Tag: Awwww

How would Mycroft end up babysitting to begin with? I feel like he’d want to interact with Sherlock when he’s small because it’d let them both be as affectionate as they want without their usual reservations. Jawn would be incredulous at best about My. At least at first.

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

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.

“No!” John stomped his foot for emphasis. “G’een in mines! Gimme it!” John made to grab the crayon but found himself being lifted and plopped on his bottom.

“Jawn has enough green crayons. If he needs the one that Sherlock is using, he can trade one of his other green crayons for it.” Mycroft said, hoping to head off a wobbler. Years of diplomatic work was no match for dealing with two whingy toddlers.

“Nonononono!” John’s heels thumping on the floor. “Is my g’een c’ayons!”

“What are you going to draw, Jawn?” Mycroft sat on the sofa and pulled a sheet of paper from the stack.

“A Hulk.” John sulked.

“My co’ders?” Sherlock nudged the crayon tub closer to his older brother, but keeping his green crayon cradled to his chest.

“We can put your pit’cher on our f’idge, too.” John kept his green crayons in his lap, fiddling with them, but his attention had turned back to the film, the final fight sequence playing on the screen.

“Perhaps. What should I draw?”

Sadie:

“Gol’fish,” Sherlock said, wrinkling his nose the same way he had earlier.

“That was cute exactly once,” Mycroft replied (although he could possibly be coerced into saying it was cute this time, too) and reached out to pinch the little detective’s cheek, making him squeal and fall to the side. “Besides, I thought that’s what you were drawing.”

“Uh-huh!” Sherlock sat up and dug into the pile of crayons again, swishing his hands around to make them rattle and clack against one another.

“That’s a bit unnecessary, lad.” Mycroft took his little brother’s wrist and held it still after noticing the annoyed look John had shot them. Seems that someone was still a mite touchy about missing a green crayon. “So, how do they calm the Hulk down after a fight? Does he stay green forever?” he asked, and picked out a brown crayon for himself, then a red one.

“Singin’” John mumbled, his eyes fixed on the screen.

“Music can be very soothing.” Mycroft began to sketch out his drawing. “Do they say what song?”

“No, jus a lullaby.”

Sherlock tugged on his brothers sleeve. “My’coff! This one is g’een! Hulk fish! Look, My’coff!” Sherlock wiggled in place, immensely pleased by the scribbled green fish on his paper.

“That’s lovely. Can you draw some more fish? They like to live in big groups called schools.”

“Sc’oo’s.” Sherlock nodded seriously as he began to draw more fish in neon orange.

“Do you know lots of songs?”

“Quite a few. Mummy doesn’t have much of a singing voice, but she loved to sing when we were small.”

“Ouch! My ears!” Sherlock giggled over his own joke, ignoring the pointed look Mycroft sent him.

“I only know a few. I keep trying to learn more a’cause it helps Sherlock sleep.

Sadie:

Mycroft smiled to himself. “It always did. I mostly hum, myself…Sherlock’s awfully lucky he has someone who can carry a tune now.”

John blushed and looked down at his page, where he’d barely done a few lines of colour, but it was obvious he was a very proud little man at that point. “Not that good,” he muttered, trying to pass it off as no big deal.

“Uh-HUH!” Sherlock protested. “I y’ike it when Jawn sing!”

“Well, if Sherlock said it, it must be true.” Mycroft finished the darker outline of his big, chocolate cake and started shading in the frosting, saving the big cherries on top for last; he knew both boys would get a kick out of it and would make cake-jokes for ages after, but he found that he didn’t mind the thought.

“Jawn sing now?”

John looked up, surprised, and saw Sherlock watching him from across the table with those big, bright eyes of his, orange crayon still poised above his picture. John glanced at Mycroft out of the corner of his eye and quickly shook his head; “No, not now.”

Sherlock’s face fell into one of genuine disappointment. “P’ease?! Jawn sing?!”

“Uh-uh.”

Sherlock’s bottom lip stuck out, and just when Mycroft thought he was in for another squall of a tantrum, his little brother surprised both of them by putting his green crayon on the table and pushing it over to John. “…P’ease?”

