“Mycroft is a terrible big brother” by Sherlock Holmes; Alternatively,”My’coff is a goo’ bay’bee si’dder” by Jawn Wa’dson” – embalmer56, sadistically_sweet – Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

squeakpigsrevenge:

Chapters: 9/?
Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes’s Umbrella
Additional Tags: Age Play, Non-Sexual Age Play, Brotherly Bonding, nappies, Dummies, Spanking, Mycroft has the patience of a saint, dinos are very ‘portant, Little Sherlock, Little John – Freeform, Bathing/Washing, Bratting
Series: Part 3 of The ‘Co-’ Series

@sadieandmo

Sadie:

This is the chapter where we really hit our stride and started charming the pants off everyone, lol.

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

Jawn held up his hand, pointer finger extended, hovering above
Sherlock’s face…then jabbed the little detective square on the nose,
making him go cross-eyed. “BEEP!”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide and he clasped both hands over his nose.

‘Oh God, here we go,’
Mycroft thought. He strode over to the pair, fully anticipating the
moment when Sherlock would burst into tears (and he couldn’t really
blame him this time; that jab had looked hard from all the way across
the room!), when the overgrown tyke surprised both of them by dissolving
in huge, gut-busting belly laughs. “ ‘gain! ‘gain!” he chanted, moving
his hands out of the way and Jawn, grinning like the Joker in a pack of
cards, poked him again.

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

“Mycroft is a terrible big brother” by Sherlock Holmes; Alternatively,”My’coff is a goo’ bay’bee si’dder” by Jawn Wa’dson” – embalmer56, sadistically_sweet – Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Hello, about the little Mycroft ask, I was wondering if you could maybe add just a teensy little dollop (or a lot) of angst into it? It seems like a great opportunity for angst. And emotional healing on both sides.

sadieandmo:

Sadie:

Sadie: *cracks knuckles* Alright let’s take a whack at this

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

“Okay, yeah, just–just wait right here, I’ll go get him. Yeah.”

Greg headed upstairs, treading lightly because he’s 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 wouldn’t 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. “Hey, lovey…” he said quietly. “Naptime’s over.”

The lump stirred slightly, burrowing deeper into the rest of the blankets.

Greg gave the lump a firmer pat. “C’mon, it’s time to wake up,” he said, no longer whispering. He reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp, and the lump whinged.

“Ah-ah, Mikey. You’ve slept a long time, and besides, we’ve got–” 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. “Good afternoon to you too, Sunshine,” Greg grinned.

Mycroft’s frown deepened. “No.”

“ ‘No’, what? No to getting up?”

Mycroft’s face disappeared. “…No. No Mikey.”

Ah. “I’m sorry, I forgot,” Greg said, and he meant it with all sincerity. When Mycroft had agreed to do this, to ‘give it a try’, he’d laid out a short but thorough list of things (”Limit’s,” he’d said) that absolutely would not be happening during the…during the ‘trying phase’, under the threat of celibacy until Greg’s cock ‘dried up and fell off’, should any of those limits be breached.

Calling him ‘Mikey’, as Greg had originally suggested, was on that list. Other names were fine-ish (as long as they weren’t 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. “I’m very sorry,” he said again, and rubbed his hand up and down the pile of blankets. “It won’t happen again.”

The lump shifted, but didn’t pull away. Okay. that was good. Greg bent down and slowly lifted the corner of the blanket out of the way. “…Would it make it better if I said there’s something downstairs for you?”

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. “Yeah, it’s waiting on us downstairs,” he said, giving Mycroft a reassuring smile. “Should we go see?”

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 didn’t have to speak, he wouldn’t) and, after letting Greg pull back the blankets, sat up.

Greg’s 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 Sherlock’s 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 ‘Fuck No’s’), the icing. “Here,” Greg held out his hands. “Toilet first, then we’ll go see what’s down there.”

Mycroft stared at him a moment as he sat there, considering Greg’s 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 wasn’t fully comfortable.

