Chapter Text
“God, my back is stiff.” Mycroft complains.
“You’re stiff? Unbelievable.” Greg scoffs.
“Oh the gall!” William declares.
“Yeah pa’!” Jawn chimes in. He’s not quite sure what a gall is, and thinks it might be the noise papa made sounding rather like a seagull. Either way, it’s an improvement to his boredom after papa made them take a walk around the canal, not even letting him try swimming with the ducks. He had to hold hands the whole time, too!
“I was having a perfectly good nap ‘til you little urchins disturbed me,” Mycroft huffs, waggling a finger at them. “Never mind that now. There’s still much of the day left, and the sun is still glorious.”
“Park!” Jawn cries, lurching in his seatbelt. Will places a hand on his chest and finds his heart racing away, so he pushes him into the seat and has him practice his breathing.
“Good job Jawnie,” daddy says in a light but calm tone.
“I have a better idea than the park.”
“Better? What, what is it?!” Jawn jerks forward again, reigniting his excitement. Had he not suffered palpitations Will would leave him be, but too much excitement can give him chest pains, so they repeat the earlier ritual.
“Calmly now, laddie boy.”
“Sorry da’.” Jawn takes a deep breath, and when Will confirms that his heart is settled they continue.
“I’d like to show you a real boat. Not that shi-rubbish one daddy forced us on.”
“I wasn’t forced,” Jawn mutters sotto voce, “I liked it. We can go again?”
“Perhaps without papa next time, spud,” Greg glances at his partner, “you can hire a boat the same day?”
“I’m Mycroft Holmes, pet, I could hire the whole lake if I wished.”
“Touché.”
“Queen Mycie! Bow down to mighty papa.” Jawn raises his arms either side of his head and bows, worshiping the back of his father’s head.
“Head home first, love. I think a certain someone needs their bum changing.”
“Yeah Will!” Jawn giggles, squirming in his seat.
His brother shakes his head with a sarcastic eye roll. “Yep. All me. No Jawnies ‘ere ‘ave smelly bums, absolutely not. Anyone who thinks that must be-”
“Off with their heads!” Jawn karate chops their air, legs akimbo.
“Yeah, we’ll go with that, you little cynic.”
***
“I don’t need it!”
“Yeah, and I’m smarter than Sherlock Holmes. Give off, soft lad. Keep still and I’ll be done faster.”
Mycroft shuts the bedroom door with a tepid glare and uncups the receiver. He is currently booking their boat for the afternoon whilst Will grabs some entertainment for them both. Jawn is not a happy bunny, almost in tears over being changed, and Greg is prepared to give up and allow him to run about in a nappy. Were they staying at home, he would, but to reach the lakes he needs to travel in one of Mycroft’s town cars.
“Aw, good boy Jawn. Don’t you look so handsome?” Will returns with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The shades are rested on his hair, but now he’s in shorts and slides. Jawn blinks up at him, twin tears escaping, and he sniffles.
“Oh kiddo, don’t do that to me. We’re gunna have fun, aren’t we? We don’t want a nasty rash ‘s all.” Daddy pouts.
“No rash.”
“No rashes for our lovely baby. Just fun, fun, fun!” Daddy attacks him with tickles, and when he’s curled up laughing he is picked up to be cradled sideways. He quietens almost instantly, doe eyes meeting daddy’s, his temper forgotten. Kisses are dotted along his hairline and on the tip of his nose, Will ducking to blow a raspberry on his cheek.
“There we are. Missed my happy bunny. Come on then, slow coaches, let’s go find pops.”
Jawn giggles. “Pops!” He begins making popping sounds with his lips as Will swings him onto his hip, allowing Greg a moment of reprieve to sort himself out. Will earns a hair ruffle as thanks, and they leave their dad in the bedroom on the hunt for the other one.
