Tag: Sherlock ageplay fiction

I love your ficlets, and if prompts are still open I was wondering if you could have little!sherlock being very scared of something but also embarrassed to admit it… and daddy!john and/or Mycroft to the rescue?

Sadie:

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“Sherlock?”

There was no answer.

John looked up from his phone; there were few reasons why Sherlock went completely silent, and as they’d not had a particularly challenging case to keep the detective occupied in quite some time, John tried the other reason-“…did you go Little?”

Sherlock, who was sitting on the floor with his back to John (and had gone totally silent awhile ago, hence John’s question), gave no answer.

John tried again. “…Are you tiny?”

This time, Sherlock turned to look over his shoulder…

…and John saw that he was sucking on his bottom lip.

John put his phone aside and grinned. “Oh God, tell me that you’re tiny.”

A shy, half-crooked smile slowly spread across Sherlock’s face.

John clapped his hands and barked out a laugh. “Ha, yes! I’ve been wait–no, you stay right there, tiny!” He struggled to get out of his chair while trying not to trip over his own feet, and finally succeeded in heaving himself up. “You stay right there!” he said, nearly giddy with excitement as he headed for their bedroom. “Daddy has a surprise for you!”

Oh, did he ever have a surprise. John opened their closet and pulled out the small stepstool (that he begrudgingly used after Sherlock began hiding things up on the top shelf) and found the box that he had hid up there in the back corner a few months ago, just for Sherlock’s next ‘tiny’ day.

…It had been far, far too long since Sherlock’s last ‘tiny’ day.

But, anyway. John hauled the box back down the hall, where the now-tiny detective was still sitting on the floor of the sitting room, sucking his fingers as he craned his neck to look for Daddy. His eyes grew big as he saw the box in John’s arms, and bigger still when the box was placed on the floor directly in front of him.

“That,” John said, beaming from ear to ear, “Is for you.”

Sherlock stared at the box, with it’s brightly colored pictures…namely the one of the smiling infant on it’s belly, laying on a mat.

He placed his hands on top of the box and tilted it towards him, then looked up at John, who was still grinning like an idiot.

“Yeah, you excited?” he said, and knelt down. “Here, let’s get it open!”

“D’ah!” Sherlock agreed as he sat back on his heels and watched John pop the tape that had it sealed, and lifted the lid.

No sooner that he had it open, Sherlock was leaning over with his nose in it, peering at what was inside. John laughed; “You’ve gotta let me get it out of the box first, nosey,” he said, and booped the tip of Sherlock’s nose.

Sherlock giggled and sat back again, rubbing his nose with the flat of his hand. “Nuh-uh!

“Yes-huh.” John reached into the box and came up with a plastic wrapped item that looked like a rolled sleeping bag.

Sherlock put his hand down and cocked his head to the side, staring at it. “D’ah?”

“You’ll see.” Eager to see the reaction to his present, John bit down and tore the plastic away with his teeth, and was delighted with the little gasp of surprise from the tiny detective when he finally unfurled the big play-mat he’d picked out.

A sensory play-mat, the box said. It was decorated like the overhead view of a park, complete with people, benches, a playground, and even a pond that had a clear plastic film over it, with actual water and rubber goldfish that squished around when you pressed it.

“What’dya think?” he asked, as if the open-mouth, wide-eyed epxression on his little one’s face didn’t say it all. “You wan’na play with it, or stare at it?”

Sherlock clapped and bounced on his bottom. “D’AH D’AH!”

John laughed again…chalk this up as a complete success. “Alright, scoot over so we can spread it out!”

The instant John had it laid out on the floor in all of it’s noise-making, squishy glory, Sherlock pounced on it…he crawled around giggling and pressing things, squealing with delight at each surprise he found, like the birds in the tree that chirped, or the man playing frisbee with his dog that barked, or the patch of wildflowers that crinkled and smelled a bit like light perfume when you put your nose to them.

And then, Sherlock found the pond.

“D’ah! D’ah-d’ah-d’ah-d’ah!” he babbled as he squished the fish around under the plastic, trying to catch them. He finally got tired of using his finger and having the rubber buggers slip away each time, and with one last, victorious-sounding “D’ah!”, he squished down on it with both hands…

…and  then thing croaked.

