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 gave him a beatific grin, the sauce on his eyelashes smudging against his cheeks. “I can have more, My’coff?” Jawn held his empty plate for Mycroft to see.
“Perhaps you should have eaten what you were given instead of turning yourself into a walking tomato.” Though, Mycroft noted, there wasn’t a piece of pasta in sight.
“‘Mato?” Jawn stared at his arm critically before licking some of the sauce off. “I’m a’licious!”
“My’coff? More?” Sherlock held his mouth open.
“Yes, alright.” Mycroft scooped a bite into his baby brother mouth before getting up to refill Jawn’s plate, holding it in front of himself with only two fingers.
“Jawn ate his salad as well?”
Jawn frowned down at the drawing he was making in the sauce on his shirt. “I eated the carrots. Y’abbits y’ike it.”
“What happened to the lettuce?”Sadie:
Jawn turned in his seat to face Mycroft (further smearing red sauce all over the back of the chair…well, that was something that they were going to have to take care of while they were big, not him. Babysitter, begrudgingly…housekeeper, no) and peered up at him as he shrugged innocently.
“I saw!” Sherlock sat up on his knees and leaned over the table, eager to tell his brother what–
“Ah-ah, I was asking Jawn. You sit and eat.”
The excitement wilted from the little detective’s face and he sat back down, pouting over his plate…it wasn’t the same when Mycroft didn’t do it.
Mycroft turned his attention back to the matter at hand…the sauce-covered matter that looked as if he were starting to gum up already. “What happened to the lettuce, Jawn?”
Jawn blinked up at him, but the angelic affect he was hoping to achieve wasn’t quite as effective when he was coated in rapidly drying tomato paste.
“Jawn. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Jawn lifted his hand and started to suck his fingers. “Ummm,” he hummed, “…y’abbits eated?”
“The rabbits.”
“Y’ah!”
“The rabbits on your bib.”
“Uh-huh!”
“They ate it.”
Jawn nodded quickly.
“…I find that hard to believe, little boy.”
“I know where it is.” Sherlock grumbled.
“y’abbits.” John scowled at him.
“Nu’uuh.”
“That’s enough.” Mycroft put Jawn’s plate down in front of him. “I also know where it is, but i’d prefer to finish my dinner before I deal with it.”
“Not y’abbits?”
Mycroft sat down and put another bite of pasta into his mouth, an eyebrow cocked at the little doctor.
“Finish your supper, boys. Then it’s bath time.” Mycroft held a bite up to Sherlock’s lip
“I y’ike baffs!” Jawn crowed, a piece of pasta flying out of his mouth and onto the table. Another thing for them to clean up later.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full please.”
“Sowwy!”
Sherlock turned his mouth away from the bite of salad Mycroft held to his mouth. “Jawn din’ hafa’ eat veg’ables!”
Sadie:
“He did eat his carrots, and I know for a fact that you like your greens!”
“Do n’yot!”
“Yes, you do.”
“Don’ wan’em!” Sherlock whined, turning his full body away in his seat.
Of course, after the day they’d had (especially after the day they’d had),Mycroft could have threatened his little brother again. He could have swatted him again. He could have raised his voice again.
But Mycroft did none of these things.
“Yes, you do,” he repeated, his voice soft, coaxing. “You do because you’re a good boy, aren’t you…yes, you are.”
Sherlock slowly turned back, eyes big and wide..and ah, yes, there it was! The dazed, dreamy look was misting them over again. “Am?” he asked.
“Yes, you are,” Mycroft cooed at him, smiling as he held the forkful of greens out as an offering. “You’re a good lad, and you want to keep being good for Mycroft, don’t you? Just a bite, for me? Please?”
Sherlock opened his mouth obediently taking offered bite of salad.
“There’s my good boy. Doing such a good job eating his dinner.”
Sherlock ducked his head and looked up at Mycroft through his lashes before accepting another bite of salad.
“I’m good, too. I eated alla dinners, too.” Jawn’s short sauce covered fingers tugged on Mycroft’s wrist. “I can eat lettuces, too, My’coff.” Jawn held his mouth open for a bite of salad. Perfect. They were both tiny and eager to please. Hopefully they stayed that way.