They find Mycroft in the kitchen organising a picnic, and when he sees the blotchiness around his child’s eyes he tuts. Jawn suckles at the tip of his index finger, observing the goings on more placidly now he doesn’t feel so overwhelmed. Once they’ve eaten Mycroft plans to put him down for a nap, knowing there’s no way he’ll settle before he’s seen the boat. The sun shines brightly, and if not for a chilly breeze one may mistake it for a summer’s day. Without speaking, lest it alert his heightened toddler, Holmes grasps a bottle of suncream and squirts some onto his hand. He rubs them together for warmth and plasters each one against the back of Jawn’s arm just before he turns to look. Will holds him tight to his torso as Jawn shrieks and wriggles away, beginning a fresh tidal wave of cries.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just suncream darling.” Mycroft doesn’t stop, however, moving to each body part as fast but efficiently as he can. Jawn sobs, fat tears soaking Will’s shirt, eventually ceding to the grip and opting to just cry it out. “I know I know, I’m so mean. Doing so well, love dove.”
“Don’t like!”
“I know baby, but we’ll burn otherwise.”
Greg chooses that moment to waltz in, having been drawn the sounds of distress. “Oh dear, what’s happened?”
“Daddy! Off, Will, no!”
“Ay ay, stay there little one. I’m here, see? Ah, suncream. I don’t like it either. Shall I help Will?”
“Oh, that’s kind of you dad. Yes please.” Will makes a show of tipping his head back so Greg can access his face and neck; he remains calm and collected as the white, admittedly stinking protection is rubbed into his skin. Jawn stops cawing like a hungry fledgling and watches, though his bottom lip juts obscenely and his cheeks are soaked by upset.
“Good lad, Will. All done. Jawn?” Papa wordlessly does the back of his neck whilst William dries his tears and daddy creams the front of his body. After such a debacle the tot is knackered, and accepts a dummy whilst big brother bounces him. Daddy kisses his hair, chucking him under his sticky chin. “Aw, atta boy. You’re our little bitty boy, arent ya? All tiny and cute, heartbreaker.”
“Yes yes, Jawn is cute. Time to go, boys.”
“Yes pa.” They say in unison. It is slightly unnerving, and Mycroft responds by grabbing the picnic basket and making a hasty departure.
Mycroft won’t explain why they need a driver, but Greg knows there will be a good reason, and suspects it might have something to do with adult juice, as he sometimes calls the bottles in the locked cabinet. Jawn sits between daddy and Will, papa opposite, and is uncharacteristically quiet. The double tantrums have tuckered him out - sad, yes, but also helpful during the longish car ride. The older trio talk amongst themselves, of work and television programs they’ve been watching, Jawn playing with the swinging handle of his dummy, half listening. Swathes of colour paint the world outside the window, similar to streaks made by a flat brush when he and Lock do arts and crafts. It is pretty and relaxing, and Jawn starts to nod off, head leaning heavier and heavier against William’s shoulder.
***
“Jawn. Jaaawn, wake up.” Watson grumbles, head cupped from the back. He cracks open his eyes to find daddy beaming down at him. The car is empty save for them, but pricking his ears he can hear Will’s low voice. “We’re here, spud.”
“I sleep?”
“Only for ten minutes. Come on, let’s go see this boat your pa’s been harpin’ on about.” Daddy tugs him out into the world, bright and unrelenting, eyes needing to be shielded. A pair of sunglasses are slipped over his nose and he is no longer blinded, revealing a twinkling lake barren of life.
Jawn is in awe. He holds daddy’s hand as they approach to take a closer look, flabbergasted that the bobbing boat is in fact theirs for the day. Much better than the ones in Hyde Park, that’s for sure. Will hops on with ease, obviously accustomed to this mode of travel, and papa isn’t far behind. The car drives off, Jawn and Lestrade stood in its dust, their jaws dropped. Greg had thought a speed boat was on the cards, and that would have been enough to entertain him all afternoon, but this boat is luxurious, and completely, utterly private.
“You coming or what?” Will yells. Mycroft tugs at his arm and warns him that the toddler has only just woken up, still in the hazardous zone of a meltdown if he becomes overwhelmed. They watch as Greg lifts Jawn onto his hip, one hand absently patting his bum, before they too enter the shaded common area.
