Chapter Text
John sat back in his desk chair, stretching his arms and popping his knuckles in satisfaction as he submitted his latest post to his blog. He and Sherlock had been working a case for several weeks, a double murder that had proved to be extra challenging and it had made for one of his longest and most interesting blog posts yet. When he sat back in his chair, relaxing from the energy spent working on it, he saw the clock on his computer, showing that he had spent over two hours writing without even thinking of it much. John looked out the window of 221B, watching the rain running down the window slowly, calming him. Even though he’d worked so much on the blog this morning, he was feeling at ease, ready for the first day off he’d had in far too long.
John was considering whether to make himself a cuppa when he glanced again at the clock. Two hours……he’d worked in silence, uninterrupted for over two hours with Sherlock also in the flat somewhere. His stomach gave a nervous flutter; what had his little boy been doing for the past two hours? Just like with children, too much silence wasn’t always a good thing. It almost always suggested that there was something to hide.
With a resigned sigh, John pushed back from his chair and walked toward Sherlock’s room. Sherlock, having worked so hard and having little time to relax lately, was deep in the small place within him. John smiled to himself when he thought about last night. As soon as the case had been solved and they had come home, John had given Sherlock a bath, dressed him in his warmest footed pyjamas and given him a bottle. They had fallen asleep warm and nestled next to each other, Sherlock’s lips still on the bottle. When John had left Sherlock to go work on his blog, he’d been sitting in bed, coloring. John wasn’t naïve; he knew his little boy well and that wouldn’t have kept his attention for more than a couple of minutes. While Sherlock could happily entertain himself in play for extended periods of time, he was usually whining to John within an hour that he wanted John to play with him. Not that John minded it; he loved it actually. For Sherlock to be shut up in his room this long…..he had to be up to no good. John got flashes of Sherlock’s previous naughtiness in his head; Sherlock modifying all of John’s mobile contacts, scribbles on the wall in marker, a certain favorite jumper of John’s being used as horrible makeshift nappy……John quickened his pace.
John opened Sherlock’s bedroom door as soon as he reached it, alarmed for what he might find. He stuck his head in the door, a wide smile spreading across his face. What he saw this time wasn’t naughtiness or some terror of little-Sherlock-gone-wrong. What he saw was actually adorable.
Sherlock lay on his stomach on the floor, his green blankie tucked under him. He had his stuffed Olaf sitting beside him and in his hands were two toys John had never seen; Elsa and Anna dolls. Sherlock held them up in his hands, facing each other, playing out a scene from the movie with as much drama as he could.
“He’s just like the one we built as kids.... We were so close. We can be like that again!” Sherlock said, moving the Anna doll. Sticking closely to character, Sherlock changed his voice to match Elsa’s. “No…..we can’t! Goodbye Anna!”
John leaned on the doorframe, pleasantly surprised that Sherlock hadn’t noticed him yet. It was a rather entertaining and completely adorable sight to behold. John watched as Sherlock pulled at a plastic beaded necklace around his neck-Frozen, of course- and nibbled on it between character shifts.
“Elsa, wait!” Sherlock called out, making the Anna doll chase the Elsa doll. “I’m just trying to protect you!” He called out in Elsa’s voice. Sherlock thrust the Anna doll dramatically at Elsa. “You don’t have to protect me. I’m not afraid. Please don’t shut me out again.”
John smiled; Sherlock had the script down to the exact words; he was glad when Sherlock continued the scene by standing up, twirling the dolls around in circles as he began to sing.
“PLEASE DON’T SLAM THE DOOR.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO KEEP YOUR
DISTANCE ANYMORE.
‘CAUSE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN
FOREVER,
I FINALLY UNDERSTAND.
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER,
WE CAN FIX THIS HAND IN HAND.
WE CAN HEAD DOWN THIS MOUNTAIN
TOGETHER.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIVE IN FEAR.
‘CAUSE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN
FOREVER-------------!”
