AN - Thank you very very much to MizJoely and nowsusieq for your lovely reviews, they are very much appreciated. And thank you also to everyone who's faved or followed, you're all lovely. This jumps backwards a little bit in my Hooper-Holmes family timeline. I haven't really done much around Dominick's babyhood yet. And Mycroft meeting his nephew for the first time was too cute not to write.
"Be aware, brother mine that if you drop him I will dismember your body with your umbrella."
Mycroft Holmes rolled his eyes skyward while his younger brother placed the most precious of bundles into his arms. The elder of the Holmes brothers turned a contemplative eye on his nephew. Even at two weeks old Dominick Hooper-Holmes was unmistakeably the image of his father, except for the ears and perhaps the slightly softer cheekbones.
Mycroft had never been much of a fan of babies, or children in general for that matter. Not that he'd had all that much experience with them of course, other than his younger brother as a child. The British Government suppressed a shudder at this remembrance of infant Sherlock. The boy had been a ball of energy and noise, rarely sleeping and in need of constant attention. Mycroft could only hope, for his sister-in-law's sake that the child in his arms would be at least a little less of a whirlwind.
"Where is your charming wife anyway?" Mycroft asked, lifting his eyes from his nephew to his brother. While Mycroft failed to see the point of romantic entanglements himself, even he had never been able to deny that the pathologist was more than a match for his brother. The elder Holmes could even go so far as to say that he found Molly to be far more tolerable than anyone else he was acquainted with. Sherlock settled himself in his chair, opposite Mycroft. The consulting detective was perched on the edge of his seat, seemingly ready to catch his son, should Mycroft actually dare to drop the little one.
"Sleeping. Dominick has yet to get to grips with sleeping through the night, unfortunately Molly is not as much of a night owl as I am."
Mycroft - as he always did - noticed the hint of a smile that always tugged at the corners of his brother's mouth when he uttered Molly's name. "No one is as much of a night owl as you are, little brother. If I remember correctly, and I assure you that I do, when you were this age..." The eyes of the British Government fell upon the sleeping child in his arms again "...Mummy didn't get a proper night's sleep for three months. You had quite a talent for making the most ridiculous racket possible for an infant."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, settling more comfortably into his chair as he sleeping son stretched his arm, one little hand gripping Mycroft's jacket.
"Why Dominick anyway?" Mycroft questioned his younger brother, one brow quirked slightly.
Sherlock answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Molly's choice. Something about it having been a traditional name for baby boys born on Sunday."
Mycroft couldn't help scoffing slightly. "Since when have you ever been one for anything traditional, little brother?"
"I'm not." Sherlock leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin and slightly awed gaze on his infant son. "Molly and I had an agreement. She would choose his first name and I his middle name."
"Dominick John." Mycroft again regarded his nephew. Evidently the child had a sense he was being discussed as he was now wide awake and looking at his uncle with an expression of utter concentration. The British Government began to gently bounce the little boy in his arms. Sherlock quietly bit back a laugh, the consulting detective recognising only too well the look on Dominick's face. It was the look of his child thoroughly filling his nappy.
Sherlock had to bite his lip for almost 4 seconds before he saw his brother's nose wrinkle and a look of utter disgust take over his face. "Has he just...?" Mycroft looked somewhat helplessly at Sherlock.
"Filled his nappy? Obviously." Sherlock couldn't help the smug grin that broke over his face, his child had the most excellent timing.
"Well shouldn't you do...something...about it?" Mycroft didn't often get flustered over anything but at this particular moment he was bordering on panicked. He attempted to hold the child a little away from himself which only made Sherlock laugh. Dominick began to fuss, clearly not impressed with his uncles reaction to the current situation. "Sherlock." The consulting detective did not miss the hint of a threat in his brother's tone.
"allright allright." Sherlock deftly scooped his son out of Mycroft's arms, bouncing him gently in an attempt to quiet the rather loud wailing emanating from the littlest Holmes. "Shhh Daddy's going to sort out that silly nappy isn't he?" Sherlock cooed to his son as he cradled him in the crook of his arm, using his other hand to lay the changing mat out on the floor.
Mycroft watched his brother cooing over the child and vaguely wondered what the wider world would think of the sight. Sherlock laid a still crying Dominick down on the changing mat, shooting his brother a sideways glance. "Do make yourself useful Mycroft, nappies and wipes are in the changing bag on my desk." Sherlock gestured roughly in the direction of his desk before undoing the poppers down the front of Dominick's onesie. Mycroft rolled his eyes but gave in to his brother's request, retrieving the required items and placing them next to father and son.
Not one of the three Holmes boys heard the quiet padding of footsteps coming from Sherlock and Molly's bedroom. They didn't notice the pathologist leaning against the door frame watch the scene before her. Molly had rarely seen anything as adorable as her husband and brother-in-law, both kneeling on the floor in front of her kicking and wriggling son, attempting to change his nappy.
"Are you sure that's how you're supposed to do it?"
"I am perfectly capable of changing my son's nappy, thank you Mycroft." Sherlock snapped through clenched teeth. The detective was seriously contemplating murdering whoever had invented nappies. Was there really a need for them to be so ridiculously complex?
Molly had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle. In two weeks of trying, Sherlock still could not figure out nappy changing. Molly would admit that it did make her a tiny bit happy to know there was at least one thing her husband wasn't immediately flawless at. After letting the brothers struggle for a few minutes Molly couldn't hold her giggles in any longer.
"What are you two trying to do?" Molly asked as she stepped forward. She was met only by mutterings about nappies being a ridiculous invention. Giggling she knelt down by Dominick's changing mat, shooing her husband and brother-in-law out of the way. Dominick cooed and gurgled happily upon realising that his mother was there to save the day. "Watch and learn boys." 30 seconds later Dominick was furnished once again with a nappy, Molly tickling his tummy as she did up his onesie again and lifted him into her arms.
"I would have gotten it." Sherlock mumbled, pouting like a five year old.
"Of course you would, love. It just takes practice that's all." Molly kissed his cheek lightly, chasing away the pout.
Mycroft, feeling a little bemused and uncomfortable around such freely shown sentiment, got to his feet and cleared his throat. "Well, back to work." He grabbed his umbrella which had been leaning against John's old chair, turning back to the little family. "No need to see me out. Sherlock. Molly." He nodded to both adults as Sherlock helped Molly to her feet. Taking a step towards Molly, Mycroft reached out to take his nephews hand. "It was nice to finally meet you, Dominick." The British Government shook the tiny hand before turning on his heel and striding out of 221B Baker Street.