Sadie: Are you referring to this one, anon? Or is there another that I’m forgetting?
Sadie: Got your reply! I’m just going to keep it in my inbox as an actual reminder to do the thing. :p
Sadie:
(finally doing the thing)
~*~*~*~*~
Thankfully, bottle-warming was not a very monopolizing task, and Mycroft had not been out of the room for five full minutes before he returned, warm bottle in hand. There had been no screams, no cries, no howls of pain or terror, so he was in no rush as he made his way back to his study, gently shaking the bottle to make sure the heat was evenly distributed.
He could hear his little brother still softly jabbering away as he approached the door, and once again, he peeked around the corner:
“…an’ you ‘mem’er, um, you ‘mem’er tha’ kid’dee? An’, an’ you say’ed tha’ kid’dee was, um, was nay’ked?” Sherlock was sitting on his heels at Jawn’s feet, playing with his toes. He took one of Jawn’s pinkie toes and rolled it between his fingers, making the smaller man break into squeaky-giggles and try to pull his foot away, with little success. “Nn-nn-nnnnnnn!” Jawn grunted.
Mycroft smirked. That was more disgustingly adorable than it ever ought to be. “Careful, Sherlock,” he reminded him as he stepped into the room. “Let go when he pulls away, pet.”
Sherlock blinked up at him. “Bu’d he y’ikes i’d!”
“I know, but we don’t want to twist one of his toes too hard when he pulls away…do we?” he cooed down Jawn, who had just now noticed what Mycroft held in his hands and was grasping for it.
Sherlock let go of Jawns’ foot and reached for the bottle, to. “I still do’id, My’coff?!”
“Of course. Here, go sit down on the couch,” Mycroft said and Sherlock scrambled to obey, nearly tripping over his own limbs while Mycroft lifted Jawn into a sitting position, then picked him up.
Sherlock folded his legs underneath him and watched his big brother carry his ‘little brother’ over, and held his arms out, waiting impatiently. “Mine.”
“There’s never been any question of that.” Mycroft carefully sat Jawn in Sherlock’s lap, and turned him the correct way for a feeding; “There, hold your arm here, under his neck…yes, there you go, you know what you’re doing, don’t you.”
“Y’ah, I ‘mem’er how,” Sherlock said, taking the bottle from Mycroft’s hand.
The elder Holmes brother stood close by and watched as Sherlock tucked Jawn in the crook of his elbow and held him close, then put the bottle to his lips.
Jawn latched on quickly, and Sherlock beamed up at Mycroft. “See, I c’n do’id!”
“Clever boy. You’re a wonderful big brother.” Mycroft ruffled Sherlocks’ hair and pinched his cheek. “Stay right here, and let me know when he’s done.”
“Why?”
“Because it will be naptime for both of you then.”
“Awww,” Sherlock groaned. “Bu’d I’m no’d tired!”
“No, but Jawn will be. Would you like to help get him ready for bed?”
Sherlock perked up. “I c’ahn?”
“Absolutely. Your help is vital.”
Sherlock grinned broadly and looked down at the tot in his lap, whose eyelids were already drooping. “C’n I, um, c’n I read ‘im a story?”
“I think he would be terribly upset if you didn’t. Sit and think of one while he eats.” Mycroft tugged on Sherlock’s ear. “And let me know when he finishes, darling.”
“O’gay.”
Mycroft went back to his desk.
Of course, Sherlock didn’t let him know exactly when Jawn was done…he may have waited a few (or ten….or fifteen) minutes to finish whispering the story that was too good to wait until naptime.
And, of course, Mycroft knew what he was doing. And he couldn’t blame his little brother for wanting to wait just a bit longer…
Because little brothers don’t stay little for long. And Mycroft knew, more than most, to enjoy it while it lasted.
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