped his own mouth this time,” Mycroft said, drawing Sherlock into a hug and a quick kiss on the forehead before turning him back to the door. “And now, he has a mess to clean up while Jawn gets a treat.”
John’s eyes lit up but before he could reply, Sherlock looked over his shoulder; “…Me too?” he asked hopefully.
Mycroft shook his head. “No,sorry lad…Jawn is getting one because he listened the first time, and cleaned up most of the mess on his own.”
Sherlock’s pout deepened. “B-but, but I…!”
“No. Your job now is to go clean up all the water from off the floor, rinse the bubbles out of the tub, and to bring all the sippy-cups into the kitchen.”
Sherlock’s chin dimpled and looked as if he were about to start bawling and stomping his feet all over again…but being in little more than just a nappy, with the most sensitive parts of his legs and lower bum cheeks exposed, he knew better. With a sniffle and a whinge, he whirled around and stomped off to the bathroom.
Mycroft sighed and glanced down at John, who was cuddling up next to him and looking up at him expectantly, but still patient. “Where’s the so-called ‘prize bucket’ your Sher’yock was bragging about weeks ago?”
“I can have a treasure?!” John asked, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ of astonishment.
“Yes, of course. Good boys earn rewards.” Mycroft ran an affectionate hand through Jawn’s short hair. “Can you show me the ‘prize bucket’?”
Jawn was up and out the door like a shot, his whole body practically vibrating with energy. Mycroft followed at a more leisurely pace, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom to check on Sherlock. The little detective was on his knees, mopping water off the floor with several hand towels.
“Make sure those go in the hamper, Sherlock Holmes.” Mycroft tutted over his shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen, ignoring the indignant huff of a grumpy little boy.
Mycroft rounded into the kitchen to find Jawn standing on his tip toes on a chair he had pushed up against the refrigerator. Jawn crowed as he caught the handle of the bucket and swung it off the top of the refrigerator. He turned and hopped off the chair, ignoring Mycroft’s proffered hand and cocked eyebrow.
The much coveted ‘prize bucket’ was a purple pail covered in cartoon skulls. Nana had given it to them last Halloween full of sweeties. And now it held an assortment of small toys and ‘treasures’ and sweets.
Jawn set it reverently on the kitchen table before digging through the wares with both hands to find the ‘treasure’ he was looking for.
Sadie:
Mycroft watched those weathered little hands closely. “Only *one*, Jawn–” he began, and was cut off by a triumphant whoop as the little doctor held a clenched fist high.
Mycroft was instantly (and rightly so) suspicious. A simple piece of candy couldn’t have garnered such a response…could it? They’d both had piles of ice cream earlier in the day, after all. He looked down into the pail and saw an assortment of candies, stickers, balloons, little decorative hair clips (…hair clips?…), colorful rubber balls, toy cars, sticky-looking things shaped like insects…what on earth could be that special?
*PHHHHHWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*
Mycroft nearly jumped out of his skin and covered his ears against the shrill, eardrum-piercing, teeth-shattering noise, and whipped his head up to see John with a metal whistle in his mouth and both cheeks expanded as much as they possibly could be. “JAWN!” he shouted over the noise.
The noise stopped immediately and Mycroft slowly uncovered his ears; “Yes, My’coff?” John peeped, as innocent as you please.
“That, is an outdoor toy,” Mycroft grumbled, glaring daggers.
There came a rapid thumping from the hallway as Sherlock dashed into the room, his arms full of dripping wet, but bubble-free cups. “NO! No no no nonononononononono, that’s mine!”
“Is’not!” John clutched it to his chest, and Mycroft groaned out loud at the thought of another ‘green crayon’ argument.
“Is’so! I hid it at the bottom for me!”
Sadie & Mo's Boutique 