Seeing this, Greg slowly wrapped one arm around Mycroft’s waist, giving him plenty of time to shake his head ‘no’ or pull away if he wanted–which he didn’t, thankfully…although he was watching Greg very closely–and pulled him into a warm hug.

“Good boy,” he murmured when he felt Mycroft gradually raise his arms to hug Greg back. He rubbed his hand up and down the lean man’s back, stopping at his bottom.

He felt Mycroft stiffen. “No, shh…you’re a good boy,” Greg murmured, and began to pat his backside, confirming that yes, this is different and I know you’re scared but this is okay and I love you.

At the steady, continued patting, he felt Mycroft go slack in his arms. “Yeah, there we go. It’s okay,” Greg said, stepping back.

Mycroft’s 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; Mycroft’s headspace seemed a bit more reinforced, and the same softness that he’d so often watched slip into Sherlock’s eyes when he regressed was now taking the edge out of his lover’s.

Greg took his hand and gave it a squeeze, delighting when Mycroft squeezed his fingers back. “Such a good boy,” he said again, taking a praising tone. “Staid dry all through your nap!”

Mycroft’s 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); “Let’s keep that good luck going and use the toilet like a big boy, yeah? You did so well keeping dry, my clever little man. I’m impressed.”

Mycroft just nodded as he shuffled along after Greg, still blushing at the praise and chewing at the knuckle of his thumb.

Greg looked back at him and brightened.

This was a good idea.

Tagging @squeakpigsrevenge…this is all thanks to her and her cute af emojis.

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

Embie:

_(：3 」∠ )_

Lololol nini

Sadie:
John’s in the bathroom shaving and when he finally opens the door

Sherlock’s laying there like thta

*that

Embie:
Awwwww

“You was gone fore’ber. I coun’ed”

Sadie:
cuuuuuuute

“It was five minutes, munch’kin. Tops.”

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

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

sadieandmo:

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.”

T’was (Almost) the Night Before Christmas

Sadie:

A short, (hopefully) sweet Christmas drabble to get me back into the swing of things.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

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

“MY’COFF!”

Mycroft Holmes stifled a sigh; “…Indoor voice, Jawn. Please.”

There was a beat pause before he heard his name again, this time in the form of a stage whisper. “MY’COFF!!!”

Little smart-arse.

He could hear Gregory giggling at the other end of the counter, and a faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, darling?”

“He’s ea’ding the dough again!” Jawn whinged.

‘At least his voice was back at a normal decibel,’ Mycroft thought…for someone who was standing right at his shoulder, in any case. “It’s fine, Jawn,” he said, the smirk on his face growing. “That’s why he has his own.”

“Bu’d he’s ea’ding han’fulls,” Jawn whinged again, and tugged on Mycroft’s sleeve. “I’ds no’d good for’im!”

The giggling from Gregory’s end of the counter was becoming more evident. Ignoring it, Mycroft finally set down his rolling pin and turned to Jawn, giving him his whole attention. “Jawn, he’s not–”

“He’s too li’ddol,” Jawn insisted and frowned at Sherlock, who was sitting in his high chair ( an adult-sized booster seat which could be buckled to a regular chair, which made it all the more easy to pull up to the counter so he could be a part of all the fun) and sucking the raw sugar cookie dough from his fingers. There was still a goodly amount of dough on his tray (and his cheeks, and down his bib, and his chin, and his hair), so he couldn’t have eaten that much.

Mycroft’s smirk turned into a full smile at the notion that Jawn thought he was anywhere near big enough to call someone else ‘too little’. “He’s fine, Jawn,” Mycroft said again, and reached down to pinch his baby brother’s cheek, leaving behind a smudge of flour.

Sherlock scrunched his neck and gave Mycroft a beautiful smile that wrinkled the top of his nose adorable.

