Ducks
"Why do you want to go feed the ducks again?" Mycroft asks, holding the bag of dried up bread in his hand as he walks with his partner and their little twins.
"It's not me, Myc. It's Izzy and Sher who want to." Greg replies softly, his little girl pulling on his hand.
"Please don't call him that." Mycroft says in an exasperated tone.
"Call him what?" Greg asks, looking back at his partner.
"Sher. I allowed you to name our son Sherlock on the basis that we didn't shorten it to Sher." Mycroft replies, rolling his eyes at his partner.
"It's just a nickname, Mycroft. Just like I call you Myc." Greg replies softly, grabbing his partner's hand.
"Sherlock will kill you if he hears you calling our son Sher."
"Yes well, it doesn't matter what your little brother thinks, does it? And since when did you care, for that matter?"
"I don't. I just don't want my brother whinging as he usually does."
"He'll have to deal with it. Won't he Sher?" Greg replies, looking at his son.
"I don't mind it, daddy. But if it stops Uncle Sherlock getting insufferable then we can just call me Sherlock when he's around. Right, father?"
"Yes, Sherlock, we can." Mycroft smiles proudly, handing the bread to little Sherlock.
"Thank you, father. Come on, Izzy. Let's go feed the ducks." The little boy grins, grabbing his sister's hand and pulling her to the pond.
"You taught him insufferable?" Greg asks incredulously, eyeing his partner.
"Of course I did." Mycroft continues to smile proudly.
"Does he know what it means?"
"I'm very intelligent, Gregory. I can teach a child new words as well as the meanings, thank you."
"Mikey, he's six. Does he really need to know words like that yet?"
"Of course he does. I won't have my son saying someone's poopy or a meanie. He will use proper words." Mycroft replies, sounding like it's undignified for a child to use such words.
"Myc, he's just a kid. He's supposed to say things like that." Greg replies, trying not to grin at Mycroft's argument on the matter.
"I was learning French and how to play the piano by his age. Sherlock too."
"Mycroft, this is our family we're talking about. Not yours. Come on, go easy on him."
"I am. I allow him to do menial things like feeding the ducks." Mycroft replies with distaste.
"Aw, Mikey, that's what normal kids do." Greg replies, finally allowing himself to smile at the older Holmes.
"How boring." Mycroft says simply, looking around the park.
"Oh, now I know were Sherlock got that from. I'll be sure to let John know." Greg grins, pulling Mycroft over to the pond.
"Father, can we play on the swings?" Izzy asks excitedly.
"Well, actually ..." Mycroft breaks off as Greg elbows him. "Yes, of course."
"Thank you, father!" Izzy exclaims, running off to the swing set with Sherlock.
"See. Easy." Greg grins, stopping to hug Mycroft.
"It is, isn't it?" Mycroft smiles, hugging his partner softly and kissing the top of his head.
"I still can't believe you taught our son insufferable and about your own brother too. Shame on you, Mycroft Holmes." Greg grins, kissing his partner.
"I taught them both some new words and meanings." Mycroft smiles back, grabbing his partner's hand and pulling him to the swing set.
"You're terrible." Greg giggles, watching their children play with the other children.