The song was abruptly cut off as Sherlock twirled around to come and face John. His face fell at once, caught red handed, a deep blush coming to his cheeks. He tossed the Elsa and Anna dolls across the room and tucked his pink and blue necklace under his t-shirt and out of sight. He seemed horribly embarrassed but John couldn’t see why; he could have watched the scene all afternoon.
“Why did you stop?” John asked with a small laugh. “I was enjoying the show, princess”
Sherlock’s cheeks blushed deep crimson, his ears burning. “Don’t call me princess” he said, crossing his arms and pouting like a two year old. He grabbed his blankie off of the floor, stomped to his bed and flung himself on it, his nappy making a loud crinkling.
“Aw…..don’t be so sensitive” John teased, sitting on down on the bed across from Sherlock. “Get your dolls back out and finish the scene. I really did like watching you do it.”
“I don’t play with dolls!” Sherlock hissed, putting on a full out little Sherlock pout. He was a force to reckoned with when he was like this. This type of bad mood could go on for hours if John wasn’t careful.
“Well, you just were playing with Elsa and Anna weren’t you?” John asked gently. Honestly, he didn’t see why Sherlock was being so sensitive. While John hadn’t ever seen Sherlock play with a doll, he didn’t see anything wrong with it. Sherlock loved Frozen; there was no reason at all he wouldn’t want to engage in that kind of play.
“I bloody said I don’t play with dolls!” Sherlock snapped acidly, his face turning even redder, now fueled by anger.
John could see that Sherlock was obviously sensitive to the doll issue; maybe he thought, especially in a little mindset that dolls were for girls and he shouldn’t want to play with them. But he could see Sherlock was on his way to a full blown temper tantrum and he was going to nip it in the bud. “Sherlock, is that how you speak to daddy? Snapping at me and using naughty words?” John asked in his firm voice. It wasn’t quite his ‘captain’s voice’ but it was firm enough that Sherlock knew he meant business.
“No…..” Sherlock whined, rolling his eyes. It took all of John’s resolve not to give Sherlock a good smack for the eye roll; he was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“You don’t need to be upset” John said slowly. “I just came in here to check on you and saw you acting out Frozen with your figures” he supplemented the word to avoid argument “I thought it was really very cute. There’s nothing to be insulted about. I loved your little voices you used for the figures, your singing….” John reached under the collar of Sherlock’s shirt and pulled his necklace out, running his hands along the beads. “And your necklace looks beautiful on you”
John had long learned that with Sherlock, there was always a surprise coming. Still, it never failed to shock him when one came along. With John’s fingers still on Sherlock’s necklace, Sherlock met John’s eyes and smacked the hand holding his necklace. John was so surprised that he felt his mouth fall open; while Sherlock was really very mischievous, he hardly ever hit John. He’d given Sherlock a chance to make better choices about how this situation would go but he hadn’t followed through. Hitting was definitely not something that John left unpunished.
“Sherlock Holmes, did you just hit daddy?” John asked, the captain’s voice now out in full force. “I think you have something you need to say to me right this instant” John was giving Sherlock a chance to apologize. He was still going to give him a spanking, but this was Sherlock’s chance to decide if it was going to with-nappy or without-nappy spanking.
Sherlock was silent for a long moment, a look of challenge on his face. He slammed his arms across his chest and stuck his tongue out at John. John felt his ire rise; the nappy was definitely coming off.
“Sherlock, you are being a very naughty boy” John said sternly. “Come here”
Sherlock’s cockiness melted a little bit but he still didn’t obey. John grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pulled him toward him. Slinging Sherlock over his knees, he gave him a few good firm smacks on the bum with the nappy before pulling it off of Sherlock and exposing his pale backside. Sherlock tried to hold onto his tough composure as John swatted his bottom but by the time his light skin was beginning to turn red, Sherlock gave up and started sobbing. Usually, Sherlock was begging for John’s forgiveness by this point but there were no apologies this time; Sherlock just wept bitterly against his legs, crumpled against him.