“He’s gonna ea’d i’d all…”

“No, he wo–” Mycroft was cut short as Sherlock, ever insistent on proving him wrong no matter his headspace, pulled an admittedly large piece of dough from the pile on his tray and stuff it in his mouth. “…Hm.”

“Seeeeeeeeeee,” Jawn said smugly, and crossed his arms over his chest as he gloated up at Mycroft.

“Hush.” Mycroft gathered the rest of the dough from Sherlock’s tray while he was still occupied with getting it off of his fingers, and put it on the counter-top with the rest of their cookie-making mess. “Gregory, be a peach and bring me the bin with all the play-doh in it.”

“Yes, dearest,” replied Greg (who was looking quite smart in his gingerbread man pinny), leaving his bowls of red, green, and white frosting that he’d painstakingly mixed behind as he went to go fetch the play-doh bin.

Jawn eyed the crumbled pile of cookie dough on the counter. “Wha’der you gonna do with tha’d?…”

“Make cookie with it, of course.”

“Ewwwwwww…i’ds go’d him’s spi’d in’nit!”

Mycroft dutifully resisted the urge (and it was a strong one, by God) to imply that Sherlock’s spit wasn’t the lewdest thing Jawn had ever had in his mouth. “It will bake out,” he said dryly.

“I’ds still g’woss.”

“Then don’t eat them.” Mycroft picked up his rolling pin and quickly flattened the offending dough. “Here, take your cookie cutters and get back to work, or we won’t have cookies enough for Santa.”

Well, that was all the encouragement Jawn needed to hear! He picked up the nearest cookie cutter, a Christmas tree-shaped one, and began punching out tree-shaped blobs of dough.

Sherlock, having scraped every last bit of dough off his fingers while watching Jawn work, looked to his big brother and held his slobber-covered hands up as if waiting for his turn. “Hm?”

Mycroft smiled and clucked his tongue at him. “Mucky pup…Gregory will be right back with something for you–look, there he is!”

Sherlock craned his neck and, yes indeed! Greg was right behind him with a plastic storage bin full of child-safe clay and the toys to go with it.

He set it on the table and opened it, and began pulling containers out of it. “…This is gonna be a terrible mess,” Greg said as he glanced the leftover’s bit of chewed-up dough and spit on the baby’s tray.

“That’s what soap and hot water is for, darling.”

Greg grinned and started to pop lids off of all the small tubs. “I love it when you’re like this,” he said, handing Sherlock the green play-doh.

“Like what?”

“Like the rest of us…in a good mood and not a high-maintenance tit,” Greg said…then squealed loudly and bounced away, rubbing a spot on his bum. “Mean!”

Mycroft laid the wooden spoon back on the counter. “Luckily,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Greg, “I’m in a good mood.” There was a mischievous little gleam in his eye.

“Cheeky.” Greg kept his backside pointed away from his lover and gave Sherlock the red dough next, then a small plastic rolling pin, and a couple of plastic cookie cutters. “Have at it, munchkin,” he said, giving the baby a kiss on one of the only clean spots on his forehead.

“Can you say ‘thank you, Gregory’?” Mycroft prompted. He doubted that Sherlock would, being in his Tiny headspace and all, but it was cute to hear him try.

“G’eck!!” Sherlock waved the rolling pin, and Greg laughed. “Close enough!”

Jawn tugged Mycroft’s sleeve again; “I’sh tha’d e’nuff coo’gies,My’coff?!”

Mycroft looked over Jawn’s work; “Perfect,” he said, and went to lick the powdered sugar from his sleeve where tiny fingers had been. ‘Fourteen cookies out of one batch; magnificent job, pet,” he added, and watched Jawn’s chest puff up with pride. “Let’s get those on the tray.”

“An’ then de’gorat’de?!?!?!”

“We bake them first–”

“An’ then de’gora’de??!!!”

“–And then we let them cool…”

“Awww.”

“…And then we decorate them.”

“Y’ah!” Jawn whooped, and jumped down off his stool. “I wan’ de’gora’de all’a mines!”