There is a short fridge containing snacks and drinks of all offerings, and Mycroft tucks their picnic in there to be consumed later. When one walks through onto the front of the boat, they will be met with a vast decking area perfect for sunbathing on the water. It is there that Will drops his backpack and leans over the barrier to look down into the water, almost losing his sunglasses. He catches them, ignoring the burn of amused eyes on him, and shoves them back on with a huff, cheeks coloured by embarrassment. Jawn surveys the area quite like a contractor, but he deems it acceptable and reaches out for papa to take him.
“What do we think, huh? Better than daddy’s boat?” Papa asks, bouncing him.
John sticks his finger in his mouth, dummy lost after his nap. “Mm, okay.”
“Just okay?”
“‘Ere no duckies here.” Jawn garbles around his finger.
“That’s… true, yes. But mine has a fridge. Dady’s boat didn’t have a fridge.”
“Daddy’s boat had pedals. How dis one move?”
Papa beams, and it is the most childlike any of them have seen him. “Why, let me show you!”
The boat moves on ahead, more at a cruising pace but probably the same speed as the damn pedal boat. The controls are manned by Mycroft, who, of course, knows exactly how to pilot the boat, and does so with such grace and decorum one would think he is the captain of a luxury cruise. When Jawn realises he cannot play with the fancy knobs, levers and buttons, he tires of the control panel and wanders off in search of enrichment. Will is sat out on the deck, legs crossed, leaning back on his arms. His face is tilted up to the sun, but when Jawn sits between his legs (daddy too slow to catch him in time), his big brother smiles down at him and kisses his hair.
“I love you. Did you know that? Do you know how much I love you?”
“Hmm, this much?” Jawn opens a gap between his hands.
Will scoffs. “Only that much? Nooo, much more than that. Keep going!” Jawn does as he’s told, laughing, and when his arms are nearly behind his back Will sighs histrionically. “I don’t think your arms are big enough. I love you thiiiis much!”
Will gestures to the world around them, and Jawn gasps. That is a lot indeed. Overcome by the love his brother has for him, Jawn hides in his neck and kisses his collarbone, the only bit he can reach. Will giggles like a child and wriggles away, the sensations ticklish, then grasps Jawn’s face, still pressed to his neck, and plants another, much firmer kiss to his head. “Love you more than the world, little one. You’re my person.”
Meanwhile, their fathers are positively losing their collective minds over the sight, and Greg isn’t afraid to admit he has the whole conversation captured on video. He snaps several photos of their children cuddling then retreats to the shade, where his partner is waiting on the couch. They clink tumblers of whiskey and take a small sip, the rich liquid burning in just the right way. Greg checks - the kids aren’t looking, instead watching the lapping water - and shares some of his mouthful with Mycroft. It is bliss to be able to indulge like this, just their little family, out of the isolation of the manor, and even better that they have the weather to be here. Mycroft hums against his mouth, their foreheads clashing gently together, and closes his eyes to embrace the sensations.
Out of nowhere, they are jolted apart by a slobbery mouth on theirs. Mycroft yelps, rubbing at the wetness, and opens his eyes to find his grinning baby boy inches from his face. “Well hello there.”
“He wanted to join in on the fun.” Will sniggers. “I could hardly deny that little face, could I?”
“Hm, this isn’t the kind of fun little Jawnies ought to be interrupting,” daddy says, but he’s smiling. “Why don’t you give your pa’ a lovely sloppy kiss as a thank you for bringing us here?”
Jawn needs no further encouragement, deaf to papa’s protests as he descends on him with the slobberiest, grossest kiss he can muster. Mycroft’s lips and chin shine with saliva afterwards, and he wears a rather dazed expression, like a pigeon whose food was stolen by a squirrel. Watson then turns to daddy, and without any warning he too is attacked by drool and teeth, for Jawn cannot stop laughing whilst he does so. The pair of dads are most unamused, scrubbing at their faces, and Will is doubled over with laughter, his phone directed at the scene of the crime.
“God, you should see your faces. Good job Jawn!” The kids high-five, Jawn skipping to the fridge, proud as a peacock. He selects a Capri Sun and has Will poke the straw through, all while oblivious to the waning excitement he has just caused. “Can I drink too?”
