The Art of Miss D

2. Link from Legend of Zelda bent over in a treasure chest, tunic flipped up and being given a wedgie.

3. Len Kagamine thickly padded under a onesie, and crawling towards the viewer.

4. Genis Sage from Tales of Symphonia rubbing his spanked bottom through briefs.

5. Kelly awkwardly sitting in a kiddie pool in an extremely heavy/flooded diaper.

6. Killua in his usual outfit shown from the front dangling by his undies on a hook in the back.

7. Arryn thickly diapered and being bounced in a baby jumper. He has a bar of soap in his mouth and tears running down his cheeks (ugh, I struggled with that soap 5ever before giving it up as a lost cause... OTL) 8. Armin Arlert from Attack on Titan dressed in just stockings + panties sitting at a school desk doing punishment lines on paper. 9. Lag Seeing in his onesie outfit crying over a broken crayon.

  John couldn’t leave the house to get medicine and he didn’t know where it was kept in the house, but that didn’t really bother him. Medicine was yucky after all, and really only good for other people. John himself had always preferred to let nature take its course, seeing as how fevers were rarely serious enough to cause any real harm. He knew he needed to stay hydrated though so he snuck to the kitchen when Molly (who was babysitting again since Mummy Mycroft and Papa Lestrade had important work) wasn’t looking and filled his sippy cup with water from the tap. Sherlock was being antisocial again and mucking about in his playroom so it wasn’t hard to go unnoticed on that front.

Once he had his water John snatched a tissue box, his stuffed octopus, favorite blanket and softest pillow then set out in search of a good hiding spot. It was tempting to just curl up on his bed, but if he did that he would be easily found and fussed over. No, he needed somewhere no one would look for him. There were a lot of places to hide in Mummy’s giant house, but it was hard to know which one was best. Mummy surely knew every hiding spot by memory, Papa Lestrade was very good at finding things (including little boys like John), and Sherlock was a bloody genius at hide-and-seek. It would be nearly impossible to remain hidden for long once they started looking. John would do his best though, since he had a feeling the others wouldn’t know he didn’t need yucky medicine.

He wandered around the house for quite a while, passing up several hiding spots until finally he came upon the utility room. John wasn’t sure he had ever been in this room before, but it was obviously a utility because it had a washer and dryer, shelves with cleaning supplies and folded laundry, a giant hot water heater, and a large bin full of dirty clothes. John rarely saw them, but he knew Mummy had house cleaners that did the laundry and other chores. They must be the only ones that ever used this room, and they only came around early in the morning- before anyone was even awake. This was the perfect place to hide, he decided.

John carried his burden over to the water heater and was pleased to see an ideal space for him to curl up in. It was a small area in the corner framed by the walls, the heater and a big wooden cabinet that protruded from the wall. If anyone were to find him, they would have to come and look directly into the space. John tossed his things to the floor before impulsively grabbing a thick folded bedspread off one shelf and tossing it in too. Then he squeezed through the narrow opening into the square area and set about building a comfy nest. When that was done he blew his nose several times until it was mostly clear- for the moment- and curled up with a sigh. He quickly dozed off, content in the knowledge that no one would find him and force unpleasant things like medicine and thermometers down his throat.

Molly’s anxiety was impossible to miss from the moment Greg walked in the door. He exchanged frowns with Mycroft before they both slid out of their jackets and entered the main room. Their redheaded babysitter was there pacing back and forth, wringing her hands nervously.

“What’s wrong?” Greg asked, causing her to startle and halt her pacing.

“Oh! Thank goodness you’re home! I wanted to call, but I think Sherlock stole my phone and he’s locked up in his playroom ignoring me. I tried opening the door with the spare key, but he’s moved something heavy up against it again.” Molly laughed nervously, sounding slightly hysterical, and Greg felt a knot of worry form deep in his belly.

“We’ll have to talk with him about that.” Mycroft said calmly, only Greg noticed the thinly concealed worried in his voice. “Why did you want to call us? Where’s John?”

