More RP workings with Embie

Sadie: How our train of thought goes, @squeakpigsrevenge:

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sadieandmo: lol, Sherlock is so orally fixated. 😛

squeakpigsrevenge: Yup. Dummies are a god send. It keeps pens, glasses, fingers, cigarettes, and all manor of other things out of his mouth.

sadieandmo: That’s why they have so many at both homes. Nothing quiets Sherlock down faster than a dummy or a warm bottle.

squeakpigsrevenge: Though in a pinch his thumb will do. Though John prefers not. He has lovely teeth. It would be a shame if they were ruined.

sadieandmo: Though when he does get in the mood, he prefers dummies. He’s also a chewer.

squeakpigsrevenge: He blames Jawn for all the dummies with holes in the nipples but that’s only half true

sadieandmo: That’s nothing he’d ever admit, though…mostly because he’s never aware he’s doing it until the damage is done.

squeakpigsrevenge: They buy several teething dummies, and that works for a while. Until Sherlock chokes on a bit he chewed off.

sadieandmo: Thankfully, it hadn’t been large enough to completely cut off his airway….it just got caught in his throat and made him cough until he eventually got it up. Still, he was wrecked for the rest of the day.

squeakpigsrevenge: They had pa’scicles cause Sherlock’s throat hurt.

sadieandmo:

John was furious. “They make these things for kids, for christ’sakes!” he shouts as he tosses the ruined dummy out.

“Most children aren’t chewing them with a full set of teeth,” Mycroft calmly points out, bouncing Sherlock in his lap.

squeakpigsrevenge:

“Still. I’m going to send them an email.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. Dramatics as usual at 221B.

sadieandmo:

Mycroft thinks about asking what John thinks he’s going to say in this email; that his 40 year old baby nearly strangled on their product that was not specifically intended for him?

But he doesn’t, not with said baby in the room and John already shouting. “We’ll just have to watch him using his dummies more closely,” he says, looking down at him. “Perhaps look into other forms of teething rings.”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“We could try those rubber dog biscuits.” Greg offers, not looking up from his paper.

John looks made enough to spit.

“Bis’sits!” Sherlock claps his hands.

sadieandmo:

“See? Makes’im happy.” Greg reaches over with one hand and pinches Sherlock’s cheek, making him squeal.

“He’s not getting a dog toy.”

“Why not? They’re basically the same as baby toys…they’re furry and they squeak.”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“Bis’sit?” Sherlock held up his hands, waiting for his treat.

“He wouldn’t be able to chew it to bits.” Mycroft shrugged, pulling Sherlock’s hands down and covering them with kisses.

“Your both seriously suggesting…”

sadieandmo:

“Who else would care?” Greg folded his paper down and shrugged. “It’s not like it’d be a used one or anythin’.”

“It’s. A. Dog. Toy.”

“How about we let Sherlock decide.” Greg turns to Sherlock, who’s still sitting in Mycroft’s lap and giggling at his brother. “ ‘ey, Sherlock, would you care if you got a new dog toy this afternoon?”

“Greg!..”

Sherlock turned to him, his eyes wide. “Puppy?”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“Yep, a toy for a puppy.”

Sherlock turned wide eyes to John, “puppy, Da’yee?”

“No, love, we cannot have a puppy.”

“Puppy, My’coff?” Sherlock pulled out his best puppy dog eyes, wobbly lip and all.

“We’re talking about a toy to chew on. Not a new pet.”

“A boy needs a dog.”

“Puppy?”

“You wanna take care of it?!?!”

sadieandmo:

“I wouldn’t mind, actually. We’ve already got two part-time gremlins that live here; a third can’t hurt.” Greg gave John a look and snapped his paper back up.

“Gregory…”

“Yes, love?”

“Don’t be incendiary.”

Sherlock took turns looking between all three men while chewing on a finger. “…Pu’bby?”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“You already have a puppy. Where is Gladstone?”

“G’ads’one?” Sherlock looked around the table for his puppy but shrugged at John. “Puppy?”

“Great. Thank you, Greg,” John huffed, pointing a finger at him, “You are dealing with this strop.”

“I’ll deal with it by getting him a p-u-p-p-y.”

sadieandmo:

“The hell you will.”

“The hell I will.”

“It can live at your house, then!“

"Fine!”