Both of them were surprised, even John…neither of them had noticed the big, googly-eyed frog sitting on a log just to one side of the pond until Sherlock had hit the sensor in it. And unlike the frog, it wasn’t a cute little ‘ribbit-ribbit’ sort of croak…it was more like the frog had been hitting the bottle all night and was revisiting his dinner on the outer wall of the pub. A real ugly, belching sort-of croak.

And did he mention that it was loud? And that it repeated three times before shutting off?

Sherlock had startled back and sat up on his knees, his hands in the air, and looked around at the mat as he hadn’t known exactly what he’d touched to make that horrible noise, then looked up at John…and started to cry.

“Oh, oh no!” John said as he watched Sherlock’s little face crumble and reach for him. “No, sweetheart, it’s okay! It was just a noise!”

Well, yes, it was ‘just a noise’, but it had been a ghastly one! And ho knew what other ugly noises were left?! Tears spilled out of Sherlock’s eyes and he kept reaching for John, not wanting to move or press anything else.

John sat down on the coffee table next to him…he knew he shouldn’t laugh, not when Sherlock was upset and in tears, but God…this was too damned cute. The whole thing.”Awww, bumble,” he chuckled, and pulled Sherlock off of the mat and into a hug. “Poor baby,” he said, pressing the baby’s head to his shoulder as he cried, and petting him.  “It’s okay, I promise!”

Sherlock sat up and turned back to look at the mat, still snivelling and hitching.

“You want to get back on and try again?”

Sherlock turned and re-attached himself to the crook of John’s neck with a wail;“Noooooooooo!”

Oh, my God…this was too precious! John shouldn’t be enjoying himself this much. “Shhh-sh-sh,” he soothed, patting Sherlock’s back. “What if we fix it, hm?”

‘F-f-fi’ss, fi’ss’i’d?” Sherlock snuffled.

“Yeah…Daddy can take out the bad noise and ask Nana to patch it. Does that sound better?” John kissed the side of his head…well, the part the he could reach.

“B’ah noi’?”

“Yeah, no more bad noise.”

Sherlock sniffled wetly in John’s ear, then sat up and stared down at the mat, while his thumb made it’s way into his mouth. “…’kay,” he said quietly, his thumb slurring his words.

John kissed his wet cheek, then gently brush the tears away with his hand.”Sweet boy. Let’s get you into a nappy, after a scare like that.”

Sherlock nodded. “Na’bby.”

‘So,’ John thought…maybe this hadn’t been a complete success.

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“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

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. 🙂

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“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’.”

RP’s with Embie

@squeakpigsrevenge

sadieandmo:

He is a softe

Like a mallow

squeakpigsrevenge:

So squish

sadieandmo:

John likes to sit on the couch with Sherlock’s head in his lap, just to pet him for hours.

squeakpigsrevenge:

That face staring up at him all moon-eyed. Dummy slowly working.

sadieandmo:

Sometimes John will get lucky, and Sherlock will fall asleep right there. But he’s just as content to sit and have a quiet moment with his little boy, even if he doesn’t nap.
Every so often John’ll bundle him close and kiss his forehead. making Sherlock blink.

squeakpigsrevenge:

He’d slow grin behind his dummy and coo. John would give him literally anything he asked for in that moment. Luckily Sherlock was too little to want anything beyond more petting.

sadieandmo:

As much as John loves and appreciates the help and care that Greg and Mycroft provide for them, he really relishes the private moments when he has the baby all to himself.

squeakpigsrevenge:

Awww

Do you think he regrets sharing the baby? Like, he knows it’s selfish but….

sadieandmo:

I think so. They’re at Mycroft and Greg’s so often, it’s almost like they live there. Sometimes he’d rather just be home at Baker Street, being Daddy.

squeakpigsrevenge:

There’s no real way to reel it back either. Not after everything that’s happened. Jawn adores all the attention tho

sadieandmo:

Jawn loves it. It’s almost like having three Daddy’s at once, at least when Sherlock’s also big. But he does miss the way it used to be.
So, he ended up booking a little cottage along the coast for a couple of weeks one summer, for just the two of them.

squeakpigsrevenge:

Aww

squeakpigsrevenge:

At first Sherlock keeps looking for Greg and Mycroft even though he knows they aren’t there. But eventually he gets into the swing of things. It’s been a looong time since he had Daddy’s undivided attention. Sherlock has his charm set at 12

sadieandmo:

It’s a secluded little place about 10 minutes from the beach, so John puts Sherlock in a cloth nappy under a swimsuit, slathers him in sunscreen, and takes him to the tidal pools.

squeakpigsrevenge:

They spend hours down there, breaking only to eat a quick sandwich and change Sherlock’s wet, sandy nappy. John has to convince Sherlock that they can not ‘adop’ a crab. Or seven very ‘i’resting p’ish’. Or a very angry looking cat missing one eye and most of its tail.

sadieandmo:

“I don’t think the kitty wants to be friends, Sherlock,” he said, keeping a watchful eye as  the baby held out his sandwich to share with it.

Sherlock pouted when it refused to come any closer, but just sat, watching. “Why no’d?”

“Animals are just like people, sweetheart…not all of them are nice.”

“Bu’d I y’ike him.”

“I know y’do. But he doesn’t know that, pet. He looks like he’s had a tough time.”

Sherlock sat back on the blanket that Daddy had laid out and worried his bottom lip while he watched the cat…finally, he took off the top part of his sandwich and, before John could say ‘no’, tossed it in the cat’s direction.

squeakpigsrevenge:

Omg!

sadieandmo:

lol

While most of Sherlock’s pet-searching is a failure, he does talk John into letting him keep a little snail with a bright pink, swirly shell, and a tiny mollusk.

squeakpigsrevenge:

“Sherlock.”

“Ki’ddy hun’rey.”

The cat flicked the remainder of its tail dismissively before wolfing down most of the tuna coated bread.

squeakpigsrevenge:

“Mo’yyusks is ce’fa’pods.”

“Yes,” John agreed, carrying the bright yellow pail with their new pets, “Mollusks are a type of cephalopod.”

sadieandmo:

John helps find a big jar with a wide lid and lets Sherlock put some sand and pebbles in before they add the seawater and their new friends. “Have you named them yet?”

Sherlock leaned over the jar and stared down into the mouth of it. “Ummm…i’th boy’s or girl’th?”

“I don’t know, love. I don’t think they care.”

Sherlock held the jar up, and John put his hand underneath to keep it from tipping. “Mmm…My’coff,” he said, nodding to the snail, “An’ G’eg,” he added, nodding to the mollusk.

squeakpigsrevenge:

Omfg

*clutches chest*

sadieandmo:

lmao

John facetimes Greg and Mycroft that night, to let Sherlock introduce their namesakes. :p

squeakpigsrevenge:

Lololol

sadieandmo:

And the next morning, the cat’s chilling in the window, waiting for break’past.

squeakpigsrevenge:

“How come I’m the big ugly one?”

“Nah ug’y! Is a ce’fa’pod!”

“Oh, well in that case…”

sadieandmo:

lol…Mycroft is already on his phone, making the arrangements for a small aquarium to be delivered to Baker Street.

Sadie: Babylock headcanon #8569: Greg is one of those people who nicknames everyone; “honey”, “sweetie”, “darling”, etc. The boys and Mycroft each have multiple ones that he uses on them, but Jawn is usually ‘Monkey’, Sherlock is ‘Muffin’, and Mycroft is ‘Sweetcheeks’.

squeakpigsrevenge:

Greg rubbed Mycroft’s back as he snored. He’d caught a bug
from the boys that had left him with a rattling chest for ages after Sherlock and
Jawn had been whole and hale again. Greg could hear Sherlock over the baby
monitor chattering to his bunny about all the fun things he was going to do
with Da’yee and My’coff and his y’ub bug. Christ. If Sherlock brought a live
bug into the house, Mycroft would have kittens. “Nap times over,” Greg patted
Mycroft’s bum, “I’ll go get the baby up.” Mycroft responded by snoring all the
louder.

Greg switched off the baby monitor and headed down the
hallway to the nursery. Keen ears had heard him coming and Sherlock was
kneeling up the crib, bum waggling like a puppy. “He’yyo! I miss’t you! We can
ha’b ad’bentures now?” Sherlock shouted, stretching his arms for Greg.

“Hello, sweetie muffin. Did you have good sleep?”

“I dun y’ike id!” Sherlock crowed, grinning ear to ear.