“Shandy only. In fact, I’ll bloody do it. Don’t trust you.” Lestrade winds his way around the table towards the kitchenette, bashing Jawn’s hips with his own. The little boy bounces on his toes, absolutely adoring his special day, one hand rising to clutch at the waistband of his brother’s shorts.
“Plenty of water too, William. I’ll not have you dehydrated.” Mycroft says.
“Yeah yeah, worry wart.”
“It’d be me sitting with you in a hospital room as you expel your guts into a kidney dish. Shut your trap and drink your damn shandy.” Mycroft snipes with a wink.
“Ooh, bit tetchy you. Did the whiskey give you blue balls?” Will retorts.
“You know damn well the whiskey is innocent.”
Jawn, belatedly catching up to the conversation, perks up. “Balls? I wanna play with your balls!”
Will’s drink spews from his mouth, Greg hiding his shaking shoulders in the fridge, and Mycroft slams his forehead into the table, all while Jawn looks around in confusion. So much for a relaxing afternoon.
***
Their afternoon improves once lunch has been eaten. Repleted and warmed by the golden rays from above, the kids entertain themselves on the decking whilst their fathers continue where they left off. Jawn utilises the open space to create a racetrack for his cars, all of which cannot be moved without a revving sound paired with them. He also enjoys pretending that the cars are on a ferry, some going on holiday, others to work; the kind of world-building Lock loves the most. He’s sure his little brother would be proud, but right now he has a big brother who has requested to be left alone. Will is hunched over his new device - one given to each teen as a gift in preparation for their new teenage bedroom set to be decorated.
Mycroft had left Greg to the purchase, who had asked around the Yard bullpen for advice on gifts to teens, and had been told by a spotty constable no older than twenty-two that Nintendo DS are still the rage. That same sweet lad had seen the stricken look on DI Lestrade’s face and come back in the next day with two cartridges for the game devices he spoke of, each loaded with ‘all the classics’. Despite neither parent having a single idea what any of it meant, the teens were taken aback by the gifts and ever so thankful. Will takes his everywhere, his nose buried in the dual screens, tapping away at buttons and muttering to himself.
The day, in Mycroft’s opinion, is much improved. When Jawn’s head starts to drop, Mycroft is confident he will cause no fuss, and approaches with a cool touch to the head. Jawn, like a baby monkey, reaches up for him, intent on grabbing all the cuddles on offer. Papa takes him on his hip and pads back into the shade. “Jawn, did you know there’s a downstairs?”
Jawn hums, head shaking, dummy clacking. Papa gestures to daddy for help, who lifts what looks like a trapdoor to reveal steps. It isn’t some dank, musty cellar awaiting them below, however, but a bed and shower lit by port holes in the walls. Jawn hums again, this with more gusto, albeit he is too fatigued to give the enthralled reaction he feels inside. Mycroft sets him down on the bed with a perfect view of the water lapping against the glass, paying no mind to the four hands undressing him. Naked, he is manipulated carefully to be wiped clean and taped into a fresh nappy, during which his eyes fight to stay open. Routine performed in silence, Jawn is privy to a front-row show of nature’s beautiful sounds as waves crash inches away from him, the susurrus sending him right to sleep where he is tucked under the covers.
The parents creep back upstairs, Will waiting for them, and Greg remarks: “I think that’s the easiest he’s ever gone down when he’s not tiny.”
“Nature works wonders, my dear.”
“And good food.” Greg winks at his partner, their hands clasped.
“And the sun.”
“Indeed. Speaking of which, Will, I’d like you to put down the screens now. Just enjoy yourself.”
“I was enjoying myself perfectly fine, thank you very much,” Will says, though he releases his grip when pa removes the device from him. “What else is there to do?”
“You brought games, didn’t you? I’m sure there’s something we can find to play together.”
***
“Dad, you gotta say the thing!”
“What? Oh, uno!” Lestrade frowns. “Why’ve I got to say it on the second-to-last card? Weird rule. Different to bingo.”
“Yeah, it’s almost like bingo has nothing to do with a card game. Strange, right?” Greg pokes his tongue out at Will, who does the same. Somehow they’ve played genially, even after discovering that Mycroft is a rather competitive whizz at the game.
