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sadieandmo:

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sadieandmo:

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sadieandmo:

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sadieandmo:

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.

“I think this new information means the forfeit.” Mycroft drawled, holding the little detective in place as he doused his hair in conditioner.

“Dun’ nee’ it, My’coff, s’op, p’ease?” Sherlock wailed. 

“Bu’ i winned the game!” Jawn pouted, turning away from them to hide his face against the tile. “Na’ fair.”

“It’s not fair to make Nana clean up all of your messes either.”

“Na’ all of ‘em.” Jawn protested. “Just when we bof little.”

Sherlock squalled as Mycroft dumped two cups of water over his head in quick succession, rinsing out the conditioner. 

“It’s still very naughty and I’ll not allow it.”

“My’coff na’ da’ boss of da’ kitchen.” Jawn grumbled, pouting when his soapy thumb touched his tongue. 

Mycroft bit his tongue, tempted to show the bratty little doctor just how much a wet bottomed spanking stung, but… 

“You do love Nana, don’t you?”

“Yea!” came the reply in unison. 

“Wouldn’t she be so pleased to see that you’ve cleaned up your mess all on your own?”

Sadie:

Jawn turned back around to face them, already forgetting that he was supposed to be sulking after going through all that effort to win the game, only to have it stricken from the record. “C’ean for Nana?”

Mycroft nodded. “For your Nana,” he said, pouring one last cup of water over Sherlock’s head just to make sure it was completely rinsed…if he didn’t, Sherlock’s hair as prone to looking weighed down and greasy instead of freshly washed.

“No mooooooooooooore!” The little detective howled, and twisted out of Mycroft’s grip…well, Sherlock twisted, and Mycroft let him go because 1)he didn’t want him to hurt himself, and 2)because he was done with his hair, anyway. “I know, I know, I’m awful,” he tutted and,after taking pity on his little brother while watching him try to wipe the water out of his eyes with wet hands, took one of the fresh towels and offered him a corner to dry his face with. “And you’re overtired. Which is why we’re done.”

“No more ba’ff?” Jawn asked, sounding disappointed.

“I thought you were ‘really, really tired’,” Mycroft replied as he kept Sherlock from all but jumping out of the tub.

“Im invi-…I’m ‘vigor-…I’m waked up.”

“…Just pull the plug, Jawn.”

Jawn frowned but did as he was told, popping the plug and letting it float on top of the water. “Y’ook, y’ook!” He hooted as the plug began to spin in the vortex of water leaving the tub. “Gimme the ducks! P’ease! The ducks!!” Jawn half crawled out of the tub to retrieve Sherlock’s duck from the floor. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes and helped Sherlock out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel, using a second to gently press the water out of his curls. “I dun’ y’ike baffs.” Sherlock pouted, trying to wiggle away from Mycroft. 

“How about pajamas? Do you like pajamas?” Mycroft asked, patting the rest of the baby dry. 

“I y’ike em!” Jawn chirped, climbing out of the tub and standing with his hands on his hips. “Can I have g’een ones?” 

“Did you rinse the soap off the ducks?” Mycroft regretted the words even as they came out of his mouth. Jawn hooted and plopped his bottom back into the tub and turned on the water, squealing and back pedaling when cold water poured out of the tap and splashed him. 

“Halp!!! Halp me!!!” Jawn shrieked, losing his coordination as he panicked, unable to get out of the tub. 

Mycroft swiftly turned off the water and stared down his nose at the panting little doctor.

“Was co’d.” He wheezed, reaching up a hand in silent request to be helped up. 

Sadie:

“Yes, I gathered that.” Mycroft helped lift a sopping wet Jawn out of the tub and set him down on the bathmat. After taking the last dry towel and wrapping it around the naked, shivering little doctor, he turned to his younger brother; “Can you be a good lad and rinse your bath toys? In the sink?” he added quickly. 

Sherlock stood to the side, his own towels draped over his head and shoulders like a shroud while he sucked his thumb and watched. “Duck’th?”

“And Jawn’s net, yes,” Mycroft replied as he vigorously rubbed Jawn’s hair dry, along with a chorus of irritable squeaks and squawks coming from underneath the towel. “Good boy.”

Sherlock scooted by, careful not to get caught up in the melee’, and fetched both ducks from the bottom of the tub. “Bu’ tha’s Jawn’s net,” he said with a slight frown, and nudged it with his toe.

“I know it is.”

“He drop it.”

“Yes, I know he did,” Mycroft sighed…he knew where this was going already, having had the same circular argument many, many times over today. “But I’m asking you to pick it up, because you’re a very good helper, aren’t you?”

Sherlock stared down at the toy, weighing his options. “…I get a prize?”

‘Conniving little bastard.’ “We’ll see.”

“Hey!” Jawn shoved his way out from underneath his towel. “I was gonna–!”

Mycroft quickly covered him back up. “No more competitions tonight.”

“I rea’yee wan’ a prize,” Sherlock pouted, begrudgingly picking up Jawn’s net and all but throwing it into the sink. 

Christ, he was never getting out of this day alive. “Prizes didn’t go well earlier,remember?”

