Sadie: A section from a MUCH bigger rp (that we will be posting!) that Embie ( @squeakpigsrevenge) and I have been working on. This was just too good not to share!

~~~~~~~

Embie:
Mycroft took them into the
nursery and sat in the rocking chair, arranging Sherlock so he was
cradled on his lap. A pang of regret made him kiss the baby’s forehead
as he latched onto the bottle and took a tentative suckle. This isn’t
how he’d wanted them to end up in the rocking chair but…
“I think we’ve misplaced your bunny, again. We need to put a bell on him,” Mycroft teased as he set them to rocking.
Sherlock blinked wet eyes at him but kept quiet.
“Shall I tell you a story?" 

Sadie:
Again, Sherlock didn’t answer.
"There
once was a little boy,” Mycroft began in hushed tones, “that had a pet
bunny. And he loved his bunny very, very much, and his bunny loved him
just the same. But, the bunny…what do you imagine the bunny’s name
was? That’s part of the story that I can’t seem to remember.“
Sherlock mumbled around the bottle in his mouth.
"Ah,
yes, that’s right…Baxter, that was his name.” Mycroft wiped a dribble
of milk away from the corner of his little brother’s mouth. “Well,
Baxter was a curious bunny, and his favorite thing to do was to go
exploring. And his boy loved going with him, most of the time…but
unfortunately, Baxter could be forgetful, and he would often get lost
when wandering…”
“Y’o’ss?” Sherlock slurred, turning towards Mycroft and settling in the crook of his arm.
“Yes, he would wander too far without paying attention, and all of a sudden he would look up, and not know where he was.”

       

       
     

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

   “Oh’no,” Sherlock pouted, his brows knitting together in concern.
“I
know, it was very worrisome.” Mycroft patted Sherlock’s hip as he
slowly rocked them. “But luckily for Baxter, he had a very smart, clever
little boy that loved him…”

       

   

Embie:
“And do you know what his name was?”
“My’cobb.”
“No.”
“Maw’yee.”
“Silly goose. His name was Billy.”
Sherlock beamed behind his bottle, more milk dribbling.
“Billy
said to Baxter, ‘we need to keep you close little duck. I’m going to
connect us with this bit of string.’ And Baxter said?”
“C’ak, c’ak, c’ak.”
“Billy nodded sagely, ‘very true, it won’t just keep you close to me, but me to you as well.”
“C’ak!”
“Yes.
You’re very good at that,” Mycroft took the bottle from sherlock and
leaned him up, patting his back. “And so Billy and Baxter went to
adventure in the forest with a bit of red string tying them together.”

 

Sadie:
“Y’ed st’ing?”
“Yes, a red string.”
Sherlock squirmed against his brother. “Why’a st’ing,My’cobb?”
Mycroft kept patting. “So they wouldn’t get separated, of course.”
“I’d wor’g?”
“I haven’t reached the end of the story, now have I?”
The
continuous patting was starting to get on the baby’s nerves, when all
he wanted was to lie back and listen to the story about Billy and
Baxter, and he started to fuss. “Don’ y’ike i’d, Myyyy,” he whinged.
“I
know, but I don’t want your tummy to hurt later, and you don’t want
that, either.” Mycroft kept patting until, just as Sherlock was working
himself up, the tiny detective stopped still as his tummy gurgled and
burbled all the way up his throat and, as Mycroft watched, a small burp
puffed his cheeks out.
Sherlock sighed, and relaxed back against Mycroft’s shoulder.
“There, that’s all better, isn’t it.”

 
    

Embie:
“A’ be’dder,” Sherlock agreed, snuggling closer.
“Now, where was I?”
“Fores’.”
“Right. ‘I think we shall go to the pond and skip stones-”
“I y’ike d’at.”
Mycroft nodded and kept on with the story, “what do you think, Baxter?”
“C’ak, c’ak, c’ak.”
“’Of
course we can swim. It wouldn’t be a trip to the pond otherwise.’ Billy
and Baxter walked through the forest, stepping over stones and
mushrooms and the occasional peep toad, all the while staying very close
together.”
“A’cause st’ing?”
“Also because they are the best of friends.”
Sherlock nodded put his thumb in his mouth and kept listening.
“Billy and Baxter came to a clearing of wildflowers, every color of the rainbow swayed in the breeze." 

Sadie:
"E’ben la’bender?”
“Naturally.”
While Sherlock was somewhat on his side, facing him, Mycroft reached
over and began patting his bottom. “And what do you think Billy and
Baxter did when they saw all of those lovely flowers?”
Sherlock blinked up at Mycroft. “Wha’d?”
“They decided to stop and pick a big bunch of them, as many as they could carry, to take back home to Billy’s mummy.”
Sherlock grinned around his thumb. “F’ower’th.”
“Yes,
such pretty flowers, they couldn’t resist. So, they both sat down, and
while Baxter snipped the flowers with his teeth, Billy would gather them
in his hand. And then guess what happened??”
Sherlock gave a little gasp, and his eyes grew big. “Wha’d??”
“They heard a voice.”
“B’oi’the?”
“Yes!
They looked around to see who had spoken, when a tiny little fairy
slipped out of one of the flowers that Billy held. ‘Stop, stop!’ she
said. ‘You’re ruining my house!’”