Molly bit her lip and looked close to crying. “That’s the thing you see. I-I’ve been searching for hours but can’t find him a-anywhere.” she looked between them, clearly agonizing as she waited for them to respond. Greg felt a bit frozen though. She’d been looking for hours and hadn’t found him? John wasn’t that good at hiding and regardless of how large the house was, it wasn’t so large that every room couldn't be searched in one day. Had John been kidnapped? It was possible Greg supposed, though incredibly unlikely considering Mycroft's security system. Maybe. . .maybe John had run away. Greg found breathing nearly impossible as he considered that possibility. It was a possibility though, when he remembered how reluctant John had been about becoming their baby in the beginning. Greg had thought that was fixed though, he had thought John was content; perfectly happy even. They had given him the chance to walk out and he hadn’t taken it, so why would he run away? Greg was brought back to the present when Mycroft grabbed his hand and squeezed reassuringly.

“I’m certain he’s fine and still in the house somewhere. The outside is under constant surveillance and I would have been alerted had he left. However the inside is -I am now regretting- not surveyed by cameras. We’ll have to look for him ourselves.” Mycroft declared and Molly made a noise of distress.

“I’ve been looking for hours though, he’s not here!” she cried, tears actually spilling down her cheeks. Mycroft released Greg’s hand and went to pat her shoulder reassuringly.

“He is here, and we will find him. Perhaps you had best head home now Molly, and we’ll alert you when we locate him.” Mycroft assured.

“B-but-” Molly tried to protest but Greg stepped up.

“He’s right. You look worn thin with worry, and we appreciate you already looking for him. Right now though, you might be more hindrance than help considering how stressed you are. We promise we’ll find him, and we promise to let you know when we do. Head home.” Greg urged and Molly relented.

“I’m so sorry.” she sniffed as she headed towards the door. Greg gently took her arm and showed her out.

“It’s not your fault. We all know how mischievous both Sherlock and John can be. Get some rest.” Molly nodded and left dejectedly. Greg shut the door after her and hardly spared her another thought as he hurried back to Mycroft.

“What do we do? Where do we look first?” Greg asked, feeling his own anxiety rise.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft stated and headed for the stairs. Greg followed and before they even reached their little boys room, the door was being flung open and he was rushing toward them.

“You’re finally home!” Sherlock exclaimed and Greg suddenly had a face full of dark curly hair. “I was so bored!”

“Sherlock, why did you lock Miss Molly out of your bedroom?” Mycroft demanded and Sherlock released Greg to scowl down at his shoes.

“I wasn’t really locking her out I was just. . .experimenting.” Sherlock tried and failed to sound innocent.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft said warningly and the little boy huffed.

“Alright fine. It’s because I was trying to read but she kept coming around trying to make me eat disgusting food and make sure my big boy pull ups weren’t wet, which they weren’t! I wouldn’t be allowed to wear big boy pull ups if I weren’t capable of using the potty, would I? That’s why Jawn can’t wear them; because he’s just a little baby.” Sherlock defended himself while using the classic technique of trying to make his sibling look bad in the process. His smug face was cute enough Greg nearly smiled but worry for John prevented it.

“Sherlock, did you know your baby brother is missing?” Greg asked and Sherlock frowned.

“What? Did that incompetent woman lose him?” Sherlock asked, looking as though he was already planning revenge.

“Well, your reaction seems sincere enough that I’m going to assume you have no part in his disappearing act,” Mycroft said “Which is a very lucky thing for you little boy. However, we still need to find him. Do you know where your brother would hide?” Sherlock contemplated that for a while before he made an annoyed sound and shook his curly head.

“I don’t have any facts. Why did he hide, when did he hide, how long has he been hidden.” Sherlock whined as if they were at fault and could give him the answers.

“All things that would be very helpful to know.” Mycroft agreed. “Ah well, we’ll just have to set out on a grand game of hide-and-seek. Will you play with us, Pumpkin?” Sherlock looked resentful of the patronizing tone but he nodded.

“We should split up though, we’ll find him faster.” Sherlock suggested and Mycroft ruffled his hair with a fond smile.

“Right you are.” he praised “Greg, you take the underground level, I’ll take the first floor, and you can search this one Sherlock.”

