This one's for you, Rabbit. Enjoy.
This was not beta'd. All mistakes are either my own or auto-corrects.
Contrary to many beliefs, Mycroft Holmes first met Anthea because of Sherlock. He found himself constantly taking care of his younger brother, which was why he now stood in the lobby of a small hospital, waiting for Sherlock.
Sherlock could have hailed a cab. He knew that just as much as Mycroft did, but he was lazy. Mummy, ever the worrier, had instructed Mycroft to pick up Sherlock and bring him home. Mycroft was rather annoyed. He was a busy person; chasing after Shelock had not been in his appointment book. Mummy insisted, however, and despite the fact that he was a new member of the government, Mycroft could not keep himself from doing as Mummy commanded.
Sherlock was a creature of limited intelligence, yet Mycroft could not figure him out. Of all things, it was butterflies that had terrified his baby brother enough make him fall out of a tree. Sherlock, of course, had fractured his ulna, greatly inconveniencing Mycroft, who was ever so patiently waiting for him to be patched up.
A rather upset looking young lady caught his eye. Mycroft's dark eyes flickered over and neatly dissected her. She seemed to be reading something but, as if sensing his gaze, she stood up and started toward him. Surprisingly, the conversation that followed was a long one. Somewhere toward the middle, the topic of jobs came up. Mycroft could never quite remember why he had offered her one, but she had accepted, and ever since then Anthea had worked for him.
When he had first found out about John, Mycroft had done extensive research on the doctor. Research was never quite enough, however, so he had planned on kidnapping John. Or a man like Mycroft Holmes, preparations were easy. Anthea did not complain about her task. Kidnapping people had been in the job description.
In Mycroft's office, there are tapes and tapes of bugged conversations. He occasionally listens to them recreationally. A clever man doubts both himself and the people surrounding him, and Mycroft is the cleverest man in all of Europe. He listens to one of the car tapes now. It is a conversation between John and one of his PAs.
"You're not Anthea." John's tone is reprimanding.
"Anthea's away, dear. You've got me instead.''
''Where is she?'' This part always surprises Mycroft. He does not expect John to be so curious. The tape goes on, but Mycroft does not listen. He instead strolls down memory lane.
Anthea was away for a long time. Mycroft had sent her away. Although he knew that she would change, he had not completely expected the face she wore upon her return.
After the Fall, Mycroft was in denial. His silly, stupid little brother could not be dead. He would not allow it. He had used his considerable resources to search for Sherlock. Upon finding him, Mycroft had not known how to express his anger. Sherlock was insensitive; it was a trait Mycroft had probably fostered.
It was at this time that Anthea returned.
Mycroft was well aware of the fact that John was seeing someone. Even before he had learned that his brother was alive, he had kept an eye on Dr. Watson. It was some of the sentiment he tried so hard to do away with. Sherlock cared about John, so Mycroft would watch him. He was the closest thing he had to remember Sherlock by.
And then, of course, he discovered that Sherlock was alive. By that point, spying on John had become habit. Mycroft observed as he met and broke up with many women, as he grew a mustache, as he fell for Mary Morstan.
Time passed, as it has a way of doing. Sherlock made his official return. Mycroft remained stoic, as though he did not care.
One morning he received an invitation to John and Mary's wedding. He, of course, refused. Mycroft had only ever attended one wedding, to build connections. It had been horrid. He had mentally blocked it out.
He could not, however, resist a note to the bride a few weeks after her wedding.
Mary,
My hearty congratulations on the happy occasion of your wedding. A regular life must seem exciting after the past few years. I cannot understand how you hope to find that with a man my brother considers a friend.
Should you ever tire of your new life, my doors are always open, Anthea. Feel free to return.
Mycroft Holmes
Everyone, please feel free to write Anthea and Mary are one fics and pm them to An Escaped Rabbit to be added to her community.
Reviews are fed to my swap dragons. The poor dears are starving; please help me feed them. Thanks.