Anon requested Sherlock throwing a tantrum about not wanting his nappy changed. đ woot! Another anon requested more Sherlock in nappies in general. *giggle*
Why are all of my requests anonymous? Weâre all friendly here.
Sadie: *cracks knuckles* Alright letâs take a whack at this
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âOkay, yeah, justâjust wait right here, Iâll go get him. Yeah.â
Greg headed upstairs, treading lightly because heâs still used to creaking stairs even though these particular stairs are marble, not wood.
He hoped this was a good idea.
He eased the door to the bedroom open a sliver, and silently squeezed himself inside the darkened room.
He really hoped this was a good idea.
It had to be.
Leaving the door open a crack so he wouldnât bust his toes or crack his shins, Greg made his way over to the side of the bed closest to the door…which was usually *his* side, but not today.
He sat down on the edge and patted part of the great big lump of blanket next to him. âHey, lovey…â he said quietly. âNaptimeâs over.â
The lump stirred slightly, burrowing deeper into the rest of the blankets.
Greg gave the lump a firmer pat. âCâmon, itâs time to wake up,â he said, no longer whispering. He reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp, and the lump whinged.
âAh-ah, Mikey. Youâve slept a long time, and besides, weâve got–â Greg stopped mid-sentence and barked out a laugh when he looked down at the lump and saw a very grouchy Mycoft glaring back up at him from underneath a corner of blanket. âGood afternoon to you too, Sunshine,â Greg grinned.
Mycroftâs frown deepened. âNo.â
â âNoâ, what? No to getting up?â
Mycroftâs face disappeared. â…No. No Mikey.â
Ah. âIâm sorry, I forgot,â Greg said, and he meant it with all sincerity. When Mycroft had agreed to do this, to âgive it a tryâ, heâd laid out a short but thorough list of things (âLimitâs,â heâd said) that absolutely would not be happening during the…during the âtrying phaseâ, under the threat of celibacy until Gregâs cock âdried up and fell offâ, should any of those limits be breached.
Calling him âMikeyâ, as Greg had originally suggested, was on that list. Other names were fine-ish (as long as they werenât gag-worthy or meant for teasing), but Mikey was strictly not. It had been tough as nails to get Mycroft to finally agree to this, even after the list had been made and discussed, and Greg was determined not to fuck this up. âIâm very sorry,â he said again, and rubbed his hand up and down the pile of blankets. âIt wonât happen again.â
The lump shifted, but didnât pull away. Okay. that was good. Greg bent down and slowly lifted the corner of the blanket out of the way. â…Would it make it better if I said thereâs something downstairs for you?â
Mycroft peered at him from underneath the blankets, his only response was to blink.
Christ. Greg had never remembered just how much Myc favoured his brother until he did something like that. âYeah, itâs waiting on us downstairs,â he said, giving Mycroft a reassuring smile. âShould we go see?â
Finally, Mycroft nodded (Greg had noticed that in headspace, Mycroft was a man of even fewer words than he was as an adult…fewer as in, if he didnât have to speak, he wouldnât) and, after letting Greg pull back the blankets, sat up.
Gregâs smile broadened. Fluffy, sleep-mussed Mycroft with his hair sticking out all over was always a favorite of his, but the added layer of vulnerability that the baby-soft fleece pajama top that had been borrowed from Sherlockâs stash, with the image of a baby bear cradled sleepily in a smiling crescent moon was the topping on the adorable little cake.
And the matching blue cotton training pants (nappies had been the first thing on the list of âFuck Noâsâ), the icing. âHere,â Greg held out his hands. âToilet first, then weâll go see whatâs down there.â
Mycroft stared at him a moment as he sat there, considering Gregâs offer.
Greg held his breath while keeping the smile steady on his face.
…Please, let this be a good idea.
Mycroft finally held his hands out as well, letting Greg take them and help him stand up. The look on his face made it painfully obvious that he still wasnât fully comfortable.
