Author's Note: So soon after the 200 reviews special chapter, comes "Thank you for 300 reviews on A First Time For Everything!" Once again it can be read alone but I suggest you read AFTFE as there are a lot of mentions to characters and events from that. As you guys know, this was "a second time for everything" and the reviewers wanted either a birthday or an injury the most. This is what I chose. Thank you so much guys, you are ABSOLUTELY remarkable and I hope you enjoy this special little chapter written for you! Read, review, and most importantly I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

A Surprise Indeed – By Blood-Sucker-1428

Anthea knew what she wanted to get her boss for his birthday. The idea, she felt, was inspired. She had told Jamie and the girl had agreed that it was brilliant. She had then shared the idea with the agent, Carol. Carol, despite her tall imposing appearance and sharp features, had turned out to be an unlikely supporter in Anthea's recovery from the kidnapping, showing that inner depth of kindness Anthea had always suspected to be there. Carol had said that she didn't know Mr. Holmes too well but gathering her knowledge, information given by James, and his interactions with Anthea it was probably going to go down well with him. She did note that Mr. Holmes would most likely not expect anything from Anthea considering how soon it was since her incident. Anthea argued that he never wanted anything for his birthday and would not be expecting a single gift. That was most likely going to happen, with his parents away on holiday and neither Holmes brother ever truly celebrating events together unless forced into it. Anthea was determined not let the day go past completely unnoticed. Regardless of anyone's opinion of Mycroft, Anthea truly felt he deserved to have it treated like a special day.

So one evening after work, so she wouldn't have to wonder the streets alone, Carol and her twelve year old daughter went with Anthea to buy the present and have it engraved.

"That's a lot to spend on your boss." The child had exclaimed. Anthea, her face still bruised, smiled at the girl.

"He's not only my boss, he's sort of my friend, too."

"They work very closely together." Carol further explained to her daughter. "Like Mum and James."

"Yeah, but you don't like James." Anthea had laughed so loudly and so suddenly she almost dropped the gift.

Anthea was alone in the office and had been for at least an hour now. She'd been going through a pile of old files on her desk and deciding which ones were to be archived, which ones to be de-classified, ones to be all together destroyed, and which ones were to be filed away from whence they came. It was a tedious job but at least so of the files had proved to be entertaining and sometimes riveting. She'd even come across a Polaroid of Mycroft and Walter from God knows when. They were standing next to one of the black town cars, looking very serious, stern looks on their faces. Walter was yet to grey, still having a medium brown coloured hair. A five o'clock shadow covering his face. She also noted that he clearly had a strict exercise routine at the time, not surprising considering the things Anthea had seen him do or the knowledge he had demonstrated. Mycroft merely looked like a baby faced version of himself with a bit more hair. It was strange to see a boy in his twenties wearing a three piece suit – not quite up to the quality he wore now – and clutching that black umbrella, looking at it as he dug it into the floor. Those steel eyes as serious as ever looked so much older and wiser than his face depicted. Positively adorable, the whole thing. On the back in an unfamiliar hand was a note, where agents sometimes jotted details.

M.H. with decommissioned agent W.T.

M.H. proven to be valuable asset. Assigned W.T.

She laughed and left the Polaroid on her desk to ask Mycroft is she could keep it. Even if he said no she'd find a way to smuggle it out of the office. This would be framed and placed on her bookshelf, right next to the photo of her and Jamie in a school production of "Much Ado About Nothing" in year 10. The baby faced photos needed to be together. Next she needed to get hold of one of James. Maybe Carol had one. Oh, and maybe Tim too.

With a contented sigh, Anthea picked up her stack that were to be filed back away and made her way to Mr. Holmes' inner sanctum. She placed the files down in the centre of his desk and took a moment to stretch out her back and still stiff shoulder, and take a deep breath. The room always smelt liked polished wood and Mycroft's cologne. After being held captive in a room that smelt of bleach and rusted metal, this was the most comforting smell in the whole world. Quietly Anthea began filing the work away in the correct cabinets in the lovely silence. The only sound was the occasional creak of the aging metal cabinets.

