Please consider: Sherlock spending some quiet time with his baby, maybe feeding him or cradling him as he falls asleep and whispering sweet nothings to the Little one (and maybe… Uses baby talk to talk to Jawn? ’tis my weakness.) Thank u for your consideration.

inchedSadie: This one really spoke to me; I hope you enjoy it, anon. 🙂

“Where’s Daddy’ little Monkey?”

Jawn looked around his blanketed space on the floor…he looked to his left, then to his right, then tilted his head back to look behind him, nearly toppling over before looking back at Sherlock with wide, attentive eyes, and shrugging.

“Wheeeerrrrreeeee’s Daddy’s Monkey?” Sherlock, who had been sitting opposite of him on the other side of the blanket, got up onto all fours. “Wheeeeerrrrreeee’s Daddy’s Monkey?!” he asked again and started to sloooooooooowly crawl across the floor to Jawn, pausing every so often like a lion stalking it’s prey.

Jawn, wearing nothing but a nappy and a smile, caught onto the game quickly and grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and grabbed the corner of the blanket up in his fist. The closer Sherlock came, the closer he pulled it to his face, hiding behind it.

“Wheeerrrrrreeeee’s Daddy’s Mon–” Sherlock was suddenly cut short when a soft, jangly infant’s block sailed across the room and bonked him on the nose. “Jawn. No-no.”

Jawn only giggled and pulled the blanket completely over his head.

Sherlock smirked and inched closer, and closer, and closer…until he was nose-to-blanket-covered-nose. “Wheeeeerrrrreeee’s Daddy’s teeny, tiny Monkey,” he sang again, barely above a whisper.

The lump underneath the blanket giggled and shrank down.

Sherlock slowly, slowly reached up, and…

….grabbed! the blanket, yanking it off of Jawn’s head. “THERE’S Daddy Monkey!!!”

Jawn squealed and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck; “Me, me, me!”

Sherlock laughed and sat back on his heels, bringing Jawn with him. “You, you, you!” he said in between noisy kisses all over each of Jawn’s cheeks and forehead before leaning back, so he could see his cheery little face. “Wait a moment…who’s Monkey are you again?”

Jawn wrinkled his nose, as if to say ‘who do you think you’re kidding?’ “Da’,” he said, tilting his head up for another kiss.

Sherlock chuckled, low and warm and deep, as a slow smile spread upon his lips. “You’re brilliant,” he said, and kissed the tip of Jawn’s nose.

Jawn grinned, the tip of his tongue poking between his teeth. “Da’,” he repeated, and giggled when Sherlock kissed him again. “Da’.”

Another kiss, this time on his chin.

Ah…there was a pattern! “Da’…Da’-Da’-Da’-Da’-Da’!”

Sherlock laughed out loud and kissed Jawn over and over, until Jawn was giggling and squealing too hard to babble his name anymore.

“Daddy’s loves his silly Monkey.”

“Da’.”

Ummm… Aunt Irene breastfeeding a tiny Sherlock???? >.<

Sadie: I need more prompts like this tbh

“Oh, pet,” the woman cooed down at the overgrown infant in her lap. “What’s made you so fussy today, hm.”

Irene tried the bottle again, but the moment it touched Sherlock’s lips he whinged and turned his head away, sending droplets of milk spraying across his cheek.

“You don’t want it?” She gently wiped them away with the pad of her thumb. “You cried, I changed you…then you cried again, so I put you down with all of your toys…you weren’t happy with that either, so I’ve got you in my lap with a nice, warm bottle, and you’re still not happy. What is Auntie doing wrong, dearest?”

Sherlock whimpered and pouted up at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Irene smiled. “Yes, yes, I know, such a sad little baby you are,” she tutted, tapping her finger against his lips. “But I still don’t know what you’re after, pet.”

Irene didn’t expect him to answer. She hadn’t gotten more than a squeak or a squawk out of him all day, and while it had been a welcome change at first, it did present her with a new sort of challenge.

She also didn’t expect him to latch onto her fingertip, and start suckling.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted into a small ‘o’ of surprise. “Oh,” she gasped. “So that’s what you’re after.”

Irene took one of the small pillows beside her on the couch and placed it behind his head, letting him lie back while she undid the buttons along the front of her blouse.

Sherlock watched with a wide-eyed, infantine gaze as she opened her top and reached into the cup of her bra, pushing it down to expose her breast. Then, she used her arm to replace the pillow and cradled the baby detective’s head, drawing him to her.

She gave another small gasp as she felt him latch on, and felt the pull of his tongue against her nipple. “Sorry, sweetheart…Auntie wasn’t expecting this part of the service. You won’t be getting anything this time.”

