Little Consulting Detective

Part 26

Sherlock sat quietly in his playpen, playing with a few stuffed animals. He had been there for about an hour now, and he was getting ready for a bottle.

"Daddy?" He called, looking around the room. Moriarty walked in and smiled at Sherlock, picking him up.

"Is my little tyke ready to eat?" Moriarty asked. Sherlock nodded. Moriarty carried him into the kitchen and made a bottle. As the detective waited, he started getting antsy. He whined and poked Moriarty, unhappy.

"Don't poke daddy, little one. Your bottle is almost ready." Moriarty said. He heated the bottle and screwed the lid on, carrying Sherlock into the living room. He sat down and cradled Sherlock on one arm.

Just as Moriarty was about to feed him, Sherlock began shouting, hitting Moriarty.

"Let me down!" He yelled, flailing against the criminal. It seemed he was out of his headspace yet again.

Sherlock trashed around in moriarty's arms, eventually falling to the floor. He stood clumsily and sprinted to the back door, pulling madly on the doorknob. It was locked!

Moriarty sighed and followed the boy, scooping him up. Sherlock screamed and pounded on moriarty's chest with his fists, trying to hurt him as best he could.

Moriarty grabbed a sedative from the kitchen cabinet. He had a hard time at first, but eventually he overpowered Sherlock and got him to take the medicine.

Sherlock started feeling drowsy. He looked up at Moriarty with tired eyes, and the criminal smiled. Sherlock whimpered as he fell into moriarty's chest, head lolling.

"Oh Sherlock, you never learn. I think it's finally time for more drastic measures." Moriarty said, watching as Sherlock fell asleep. He carried him down to the cellar and walked into a smaller room. It was rather boring, containing only a large bassinet, changing table, and dresser. The walls were cement, as was the floor.

This nursery wasn't meant for comfort, but for cooperation. This is where Sherlock would finally break and regress for good.

Moriarty placed Sherlock in the bassinet and smiled at him, smoothing back his hair.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, little one, but you gave daddy absolutely no choice. I know it's not ideal, but the faster you get into your headspace, the sooner you can come back up to your cozy nursery." Moriarty cooed.

Sherlock fussed in his sleep. Moriarty placed a hand on his tummy and rubbed in a few soothing circles to calm him down. The criminal reached out for a dummy and popped it in Sherlock's mouth. 

Once he was still, Moriarty went over to the dresser, pulling out a small tape player. He placed it on a high shelf, above the dresser, and turned it on.

He selected the first tape in the series, which was meant to make your baby unwilling to sit up on their own. As Sherlock slept, he would feel less inclined to move on his own, allowing for less drugs to keep him in line. 

Moriarty popped the tape into the player and left the room, shutting and locking the door. He suspected that Sherlock would be quite upset with this new method of regression, but babies opinions didn't matter.

Hours later, Sherlock opened his bleary eyes, glancing at the ceiling. It was much cooler in here than in his nursery. Where was he?

He slowly sat up and took stock; it was a small room with a dresser, changing table, and bassinet.

Sherlock reached up to rub his head, and became suddenly woozy. He laid back down, resting on the soft mattress. A bassinet was clearly much more infantile than a crib, but it was comfortable nonetheless, though a bit cramped.

Sherlock heard a faint lock click and looked to the door. Moriarty came into view, and smiled at Sherlock.

"What do we think of your new nursery, pal? I know it's different, but you'll get used to it sooner or later." Moriarty said. He noted Sherlock's droopy eyes and reached out to pick him up.

"I think someone could use a nappy change, hmm? You've lost all control of your bladder, and fighting daddy only seems to exacerbate it." Moriarty said. He laid Sherlock down on the changing table and removed his onesie.

Sherlock squirmed, but Moriarty put a quick end to his fussing. He held his ankles firmly in one hand, rendering the boy's movements useless.

Moriarty cleaned Sherlock up with a wipe and dusted him with baby powder, placing a new nappy on him in no time. He put his onesie back on and picked him up.

"Just be glad I'm still allowing you to stretch your legs. If you don't want to behave, I could always change you in your bassinet. It's usually easier for tiny babies that way." Moriarty cooed. He laid Sherlock back down in his bassinet and kissed his forehead.

"You just go back to sleep. Daddy will be around if you need anything." Moriarty said. He left, and before Sherlock could react, the door was shut and locked again.

Great. He had the worst luck, sometimes.

Why should he have to go back to bed? He just woke up!

Sherlock grumbled, rolling onto his stomach. If he was stuck in here, he could at least not always lie on his back.

He was kind of cold, now that he thought about it. He could use a blanket.

As if on cue, the door opened again, and Moriarty walked in, holding a big, soft blanket. He tutted at Sherlock the moment he saw him.

"Babies aren't supposed to sleep on their tummies, Sherlock. It's very dangerous." The man scolded. He grabbed Sherlock under the armpits and laid him on his back, earning a scowl from the detective.

"I could take this back, if you want to be grumpy." Moriarty said. Sherlock whined, reaching out for the blanket.

"I know, that would be mean." Moriarty said. He unfolded the blanket and tucked it around Sherlock, leaving some overhang. He smoothed back Sherlock's hair. 

To his surprise, Sherlock leaned into the touch.

"I know you're upset, but daddy loves you very much, and just wants what's best for you." Moriarty cooed. He watched as Sherlock's eyes drooped closed, and left the room again.