“There’s enough cookies for everyone to decorate.”

“Bu’d Sher’yock’s…!”

“Sherlock’s very excited to decorate, too.” Mycroft interrupted. “Where did we put all the candies, darling?”

“Top’o the pantry, love.”

“You’re a peach, dear.”

“I know, sweetcheeks.”

Mycroft ignored the sounds of Jawn gagging and started to walk to the pantry, passing by the baby and his own little mini-bakery set up on his tray, when Sherlock stopped him:

“B’AH!”

“Yes, what is it, “Mycoft cooed down at him. “Are you a busy little baker-bee, hm?”

Sherlock proudly held up a cragged, lumpy piece of red play-doh in the shape of a star. “G’AH!”

Mycroft pressed his hands to his cheeks in over-the-top amazement. “Beautiful! The most wonderful star I’ve ever seen!”

“Y’AH!” Sherlock leaned forward in his seat, offering Mycroft his star.

“Perfect.” Mycroft gingerly took it into his hands. “Here, Gregory…take this and put it on the ‘tray’ with the rest.”

“Oh, yeah. On the tray, ‘wink-wink’.”

Mycroft chuckled and, after passing off Sherlock’s ‘cookie’, wiped his hands on his pinny and went into the pantry.

As he stood on his toes and reached for the bag of brightly-coloured chocolate candies that they’d bought (and hidden) for tonight, Mycroft found himself humming…humming ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, of all things.

He would have started smiling, if he hadn’t been already.

Yes, he supposed he was in a good mood tonight. Hard not to be, with everyone–

Shouting came from the kitchen. “MY’COFF!!!”

“Indoor voice.”

“HE’S HI’DDING ME WITH THA’D RO’YYING PIN!!!”

Mycroft bit his lip to stifle a laugh, even as he heard his little brother cackling.

Yes, a pretty good mood.

Another unfinished RP

Sadie:

This one’s about how much Sherlock hates hats. 😛

@squeakpigsrevenge

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

sadieandmo:
lol, He doesn’t y’ike ha’ds.

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:
“Bu’d I c’n. I p’womise.”

sadieandmo:
“No.”
“Bu’d I c’n! Wa’ss me!”
“Uncle Greg said no.”

squeakpigsrevenge:
“I’m b’ery goo’ a’d p’yaying.”
“But not very good at listening.”

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:
“Gentlemen!” Mycroft interrupts, “Sherlock. You are not Allowed to play in snow without a hat on.”
“Buuuu’d I haaaaa’d ha’ds!”

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 baby’s head for a second time.
“If we see you take it off, it’s spanking then a nap. Understood.”
“I un’ers’and an I haaaaaaa’de i’d.”

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:
“This isn’t about Gregory and I. This is about you.”
It takes forever to get his snowsuit off cause he’s 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:
“If you’ve learned you lesson, we can try again after nap.”
“Nooooo, My’g. P’eeeeeaaase. No na’b.”
Mycroft finally gets the zipper down and the whole puff of scruffy fabric pools at the baby’s 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 he’d been skinned alive.
“If you can’t listen then there will be consequences.”
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, “Did mean ol’e Myc spank your bum?” Greg cooed, fighting back a laugh and the glower he got from ‘Myc’.
“Yeeeeaaaa. My buuuuuum.”
“Poor thing, Poor thing. Greg will make you a bottle and we’ll have a rest.”
“I jus’ wan’ ou’side.”
Mycroft had come up behind the baby and pulled his thermals back over his nappy, “After nap.”

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:
“I dun’ wan’ be bay’bee’sci’gle.”
“That’s why you need to wear your hat,” Greg kissed his cheek.
“I ha’de haaaaa’ds.”
“Can you sit here while I make your bottle?”
“Noooooooo, my buuuuum huuuuur’ds.”

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?”