“Sherlock, daddy loves you but you have made some bad choices and you need to sit and have a think about it” John said, detaching Sherlock from him and setting him on the bed. He lay with his little red bum in the air for a minute, staring at John with tears running down his cheeks before he dove under the covers of his bed and began to cry so loudly it could only be described as wailing.
It always pained John to leave Sherlock like this; Sherlock always cried after being spanked and John knew that he needed that. It was a release for Sherlock; his emotions were so strong but they were so deep and he needed help releasing them. While it made him sad, he gave Sherlock the time that he needed to properly release and then calm himself.
John went into the sitting room and turned the telly on even though he didn’t really watch it. Sherlock screamed for a solid 20 minutes before beginning to taper off; he certainly had the cry stamina of a child. When John could no longer hear Sherlock’s crying, he got off of the couch and walked back to his room, happy to patch things up with his little boy. It had been a long time since he’d had to discipline Sherlock this much and he had to say he didn’t particularly care for it. If left up to his own devices, John would have had him properly spoiled by now. But Sherlock made it clear in the very beginning he needed John to be firm. So, he was firm for Sherlock’s good. The only good thing about punishments in John’s opinion was the make up afterwards.
When John walked back into Sherlock’s room, he found Sherlock lying under the covers, his head sticking out. He had his blankie clutched in his hand, thumb and corner of the blankie popped in his mouth. His face was red and wet; he looked spent after his release and John knew he’d probably sleep if he left him there. John wouldn’t just leave him there though; he didn’t need sleep that badly.
John came into the room, sitting on the edge of Sherlock’s bed. Grabbing a tissue, he wiped Sherlock’s eyes and nose for him; he never did it himself. “D-d-d-daddy……”Sherlock whined pitifully, his lip sticking out and shaking as if he might start to cry in earnest again; the sight of it broke John’s heart.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry” John said, scooping Sherlock onto his lap. Sherlock quickly nuzzled his head against John’s chest as John laid the blanket across Sherlock’s still bare lower half. He laid Sherlock’s head against his shoulder, rubbing his hair affectionately. “Daddy doesn’t like to punish you, you know. But if you don’t make good choices, there are punishments. You know why I spanked you, don’t you?”
“I-I-I h-hit you” Sherlock stuttered, still clearly shaken from his weeping spell. He made a loud sucking noise as he sucked his thumb anxiously.
“Yes” John confirmed. “That hurts daddy, you know? It hurt my hand and my feelings. I don’t like it when you’re not kind to me.”
“I-I l-love you” Sherlock gasped, taking racking breaths. They began to calm as John ran his hand along Sherlock’s cheek.
“I know you love me, and I love you too, sweet” John soothed. “That’s why we need to be kind to each other. When we love someone we’re nice to them, right?” Sherlock nodded wordlessly. “Can you tell daddy why you got so upset? Why you hit me?”
Sherlock was silent for a moment. “You make fun of me” he said in a little tone mixed with hurt.
“I didn’t make fun of you” John said quickly, confused. Sure, he made fun of Sherlock all the time when they were big; Sherlock asked for it by insulting him so often. But when Sherlock was little, all he did was praise him.
“You said I was beautiful” Sherlock protested, as if it was the worst thing in the world.
John smiled, tilting Sherlock’s face to look at him. “Well, that’s not making fun of you” he said, “I told you you were beautiful because I think you are.” John felt his face flush; it was the sort of thing that he could only imagine saying when Sherlock acted little even though Sherlock was clearly very attractive even when he was being big.
“I’m not a girl” Sherlock said with the undignified tone of an insulted child.
“I know that of course” John said with a small laugh. “You’re always daddy’s little boy. Sorry, I suppose handsome would be a better word?”
Sherlock ignored the question, thoroughly worked up now. “You called me princess!” he said, gesturing with his hands as if trying to get John to understand.