Mycroft covers Sherlock’s ears. “The bloody hell it will! Gregory!”

Greg heaves a sigh and puts his paper aside…he wasn’t going to get to finish it that day. “I don’t see what the bloody deal about getting a smart-sized dog! It’d be good for both of them!”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“We already change nappies! If you think I’m cleaning up dog mess…”

“PUPPY?” Sherlock near shouted. He couldn’t hear anything with My’coff’s huge hands on his ears.

“You change far fewer nappies than I do, dearest.” Greg gave Mycroft an insincere smoochy face. “I imagine I’d be responsible for this bit as well.”

Mycroft’s indignant face was almost worth the real fight that would happen later.

sadieandmo:

“I change plenty of nappies.”

“Such as the time Sherlock caught that stomach bug that had him firin’ from both ends, and you were nowhere to be seen for two days?”

Mycroft scoffed. “I couldn’t afford to get sick then..”

“Still. Honestly, we could make a dog happen…between the three of us working on a regular basis, Sherlock’s here by himself most of the week, ‘cept for weekends.”

“And that’s supposed to be a plus for your side of the argument?”

“Come off it, you told me he was great with his dog, and that was back when he really was a kid!”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“He’d experiment on it,” John frowned, “Hell, he experiments on us.”

“If he experiments on the dog, we wallop his behind.”

Mycroft and John stared at each other before looking at the baby.

Sherlock, who’d given up, was leaning against Mycroft’s chest, sucking his fingers, Mycroft’s hands still covering his ears.

“Nana is going to be pissed off.”

“He could share his rubber biscuits.” Greg smirked.

sadieandmo:

“Greg I’m gonna kick your arse.”

“Don’t make me wash your mouth out.”

John glares at him, then leans against the kitchen counter and hangs his head. “I can’t believe it. It started with dummies.”

Greg beamed and stood proudly, victorious. “D’yah hear that, Sherlock? You get a…!” Greg looks down and stops, the nudges Mycroft. “Uncover his ears already!”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“You’ve tricked us. This wasn’t as spur of the moment as it seems.” Mycroft glared at him, slowly moving his hands from Sherlock’s shoulders to his hips. “I’ll get you.”

“And my little dog, too?”

“Puppy?”

“Yep.” Greg clapped and rubbed his hands together. “I met a guy a few weeks ago. His puppies will be old enough to adopt any day now.”

“Puppy?!!!!” Sherlock bolted out of Mycroft’s lap.

sadieandmo:

John and Mycroft shared a look as Greg practically swept Sherlock up off his feet.

“ ‘Met a guy’, hm? Mycroft drawled.

"Knew ‘im from work; he trains the sniffer dogs.”

“The sniffer-!?” John gapes at him. “You’re talking about a BLOODHOUND?! What happened to a smart-sized dog?”

“Nah,” Greg scoffed, and would have waved John away if he hadn’t had both hands under Sherlock’s bum.“One of his studs got loose and got his neighbor’s dog knocked up. The pups’ll get no bigger than a cocker spaniel.”

“Pu’bby, Da’yee!” Sherlock twisted in Greg’s arms and gave John a stunningly happy smile. “I ge’d a pu’bby!” he said again, his eyes shiny.

squeakpigsrevenge:

John deflated. Who in hell could say no to that. “Yea. Looks like.”

“This is a horrendous idea.” Mycroft told no one in particular.

“You can even pick which one you want.”

“Pi’ pu’bby?” Sherlock brought his hands to Greg’s cheeks, gently touching.

“Yes. You get to pick which puppy should join our family.”

“Three piddle monsters, destroying my rugs and keeping me from a good nights sleep.”

“Mycroft you’re talking to yourself, love.” Greg said, dropping the baby into his lap.

sadieandmo:

“But you’ve GOT to take care of him, Sherlock,” John interjected. “You’re going to be responsible for him.”

Sherlock turned to look at John, nodding quickly. “Y’ah, y’ah! P’omise! My bay-bee!” He turned back to Greg, babbling happily.

“That means no experimenting on it.”

Sherlock stopped, then whipped around again, looking highly offended. “I wouldn’!!!!”

John cocked his eyebrow at him. “I thought the same thing about me.”

“Bu’ you big! Pu’bby isn’!”

squeakpigsrevenge:

John rolled his eyes. “Great. Good. Thanks.”

