sadieandmo: I have two ficlets and like, two more prompts asking for Sherlock helping take care of a tiny Jawn, but I kind of want to do one for the opposite 😛

squeakpigsrevenge: I’d read that!    

sadieandmo: lol, I’m trying to think of an idea that I could turn into a short, quick one.   

squeakpigsrevenge: 🤔🤔🤔   

squeakpigsrevenge: “Sher’yock ge’d y’ittler?”
Jawn stared at Sherlock as he watched the mobile with rapt attention.  

 sadieandmo: Awwww
                        That could TOTALLY work with what I was thinking, lol

(prompt by @squeakpigsrevenge who’s always willing to give a boost over that motherfucking writer’s block!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sher’yock ge’d y’ittler?”
Jawn stared at Sherlock as he watched the mobile with rapt attention. 

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” Greg grinned. He reached over the railing of the crib and gently pinched the baby’s cheek, and then laughed when he scrunched his neck and nudged his hand away. “Alright, alright, I’ll quit buggin’ y’ah…at least until I get a fresh nappy ready for that squishy bum of yours.”

Jawn, who was already standing on the step-stool Mycroft had placed beside the crib, went up onto his toes and hung onto the railing as he peered down at Sherlock. “You’re, um, you’re no’d ge’dding him, um, ou’d, ou’d ye’d?”

Before Greg could answer, Sherlock turned his head at the sound of Jawn’s voice and, once his gaze found him, turned on a beaming, award-winning smile and reached up to clasp at Jawn’s over-hanging fingers.

Jawn beamed back. “Hi!” he said, and let go of the rail to give Sherlock’s fingers a return squeeze.

Greg was so charmed, he thought he might puke. He had to turn away, or he was gonna do just that, and then he’d have to listen to Mycroft bitch about changing the sheets. “I’m getting him out, don’t you worry,” he said, and went to unlatch the sides of the crib. “Watch your fingers, monkey.”

Jawn let go and moved out of the way, while his still-captive friend sensed his impending freedom and sat up. “G’ah!”

“Always impatient, even when you can’t talk!” Greg booped the tip of the tyke’s nose with his finger, and made for the changing table across the room. “Just hold your horsees!”

Jawn was back on his little stool as soon as Greg cleared the way, eager to get back to his playmate…but instead of that warm, gooey smile, he found Sherlock sitting up on his knees, hands on the lowered rail, and sucking on his bottom lip as he pouted at Greg’s back.

“Aww, bay’bee…” Jawn patted Sherlock’s fingers. “You wan’d ou’d???”

Sherlock, still worrying at his bottom lip, looked at Jawn and nodded, padded bum wagging back and forth.

“Here, I c’n hel’b!!” Jawn stretched and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Greg had just unfolded one of the baby’s nappies and given it a quick fluff up, before turning back to the boys. “Alright, little man, now we’re ready-yyyyyyeeeeeee’suschrist,” he moaned as his heart dropped straight out of his body cavity.

Jawn had both arms cinched around Sherlock’s waist as he lifted him up and out of the crib, the footing on his stool precarious, at best. “I’ve go’d, I’ve go’d him, G’eg!” he said cheerfully, even if a bit strained under the other man’s weight. “I bring him!”

“Dooooooooooooooon’t!” Greg lurched across the room in (what felt to him, at least) slow motion, arms outstretched…and caught the both of them in the split-second right before Jawn’s foot lifted off the wobbling stool and sent them both crashing to the floor in a scene that would have surely been his fault for ‘not watching them!’ “Hey!” He gave a short, forced laugh as he scooped Sherlock up into his own arms while Jawn regained his balance. “Hey, hey, hey! I said hold your horses, didn’t I??!!? Last time I checked, horses didn’t have curly hair and wear nappies!?!”

Jawn tottered for a moment and Greg’s heart threatened to spontaneously combust–but with the help of Greg’s elbow, he had both feet back on his stool and was just as chipper as ever. “See, G’eg??!” he jabbered. “I go’d him ou’d!”

“Yeah,” Greg sighed…he was still trying to get his heart’s rhythm sorted out right again. “Yeah, you did, monkey. Good job. Can you, um, can you do Greg a really-really-really big favour next time, and let me do it? And can you step down off’a that thing now? Yeah, there’s a good boy, thank you.” He checked on the one that he now had balanced on his hip; Sherlock was no worse for the wear, and was watching Jawn with big, bright eyes—all the while still sucking on that bottom lip of his.

“You do i’d nex’ time?” Jawn asked as he hopped off of his stool.

“Yep, I like being the one to carry him,” Greg said, and proceeded to carry the baby to the changing table, with Jawn right at his elbow.

“You do??!!
Y’ike carry a bay’bee??!

” Jawn asked, and grabbed Sherlock’s bare foot…which promptly made Sherlock squeal, very loudly, in Greg’s ear.

“Yep,” Greg said dryly, and plopped Sherlock’s bum on top of the table.

“I sure do.”