Well, that’s what it came down to; Sherlock was certainly having a sensitive day. “I’m sorry, I suppose I was teasing you” John relented. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I really did think you were acting very cute. And you know, there’s nothing wrong with little boys playing with dolls.” John could practically feel his own father rolling over in his grave at the statement; still, John saw absolutely nothing wrong with it.
“Well, then don’t laugh at it!” Sherlock snapped, offended and on his way to getting worked up again. “Mycroft laughed at it, don’t you be like him!”
John paused; maybe there was the root cause of the problem. John was sure that Mycroft knew of Sherlock’s littleness; not because Sherlock would have ever told him but because Mycroft shared Sherlock’s powers of deduction. But John didn’t know if this was a new issue or if Sherlock was referring to his actual childhood. “What did Mycroft laugh at?” John asked unassumingly.
Sherlock was silent, looking down at his lap for so long that John was sure that he wasn’t going to talk when he finally broke the silence. “I was little and I used to play dolls and Mycroft was older and he laughed at me. He dressed me up and made fun of me.”
The only knowledge John gained from this was that this had happened when they were children; the rest only made him more confused. “What do you mean, dressed you up?” John asked gently.
Sherlock gave a dramatic huff, as if all the talking was simply too much for him. John, determined to understand what this odd incident was all about, rubbed Sherlock’s back in an effort to soothe him. “It’s alright, sweetie” he cooed. “Tell daddy what upset you. It’s just me and you.”
Sherlock took a long breath and finally decided to talk. “I was little…..I didn’t know any better” Sherlock defended himself. “Mycroft was so big and I wanted him to play with me. He acted like he wanted to play with me; we took care of the dolls together. He dressed me up in pretty clothes. I didn’t know they were girls clothes…..I didn’t!” Sherlock yelled as if arguing with his past. “I just thought they were pretty……Then Mycroft’s friends came over and they laughed at me.” He stuck his lip out in a babyish pout. “Mum yelled at him something terrible but it didn’t help. I still didn’t have anyone to play with. But I didn’t know it was wrong……I swear I didn’t! I thought we were just playing!”
John felt indignation burn his ears; he knew he couldn’t very well call Mycroft and yell at him for something that he did when he was a teenager but he wanted to. There was such a large age gap between Sherlock and Mycroft, John wasn’t surprised that Sherlock had wanted to be around him and play with him. It was unfortunate that Sherlock’s innocence, so fragile a thing that he had retained it into adulthood, had been manipulated. Sherlock was so strong on the outside but deep down he held things tightly. He hated that Sherlock seemed to think he’d done something wrong and hated even more that something he had said had dredged this long ago incident up.
“You didn’t do anything wrong” John assured him quickly. “You were just playing. Mycroft was wrong to do that to you. I promise you can play with whatever you like and I won’t laugh at you.”
Sherlock pouted more furiously, crossing his arms and sticking his lip out even further; the picture of a child wronged. John was trying to think of a way to get Sherlock out of his funk; if Sherlock was going to stay pouty all day it could be a very long day indeed.
“John….Sherlock? You in here?” Mrs. Hudson’s voice called out through the flat.
John smiled; a little mothering from Mrs. Hudson might just be what Sherlock needed. She spoiled him relentless like a grandmother; John had to be the responsible parent.
“We’re in Sherlock’s room” John called out.
When Mrs. Hudson stuck here head in the door and saw Sherlock perched on John’s lap, cuddling, she grinned. “There are my two favorite boys” she said admiringly. “Wondered if you might want to come down and have dinner with me tonight. I made your favorite biscuits.” She gave Sherlock a wink.
Sherlock was off of John’s lap, his arms around Mrs. Hudson in a second. “Oh! I do! I do!” he called out, jumping up and down in excitement, his sullenness fizzled out.
John laughed as Mrs. Hudson stifled a grin behind her hand, blushing slightly. “You might want to put some trousers on first, dear” she said, finally unable to control her smile any longer.