(~~TBC?~~)

I’m a bit scared, Sadie. My lungs are collapsing. please send love and cute mystrade and johnlock pictures/ headcanons if that’s okay.

socially-ineptnerd:

sadieandmo:

socially-ineptnerd:

sadieandmo:

socially-ineptnerd:

sadieandmo:

Sadie: Jesus kid, I’m sorry that it took me this long to log in and see this. That’s a very scary feeling, and I hope you’re doing what you can to take care of yourself (~~like seeking medical attention?~~)

In the meantime!!! Please enjoy some cute Christmas headcanons that Embie ( @squeakpigsrevenge ) and I were sharing a little while ago!

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

Keep reading

Aww that last one is everything! I can just imagine the look on Greg’s face as he watches Mycroft. Thanks for this ahaha

I got help, doncha worry ahaha. I’m on several medications so I’m sorta bed bound right now which makes everything so BORING but yeah. Fanfic and shot posts are the only things making this more bearable

Sadie:

Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better(-~~iiiisssshhh???~~)! But oh God, I know being confined to bed can be miserable after awhile…especially when you’re restless.

We (and anyone else who wants to jump in and join) could all keep trading cute headcanons?!

Yes please! Moremoremoremoremore! Send all the cute (or even angsty) headcanons you have!

And I’m a little better? I think? Im outta the hospital but I’m not sure tbh. my lungs are shit but I’m going to my doc tomorrow so we’ll see how that goes. It was a traumatizing experience though lol I’ve never come that close to dying.

For someone who jokes a lot about death and wanting to die, I didn’t want to die like that – helpless, scared, and confused. Lol it’s weird.

Sadie:

So, uh, would this be a good time to mention the massive WHUMP fic that Embie and I have been working on since February that’s just as long (maybe longer) than the current babysitter one? :3

Would it also be a good time to offer a sneak peek? Your choice of a fluffy or angsty scene? >:3

Oh my god yesssss. Angst! And whump. I like the sound of this already 😀

I live for all the angst in this world lol

Please give a sneak peek!

Sadie:

Angst it is! Preview for the as-of-yet Untitled WHUMP fic under the cut

@squeakpigsrevenge

start of preview
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft rage-sniffed and filled Sherlock’s cup with juice and retrieved his pain pills. He wondered if Sherlock had been to small to administer them himself. Shaking his head, he headed up the stairs.

He found Greg sitting on the floor of the bathroom, holding Sherlock on his lap, petting the baby as the tub filled. He’d taken the little guy’s shirt off, and the kaleidoscope of bruises from his shoulder to his hip made Mycroft physically sick. He swallowed back the bile that was threatening to climb up his throat.
“Here, sweet pea. Are you going to be very helpful and take your medicine without a fuss?”

Sherlock nodded and popped his thumb out of his mouth in order to reach for Mycroft with both hands.

Mycroft closed the toilet seat and sat down on the lid, then carefully lifted Sherlock into his lap. “Here, open up… such a good boy,” he said, putting one pill into his mouth before handing him his cup. “Swallow that one first, there you go.”
He looked his little brother’s chest up and down…there was one great big dark, ugly bruise, right over the left side of his ribs, surrounded by an orbit of smaller ones which he could only surmise was from John kicking him…repeatedly.

While Mycroft fed the baby his medicine, Greg turned to the sink and gave his face a wash with some cold water.

“One more, you’re doing a brilliant job.”

Sherlock preened under the praise and took the second pill as easily as the first. “Mo’ joo’sh?”

“Once we’ve had a bath you can have as much juice as you please.”

Sherlock nodded, “bubbas?”

“Did Gregory forget to add bubbles. He’s going to fix that right now.”

“Yeah, silly me,” Greg said, managing to sound convincingly cheerful as he gave his eyes another quick swipe, and then looked underneath the cabinet for the bubbles. “We haven’t used the grape ones in a long time; how about those?”

“Y’ah,” Sherlock babbled around the spout of his cup while he leaned back against his brother. “Pur’ble.”