They are on their second round of games and drinks when a soft cry emits from below the deck. Mycroft is up on his feet and down the stairs in seconds, whilst the other two shut up to listen to the gentle coos of their family and Jawn’s sleepy mumbling. Mycroft wears Jawn like a belt on the way back, kissing at mussed downy hair. Jawn is met with hushed greetings, and he is set in daddy’s lap, where he curls his knees to his chest and snuffles into the aromatic spice of daddy’s cologne. There is little happening in the minutes it takes Jawn to wake properly, and once he’s more aware, he sits straighter, tugging at his own ear.
“Boat?”
“Yeah, we’re still on the boat, clever boy. Are you feeling tiny?” Jawn shakes his head and grunts around his dummy, no doubt swallowing fibres from the teat where it was lost among the sheets and later found.
Watson removes it only to take a few sips of his water bottle, held out by papa because he makes no move to grasp it independently. He glances over at Will and matches the sunny smile sent his way, wriggling to be taken by his brother. They have a little cuddle, only two minutes long, when Jawn arches his back and whinges. He’s bored already, Will remarks, having remembered that they did not finish their tour of the boat.
“How rude of me. Come along dear heart, let’s go have a look at the rest of the boat.” Jawn takes papa’s hand and slips from Will’s lap, but the teen isn’t far behind, and Jawn’s mood improves significantly.
In fairness, the boat isn’t big enough to have a proper tour, but they do get to wander about and listen as papa explains all the functions of the random bits and bobs that go into making the boat look and perform so perfectly. Finally, they reach the deck, where just off to the side is a lower section cordoned off by a hidden gate that otherwise blends in seamlessly with the rest of the barrier.
“Wha’ dis for?”
“This is where some people like to go fishing, but it can also be used as a diving board,” papa points to the miniature ledge jutting past the gate, and Jawn gasps.
“A plank?”
“Well, more of a dismount zone, but I suppose so.” Papa turns out to the water, taking a moment to breathe in the slight tang of reeds and water. Younger Holmes pulls his phone out of his pocket and surreptitiously sets it up to record.
Will then leans down to whisper in Jawn’s ear, who thinks his brother is just a bit too shy to ask his question. He happily inquires on his behalf: “how it work, papa?”
“Oh, I’ll show you.” The gate is unlatched, wide enough to fit two of them side-by-side comfortably, then carefully steps down onto the platform. “Like this, see?”
“Yeah Jawn, like this!” Will nudges him out of the way and with a great whoosh of air pushes Mycroft straight into the water.
“Fu-freezing! That’s freezing!” Holmes screams, a rather undignified high-pitched squeal as he plummets into the water with a huge splash that Will barely ducks to avoid. It causes an undulation of hundreds of ripples, alongside the graceless flail of limbs against the cold water. Mycroft splutters, glaring up at Will, who can barely take a breath for how hard he is laughing. Jawn too, once seeing papa wink reassuringly, giggles, watching daddy push past them to hop onto the ledge.
“Boys, that was mean! Your poor pa!” Greg leans out, arm outstretched, to help Mycroft up. Holmes grasps at his hand, but instead of bracing he yanks him in as well. “Oi!”
“Move over old men!” Will rips his shirt and shorts off and barrels in after them, causing a tidal wave to soak the already soggy parents. They all caw, Will shrieking at the cold, and Jawn steps closer. He tugs at the handle of his dummy, eyes big and round, not willing to approach any further.
Daddy swims up to the ledge and holds out his arms. “Are you going to jump in, baby?” Jawn thinks about it before nodding. “Come ‘ere, daddy’ll catch you!”
“Take that dummy out first, please,” papa then mutters under his breath, “won’t have anyone choking.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Will winks, then grunts as an elbow pokes at his gut. They turn back to Jawn, who is gradually edging closer, now tugging at his bottom lip instead.
“It’s alright Jawn. Nothing’s gunna hurt you.” Daddy glances off to the side and his eyes light up. He points to a pile of odd-looking contraptions and has Jawn retrieve one for him. “There’s a good lad. This is a life jacket. It’ll stop you going underwater.”