“Go ge’ bay-bee righ’ now?” Sherlock asked. John was a grumpy daddy and Sherlock took it in stride.

“Unfortunately you’ll have to be big to meet the puppies.”

“Big?”

“Yes. When we go to Steven’s house to see the puppies you’ll have to be big…biggish at least.”

“Why aren’t you using this as an opportunity to extort good behavior for years to come?” Mycroft asked John.

“Cause it’s not as if I can withhold a dog as punishment.”

sadieandmo:

“Well…”

“No.” Greg gave Mycroft a strong look.

Mycroft shrugged. “Merely a suggestion.”

“The punishments we have work well enough as is.” Greg turned back to Sherlock, who was back to chewing on his finger and looking worried. “Mycroft was just teasin’, love…no one’s gonna take away your puppy once you’ve got ‘im.”

“…Rea’yee?” Sherlock asked in a tiny voice.

“Really. Once he’s yours, he’s yours.”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“I f’ink is a girl pu’bby.”

“She will be all yours then.” Greg gave him a squeeze, giving Mycroft the evil eye over Sherlock’s head.

“When ge’ bay-bee? G’eg? When?”

“Let me call and see what time works for Steven.”

“Stee’ben gi’b me pu’bby?”

“Yep.”

“Jawn ge’ pu’bby, too?”

sadieandmo:

“One. We’re getting one puppy.”

“Well, at least he thought about me,” John said as he came around the counter. “Come on, big boy, you need a change.”

“I do?” Sherlock looked down at his lap.

“Yeah, you do,” John took Sherlock hands and helped him off Greg’s lap. “And I was gonna give you a hug, but if you don’t want one…”

                                            

***

TBC

How would Mycroft end up babysitting to begin with? I feel like he’d want to interact with Sherlock when he’s small because it’d let them both be as affectionate as they want without their usual reservations. Jawn would be incredulous at best about My. At least at first.

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

squeakpigsrevenge:

sadieandmo:

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 huffed and tried to wiggle away as Mycroft rubbed a dollop of shampoo into his short hair. “No, My’coff! Gotta cons’trate!”

Sherlock shushed him before Mycroft had a chance. He adjusted the position his duck and then let it fly. It arced through the air and then banged against the counter before hitting the ground.

“Ohhh,” Sherlock whinged, putting his chin on the edge of the tub while he gave his duck stink eye.
“My turn, my turn! My’coff, off p’ease!” Jawn tipped his soapy head out reach. “I dun’ wanna clean a’ kitchen!”

Mycroft sat back on his haunches, “quickly then. Your aim will be even worse if there is soap in your eyes.”

Jawn aimed his duck, glancing between it and the sink repeatedly, the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Jawn’s duck splashed out of the tub, bouncing off the faucet and flying most of the way back to the tub.

“That was very close. Sherlock’s turn.” Mycroft tossed the ducks back into the tub and filled a cup. “Let’s rinse you off.”

Sadie:

“Bu’ I win!” Jawn declared, with a loud, resounding “NUH-UH!” from Sherlock.

“No, you don’t. Tilt your head back.”

“Do so!” Jawn insisted, even as Mycroft reached under his chin and made him tilt his head back, anyway. 

“It didn’t land in the sink.” Mycroft slowly poured water over Jawn’s hair while gently working the shampoo out with his fingers.

“It touched the sink!”

“But it didn’t land in the sink, which is the goal.”

“Ha-ha,” Sherlock sang as he pushed his duck underwater, and began to ready it.

“No comments from the peanut gallery are necessary.”

Jawn crossed his arms and gave Mycroft an upside down glare that could rival the detective’s when he was in full sulk-mode. “Wipe that look off your face…wait, I can do that for you,” he said, and proceeded wipe one of his wet hands over Jawn’s face, then smirked as he sputtered.

“Shhh. I’m ‘bout to win.” Sherlock smirked as his duck flew out of the tub. The duck captain splatted against the mirror, bouncing off the counter and onto the floor.
“Ha!” John stuck his tongue out at the little detective. “You not gunna win, I am.”
Sherlock pouted and squawked as a cup of water doused his curls. “Nooooooo, My’coff. Dun y’ike it.”
“No, you never have enjoyed this bit.” Mycroft dumped a dollop of shampoo on his head and ignored his sulking.
“Sher’yock gotsta c’ean kitchen tonight?” Jawn asked, his duck arcing through the air and landing in the sink.
“Nooooo, na’ fair!” Sherlock wailed.
Mycroft gently batted a soapy thumb away from the baby’s mouth. “That was very impressive.”
Jawn preened under the praise, his chest puffing like a proud hen.
“Jawn, two oughta f’ree, Jawn?” Sherlock pouted as Mycroft tipped his head back to rinse his hair.
“No. I winned. I a’ways c’ean a’ kitchen. Your turn.”

