Sadie:
John stared at the cursor at the top of the page. He’d been staring at it for awhile now as it blinked at him, the rest of the page depressingly blank.
The longer he stared, the more mocking it seemed. He frowned.
Then, just as he was getting ready to type a great, big, bold, fancy-scripted ‘FUCK’ right in the middle of the page, just for something to look at, there was a tug on his trouser leg. “…Da’yee?”
John stopped and looked down, all too glad for an excuse to turn away from the screen.
Sherlock sat up on his knees and stared up at him with big, curious eyes and the soft expression he always had whenever he fell back into his little space.
John couldn’t help but smile, and marvel at how he had the cutest little boy in the world. “What, love?” he asked fondly, and reached down to pinch Sherlock’s cheek.
Sherlock squeaked and pulled away from John’s fingers, but John could definitely see the edges of a huge smile peeking around the dummy that was forever planted in the little detective’s mouth. “N’ah pin’sh!” he giggled.
John chuckled, as well. “But they’re so pinchable!” he said and pretended to go for it again, then laughed as Sherlock fell backwards to avoid him. “Silly boy…what did you need Daddy for?”
Sherlock sat back up on his knees, and leaned onto John’s lap. “Fir’thy?” he said, making it a question, and blinked up at him.
“You’re thirsty?”
Sherlock nodded. “P’eathe?”
John grinned, and ruffled his fingers through Sherlocks’ hair. Truthfully, he was glad for an excuse to put his computer aside…and he’d rather play with the baby, anyway. “Sure,” he said as he did just that; he turned his laptop off and waited for it to shut down, then put it aside and stood. “You know what, your Da’ wants a cuppa too. You sit there and play, love, and I’ll be right back.”
Minutes later, John returned to find Sherlock still playing quietly on the floor with his big bucket of magnetic building pieces that Nana had bought for him ages ago. But when the little detective finally noticed John come in and sit back down with two cups in his hands, there was no more ‘quiet’ about anything. Abandoning his toys, Sherlock scurried over to John and started to climb into the chair with him, jabbering away. “Mine?! Mine cup?! Mine, p’eashe?!”
“Wait, wait…!” John barely had time to put down the very hot, bordering-on-scalding cup of tea before Sherlock settled himself squarely into his lap. “Jesus, child,” he muttered, and handed Sherlock a brightly coloured sippy-cup. “There, there’s your cup. What do you say?”
“Fank’oo!” Sherlock babbled, and let his dummy fall right out of his mouth as he opened wide and began to suck down the contents of his cup with fervor.
John watched with a raised eyebrow, then shook his head and reached for his tea. But before he could take that first glorious sip, though, he noticed that Sherlock had suddenly gone still. John looked again; the little detective was now frowning at the cup in his hands. “What’s the matter?”
“Is juice,” Sherlock fussed, as if an awful trick had been played on him.
“Very good, you’re right…that’s juice.”
“I wan’ tea.”
“No, you are not getting tea.”
“Bu’ I wan’ some!” Sherlock pouted. “P’ease?”
“No, love. Drink your juice.” John turned back to his tea.
Sherlock’s frown only deepened. He didn’t want juice; he wanted tea. Specifically, he wanted Daddys’ tea. He let his cup drop from his hands and hit the floor with a loud thud.
Now it was John’s turn to look unhappy. “Sherlock.”
“Tea, p’ease? P’ease, Daddy? Tea? P’ease, p’ease tea? P’ease?!”
“I said no.”
“Da’, p’ease?!” Sherlock begged…he was growing desperate now. He’d asked nicely, just the way Daddy always told him to, and he still wasn’t getting anywhere. “I nee’ it!”
“ Sherlock, stop.” John knew full well that Sherlock could be a persistent little boy when he had his mind set on something, but this was getting ridiculous.
“Bu’ I nee’ it!!” Sherlock whinged again, and reached for John’s cup himself.
Nope, John was not playing this game. Not with a steaming hot cup in his hands.”Okay, if that’s how it’s going to be…” He put his tea aside and scooted Sherlock off his lap and onto the floor. “You can just stay down there.”
Sherlock gaped up at him, surprised…and then the show really started. “NO, Da’! Up, I wan’ up! Up, back up now, p’ease!? Up, back up…!” Sherlock turned and tried to push his way back into John’s lap, all reaching arms and pushing legs, never once stopping to take a breath in the midst begging for either tea, or ‘back up’.