Greg slid the side of the crib down and promptly had an
armful of baby, “you silly guy. I know you like naps.”

“Noooo,” Sherlock squeezed Greg. “We ha’b ad’bentures, y’ub
bug?”

“Where’s a bug? Mycroft will be really cross if you brought
a bug in the house. You know how he is.”

Sherlock laid back on the changing table, twisting a finger
in his curls. “My’coff y’ike y’ub bug. My’coff y’ub y’yub bug,” Sherlock said
with a cheeky grin.

“…Love bug is me?” Greg could feel his cheeks turning
scarlet.

“G’eg a y’ub bug,” Sherlock nodded.

Easy ya’ old soppy. Greg smiled down at the baby as he
changed his nappy, “what kind of adventures should my muffin have with his love
bug, hm?”

#prompts are open!

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

Sadie: I need more prompts like this tbh

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“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.”

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

squeakpigsrevenge:

Chapters: 4/?
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Morstan
Additional Tags: Age Play, Non-Sexual Age Play, smacking, Bathing, Bedtimes, everything is a bit not good, John isn’t dealing with his feelings well, Angst and Feels, nappies, John’s Jumpers, John’s A+ Parenting, Tags May Change, Post-Reichenbach, Angst, Sherlock Whump
Series: Part 10 of The Adventures of Baby Sherlock and Daddy Watson.
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?

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

RP’s With Embie

@squeakpigsrevenge

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squeakpigsrevenge:Come along, Jawn

sadieandmo: Or conversely: “No, love…you stay with me, Sherlock. Don’t run off.”

squeakpigsrevenge: Lol yes. He’s running ahead and then dwadling behind

sadieandmo: “…Why he yell? Didn’ do nu’ffin’.” 😥

squeakpigsrevenge: Awwwwwwwwww

sadieandmo: It’s terrible, because they both know just the right words/tone of voice to get the other to go little.

sadieandmo: Sherlock’s gonna pout the rest of the day for gettin’ fussed at.

squeakpigsrevenge: “I don’t know where this attitude came from but you better straighten up.”
Sherlock just looks at him all gap jawed.

squeakpigsrevenge: Cause ‘parently pouting is attitude

sadieandmo: Sherlock gets all sullen and hugs his coat up around him…especially the collar, so no one can see his bottom lip jutting out.

squeakpigsrevenge: He’d go straight to his room when they got home. John was always smack happy when he was like this a Sherlock had to keep his bums best interests at heart

sadieandmo: Sherlock’s not quite ‘little’ little just yet…more like a sulky 6 year old. But he knows he’s getting smaller the longer he thinks about John snapping at him.
He crawls under his bed to hide away, coat and all

squeakpigsrevenge: John tries calling him for tea and gets no response. It’s been too quiet since they got home and thinks Sherlock may have aged up and gone out. They have rules against that but he’ll wait til Sherlock gets home to tell him off

sadieandmo: Once it starts getting late in the evening, though, John starts to wonder. They’re supposed to call each other if it looks like they’re going to be out past 8.

squeakpigsrevenge: He tries calling Sherlock’s cell and it rings from inside Sherlock’s room. There’s a thump and then Sherlock is crying. The phone startled him and he bonked his head in the underside of the bed.

sadieandmo:

John’s confused as all hell but the minute he hears Sherlock crying, he’s in the room and on his hands and knees by the bed. “Have you been here the whole time?…”

Sherlock cries into the carpet and nods, his hands covering the back of his head.

squeakpigsrevenge:

“Come here, sweetheart. Let Da’ see your head.”

“Hur’ds.” Sherlock wailed.

“I’m guessing you gave yourself a heck of a goose egg. Comere.”

“You gun’ ‘pank me.”

sadieandmo:

“What?” Now John really did have no idea what was going on. “Did you do something I should spank you for? Is that why you’re hiding?”

“N-no,” Sherlock snuffles in between deep heaving sobs.

“Then I’m not gonna spank you. Com’ere and let Daddy see, baby.”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“Da’yee a’ways ‘pank me.”

“Christ.” John huffed getting up and digging to the small flashlight he knew was in Sherlock’s nightstand. The little duck in hand John crawled under the bed. “Lemme see your head.”

