Sadie: This one’s been sitting in my inbox for awhile (and I’m extremely sorry about that!), so it’s well past time to suck it up and get back to work! 🙂

“How much farther?” John asked, and tried to stretch out his legs in the cramped passenger seat, to very little affect.

“Christ, you’re worse than a kid,” Greg grunted without taking his eyes from the road. “Even the baby’s been more patient than you.”

“He’s had the entire backseat to himself, and he’s slept most of the time. How much longer?”

“Another hour an’ a half, maybe forty-five minutes.”  He was starting to regret ever suggesting a week-long holiday at the little place Mycroft had stashed away on the coast. At least, he regretted offering to be the one to drive them down there a day earlier than Mycroft could get away. Should’a waited. “Should I pull over so we can get a stretch in?” he suggested…he could actually use a minute to walk around, as well.

“Yeah, might do,” John replied, and turned to look over his shoulder into the backseat. Sherlock was still asleep, thankfully, curled up under one of his soft, fuzzy blankets, Gladstone tucked under his neck, and thumb in his mouth. There was supposed to be a dummy back there somewhere…probably under one of the seats by now. “And I bet he needs a change.”

“That’s one benefit of driving out in the middle of fuck-all nowhere,” Greg said with a half grin.

A few minutes later, Greg pulled off the road and parked underneath a fair-sized tree, giving them a bit of shade (as well as some privacy, in the unlikely event that someone should just happen by). John had his seatbelt unbuckled and off even as the car came to a rolling stop, and was out the door before Greg could cut the engine. He took a big, deep breath and went up onto his toes, arms above his head, getting every kink out of every muscle that he knew of (and some that he’d forgotten existed), then walked to the back door of the car and opened it to check on his sleeping baby. 

He eased the blanket up around Sherlock’s waist, taking care not to disturb him too much, just in case he didn’t need a new nappy after all…but one look at the tell-tale bulge underneath the little detective’s onesie dispelled that in a hurry. 

He heard Greg come up behind him. “Is’e wet?”

“Yeah…could you grab me the nappy bag, please?”

As Greg went around to the boot of the car where all the bags were kept, John began to gently unsnap Sherlock’s onesie, revealing a thoroughly-soaked nappy…practically on the verge of leaking.

Sherlock stirred at the movement, and cracked open one sleep-fogged eye to peer up at John.

“Hey, you…” John said quietly, smiling at him, and started to ruck the little one’s onesie up around his waist. “Did you have a good sleep? Certainly looks like you did.”

The little detective murmured sleepily and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. 

“Is’sat so?” John asked, and stood up to take the nappy bag from Greg as he passed it to him over the car door. John set it in the floorboard and unzipped it, then reached for the package of wipes. “Sounds interesting. Then what happened?”

Sherlock seemed to be drifting back off as John talked to him, which was perfectly fine with him…a sleeping baby was better than a fussing one any day. Sherlock was generally good with changes, but it was a 50/50 shot when he was either due for a nap, or just waking up from one. But hey, if he wanted to sleep through the whole process, John wasn’t going to complain. Let him sleep through it.

And he would have…until Greg slammed the boot closed, jarring the whole car and, of course, Sherlock with it.

The little detective’s eyes popped open at the sudden loud, awful noise, and started to cry.

John stood up and gave Greg a not-so-nice look. The man winced; “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t think!” he said, still apologising as he went to the opposite side of the car and opened the other door. “Aw, lad…I’m sorry,” he cooed, reaching in to pet Sherlock’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. “Uncle Greg didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Just find his dummy.” John tore the soiled nappy open and made quick work of cleaning Sherlock up while Greg had him distracted.

After a hurried search, Greg finally found it underneath the baby’s head, tangled in his hair. Another big burst of tears later and he had it freed, wiped off, and popped into Sherlock’s wailing mouth…finally, there was peace again.

While John finished wrapping up all the soiled products in a plastic bag for later disposal, Greg dried up the last of the tears by picking up Gladstone and placing ‘puppy-kisses’ all over Sherlock’s face, turning the sniffles into giggles. “Is Daddy all done down there?” he asked him cheerfully, tickling his neck with the stuffed animal.

“Yeah, Daddy’s all done.” John stood up and stretched again, then propped his elbow on the door and looked around. “Hey…let’s get a blanket out under the tree and let him get some air, too.”

“You not in a rush anymore?”

“Nah…I just needed a bit out of the car. We could eat a bit here, too..it’s nice out.”

Greg considered it, and shrugged. “Sounds good to me…what about you, little man?” he asked, waving the stuffed animal over Sherlock’s face again. “You hungry?”

Sherlock giggled and snatched the puppy from Greg, hugging it to his face. Greg looked up at John; “Does that mean yes?”

“Yeah, that’s a ‘yes’.” John reached in and took Sherlock’s hands, pulling him up into a sitting position. “Come on, you little monster.”

John heard Greg scoff before shutting the other door; “Still more patient than you.”