Chapter Text
“Sherlock Holmes, you come here right this instant!” John insisted in his best threatening voice. He was trying not to notice the people staring at him as they walked up the stairs and into the museum. He didn’t want things to escalate but he was furious and Sherlock was doing nothing to ease the situation.
Sherlock plopped himself on the steps, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. “No” he said sticking his nose in the air like the spoiled brat he was. With his hair ruffled, ice cream spilled down his shirt and his lip sticking out he looked very much like the rotten little boy he was.
John’s anger was boiling under the surface and he had half a mind to smack Sherlock right here; he wasn’t an actual child so no one could blame him. Sherlock was only acting this way because he knew John wouldn’t put him over his knee here; but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t do that the second that they got home.
“Sherlock, you are in far enough trouble already. I think it would very wise of you to get your tush off that step and follow me right this instant” John said, a definite edge to his voice.
Sherlock looked around as if pondering it before bouncing his crossed arms across his Green Lantern t-shirt. “Hmmm……uh…..NO” Sherlock said firmly, defiantly. He was testing John more than he ever had before and John was going to handle it exactly like his own father had; by not sparing the rod at all.
John grabbed Sherlock firmly by the arm and tugged him off of the step. Sherlock stumbled as John began to pull him down the street but he did follow John. John walked to the corner, hailing a cab. He kept a firm hand on Sherlock’s arm as they waited; he was sure that if he let go of Sherlock’s arm he would take off again. A few minutes later, a cab arrived; John pushed Sherlock in first before getting in himself. When he climbed in, Sherlock was already facing toward the window and away from him, pouting. He could hear Sherlock muttering about him under his breath.
“You can get upset all you want” John whispered to Sherlock, “But you were a very naughty boy and you did not listen to daddy. This was supposed to be a fun trip and you made it not fun.”
Sherlock muttered something John couldn’t hear before he fell silent. John turned away and faced his own window. It was supposed to be fun, he mused; of course Sherlock couldn’t just enjoy the museum like a normal person. He’d had to argue about every exhibit there was, describing how they were scientific or historically inaccurate to anyone who would listen (and to several people that weren’t). John had bought him ice cream to hopefully placate him (a bad parental move he knew, especially since ice cream didn’t sit well with Sherlock) but Sherlock had just thrown it on the ground and proceeded to throw an all-out hissy fit about how he was right and no one was listening to him. Five minutes into his screaming rant, they had been asked to leave by museum security. Horribly embarrassed and angry at Sherlock, they had left. That’s when Sherlock had thrown himself down on the step and refused to leave. Sherlock had disobeyed John plenty of times in his little state but he had never so blatantly disrespected him before and he was not going to let it stand.
When the cab stopped outside of 221b finally, John paid the cabbie and climbed out of the cab. Sherlock, of course, remained firmly planted inside the cab.
“Sherlock, get out of the cab” John said through gritted teeth. He had had enough of this.
Sherlock didn’t move. His eyes were wide; he was getting scared now that they were home. Good; he had reason to be scared.
“Sherlock Holmes, get yourself out here right this instant” John said. The cabbie was giving him a strange look and he felt his cheeks growing warm. When Sherlock still didn’t move, John leaned into the cab, grabbed his hand and wrenched him out of the vehicle. He pulled Sherlock down the sidewalk and up the stairs of their flat. Sherlock began to whine that John was pulling him too hard but John didn’t let up.
When they had reached the living room of their flat, John slammed the door behind him, pulling Sherlock into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and he could see Sherlock’s eyes grow big. Sherlock, though naughty, had never actually received a spanking from John. John had just always sent him to his room or put him on the naughty mat. Sherlock was smart enough to know that John was not going to do that this time.
John’s anger was still burning inside him; he was vaguely aware that he should have probably allowed himself time to cool down before he punished Sherlock but he was so tired and annoyed by Sherlock’s determination to ruin the day that he had planned out as something special for him that he didn’t care. When John undid his belt and took it out of his belt loops, his saw Sherlock’s eyes widen with pure, childish terror.
“Daddy…..I’m sorry……I’m sorry I didn’t listen” Sherlock started to beg. “I’m sorry…..really I am”
John was not in the mood for apologies. “You should have thought about that when daddy asked you to listen. Pull your trousers down”
Sherlock put his fingers nervously to his lips like he was resisting the urge not to suck on his fingers. His hand was shaking slightly. “W-what?” he asked.
“You heard me” John said, his patience growing thin. “Take your trousers off"
Sherlock’s hands went protectively to his back side. “But I don’t want a spanking” Sherlock tried to argue.
“And I didn’t want you to be naughty” John said. “Daddy is very cross……I will not ask again. Pull your pants down.”
Fear covered Sherlock’s face, his hands still on his backside. “But I don’t want to” Sherlock argued weakly. He just couldn’t simply do as he was asked, not even this once.
That was the last straw for John; he had had enough and it was obvious to him that Sherlock had not learned his lesson at all. Making good on his threat not to ask again, John undid the button and zipper on Sherlock’s trousers, yanking them and his pants down to his ankles. John didn’t even register the look of fright on Sherlock’s face before he sat down on the chair, pulling Sherlock toward him. As John pulled Sherlock awkwardly over his knee, Sherlock looked back at him, his lip trembling. “Daddy…..please don’t” he begged. Had John not been so furious, Sherlock’s cuteness might have convinced him not to do it. But this time that was not the case.
John made a quick loop out of his belt and slapped it against Sherlock’s bare buttocks. Sherlock whimpered and squirmed at the hit but John didn’t let him up. He spanked him again, and again, Sherlock’s cries growing louder and louder. For a moment, John got lost in the moment, his anger tinting his vision red. When he looked down at Sherlock again, he felt his stomach drop.
He had thought that he had only spanked Sherlock two or three times but when he saw the state of Sherlock’s backside, he could tell that he must have lost count. Sherlock’s buttocks was dark red and already bruising. Sherlock had crumpled against his knees, now sobbing uncontrollably. “I said I was sorry daddy…..please stop” he begged. Something in Sherlock’s tone spoke of his adult self; he wasn’t just a child wanting a punishment to stop. Sherlock got something out his punishments but he was saying this was too much for him even as an adult.
John felt horrible; he had been so mad that he had let his emotions get the better of him and Sherlock was now a sobbing, inconsolable mess. He had wanted to punish him, certainly, but not hurt him. John let the belt fall to the ground with a loud clank and Sherlock looked back at him. His face was red, tears streaming down it, mucus running freely from his nose. His eyes were red and filled with fear. Before John could say or do anything else, Sherlock jumped up, stopping only long enough to let his trousers fall off of his feet before running down the hallway toward his bedroom, sobbing.