The three parted ways and started looking. As time dragged by, Greg grew increasingly frustrated. Why did Mycroft have to live in such a bloody mansion? There were too many rooms! However, as he passed by one door he thought he might have heard a sniffle. His heart picked up as he entered the room but was disappointed when he didn’t see anyone.

“John?” he called, not really expecting a reply. Only there was one.

“Papa?” Came a pathetic little whimper from beside the water heater. The anxious knot in Greg’s stomach loosened considerably as he hurried over and saw his baby boy curled up in a sweaty pile of blankets and used tissues. John looked terrible; with a snotty nose, watery eyes and flushed, tear stained cheeks.

“What are you doing in there John? We’ve all been worried sick looking for you.” Greg scolded. There was no real heat behind the admonishment though. Greg was too relieved to have found John, and his charge looked so very under the weather.

“I didn’t mean to get you sick with my germs.” John said, sniffing miserably.

“That’s not what I meant, darling. Come here though, and I’ll help you get rid of your germs.” Greg held out one of his hands, wishing he could scoop John up and carry him out of the utility room, but he could fit through the narrow space between the water heater and the cabinet.

“I don’t want medicine.” John sobbed and buried his sweaty head in his pillow, clutching tightly to his octopus. “It’s yucky.”

“I know it’s yucky.” Greg agreed, heart throbbing with sympathy. “But how about cuddles?”

John was still for a short moment before he peeked up at Greg. “I’m not in trouble? You and Mummy will give me lots of cuddles?” he asked, sounding hesitant.

“Loads and loads of cuddles.” Greg promised with a coaxing smile. It did the trick, because John pushed himself up on weak legs and slipped through the narrow opening. Greg grabbed him up into a tight hug and inhaled. John smelled ill and the bitter scent coming from his soaked nappy was nearly overwhelming. Greg realized he must not have been changed all day and winced when he imagined the fierce rash his baby would have as a result.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs and taken care of then we’ll cuddle all evening.” Greg promised and hefted John up onto his hip, supporting him with both hands under his wet bottom. John wrapped his arms around Greg’s neck and let his head loll against his papa’s shoulder, sniffing pitifully.

When they climbed up the stairs to the first floor Mycroft was instantly there, pressing his hand to John’s sweaty forehead then smoothing back damp hair.

“You silly little thing. Why on earth were you hiding from us in this condition?” Mycroft’s voice was disapproving but softly soothing at the same time.

“Yucky.” John mumbled sleepily and Mycroft looked to Greg for explanation.

“He says he doesn’t want medicine, only cuddles.”

“Yes well, like it or not he’ll be getting both.” Mycroft said firmly and John whimpered. “Take him upstairs and change him, I’ll be up in a bit.”

Greg nodded and did as instructed. Sherlock didn’t greet them at the top of the stairs so Greg went straight to John’s room and laid him down on the changing table. John whined as he was sat down but quieted obediently when Greg shushed him. Greg pulled off John’s wet shorts and untaped the soaked nappy, tossing it in the bin before grabbing a wipe and cleaning John’s privates. The area was as red and irritated as Greg had been expecting so once it was clean, he grabbed some ointment and rubbed it in. John was relatively quiet throughout the process, only sniffing occasionally, and by the time Greg was finishing up Mycroft entered the room. He was carrying bottles, a thermometer, wet flannels, and the dreaded medicine. He set it all down on the side table and came over to where John was lying, running his hand over the little’s forehead again.

“How do you feel love?” Mycroft asked.

“Sticky.” John answered and Mycroft smiled.

“We can fix that.” Mycroft helped John sit up and Greg nodded, pulling Johns onesie over his head so that his little boy was sat in only his nappy. John leaned into Mycroft's chest while Greg went over and grabbed the wet flannels. He handed one to Mycroft and together they cleaned Johns fevered body, washing away the accumulated sweat. When they were done Greg went over to the dresser and pulled out a clean white sleep gown*. He brought it back and slipped the thin material over John’s head. Once they were done their little boy sighed contentedly and snuggled into Mycroft.

“All clean now. Let’s check your temperature, shall we?” Mycroft asked rhetorically and Greg fetched the thermometer for him. John whined and shook his head when it was offered.

