Sherlock nodded slowly, “I’ll have to discuss it with Jawn…and John. I wouldn’t just be outing myself.”
Mycroft gave him a beatific smile, “you’re growing up.”
“Piss off.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know. Which is why you can piss off.”
Mycroft tipped his cup at Sherlock. “I think the only one who trusts Lestrade more than you and I is John.”
“May change the nature of their pub nights.”
“It doesn’t have to change anything. They can have this and still go to the pub.”
Sherlock hummed noncommittally, rocking Jawn even though he was sound asleep, snoring softly.
Sadie:
“…You’re still worried.”
Sherlock frowned. “No, I’m not.”
“The creases on your brow suggest otherwise, dear.”
Sherlock sneered. “I’m getting botox.”
“How suitably dramatic.” Mycroft stared at his now-lukewarm tea, and stood.
Sherlock finally tore his gaze away from Jawn and looked up at Mycroft. “…Where are you going?”
“Home, I thought. Why?”
Sherlock remained quiet, and continued to watch Mycroft quietly move through the flat, collecting his gloves, umbrella, etc.
Mycroft picked up his suitcoat from where it had been draped over the back of a chair and went to put it on, then paused, frowned, and sniffed a sleeve; “…How does this smell of baby powder??!” he whispered fervently, his nose wrinkling.
Sherlock pinched his lips together, and very quickly looked back down at his dozing bundle.
“Everything smells of baby powder,” Mycroft grumbled to himself as he pulled his coat on anyway. Then, with a dubious look, he lifted his umbrella to his nose and sniffed; “…everything,” he hissed.
Sherlock’s shoulders began to shake.
“You’re insufferable.” Mycroft fastened his coat, and tugged on his gloves. “Devious, malicious little brats.”
But, just as he was on his way out the door, he stopped. Then, he turned back.
Sherlock risked a glance up, ready for one of his brother’s gloriously disparaging, cutting departures…and was instead met with a warm kiss on his forehead.
“You’re dear boys…both of you.”
Sherlock stared at Mycroft blankly for good, solid minute until he was able to gather his wits. “Sod off, Myc,” he muttered as he scrubbed his brow.
Mycroft smirked, and made his way back to the door. “Don’t stay up too late…it makes you terribly grumpy in the morning,” he said and with that, he closed the door behind him.
Sherlock glared at the door and huffed through his nose. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said to a sleeping Jawn, mocking his brother’s tone. “It makes you grumpy.”
Sherlock put his feet up and stretched out on the couch, Jawn still bundled to his chest and soon fell asleep, his forehead still warm.
~~~~~~~~~~
And that’s all for this one, folks!
*EDIT* And now we have a link for the Ao3 version, where Embie and I are going to be posting the whole giant, nearly-two-year-old RP in all its glory, chapter by chapter!
Sadie & Mo's Boutique 