Sadie:

“Nuh’uh, you don’!” Sherlock tried to sit up and glare at Jawn accusingly, but the grip Mycroft’s hand had on his hair made him reconsider. “Jawn doesn’t c’ean!” he insisted as he glared up at his brother instead.

Mycroft covered Sherlock’s eyes and poured another cup of water down the back of his head, rinsing out most of the suds. One more cup should do it. “Then who does…?” he asked, glancing over at the now-suspiciously quiet victor of their game. Though, the moment the last syllable left his lips, he already knew exactly who his little brother was referring to…

“Na-na!” Sherlock confirmed, reaching up to move Mycroft’s hand out of his face.

Mycroft dumped the next cup of water over the indignant little detective without ceremony, his gaze now directly focused on the bath’s only other occupant. “Well, now there’s a surprise,” he said flatly, over Sherlock’s choking and spitting noises.

Jawn swallowed, looking nervous, and tried to sink down into the bathwater. When that tactic obviously failed, he tried another; he gave a forced, half-hearted yawn, and rubbed his eyes. “I really, really tired,” he said, and peeked between his fingers to see if it was working.

“I think this new information means the forfeit.” Mycroft drawled, holding the little detective in place as he doused his hair in conditioner.

“Dun’ nee’ it, My’coff, s’op, p’ease?” Sherlock wailed. 

“Bu’ i winned the game!” Jawn pouted, turning away from them to hide his face against the tile. “Na’ fair.”

“It’s not fair to make Nana clean up all of your messes either.”

“Na’ all of ‘em.” Jawn protested. “Just when we bof little.”

Sherlock squalled as Mycroft dumped two cups of water over his head in quick succession, rinsing out the conditioner. 

“It’s still very naughty and I’ll not allow it.”

“My’coff na’ da’ boss of da’ kitchen.” Jawn grumbled, pouting when his soapy thumb touched his tongue. 

Mycroft bit his tongue, tempted to show the bratty little doctor just how much a wet bottomed spanking stung, but… 

“You do love Nana, don’t you?”

“Yea!” came the reply in unison. 

“Wouldn’t she be so pleased to see that you’ve cleaned up your mess all on your own?”

Sadie:

Jawn turned back around to face them, already forgetting that he was supposed to be sulking after going through all that effort to win the game, only to have it stricken from the record. “C’ean for Nana?”

Mycroft nodded. “For your Nana,” he said, pouring one last cup of water over Sherlock’s head just to make sure it was completely rinsed…if he didn’t, Sherlock’s hair as prone to looking weighed down and greasy instead of freshly washed.

No mooooooooooooore!” The little detective howled, and twisted out of Mycroft’s grip…well, Sherlock twisted, and Mycroft let him go because 1)he didn’t want him to hurt himself, and 2)because he was done with his hair, anyway. “I know, I know, I’m awful,” he tutted and,after taking pity on his little brother while watching him try to wipe the water out of his eyes with wet hands, took one of the fresh towels and offered him a corner to dry his face with. “And you’re overtired. Which is why we’re done.”

“No more ba’ff?” Jawn asked, sounding disappointed.

“I thought you were ‘really, really tired’,” Mycroft replied as he kept Sherlock from all but jumping out of the tub.

“Im invi-…I’m ‘vigor-…I’m waked up.”

“…Just pull the plug, Jawn.”

Jawn frowned but did as he was told, popping the plug and letting it float on top of the water. “Y’ook, y’ook!” He hooted as the plug began to spin in the vortex of water leaving the tub. “Gimme the ducks! P’ease! The ducks!!” Jawn half crawled out of the tub to retrieve Sherlock’s duck from the floor. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes and helped Sherlock out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel, using a second to gently press the water out of his curls. “I dun’ y’ike baffs.” Sherlock pouted, trying to wiggle away from Mycroft. 