Seeing this, Greg slowly wrapped one arm around Mycroftâs waist, giving him plenty of time to shake his head ânoâ or pull away if he wanted–which he didnât, thankfully…although he was watching Greg very closely–and pulled him into a warm hug.
âGood boy,â he murmured when he felt Mycroft gradually raise his arms to hug Greg back. He rubbed his hand up and down the lean manâs back, stopping at his bottom.
He felt Mycroft stiffen. âNo, shh…youâre a good boy,â Greg murmured, and began to pat his backside, confirming that yes, this is different and I know youâre scared but this is okay and I love you.
At the steady, continued patting, he felt Mycroft go slack in his arms. âYeah, there we go. Itâs okay,â Greg said, stepping back.
Mycroftâs cheeks were flushed a charming shade of pink that Greg thought suited him very well, especially when you considered his current get-up. Obviously, the bum-patting had worked; Mycroftâs headspace seemed a bit more reinforced, and the same softness that heâd so often watched slip into Sherlockâs eyes when he regressed was now taking the edge out of his loverâs.
Greg took his hand and gave it a squeeze, delighting when Mycroft squeezed his fingers back. âSuch a good boy,â he said again, taking a praising tone. âStaid dry all through your nap!â
Mycroftâs cheeks blushed darkly as Greg pulled him towards the bathroom, still heaping the praise for all it was worth (and with both Holmes brothers, that meant a lot); âLetâs keep that good luck going and use the toilet like a big boy, yeah? You did so well keeping dry, my clever little man. Iâm impressed.â
Mycroft just nodded as he shuffled along after Greg, still blushing at the praise and chewing at the knuckle of his thumb.
squeakpigsrevenge: They just put it on him, hence the blinking Trying to decide how soon to take it off
sadieandmo: “You can’t play in the snow if you don’t have your hat, muffin.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âBuâd I cân. I pâwomise.â
sadieandmo: “No.” “Bu’d I c’n! Wa’ss me!” “Uncle Greg said no.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âIâm bâery gooâ aâd pâyaying.â âBut not very good at listening.â
sadieandmo: “Ye’th I am.” “No you aren’t.” “Uh’huh.” “You’re not using your listening ears right now, little boy.” “You no’d, ei’ver.” “…‘Scuse you?” “G’eg no’d y’isten’a me.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âGentlemen!â Mycroft interrupts, âSherlock. You are not Allowed to play in snow without a hat on.â âBuuuuâd I haaaaaâd haâds!â
sadieandmo: “I’m sorry, but that’s the rule.” “Nooooooo, p’ease!” “Sherlock–” “Off, I wan’d i’d off!” “Sherlock, if you take one more step outside without your hat on you’re coming right back in for a spanking and a nap.” “My’cooooff, nooooo!”
squeakpigsrevenge: Greg stepped in and pulled the hat onto the babyâs head for a second time. âIf we see you take it off, itâs spanking then a nap. Understood.â âI unâersâand an I haaaaaaaâde i’d.â
sadieandmo: Sherlock doesn’t last a full two minutes before Mycroft is plucking his hat out of the snow and dragging him back into the house. “A spanking and a nap. Not the wisest of choices, but it was yours to make.” Sherlock’s already tearing up as he stumbles along in his snow boots after his brother. “Tha’ds no’d fair!” he grizzles. “You knew what would happen if–” “Bu’d, bu’d you an’, an’ G’eg don’d wear ha’ds!”
squeakpigsrevenge: âThis isnât about Gregory and I. This is about you.â It takes forever to get his snowsuit off cause heâs winding himself into a strop about being in the house.
sadieandmo: Sherlock’s just standing there, covering his eyes and howling while Mycroft tugs him every which way to get his suit off. “I haaaaaaa’de i’d!” he cries over and over. “Iiiiiii haaaaaaaaa’de iiiiiiii’d!” “And I hate doing this,” Mycroft grunts over a stubborn zipper. “I’d much rather let you play outside.” “I’ll y’eave i’d on, I’ll y’eave it on, p’eeeeeease!’