How would Mycroft end up babysitting to begin with? I feel like he’d want to interact with Sherlock when he’s small because it’d let them both be as affectionate as they want without their usual reservations. Jawn would be incredulous at best about My. At least at first.

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

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.

John puffed his chest at the insult. “You’re not being nice!”
“Indoor voices, Jawn, I won’t tell you again.”
John stood up on the bed, towering over Mycroft. “Stop smacking my baby! I won’t tell you again!” John pointed an accusing finger at Mycroft.
“I think we’ve just officially counted out ice cream, don’t you.” Mycroft said with a roll of his eyes. “Get down, before you fall down, Jawn.”
“You! You think you can tell everybody what to do! Tell ‘em what’s what, even if they know different.” John had started to pace the length of the bed, waving his hands emphatically.
“Jawn, you need to get down. I’m going to count to three…one.”
“Stop being mean!”
“Two…”

Sadie: Mycroft stood Sherlock up and moved him out of the way…he doubted John would stomp on him, accidentally or otherwise, but he wasn’t risking it. “Jawn, this is your last chance. Of course I’m going to tell you ‘what’s what’, I’m the adult. And I’m telling you to get your bum down before you get hurt.”
‘Whether it be on his north or south end,’ he added silently.

John was on a roll, however. “NO, you are not the boss!” He jumped on the bed to emphasize each word, his hands balled into fists.

Now it was Mycroft’s turn to glare at him. He had no choice; it was time to use the last resort, the ultimate weapon. He looked down at Sherlock, who was holding him tightly around the waist and hiding his face against his big brother’s arm. “You’re scaring the baby.”

John froze, mid jump, which caused him to land his squishy bum on the bed.
“He throws bigger wobblers than me.” John scoffed, trying to get back on his feet.
“Perhaps, but you throwing one is frightening him.” Mycroft gestured at Sherlock who was still huddled behind him.
“Sherlock?” John called softly.
Sherlock pecked around Mycroft’s arm, eyes wet, his lower lip wobbly.
“Don’t be scare.” John scooted his bum off the bed and stood awkwardly shuffling his feet. It was clear he wanted to hold the little detective but didn’t want to force it. “My’coff was being mean. I didn’t mean to be scary. I just wanted him to be gentler with you.”

Sadie: “No shouting,” Sherlock whimpered.

“No more shouting,” Mycroft repeated. “And Jawn’s not being very nice himself.”

John refused to look at the man. “You didn’t have to spank him again, is’all,” he mumbled.

“I very lightly swatted his bum to get his attention and keep him from squirming right off the bed.” Mycroft put his arm around Sherlock, letting his hand rest on hip and rubbing it. “Hurt your feelings more than it did your bum, didn’t it?” The little detective looked sheepish, but nodded.

“Still should’na done it.”

“Jawn, we had this discussion…I am the one in charge. You and Sherlock are only little. What exactly is it going to take for you to realize I’m not a bully?”

John scrunched his face in concentration, his thumb firmly wedged between teeth.

“I’m willing to bribe you, you know,” Mycroft said amicably, gently tugging john over and onto the bed while he was busy “thinking”.

John squinted at him in disbelief. 

“Will ice cream convince you?” Mycroft stripped John of his sodden nappy efficiently, causing the little doctor to squeak. John tried to wiggle out of Mycroft’s reach only to recieve the same swat on his bottom that Sherlock had recieved. “Settle down, Jawn.”

John stared at him with doe eyes. the swat hadn’t hurt, not really. But it was surprising and he could feel his own eyes watering.

“Not another one!”

Sadie: John blinked rapidly to clear his eyes; “I’m n-not,” he said,, his voice shaky.

“No, you’re still a tough little soldier, aren’t you?” Mycroft cleaned John up thoroughly, getting all the little nooks and crannies as he’d been well and truly soaked to the point of almost leaking.

“C-cap, Captain,” John corrected.

Mycroft had to chuckle. “Of course, Captain…my sincerest apologies.”

The little Captain went quiet for a moment; “…Did you mean it?”

Mycroft coated him down in a cloud of powder. “Mean what?”

“Ice cream?” John peered up at him hopefully…hopeful about getting his ice cream, and hopeful that he could pull off ‘cute’ the way Sherlock could to help him out.