Little Consulting Detective

Part 28

Sherlock always cried. It was the only way he could communicate now. He cried when he woke up, he cried when he was hungry; he cried when he needed a new nappy, and he cried when he was ready for bed.

Moriarty knew what each of these cries meant; they all sounded different. This time, Sherlock was hungry.

"I know, lockie, it's time for lunch." Moriarty said. He picked Sherlock up from the bassinet and carried him over to the rocking chair, sitting down with him. He removed his pacifier, replacing it with the bottle.

Sherlock drank cooperatively, nestling close to Moriarty. Moriarty smiled. "You're doing so well, kiddo. Maybe after this week, you'll be ready to move back into your nursery." Moriarty crooned. 

Once the bottle was empty, Moriarty held Sherlock up to his shoulder and burped him. He carried him back to his bassinet and laid him down.

Sherlock watched Moriarty with wide eyes, pouting. He whimpered and Moriarty turned to him.

"Aww, do you need your dummy?" He asked. Sherlock nodded. Moriarty grabbed the dummy and popped it in Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock cooed happily. "Daddy will be back later, pal. You take a little nap." Moriarty said. He kissed Sherlock's forehead and left the room, shutting the door.

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Every waking moment was the same routine. Sherlock was growing very sick of it. He has had enough of this game and wants his freedom. He has tried everything to be able to sit up and speak, but he is unable to. He can't explain why, but he knows it was Moriarty.

The door opens, and that's who walks in, cooing and smiling. Sherlock wanted to punch him.

"How's my baby boy after his nap? Are you feeling better?" He cooed, reaching into the basinett to brush Sherlock's hair back.

Sherlock loses it and cries out at the touch, wailing loudly. He wants to curse, and he tries his very best, but he can't think of the words!

Moriarty is stunned by his reaction. He picks Sherlock up, the detective hanging limp in his arms. He bounces and rocks him, trying to soothe him.

Sherlock realizes how pointless all of the crying is, and that it will only exhaust him. He stops, going from loud and desperate sobs  to quiet and needy whimpers. He needs his daddy to hold him and keep him safe.

His stomach twists with knots and he whines in pain. He hates feeling this way.

Moriarty rocks him some more, melting every ounce of fear from Sherlock's mind. He grows sleepy, and closes his eyes.

"It's all okay now, Sherlock. You don't have to worry about anything anymore. Daddy's got you, and he'll never let you go." Moriarty coos. He lays the small boy back in his bassinet, kissing his temple.

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Sherlock cracks his eyes open hours later. His tummy rumbles and he cries, uncomfortable. The door of the basement nursery opens and Irene walks in, talking softly and sweetly.

"There's mummy's baby boy. I think it's time for you to eat." She coos, standing next to the bassinet. She holds a bottle and placed the top in Sherlock's mouth, holding it there. 

Sherlock drinks the milk, relieved. He doesn't even mind not being held. He knows that his mummy cant lift him.

As she feeds him, Irene smiles and smoothed his hair back. She's hardly seen him since the other day, and she's missed him dearly.

"What a sweet boy you are, Sherlock. It seems like daddy's done a number on you. Soon enough, you can come back upstairs to your cozy nursery. Maybe we can even replace your crib with the bassinet full time, how's that?" She coos sweetly.

The look in Sherlock's eyes as he eats says nothing more than she already knows. His grown up mind is reverting to infancy. He can't quite understand he words, but the tone makes him smile behind the bottle.

When it's all gone, Irene pats his back to burp him, and gently rolls him back onto his back. She places a dummy in his mouth and kisses his forehead.

Sherlock watches her leave the room in his drowsy state. He coos softly behind the dummy, stretching as best he can. He closes his eyes again, falling asleep.