“Yes, Jawn finished his dinner very well.” Mycroft cooed, scooping a bite of salad into Jawn’s mouth. The little Doctor grimaced a bit but dutifully chewed and swallowed. Mycroft helped himself to one last bite, he’d make the driver stop for take away on the way home.
“Is everyone full? Good. Put your plates and silverware into the sink please.”
Mycroft watched as a shard of lettuce wiggled its way out the leg of Jawn’s romper.
“It’s most certainly time for a bath.”
Sadie:
“But I taked one aw’ready,” Sherlock said as he placed his dishes in the sink and turned the faucet on them.
Mycroft wiped the set of saucy fingerprints from his wrist. “ ‘Took’ one, and no, you did not. Sitting in a tub of water and cups does not count as a full bath.”
Jawn reached down to flick the lettuce away; “…Y’abbit spit up,” he said sheepishly, when he saw Mycroft watching.
Mycroft curled his lip and looked away; that was an image he could have lived without for the rest of his life. Almost as bad as the worms. “Just put your plate in the sink, lad, and try not to touch anything else.”
“I go starts water?” Sherlock asked, and was off like a shot before Mycroft could finish telling him ‘Yes, you may.’ “But no bubbles! Don’t add a thing until I get there!” he added quickly, resulting in a loud “AW!” in protest.
Mycroft turned back to Jawn, who while had listened and placed his dishes in the sink, was now playing in the faucet that Sherlock had left running. The little doctor laughed and clapped his hands in the running water, leaving red-tinged droplets and puddles all over the counter.
“You’re a right mess, aren’t you?” Mycroft said as he leaned over and turned it off.
Jawn giggled and reached up with his wet, grungy hands, waiting to be picked. up.
“Oh, no…certainly not. Not in these clothes.”
Jawn whinged, his grotty little fingers clenching the air.
“Aren’t you going to help Sherlock fill the tub?” Mycroft asked, taking a nearly imperceptible step back from the filthy little burgler.
“I can help!” Jawn turned on his heal and raced out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of soggy lettuce in his wake.
Mycroft stood frozen for a moment, repulsed. “I am not picking that up.” He told himself. “Though it would be me who steps in it later.” He grumbled with an eye roll. Using the broom beside the fridge he swept the bits away from the main walkway, following the trail to the bathroom.
“JAWN! THAS BAD! My’coff gunna be mad a’ you!” Sherlock shouted. The accompanying giggle didn’t bode well.
Mycroft left the broom in the hallway and poked his head into the bathroom. Jawn was sitting in the half full tub, struggling to get his romper off. Lettuce floated on top of the water. Christ how much salad had he put on Jawn’s plate!
My
Sadie:
Mycroft heaved a huge sigh..thank God, this would be the last big step before their bedtime, and there would finally be some peace around here. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, and went to fetch Jawn out of the bath. “How is this helping, exactly?” he grunted as he lifted the giant, soaking wet toddler out of the water at arms’ length.
Jawn only laughed hysterically, until he snorted. “I y’ike ba’ffs!” he said again, and threw his leg back over the side as soon as Mycroft set him on his feet.
“NO,” Mycroft said firmly, and pulled him back. “What is it with you both and climbing in fully clothed?!” He unsnapped the dripping, stained onesie (another chore for Ms. Hudson; they seemed to keep piling up…she must really care for them if she hadn’t booted them into the street by now), and tugged it over Jawn’s head, the smaller man squawking and fussing the entire time until his head popped free.
Sherlock, who was now on his knees next to the tub, swirling the soggy lettuce leaves in the water, giggled. “Jawn na-key!” he sang.
“AM NOT!” Jawn shouted, kicking a foot out at the little detective and thankfully missing him by a mile.
“Not yet, he’s not.” Mycroft swatted a bare, wet leg, causing a yelp, then tore both sides of Jawn’s nappy open and let it drop to the floor. “Oh, God,” he groaned, looking away.
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