Tag: Sherlock ageplay fiction

Where I Belong – Chapter 1 – embalmer56 – Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

squeakpigsrevenge:

Summary:

They say, home is where the heart is, with the heart as a lackluster metaphor for loved ones, or so some idiom that Sherlock has long deleted claims. But what if that heart has changed and there’s no room left for Sherlock?

Tags:

Where I Belong – Chapter 1 – embalmer56 – Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

They See Me Strolling

squeakpigsrevenge:

A gift for @tsuki-chibi So sorry that I’m soooo late getting this to you. I hope you like it! <3<3<3 also! thank you to @sadieandmo for helping develop this plot bunny!

*unbeta’d, mistakes are mine.

Sherlock tapped the button of a small yellow cellphone
despondently. Noisemaking toys where no fun when Da’ removed the batteries, he
thought to himself, chucking the useless thing to his left.

“Oi!” John groused, pulling the stroller to a stop and
coming around the side. He scooped up the discarded toy and shook it at
Sherlock. “That’s the third time in as many blocks. Once more and you’ll have
no toys for the rest of our walk.”

Sherlock frowned around his dummy. He wanted a toy that
hadn’t been ‘fixed’ by Da’. John dropped the toy in his lap and went back to
pushing the stroller.

After a terribly boring (i.e. stroppy) afternoon, Da’ had
decided that it would be best for them to get some ‘fresh air’. John had spent
the whole time getting ready grumbling to himself about whether it counted as
infanticide if the infant in question was six feet tall and 40. So Sherlock was
very aware that he was playing with fire. And with that in mind, he waited a
whole block and a half before chucking the plastic phone again.

“Sherlock, that’s very naughty.” John growled, pulling the
stroller to a stop and going around to pick up the toy. Sherlock held out his
hands, but instead of handing him the toy, John dropped it into the basket
beneath his seat and resumed pushing them along the path.

Sherlock let his dummy fall out of his mouth, the dummy
leash keeping it firmly attached to his chest. “Toy, Da? P’ease?”

“Nope. You were warned. Da’s told you that if you threw your
toy that you wouldn’t have it for the rest of our walk.”

“Tooooooooy. Da’ nee’ it!” Sherlock whinged, squirming
against the straps holding him in his seat. Da’ was unmoved. If Sherlock wanted
his toy back he’d have to get it himself. Tipping sideways, he strained his arm
back to reach into the basket. The shift in his weight almost toppling the
stroller over.

“Sherlock!” John strained to keep the stroller upright. “Sit
properly, now!” The baby huffed out a sigh and flopped back into his seat. He
couldn’t reach and Da’ was being unreasonable and he didn’t want to be in the
stupid stroller and…Sherlock let out a wail as he struggled against the straps,
his fingers gone too clumsy in his fit to be able to open the clasp.

A moment later he found his mouth full of dummy as Da’
stroked his hair and spoke softly to him. Sherlock sucked hard on his dummy and
buried his fingers in Da’s jumper.

“I know, I know. It’s been a tough day. Poor bub. But we’re
almost to the pond. Do you still want to feed the ducks?”

Sherlock nodded sadly. Hopefully Da’ hadn’t crushed the
bread for the ducks when he’d tossed the phone in the basket.

“Alright, sweetheart. How many ducks do you think there will
be?” John moved behind the stroller and began pushing again.

“Se’ben.” Sherlock slurred around his dummy, tipping his
head back to look up at Da’.

“Clever boy,” John said, dropping a kiss on his upturned
face, “how did you deduce that?”

Sherlock giggled and began to monologue about the nesting
habits of mallards. Despite most of it being garbled behind his dummy, he now
had Da’s complete attention, which was much better than a battery-less toy
phone any day.

