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.
Jawn huffed and tried to wiggle away as Mycroft rubbed a dollop of shampoo into his short hair. “No, My’coff! Gotta cons’trate!”
Sherlock shushed him before Mycroft had a chance. He adjusted the position his duck and then let it fly. It arced through the air and then banged against the counter before hitting the ground.
“Ohhh,” Sherlock whinged, putting his chin on the edge of the tub while he gave his duck stink eye.
“My turn, my turn! My’coff, off p’ease!” Jawn tipped his soapy head out reach. “I dun’ wanna clean a’ kitchen!”Mycroft sat back on his haunches, “quickly then. Your aim will be even worse if there is soap in your eyes.”
Jawn aimed his duck, glancing between it and the sink repeatedly, the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Jawn’s duck splashed out of the tub, bouncing off the faucet and flying most of the way back to the tub.
“That was very close. Sherlock’s turn.” Mycroft tossed the ducks back into the tub and filled a cup. “Let’s rinse you off.”
Sadie:
“Bu’ I win!” Jawn declared, with a loud, resounding “NUH-UH!” from Sherlock.
“No, you don’t. Tilt your head back.”
“Do so!” Jawn insisted, even as Mycroft reached under his chin and made him tilt his head back, anyway.
“It didn’t land in the sink.” Mycroft slowly poured water over Jawn’s hair while gently working the shampoo out with his fingers.
“It touched the sink!”
“But it didn’t land in the sink, which is the goal.”
“Ha-ha,” Sherlock sang as he pushed his duck underwater, and began to ready it.
“No comments from the peanut gallery are necessary.”
Jawn crossed his arms and gave Mycroft an upside down glare that could rival the detective’s when he was in full sulk-mode. “Wipe that look off your face…wait, I can do that for you,” he said, and proceeded wipe one of his wet hands over Jawn’s face, then smirked as he sputtered.
“Shhh. I’m ‘bout to win.” Sherlock smirked as his duck flew out of the tub. The duck captain splatted against the mirror, bouncing off the counter and onto the floor.
“Ha!” John stuck his tongue out at the little detective. “You not gunna win, I am.”
Sherlock pouted and squawked as a cup of water doused his curls. “Nooooooo, My’coff. Dun y’ike it.”
“No, you never have enjoyed this bit.” Mycroft dumped a dollop of shampoo on his head and ignored his sulking.
“Sher’yock gotsta c’ean kitchen tonight?” Jawn asked, his duck arcing through the air and landing in the sink.
“Nooooo, na’ fair!” Sherlock wailed.
Mycroft gently batted a soapy thumb away from the baby’s mouth. “That was very impressive.”
Jawn preened under the praise, his chest puffing like a proud hen.
“Jawn, two oughta f’ree, Jawn?” Sherlock pouted as Mycroft tipped his head back to rinse his hair.
“No. I winned. I a’ways c’ean a’ kitchen. Your turn.”
Sadie:
“Nuh’uh, you don’!” Sherlock tried to sit up and glare at Jawn accusingly, but the grip Mycroft’s hand had on his hair made him reconsider. “Jawn doesn’t c’ean!” he insisted as he glared up at his brother instead.
Mycroft covered Sherlock’s eyes and poured another cup of water down the back of his head, rinsing out most of the suds. One more cup should do it. “Then who does…?” he asked, glancing over at the now-suspiciously quiet victor of their game. Though, the moment the last syllable left his lips, he already knew exactly who his little brother was referring to…
“Na-na!” Sherlock confirmed, reaching up to move Mycroft’s hand out of his face.
Mycroft dumped the next cup of water over the indignant little detective without ceremony, his gaze now directly focused on the bath’s only other occupant. “Well, now there’s a surprise,” he said flatly, over Sherlock’s choking and spitting noises.
Jawn swallowed, looking nervous, and tried to sink down into the bathwater. When that tactic obviously failed, he tried another; he gave a forced, half-hearted yawn, and rubbed his eyes. “I really, really tired,” he said, and peeked between his fingers to see if it was working.
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