"Can I help you?" Anthea's heart leapt in her throat at the voice right behind her and her fight or flight instincts kicked in. She whipped around fast and training caused her to punch her surprise assailant straight in the centre of their face. Mycroft took a few steps back, hand raising to cradle his nose, blinking in pain and surprise. Anthea's blood went cold and time slowed to a halt. Had she really just done that?

"Oh my God!" She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "Sir, I'm so sorry!" He mumbled something incoherent and lowered his hands away from his face a few centimetres, eyes watering. "You're bleeding." Anthea inhaled sharply, watching the crimson liquid trail out of her boss' nose. He used the black of his hand to wipe gingerly, observing the red stain that was left behind on his hand. "Here." Anthea pulled out his desk chair and gently pushed on Mycroft's shoulder to guide him to his seat. "Put your head back, sir."

"I know how to deal with a simple injury, Miss James." Mycroft mumbled but obliged anyway, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning back to peer up at the ceiling. Anthea, heart still thumping fast, ran back to her desk for tissues. Finding none and silently cursing the fact that neither occupant of this office has the idea to fill up items like tissues, she ran to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of toilet paper instead. She scrunched it into a ball and ran back to the office, slowing to a jog as she reached Mycroft's door.

"Here, sir." She spoke softly, gently placing the paper under his nose. Mycroft's fingers overlapped with Anthea's as he took hold of the tissue. He pulled it away briefly from his face to look at it. He quirked an eyebrow, steel eyes landing on his assistant – taking her choice of absorbent as a hit to his ego.

"Really?" He sighed. Anthea rolled her eyes, mouth pulling to a smile as she looked down at him.

"It's not my fault we have no tissues." She commented. Mycroft let out a single laugh in derision.

"My dear, you're the assistant, it is your fault." The pompous tone of his voice seems to fall on deaf ears when one is holding toilet paper to their nose. "It is also your fault I need to hold anything up to my face." Anthea looked away briefly, frowning, and tucking a curl behind her ear.

"I know! I'm so sorry, sir. On your birthday too." Mycroft waved her off.

"It's not a wonderful experience on any day, Anthea, but I completely understand your… jumpiness." Anthea smiled down sadly at him, causing him to roll those blue eyes at her. He does not react well to sympathy but she felt bad.

"Take the paper away." Anthea said as she swung his chair around to face her. "I should check that it's broken." Mycroft pulled the paper away, despite shaking his head at his assistant.

"It's not broken, I assure you."

"I'm not taking your word for it, sir, let me have a look." Anthea leaned over him, placing her hands on either side of his nose, gently feeling the cartilage. He tried to pull away but had nowhere to go so gave up.

"Um, should I come back at another time?" Anthea jumped backwards and Mycroft shot up in his seat.

"James, no, no, you're right on time." Mycroft faked a smile as he stood out of his seat, tossing the bloodied paper into his bin. James looked between the two suspiciously.

"What did I just walk in on?" He asked with a lopsided grin. Anthea sighed.

"I just punched Mr. Holmes in the face on accident." It was James' turn to laugh suddenly and loudly.

"On his birthday, too?" He asked once he'd regained control. Anthea nodded, Mycroft sighed.

"Really now, why does that factor into the incident at all? How does that make it worse in the slightest?" James shrugged, looking over to Anthea.

"I'm not surprised though, his nose is the biggest target on his face." Anthea half gasped and half laughed, feeling bad for doing so.

"James! That's not nice." She chastised.

"All the skill of a schoolyard bully, James." Mycroft added. James chuckled.

"Mr. Holmes knows I love him."

"Yes, well, the feelings aren't reciprocated." Anthea laughed and shook her head, excusing herself from the room to let the boys have their secret meeting. She'd find out all about it later, anyway.

Anthea waited for James to have been gone for around ten minutes before she made her move. She grabbed her gifts, walked over to Mycroft's door and knocked. She waited for a response before entering. Mycroft's steel eyes lifted from his work to see Anthea entering with the cardboard box, a small wrapped gift, and an envelope. He placed his pen down and pinched the bridge of his nose.'

"Miss James, how many times do I have to tell you, by getting me a birthday gift all you are doing is forcing an obligation for me to get a gift for you upon me." Anthea rolled her chocolate eyes and laughed.

