"I've decided to marry you."
Mycroft looked up from his laptop, eyebrows lifted, somewhat surprised.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I've decided to marry you," Anthea repeated. Slowly, Mycroft shut the computer, and then crossed the room, shutting the office door. He turned back to her, pocketing his hands to keep from fidgeting, something he was aware she knew he did when uncomfortable.
"May I ask what brought this declaration to the fore?"
"The fact that you love me, and I love you," she responded easily.
"This is rather unconventional, is it not?" he asked. She smiled a knowing smile.
"When have I ever been conventional?"
"Never."
"You still haven't answered."
"I wasn't aware you asked a question," he replied neatly.
"I didn't," she shrugged, agreeing. "However one does usually have a response to a declaration like that."
"Anthea…I am not…" he paused, searching for words.
"Not what?" she asked. "The same as most men? Yes I know. I know your habits better than anybody else, I know what they call you, what they'll call me, when they find out we're married. They'll say you're not really in love with me, or that you did it for show, to please politicians."
"Then you'll know we'd spend more time in the office than on holiday. I cannot even promise a honeymoon, let alone a suitable wedding."
"Who says we need to go away now? Or that we even need a honeymoon?" Anthea asked. "I'm not a traditionalist. I'd just as soon go out right now to the Justice of the Peace rather than wait seven months to plan a silly party." He was quiet then, hands removed from his pockets to behind his back. He crossed the room to the pull on the wall, giving it a short tug. In a moment there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he called and the butler appeared.
"Sir?"
"Fetch our coats, we're going out."
"Very good," he left them, and Mycroft went about shutting the lights off in the room.
"Where are we going?" Anthea asked. Mycroft looked at her, a twinkle in his eye.
"To a find someone to officiate," he replied. "I've decided to marry you."