“How about pajamas? Do you like pajamas?” Mycroft asked, patting the rest of the baby dry. 

“I y’ike em!” Jawn chirped, climbing out of the tub and standing with his hands on his hips. “Can I have g’een ones?” 

“Did you rinse the soap off the ducks?” Mycroft regretted the words even as they came out of his mouth. Jawn hooted and plopped his bottom back into the tub and turned on the water, squealing and back pedaling when cold water poured out of the tap and splashed him. 

“Halp!!! Halp me!!!” Jawn shrieked, losing his coordination as he panicked, unable to get out of the tub. 

Mycroft swiftly turned off the water and stared down his nose at the panting little doctor.

“Was co’d.” He wheezed, reaching up a hand in silent request to be helped up. 

Sadie:

“Yes, I gathered that.” Mycroft helped lift a sopping wet Jawn out of the tub and set him down on the bathmat. After taking the last dry towel and wrapping it around the naked, shivering little doctor, he turned to his younger brother; “Can you be a good lad and rinse your bath toys? In the sink?” he added quickly. 

Sherlock stood to the side, his own towels draped over his head and shoulders like a shroud while he sucked his thumb and watched. “Duck’th?”

“And Jawn’s net, yes,” Mycroft replied as he vigorously rubbed Jawn’s hair dry, along with a chorus of irritable squeaks and squawks coming from underneath the towel. “Good boy.”

Sherlock scooted by, careful not to get caught up in the melee’, and fetched both ducks from the bottom of the tub. “Bu’ tha’s Jawn’s net,” he said with a slight frown, and nudged it with his toe.

“I know it is.”

“He drop it.”

“Yes, I know he did,” Mycroft sighed…he knew where this was going already, having had the same circular argument many, many times over today. “But I’m asking you to pick it up, because you’re a very good helper, aren’t you?”

Sherlock stared down at the toy, weighing his options. “…I get a prize?”

Conniving little bastard.’ “We’ll see.”

“Hey!” Jawn shoved his way out from underneath his towel. “I was gonna–!”

Mycroft quickly covered him back up. “No more competitions tonight.”

“I rea’yee wan’ a prize,” Sherlock pouted, begrudgingly picking up Jawn’s net and all but throwing it into the sink. 

Christ, he was never getting out of this day alive. “Prizes didn’t go well earlier,remember?”

“I y’ost my car,” Jawn gasped and struggled to untangle himself from the towels. “My’coff! Car! I nee’ it.” A pinch to his bum caught his attention quickly.

“Your car is on the desk. You can have it once you are dressed and have cleaned up the kitchen.”

“Another prize, too?” Jawn scrubbed at him bum, trying to rub out the sting. Sherlock looked up hopefully, showing off the freshly rinsed bath toys.

“Only, and i do mean only, if the kitchen is spotless and i don’t hear a single peep of sass from either of you,” Mycroft looked down his nose at them. “Am i clear?” 

“Yes, My’coff.” The little boys echoed in unison. 

“Now get your bottoms into the nursery. You both need nappies before we have to add puddles to the list of things to clean.”

Sadie:

Jawn looked massively offended at the implication. “We don’ pee on the floor,” he said as Sherlock scurried around him to drop their bathtoys back in basket. “Tha’s gross!”

“I think you lost the privilege of calling anything ‘gross’ the moment you started cultivating a garden in your nappy.”

Jawn blushed beet red from his hairline down to his toes and scowled at Mycroft, then spun around as Sherlock started cackling. “Shut up!” Jawn shouted at his back as the naked detective dashed from the room and down the hall. “I’was funny!” Sherlock crowed back.

Jawn folded his arms and stood there, glaring at the empty doorway until Mycroft was sure that he saw steam rising from the little doctor’s wet hair. “Wasn’ funny,” he grumbled. 

Mycroft folded the last towel and hung it to dry. “…It was a little funny,” he countered.

“On’y ‘cause you said it!!!”

“There’s no need to shout.” Mycroft put his hand at Jawn’s back and got him walking out of the room, albeit begrudgingly. 

“He’s still y’aughin’,” Jawn grumbled as they got nearer to the nursery, where you could, indeed, still hear Sherlock’s devious giggling. 

“I’ll make him stop,” Mycroft promised…if only to avoid another blowout so soon. How on earth these two made it together this long without killing each other was a genuine mystery.