"I couldn't care less what your personal opinion is, sir." She smiled, crinkling up her nose. "I can't let a birthday go past without something happening and your mum's not in the country to make a fuss out of it." Mycroft folded his hands together on the desk.

"But Anthea, don't you see," He pleaded. "The absence of my parents is the best gift they could give me." Anthea scoffed and shook her head as she sat down in the seat facing him, placing her collection of items on the floor.

"I'll be sure to tell your mother you said that." Anthea smiled slyly. She picked up the small gift and the envelope and held them out to Mycroft. "Happy birthday, sir." She hummed. Hesitantly, Mycroft took the items with his slender hands. He slid his finger under the seal of the envelope and pulled out the card, reading the front of it.

I half-heartedly wish you a halfway decent birthday.

Mycroft scoffed, quirking an eyebrow at Anthea.

"It was so you, I couldn't get it." She grinned, getting a natural half smile in return as he placed the card and the envelope to the side. Who knew what he was going to do with it? Throw it out most likely. He then took the gift wrapped in metallic lilac paper. He took the paper off carefully, loosening the tape and unfolding rather than ripping it. He slid out the box inside and opened it. Inside was an ornate sliver pocket watch with an intricate design on the front that looked very similar to a stain glass window from an old gothic church. The back of the watch had the same detail continuing but the centre had a piece of glass to reveal the mechanisms ticking away – that was Anthea's favourite part of the watch and honestly why she chose that particular one. Mycroft raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and nodded.

"It's quite lovely, my dear." He hummed, turning it in his hands to exam the watch from every angle. Anthea smiled, and nodded at the watch.

"Open it, sir." He did as instructed. On the inside she had an engraving.

What time did you last eat or sleep?
- A.

Mycroft chuckled, running his thumb over the engraving.

"That way, every time you wear that watch I'm there to remind you that you're not inhuman." He closed the watch and placed it back in the small box it came in.

"That is much better than some sentimental and generic comment." He smiled one of his genuine smiles, the one that made his eyes sparkle and makes her breath stop for a moment.

Sure it wasn't a stereotypical sentimental comment, and Anthea had partially come up with the idea as a joke, but the whole gift and the engraving was riddled with sentiment. Mycroft was better at looking after himself than Sherlock, that was true one thousand times over. But Mycroft was a Holmes boy, and the Holmes boys could get extremely focused and forget to look after themselves. This way, if he was ever alone at a meeting or busy working at three in the morning, if he opened his pocket watch to check the time, he would have his little reminder. There would be a note from the one person who could convince him to stop and eat a sandwich, or take a nap, or at the very least wash his face with cold water to wake up. It was loaded with sentiment and caring, but in a clever hidden way, disguised by a beautiful watch and a little in-joke.

"I thought you'd like it." She spoke quieter than intended due to the lack of breath. A moment of content silence passed between the two.

"Thank you truly, Anthea, it is indeed lovely." Anthea scratched her nose.

"It's nothing, sir, really." She then leant down and picked up the larger white cardboard box. "And this," She began as she stood up and placed the box on Mycroft's desk. "Was supposed to be for you to take home for tonight but instead it's now an 'I'm sorry I made your nose bleed' present instead." She abashedly smiled. Mycroft shook his head at his assistant as he opened the box.

Inside was one of their favourite cakes. It was a tiramisu cake. Not just any tiramisu cake, but one from that café that only sells fancy cakes. It was decorated beautifully and smelt of chocolate and coffee as soon as you opened the box. Mycroft placed his head in his hands and took a deep sigh. She knew she had just ruined his diet, but it was the man's birthday. If you can't have cake on your birthday, when could you have it? Honestly. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked between the cake and his assistant. Anthea could practically hear the argument his thoughts were having in his head about whether or not to eat the thing.

"Go get two plates and forks." Anthea grinned at the response.

"Right away, sir!"

A pretty successful birthday, if Anthea did say so herself.

Author's Note: I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as I wrote it especially for you, the continued supporters of "A First Time For Everything". I love that fic and I love you all. Thank you for everything so far!

P.S. Don't forget Anthea's blog – she's always up for questions and there have been some amazing ones lately.