John ignored him, ignored all of it…until the top of Sherlock’s head bumped against the bottom of his tea, nearly upsetting it all over the both of them. “Shit!” John swore as he felt it tip in his hands, and quickly held it out of the way of grasping, clutching hands. Jesus Christ, that had been too close! “Oi!” he snapped over the nonstop whinging,and once again set his tea aside. “You want back in my lap, I’ll put you back in my lap!” John scooted to the edge of his seat, spread his legs and, after taking Sherlock by the shoulders, hauled him up and over his knee, effectively pinning both arms to his sides.
The sheer speed of it all shocked the little detective into silence…silence that lasted all of two seconds, before he felt John’s hand yanking the back of his nappy down. The panic set in as a wisp of cool air hit his bared backside, and Sherlock began to beg again…but for a completely different reason. “No, don’!…p’ease don’, I sawry, Da’yee, p’ease’top!” he pleaded and tried to wiggle out of John’s grip, to no avail. “P’ease’top, I be good, p’omise! P’ease p’ease p’ease p’ease no no no no no–ow!”
A sharp smack put an abrupt end to the line of babbling. “When Daddy says ‘no’, he means ‘no’…not ‘keep going until you get what you want’!” John scolded, and lit into Sherlock’s bottom with a flurry of sharp, stinging slaps that took the little detective’s breath away.
Momentarily, at least. The spanking was well under way and had Sherlock’s bottom turning a good, rosy glow when the pain caught up and overtook the shock it had been to his system, and the little detective began to howl. No matter how much he wriggled, or squirmed, or kicked, there was no getting out of the firm hold John had him in, and soon enough…he simply gave up as smack after burning smack set his backside on fire.
The spanking was brief, but that didn’t mean that it was any less painful or effective. When he felt Sherlock go limp over his knee, John stopped and left his hand resting against his scorched seat, while the little detective continued to sob. “Are we ready to listen to Daddy now?” he asked, waiting to see if Sherlock had even heard him.
“Uh-h-hu-huh,” Sherlock stammered. “N-nn-no, n-no m-mmooore, p-p’eeeasssse!”
That was enough to satisfy John. He let Sherlock go, and allowed him to slide to the floor to nurse his wounds (and his pride).
Sherlock melted into a big, weepy puddle and lay crying on the carpet, while reaching back with one hand to rub some of the sting away. “I, I, I j-jus, I j-jus’ wan’ned teeeeaaa,” he wailed.
‘Oh, my God…’ John rolled his eyes and put his head and his hands. Even after all of that, and he was stilll going on about tea! Yeah, and he’d thought Sherlock was persistent before?! This was just…this was a whole new level.
Despite himself, John began to chuckle. “Sherlock…no, Sherlock, come here, love,” he said and sat up, trying not to laugh in his face. He held his arms out for his completely exasperating, but much cherished little weepy baby. “Come see Daddy.”
Sherlock sat up slowly and tried to wipe the tears away from his face with the heel of his hand. “N-no, n-no m-more?” he stuttered, his chest hitching.
“No more, sweetheart. Daddy wants to hold.” While John was stooped over and waiting, he went ahead and retrieved Sherlock’s previously abandoned sippy-cup, and stuck it between the cushion and the chair.
Sherlock crawled over and let John lift him into his lap, where he was tucked into the crook of his arm. Sherlock curled in close, sniffling.
John smiled, and bent down to kiss his forehead. “You know Daddy didn’t spank you just for wanting tea, don’t you?”
“N-no?” Sherlock sniffed, blinking up at him.
“No.” John took Sherlock’s sippy-cup and offered it to him…and this time, the little detective took it. “No, you got spanked because those little beggar-child antics of yours nearly gave us both third degree burns.”
Sherlock lowered his eyes and stared down at his cup, unable to look at John. “Oh,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, ‘oh’.” John gave him a squeeze. “I don’t mind you askin’, love. I don’t even mind you beggin’…but can we do that without knocking stuff out of my hands, please? The A&E’s going to start charging us rent soon.”
Sherlock looked back up at him with a watery smile and a quiet giggle. “Yeah,” he said, his voice raspy.
“That’s not something to be proud of.” John peered down at him with an arched eyebrow. “…Can I finish my tea in peace now?”
Sherlock nodded and, just to show that he would be trustworthy, latched onto his cup and drank his juice, just like a good boy.
John looked skeptical, but decided to take his chances. He picked up his mug back up and took a big sip, then grimaced…
His tea had gone cold.
“…Can I ha’b some now?”
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