Sherlock dropped one hand from his head to his bum.

sadieandmo:

John rolled his eyes…as if there would even be room under here, if he were so inclined.
He used the tiny flashlight and carefully felt around the mass of curls around the back of Sherlock’s head until his fingers brushed against a sizable knot that was starting to swell up.
“Yep, that was a good one.” He clicked off the light. “Crawl out and come with me.”

squeakpigsrevenge:

“No, no, no, Da’yee, p’ease.” Sherlock cried, putting both hands to cover his bum.

“Daddy’s not going to spank you. But he might if he has to haul you bodily from under the bed.” John barked, nearly smashing his own head on the way out. “Get your bottom out here, now.”

Sherlock moaned into the carpet and slowly inched his way from beneath the bed.

sadieandmo:

Sherlock slides out from under the bed and sit up on his knees as he reaches back to rub his head. His fingers brush over the lump, and his face crumbles. “Oww-wwwie!”

“Don’t press on it.” John comes over and moves Sherlock’s hands away. “You wouldn’t have bumped your head if you hadn’t been hiding in the first place.”

Sherlock just leans forward and buries his face in John’s jumper, and cries.

can you write one where Sherlock is very regressed or another john one? I have a big soft spot for that type of regression. Thank you so so much

sadieandmo:

Sadie: So do I. 🙂

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If there was one thing John loved about Sherlock’s littlespace (and there were loads of things he loved about it), it was a Tiny day.

Tiny days, where Sherlock was so small as to be near pre-verbal, where John could sit or lay him anywhere and, as long as he kept within eyesight, the little detective would stay put and babble quietly with whatever toy he had in reach. 

Today, was a Tiny day.

John was in the kitchen, quietly making a simple lunch for himself after laying Sherlock in the floor of the sitting room for a nap (Tiny Sherlock had a tendency to roll, and previous experiences involving the couch and a sizable goose egg popping up on his poor little forehead suggested the floor being the safest place to put him). It hadn’t been long since he’d dozed off, and John had just managed to finish making his sandwich and sit down at the table, when he began to hear little sounds of distress coming from the other room.

John frowned; those weren’t Sherlock’s usual noises. Not even when he was Tiny. He put his sandwich down, pushed his chair back, and got up to go check on his little one.

Sherlock was still where he’d left him, splayed out on his back on top of the pile of soft blankets John always laid out for his Tiny days…but he wasn’t sleeping as peacefully as he had been a few minutes ago.

The tiny detective was obviously dreaming, and it didn’t look like it was anything pleasant. His arms and legs would twitch every so often, and even from across the room, John could see his eyes darting back and forth behind his eyelids while he mumbled and made low squeaking noises that ended in whimpers…the poor thing had even spit his dummy out, and had somehow managed to knock it down near his feet.

“Sherlock…” John knelt down and lightly stroked Sherlock’s cheek with his thumb. “Sherlock, sweetheart, wake up.”

It took two more tries, and John gently shaking his shoulder before Sherlock startled awake, his eyes popping open wide and unfocused as he looked about the room. 

“Shhh, hey…look, Daddy’s here, it’s alright. Look, muffin, it’s me…right here.”

Sherlock blinked rapidly, still appearing disoriented until he turned his head and his gaze finally settled on John. The look of panic ebbed away, and he gave John a faint smile.

John smiled back. “Hi, baby.”

The smile could have lasted for an entire lifetime and it still wouldn’t have been long enough for John, but it still faded much too quickly as Sherlock apparently remembered that he’d been having a nightmare; the smile faded and he reached for John, his chin dimpling as his eyes began to well up with tears.

“Aw, no…did my little baby have a bad dream,” John cooed as he helped Sherlock sit up and then held him to his chest. “That’s all it was, sweetheart. Just a bad dream.” He carded his fingers through Sherlocks’ curls and cradled the back of his head as he rocked him, right there on the floor, and kissed his damp little forehead.

Sherlock tucked his arms in between them and sucked his thumb while he lay there, sniffling. 

“Poor baby. Do you want Daddy to make you a bottle?”

Sherlock nodded, but the moment John started to pull away and stand up, he let out a weak, strangled cry, and John knew he wasn’t going anywhere at that particular moment.

“Alright, we’ll wait a little bit first,” he said, and continued to rock his little one.

~*~*~*~

…He still loves Sherlock’s Tiny days.