Greg smiled, kissed the top of Sherlock’s head, then held onto his waist while he unlatched one side of the crib before switching arms and doing the same with the other side. “Are you a wet boy, too? Yes you are,” he said, answering his own question by patting the little detective’s backside and feeling the heavy padding shift under his hand. “No wonder you woke up in a state…I’d be cranky too, if I had to be stuck in a wet nappy!” he teased as he lifted Sherlock out of the crib and over to the changing table. “Can Uncle Greg change your bum, please?”

sadistically_sweet, preview from the upcoming ‘Unsolved Mysteries’

Excerpt from the upcoming 6th chapter of ‘Molly’s Turn’

Sadie:

“ When John Watson had left the two little ones to their own devices (it may sound ludicrous, but after the smacking Sherlock received beforehand, he could depend on a short period of good behavior), the first thing he’d done was stand in the middle of the sitting room and look around, marveling at the stillness of all surrounding him, from the pair of well-used armchairs on one side of the room to the short table on the other, with an empty bottle, a full sippy-cup, and the first dummy that Sherlock started the day with before chaos reigned.

Then he’d had a good, long (muffled) laugh at the absurdity of the juxtaposition of it all. “

“Ima tell Daddy and you’re gunna get smacks, Maw-yee!!!”

Sadie: “Nuh-UH! Unca’ Jawn doesn’t hit girls!“ The little morgue-assistant glared back over her shoulder, her arm outstretched over her head and tiptoeing to reach the top of the refrigerator, where John had stashed their ‘reward’ stickers. “Ah’sides, you won’t help!”

Sherlock sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms folded over his chest as he glared up at her in turn. “ ‘Cause stickers aren’t worth a spanking! I can buy you stickers!…”

“…Shut up, Sher’yock,” Molly muttered, then huffed and gave a little stomp  of her foot; try as she might, she wasn’t tall enough, and the big, giant butthead behind her had already refused to help. She looked around, and then dragged over one of the kitchen chairs.

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “You’re gonna…!”

“Shut UP, Sher’yock…Unca’ Jawn does it!” she hissed, and climbed up into the chair. When she stretched this time, she felt her fingertips come into contact with the plastic box with the prized stickers, and she giggled triumphantly. She pulled it towards the edge…

“MOLLY!”

Molly jumped and stumbled, her heart catching in her throat as she felt herself start to go backwards–she closed her eyes and tried to ready herself for the impact of the floor, when she suddenly landed against something much softer, but still quite solid, instead. She tilted her head back and cracked one eye open to find herself squarely in Sherlock’s arms. She let out a breath of relief; “Thankies, Sher’yock,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he said back, setting her on her feet, facing John.

The other man simply stared back, his brow furrowed deeply. “…Didn’t I tell you no stickers today?” he said, at last.

Molly looked down at her feet and shuffled them quietly, leaning back against Sherlock for protection. She forced a (what she hoped was) a sweet, pretty smile on her face, then looked back up; “I wuv’oo, Unca’ Jawn.”

Sherlock snorted quietly.

“I love you too, doll, but that’s not going to save your bum. Come here.”

Molly’s mouth dropped open; he wouldn’t, not really! “But, but I’ma girl! You can’t hit me!”

“I’d never, ever hit a girl, sweetheart, but I will spank the naughty out of one.”

Sherlock smirked; “Told y’ah.”

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably, “This is highly inappropriate, Gregory.”

sadieandmo:

Sadie: Greg Lestrade sat in the large, plush chair in Mycroft’s home office,  delightedly watching the small screen glowing in front of him. All he needed was a large bucket of popcorn dripping with melted butter, and he would have been all set. “Well, you shouldn’a brought it up, should’ya?” he thrilled. “Oh, wait wait wait! What’s he doin’ now–oi, he’s crawlin’!“  He flopped back and slapped his knee with a  loud, cackling laugh as Sherlock Holmes…THE Sherlock Holmes!…crawled across the floor of his flat in nothing but a nappy and one sock while John Watson held down a bottle, waiting for him. “J-j-jay’sus, d’you think John’d let us babysit?!“ he stammered, wiping at his eyes.

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his temple…he really should know better than to exceed more than one drink around people; he was too ‘open’ after that. “I think he’d just as soon shoot you,” he muttered.

“Well, yeah, might do,” Lestrade said, sitting back up so he wouldn’t miss a minute of the scene playing out. “But y’know, in a non-fatal place…do y’think he’d accept the offer, after he cooled off a bit?”

“Don’t count on it being non-fatal, Gregory…especially not if Sherlock had anything to add.”

Sadie: *sigh* Definitely not my best…this is why I don’t rush chapter updates. 😛