That seems to be of comfort to the tot, who crouches on the ledge for daddy to fasten it to his torso. When he is safely buoyant Jawn rises to his full height, rips off his nappy, bobs his knees a few times, then launches himself at daddy. He is caught, daddy holding him up by the armpits, and the air is filled with raucous applause and cheers. Jawn blushes under the celebrations, but he too claps and grins so wide it surely hurts his cheeks.
“‘Gain!”
“Again? Oh my goodness, we’ve got ourselves an olympic diver now!” Daddy jests. Jawn is sent back up onto the ledge and jumps in again.
Little Watson becomes quite good at the whole leapfrog impersonation, but can only continue as long as daddy’s arms are able to catch him, which isn’t for very long. He’s allowed one more turn and upon landing in the water, Jawn is embroiled in a game of swim-tag. Will cackles, paddling away from Jawn who kicks his legs every which way to reach him and tag him back. Greg uses the distraction to stretch out the ache in his arms, absolutely worth it to see the sheer joy on his kid’s face, but sore nonetheless. Except for the laughter of their children, all is calm on the water, until Greg makes a bizarre cawing noise, like a crow who smokes fifty-a-day, and ducks under the water.
“Where daddy go?”
“I have no idea. Perhaps he’s become a mermaid.” Papa muses, watching the spot where his fiancé disappeared. He’s not worried in the slightest, and Will spots a disturbance a little further away, pointing it out.
Daddy emerges from the water far less aesthetically than the long-haired models seen on Instagram, his smile bordering on the side of manic. “Look at this, lads!”
“Oh dear god.” Mycroft cringes, already backing away.
“Holy shi-moly.” Will cannot disguise his shock.
“Fuckin’ hell!” Jawn exclaims plainly. Daddy snorts, swimming closer with his treasure held close to his chest. “How do?”
“Little bugger tried to eat my toes!” The toe-eater in question simply wriggles, rather aggressively, in protest to the accusation.
“How on earth did you catch that?” Will pokes the soft underbelly of the large carp, which smacks its lips at him and flails its fins.
Daddy sniffs haughtily. “Magic!”
“Magic?” Jawn asks with awe. It is so cute William bites back his comment about the truth of magic, but papa’s glare doesn’t go unnoticed either.
Lestrade keeps the fish just under the surface of the water so not to choke it, and starts to swim towards Mycroft who yells at him to stay away and starts to swim for his life. Had it not been for the genuine panic on his partner’s face Greg would’ve chased him, but Jawn is more willing to get a closer look. He wants to see, he tells him, and when able to make contact daddy briefly lifts the carp out of the water.
“Oh, no, don’t do tha-” Jawn has his mouth open, ready to take a bite out of the fish (he does so love fish bites, and reckons it’ll taste just as good) when he is quite literally hit in the face with instant karma.
“Serves you right you silly sausage!” Will laughs as Jawn splutters, batting away the smacking tail fin. Daddy snorts, then swims away to release the poor bugger before they stress it out. Jawn takes that opportunity to go for his brother, growling and gnashing his teeth as if to eat him too. They grapple, Jawn bobbing about due to the life jacket, in a fight that can and will get out of control rapidly.
Daddy drags in a breath before sinking back under the water again. Like a shark he snakes through the murky water until he reaches his boys, where he tickles at their feet. They kick at him, their giggles audible even underneath the water, but as he hoped for they break off their wrestle match. Lestrade resurfaces, triumphant, and turns to his partner, who has so far attempted to creep towards the boat in silence.
“Oh no no no, that won’t do at all!” Greg sings. Mycroft groans, beginning to swim faster, but he is stopped by a tsunami aimed at his face. He splutters, blinking away water.
This, inadvertently, starts a war. No one is safe, and it’s an every-man-for-himself battle to splash each other as most as possible. As Mycroft clutches at the boat when all three of his boys turncoat on him, he is torn. The boat wasn’t a terrible idea, despite the frequent attacks on his person, and he’s incredibly thankful for the onboard shower.