“Don’t need to. Doesn’t matter what the numbers say.” he pouted. Mycroft tisked as he accepted the instrument from Greg.

“You know very well that the numbers do matter. Turn around, Love.”

John whined pitifully but relented and rolled onto his tummy. Mycroft gently slid the already lubed thermometer in Johns bum and they waited patiently for it to take the readings. When he was done he frowned at the device.

“42 degrees celsius. That’s quite high. It looks like you won’t be getting out of your medicine.” John eyes actually welled up with tears at this news and a tiny sob slipped out.

“No.” he declared.

“Yes.” Mycroft retorted.

“Papa.” John pleaded, pulling away from Mycroft and reaching for Greg instead. Greg reached out to his little John and cuddled him close, earning a disapproving look from the other man.

Mycroft went over and grabbed the medicine bottle, measuring some out into the clear plastic cup. It was a thick purple goo that Greg wouldn’t want to choke down either.

“Does he really have to?” Greg tried, petting John’s back soothingly.

“He will take his medicine Gregory, and I don’t appreciate being made into the ‘bad parent’.” Mycroft huffed.

“Right, sorry.” Greg winced at his partners angry tone and tilted John’s head up so he could look him in the eyes. “Best to just get it over with darling.”

John sobbed once but obediently accepted the medicine when Mycroft held it to his lips, swallowing it all before coughing wetly. Greg grabbed a tissue from under the changing table and held it to John’s nose, which was running slightly. John blew into it before he slumped exhaustedly into Greg, miserable tears slipping down his cheeks. Mycroft picked up one of the flannels and wiped the tears gently away.

“Would you like to sleep in our bed tonight, Love?” Greg asked and John nodded. He then lifted their little boy once again and led the way to his and Mycroft’s room. When they got there, Greg sat John down on the bed and folded back the covers. Once they were down John instantly crawled under them, to the middle of the bed. Greg chuckled when John looked up at him expectantly and patted the bed.

“You promised loads of cuddles Papa.” John prompted, voice still whiney and miserable. Greg quickly shucked his trousers, tie, socks, and dress shirt before climbing on the bed and pulling John into a hug.

“I did promise, didn’t I?” Greg agreed, kissing the top of John’s head.

“You promised me Mummy cuddles too.” John reminded and Greg looked up at an amused Mycroft.

“What about Sherlock cuddles?” asked an annoyed voice from the bedroom door. They all three looked over to see Sherlock standing in the door frame with crossed arms and a pout on his face.

“Oh my, we forgot to tell you we found John, didn’t we.” Mycroft said apologetically.

“Obviously.” Sherlock huffed with a childish glare.

“I do want Sherlock cuddles.” John piped up before Mycroft could scold the boy for his attitude.

“Good, because you’re getting them.” Sherlock stated imperiously and came further into the room, walking up to the bed and crawling on. Mycroft halted Sherlock’s progress only long enough to pull off his footwear and shorts, before stripping down to his own undergarments and turning off the lights.

“Have you eaten, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked as he slipped under the covers.

“Not hungry.” Sherlock gave his usual reply, snuggling up against John’s back.

“That’s a no then. Good thing a brought two bottles up.” Mycroft snatched said bottles off the side table and handed one to John, one to Sherlock.

“I only drink bottles before bed.” Sherlock whined.

“Well I think today we’re going to bed a bit early, so drink your bottle Sherlock.” Mycroft instructed. Next to Sherlock, John was being a good boy and drinking down his own milk -even though he wasn’t particularly hungry.

“This isn’t my bottle.” Sherlock protested further. “It’s got stupid little sheepies on it; it’s Jawns.”

Mycroft sighed before taking the bottle out of Sherlock's hands. The cantankerous little boy only had a moment to look smug before Mycroft held the bottle up to his lips. When Sherlock frowned and opened his mouth to complain more, Mycroft seized the moment and pushed the nipple between Sherlock’s lips.

“The sooner it’s gone, the sooner we all snuggle and make John feel better.” Mycroft reminded before Sherlock could put up a real fight, and it worked because his little grump only huffed once through his nose before suckling at the bottle.