“I y’ost my car,” Jawn gasped and struggled to untangle himself from the towels. “My’coff! Car! I nee’ it.” A pinch to his bum caught his attention quickly.

“Your car is on the desk. You can have it once you are dressed and have cleaned up the kitchen.”

“Another prize, too?” Jawn scrubbed at him bum, trying to rub out the sting. Sherlock looked up hopefully, showing off the freshly rinsed bath toys.

“Only, and i do mean only, if the kitchen is spotless and i don’t hear a single peep of sass from either of you,” Mycroft looked down his nose at them. “Am i clear?” 

“Yes, My’coff.” The little boys echoed in unison. 

“Now get your bottoms into the nursery. You both need nappies before we have to add puddles to the list of things to clean.”

Sadie:

Jawn looked massively offended at the implication. “We don’ pee on the floor,” he said as Sherlock scurried around him to drop their bathtoys back in basket. “Tha’s gross!”

“I think you lost the privilege of calling anything ‘gross’ the moment you started cultivating a garden in your nappy.”

Jawn blushed beet red from his hairline down to his toes and scowled at Mycroft, then spun around as Sherlock started cackling. “Shut up!” Jawn shouted at his back as the naked detective dashed from the room and down the hall. “I’was funny!” Sherlock crowed back.

Jawn folded his arms and stood there, glaring at the empty doorway until Mycroft was sure that he saw steam rising from the little doctor’s wet hair. “Wasn’ funny,” he grumbled. 

Mycroft folded the last towel and hung it to dry. “…It was a little funny,” he countered.

“On’y ‘cause you said it!!!”

“There’s no need to shout.” Mycroft put his hand at Jawn’s back and got him walking out of the room, albeit begrudgingly. 

“He’s still y’aughin’,” Jawn grumbled as they got nearer to the nursery, where you could, indeed, still hear Sherlock’s devious giggling. 

“I’ll make him stop,” Mycroft promised…if only to avoid another blowout so soon. How on earth these two made it together this long without killing each other was a genuine mystery. 

“Jawn ge’d a nappy garden.” Sherlock crowed as Mycroft guided Jawn into the room.

“That’s enough Sherlock. Get yourself a nappy.”

“Bu’ you said a funny.”

“I did. But do you remember the conversation we had this morning about teasing?” Mycroft pulled two light weight sleepers out of their dresser. “You can always sit on the step as a reminder.”

Sherlock huffed and threw himself down on the bed. “You said it. I jus’ laugh.”

“And I regret it. My apologies, Jawn.”

The little doctor looked up from the nappy bin, “ ’s alrigh’.” He handed two nappies to Mycroft and crawled onto the bed beside Sherlock.

Sadie:

Mycroft took one and unfolded it. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock automatically lifted his hips off the bed, while still glaring at the ceiling. 

“Yes, that would have been my next request, very good.” Mycroft slid the garment underneath his little brother’s backside and Sherlock dropped like a rock, arms still crossed the entire time. “But I was going to ask…don’t you have something to say to Jawn?”

“Wha’d I say?”

“An apology for laughing at him, for starters.”

Sherlock’s head snapped up, and he gaped at his brother as his bits were powdered. “Bu’d it was funny!”

“It wasn’t nice. And that’s why I’ve apologized. You should, as well.”

Sherlock pouted and let his head fall back while beside him, Jawn silently gloated.

A sharp swat to the tender bit where his thigh met his bum made Sherlock yelp. “So’wwy! So’wwy, Jawn.”
“S’alrigh,” Jawn shrugged.
Mycroft shook his head and quickly did up Sherlock’s nappy. “Almost bedtime. Almooost.” He singsonged, ignoring Sherlock’s pout as he wrestled his long limbs into the sleeper, taking care to get the devilishly small snaps to line up.
“I dun’ y’ike dis one, My’coff. Ha’b diffren’ ones?”
“No. Pink is very fetching on you, matches your bum perfectly.” Mycroft quickly got Jawn nappied and dressed as well. “And anyways, you’ll be sleeping most of the time you’re wearing them.”
“I y’ike dis one,” Jawn patted the puppy on his chest.

Sadie:

“Good, I’m glad you do.” Mycroft herded both boys out of the nursery and down the hall, back into the kitchen. “See this mess?” he asked, gesturing to the trail of wet lettuce that Jawn had left, and the pinkish-tinged puddles of watered down tomato sauce from Sherlock’s ‘washing’ of the dishes (which were also still stacked haphazardly in the sink).”This is all going to be cleaned in the next–” Mycroft checked his watch; “–twenty minutes.”

Sherlock tucked his thumb in his mouth and stared at the mess, then looked down at Jaw, who turned to stare back up at him. Then, Jawn craned his neck to peer up at Mycroft. “Tha’s a y’ot,” he said.

“Not if we each do our share.” Mycroft strode over to the sink, where he procured two flannels from one of the nearby drawers. He turned on the tap, and dampened each one in turn. “You,” he said, handing one to his brother. “clean up any puddles and wipe down the countertops, and you,” he said, handing one to Jawn. “Clean up your trail.”

“Wha’d abou’d–?”

“I will take care of the dishes. Nineteen minutes left, darlings. Tic-toc.”