“Purple bubbles it is,” Greg replied, pouring a generous amount in the water.

In an instant, suds and bubbles started to pile up underneath the faucet, filling he room with a tangy, artificial grape scent.

“I y’ike bubba’s,” Sherlock said, and slipped down out of Mycroft’s lap…with a little bit of help, of course.

“Here, muffin…I’ll get you some more juice. Your brother can get you in the bath.” Greg took the nearly empty cup from Mycroft, and the elder Holmes’ brother could see the tears welling in his lover’s eyes before he turned and quickly left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
end of preview

I’m a bit scared, Sadie. My lungs are collapsing. please send love and cute mystrade and johnlock pictures/ headcanons if that’s okay.

Sadie: Jesus kid, I’m sorry that it took me this long to log in and see this. That’s a very scary feeling, and I hope you’re doing what you can to take care of yourself (~~like seeking medical attention?~~)

In the meantime!!! Please enjoy some cute Christmas headcanons that Embie ( @squeakpigsrevenge ) and I were sharing a little while ago!

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sadieandmo:*referring to a previously reblogged set of Christmas-themed gifs)That’s fucking adorable
Christmas is My’coff’s fa’brite

squeakpigsrevenge:The baby’s hand make most of the decorations for the tree
The popcorn strings are a nightmare because the pets get into them. Bess* poops string for a week.

sadieandmo: lmao
                       They have to put a baby gate around the tree eventually, but even then Greg has to rescue either Marigold* or Scallywag* out of the tree at least every other day.
                        And there’s a small, plastic baby-tree that Mycroft put in the nursery for the bby’s to decorate all by themselves.

squeakpigsrevenge: Awwww
It’s covered in plastic dinosaurs and cars are dummies. Mycroft has undecorated 4 times today so they can start over

sadieandmo: lol, Aw
They tried to do Elf on a Shelf this year, but it didn’t last long….it gave poor Sherlock nightmares and he began to refuse to go into any room that it was in.

squeakpigsrevenge: Awww
Nana knitted them all matching Christmas jumpers, the puppies included.

sadieandmo: Wiggle* tries to chew his off and gets his bottom jaw stuck.

squeakpigsrevenge: Awww.
Greg rescues him. They use a chip clip to make it snugger so he can’t get at it

sadieandmo: It’s hilarious to watch him try, though…he does that doggy temper-tantrum thing where he whips his head back and forth and then zooms through the house barking while Jawn and Sherlock laugh

squeakpigsrevenge: Lololol

sadieandmo: lol, And they have Molly over just about every day that she can to help bake cookies or make Christmas crafts and help decorate.

squeakpigsrevenge: Awwww

sadieandmo: Mycroft never runs out of things for the babies to do. From painting trees using their hands and fingerprints to make lights or making their own ornaments to making a huge batch of play-doh that smells like peppermint.

squeakpigsrevenge: They cute out paper snowflakes, which Molly is a wiz at from all the paperflowers.
They string them ALL over the house

sadieandmo: Awwww
Greg’s having tons of fun with all the babies and animals and lights and laughing, but his favorite moments are when he looks over at Mycroft and sees the big, soft smile on his face when he thinks no one’s looking.

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*Bess, Wiggle, Marigold, and Scallywag are some of the pets we’ve given them over the past few years, lol

“Mycroft is a terrible big brother” by Sherlock Holmes; Alternatively,”My’coff is a goo’ bay’bee si’dder” by Jawn Wa’dson” – embalmer56, sadistically_sweet – Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

squeakpigsrevenge:

Chapters: 8/?
Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes’s Umbrella
Additional Tags: Age Play, Non-Sexual Age Play, Brotherly Bonding, nappies, Dummies, Spanking, Mycroft has the patience of a saint, dinos are very ‘portant, Little Sherlock, Little John – Freeform, Bathing/Washing, Bratting
Series: Part 3 of The ‘Co-’ Series

@sadieandmo

A typical night

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!)

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“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.”