squeakpigsrevenge: âIf youâve learned you lesson, we can try again after nap.â âNooooo, Myâg. Pâeeeeeaaase. No naâb.â Mycroft finally gets the zipper down and the whole puff of scruffy fabric pools at the babyâs feet.
sadieandmo: Sherlock wails the most heartbroken wail ever wailed as Mycroft drapes him over one knee and pushes down the seat of his Peppa Pig thermals. Greg’s been watching the whole scene from the doorway, hand over his mouth to keep from grinning because while they had the most dramatic toddler on the planet in their hands, it was still fucking adorable. Mycroft rolls his eyes at him and starts to ruck Sherlock’s nappy down in the back…but second thoughts gave him pause. ..Plus, he just didn’t have to energy to remove one more inconvenient layer after wrestling a whole snowsuit off of a giant child.
squeakpigsrevenge: The first whap against his nappy startled him quiet. But by five he was bawling like heâd been skinned alive. âIf you canât listen then there will be consequences.â Greg was making faces at Mycroft for going soft.
sadieandmo: "I y’iten, I y’isten,” Sherlock blubbered over and over in between sobs that would have made one think he’d been getting paddle on the bare, rather than a few half-hearted swats over his nappy. Mycroft made it an even 10 before he sat Sherlock back up on his knee. “Now, you’re going to go take a nap before we try going outside again, and I don’t want to hear any fuss about it,” Mycroft said, wagging his finger in his baby brother’s face. Sherlock watched him balefully, with big, fat tears still rolling down his cheeks as he snuffled and hiccuped and hitched. “P’p’p’omi’the,” he snuffled. “Y’y’i’then.” “We’ll see.” Mycroft stood him up; “Go see Uncle Gregory and ask him nicely if he’ll make you a bottle,” he added, and sent Sherlock off with one last swat to his still exposed nappy. Sherlock toddled over to Greg, arms outstretched, still grizzling. “B’ba’ba, G’eg, ba’ba!”
squeakpigsrevenge: Awwwwww sadieandmo: lol, We’ll have to share this This is too fucking cute squeakpigsrevenge: Your bits! sadieandmo: Yours too! squeakpigsrevenge: Your butt! sadieandmo: Your face!
squeakpigsrevenge: Greg wrapped Sherlock in a hug, âDid mean ol’e Myc spank your bum?â Greg cooed, fighting back a laugh and the glower he got from âMycâ. âYeeeeaaaa. My buuuuuum.â âPoor thing, Poor thing. Greg will make you a bottle and weâll have a rest.â âI jusâ wanâ ouâside.â Mycroft had come up behind the baby and pulled his thermals back over his nappy, âAfter nap.â
sadieandmo: Sherlock’s face scrunched as Greg lifted him up onto his hip. “I ha’de i’d,” he cried as he laid his head on Greg’s shoulder and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I ha’de i’d.” “I know, muffin, and I’m sorry,” Greg patted his back while he carried him into the kitchen.“We just want you to stay warm while you’re out in the snow, so you don’t become a little baby’cicle.”
squeakpigsrevenge: âI dunâ wanâ be bayâbeeâsciâgle.â âThatâs why you need to wear your hat,â Greg kissed his cheek. âI haâde haaaaaâds.â âCan you sit here while I make your bottle?â âNoooooooo, my buuuuum huuuuurâds.â
sadieandmo: “What about your feet; do your feet hurt?” “Nuuuu.” “Okay, then let’s do this–” Greg said as he set Sherlock on his feet, “–just until we get your bottle warm. Can you bring me the milk?” Sherlock wrapped himself around Greg’s waist and hid his face, then shook his head ‘no’. “Aw, no?” Greg pet the baby’s hair. “No, you don’t want to be a helper this time?” Sherlock shook his head again. “That’s a shame, you’re always such a good helper. Can you tell me which bottle you want, then?”