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.
“Bee’, bee’, bee’,” Sherlock chanted back, reaching up to poke at Jawn’s nose causing the little Doctor to fall over in a giggle fit. They laid on the carpet poking at each others faces.
“Is there paracetamol in this flat?” Mycroft asked, not really expecting an answer. The beeping was steadily growing in volume.
“Baf’room!” Jawn chirped, leaning in to lick Sherlock’s nose instead of poke it. “Boop.”
Sherlock froze in place, hand inches from Jawn’s nose as he processed his damp nose. Sensing the impending doom, and unwilling to leave them on their own again after the last time, Mycroft came into the sitting room and pulled them to their feet.
“I’ll never be able to find it on my own. I need the world’s greatest detective’s to find it for me.” Mycroft tried to usher them toward the bathroom, but it was like wrangling cats. Jawn squirmed around him and made to the stairS
“Sher’yock needs his hat!”
“Nooooooo hat!” Sherlock cried, covering his head with his hands.
Sadie:
“Sherlock does not need his hat, and Jawn does not need to climb those stairs!…JAWN.”
The little doctor froze, one foot already on the bottom step, and looked at Mycroft over his shoulder.
“Neither of you are allowed on the steps while you’re little.”
“But–“
“I said no.”
Jawn took a step back, and stomped his foot. “But My! He needs it!”
Mycroft looked down at Sherlock, who still had his fingers locked together over his head. “He doesn’t want it.”
Jawn’s face began to grow red, and he stomped both feet until he’d turned in a complete circle. “But MY!”
Sherlock clutched the back of his brother’s waistcoat in a tight fist and watched the goings’on while quietly sucking his thumb, not wanting to draw attention on himself. Mycroft sighed, and rubbed his temple. This one was going to be a doozey. “Jawn, one more time, and I will spank your bum.” Hell, Sherlock had already earned two on his own, why not go for a three-fur?! Still…Mycroft held out his hand; “Come on, Jawn…help us look.”
Jawn stared at Mycroft’s outstretched hand for a moment before puffing his chest and turning to take the stairs two at a time.
“JAWN HAMISH! You stop this instant!” Mycroft shouted, untangling Sherlock’s grip on his waist coat to hurry after the little piss pot. “Stay here, Sherlock.”
Sherlock nodded slowly, his eyes large and wet.
Mycroft, having the advantage of stork like legs, caught the little doctor by the arm before he turned the corner on the second landing. Jawn let out a banshee wail and proceeded to go limp, hanging from Mycroft’s grip like a rag doll.
“Oh no. I think not!” Mycroft growled, hefting Jawn up and over his shoulder in one fluid motion, causing the wailing little doctor to shriek again. A sharp swat to the back of his leg cut him off.
“OWWWW, MY! You can’t do that! You’re not my Da’.” Jawn whinged, struggling to get out of Mycroft’s vice like grip.
“Little boy,” Mycroft punctuated each word with another swat as he carefully made his way back up the stairs. “You are about to learn where your “Da’” learned all his meanest techniques.”
Sadie:
Sherlock stood at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes like saucers as he watched Mycroft haul Jawn down, smacking him the entire way while the little doctor squealed like a trapped animal and tried to kick out at anything in his path. When his older brother breezed past, Sherlock unglued himself from the bannister and scurried along after. “My?” he asked worriedly. “My, what doing? My? My’coff?”
“Jawn is eager to join the ‘Sore Bottom’ Club,” Mycroft muttered, ignoring the hands pounding at his back. He waltzed into the kitchen and used his foot to hook one of the chair legs and turned it around, facing away from the table, and sat down heavily. With as much grace as a Russian-trained dancer, Mycroft slid Jawn off of his shoulder and laid him flat across his lap, where he noted that this was going to be much easier than disciplining his long-limbed little brother. “And Sherlock needs to go watch the rest of his dinosaur movie, please.”
Jawn, who had not once let up on making his displeasure of the whole circumstance known, now kicked it into high gear…it was getting more real by the moment. “I didn’ do annnnnnnnnythiiiiiiiiing!” he screeched, red-faced, and pounded his fists against Mycroft’s thigh. When that didn’t work, he bit him, with all of the impotent rage a giant toddler could muster.
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