Sherlock only closed his eyes and nuzzled her breast with his nose, giving a quiet hum of satisfaction.

Irene stroked the hollow of his cheek with her finger, watching the motion of his lips and jaw.

“…I suppose that could change, with enough time and patience.”

To the ‘sexually-explicit’ anon

Sadie: lol, This is a sex-positive blog, so your prompt isn’t gross or out of place here. :p But did you mean you wanted sex with the ageplay angle, or without?

Update: Perfect! Can-do!

Prompt!!!! Today (Jan 6th) is Sherlock’s birthday!!!! How do they celebrate??? ^_^

Sadie:

“You know, you could’a been little, too,” Greg said, licking a smear of yellow frosting off the side of his hand.

John shook his head. “Nah, it’s his day…I like being Daddy on his day.” He picked up and placed another tiny fondant bee on top of one cupcake, and delicately pressed it into the icing without disturbing the shape.

“How did we get roped into this task, by the way?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve never even cracked an egg into a bowl before, and here I am piping icing for two dozen cupcakes.”

“Because the baby asked for cupcakes, and you love the baby.” John stepped back to stretch the crick out of his neck after being hunched over, and looked down at the rows of tiny, pastel-yellow cakes that lines the counter. “And not a bad effort. Where’d the bees come from?”

“Mycroft.”

“Mycroft made them?”

“Yeah. Was up until 2 this morning and made loads.”

“Where’d he learn how to do that?”

“He found Pinterest.”

“Seriously? Not bad.” John picked up one of the cupcakes nearest him and held it up. “Like, professional level. Maybe he should do this for a living.”

“GOD, no. He was a demon. You should see the ones he threw away because they didn’t turn out right.”

“Jesus.”

“It was a black and yellow massacre.”

“They are cute, though. Almost a shame that they’re gonna be eat–oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Sherlock won’t eat them.”

“What? But that’s what he asked for–”

“The bees. They have faces. He won’t eat them. He’d feel too bad.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Greg stared at him for a moment before looking down at the rows of cupcakes. “Oh, shit.”

Are you still doing prompts? If so could I please request little Sherlock and Jawn playing in the rain?

Sadie:

Mycroft stood in the back doorway of his home, overlooking the yard and watching as a pair of rough-and-tumble boys ran and squealed and jumped and splashed through the puddles made by the warm, steady rain.

Greg walked up behind him, and handed him a steaming mug. “Well, the hats were pointless,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his own.

Mycroft smirked. “Tends to happen when you stare directly up into the rain.”

“They’re going to be sicker’n dogs, Myc. And smell like them, too.”

“That’s a myth.”

“What? Wet dogs don’t smell?”

“Getting sick from the rain, you berk.”

“Oh. Really? Happened to me when I was a lad.”

“Then you had already been in contact with the virus. It wasn’t the rain.”

Greg grunted, then laughed out loud as a loud squeal and a chorus of “NO NO NO NO JAWN NO!” cut across the yard. “…Annnd there go the hats.”

“They were pointless, anyway–DO NOT THROW THE MUD, JAWN HAMISH!”

“That was a good shot, though, for a handful of muck.”

“It was. Don’t encourage it.”

“At least Sherlock didn’t have his mouth open. And there go the coats.”

“Should make for a cozy naptime. Did you get their blankets?”

“Every blanket in the house is accounted for and ready. The whole sitting room is one big squishy nest.”

“Lovely.”

There was another loud scuffle and a big shout of “GER’OFF ME!”, and the two mens’ attention shot back to the boys.

Greg was doubled over in loud, ugly laughter as Mycroft stepped forward and clapped his hands sharply; “Sherlock–Sherlock, NO-NO! Get off of him! Put that down!”

“Wh-what, what is that?!” Greg stuttered in bewteen belly laughs.

“That’s a worm. SHERLOCK, drop it!…NO, NOT ON HIM!”

Greg slumped down against the doorframe, clutching his belly and shaking. “O-oh, oh m-my God,” he wheezed.

“Stop laughing,” Mycroft said, though his own lips were twitching in an effort not to smile. “Don’t encourage this.”

A loud “EW, NO!” interrupted them.

“SHERLOCK!”

To the anon from Florida

Sadie: I received your prompt and while it’s a cute idea overall, I think that using a natural disaster or other tragedies of that like (ex. someone dying) as a plot point while said disaster is currently going on is a bit in poor taste to me.

That being said, once the hurricane is over and you’d still like your prompt filled, I’d be more than happy to do so!

Stay safe, anon, and to any other followers in the path of Hurricane Matthew, please, please, please stay safe and if you haven’t (or can’t, due to circumstances) evacuated, make sure you’ve got your emergency supplies ready!