He arrived home an hour and a half later than he had intended. The clock on the fireplace mantel chimed the seventh hour as he passed the door to the living room. His stomach growled, but he didn't have time to deal with his hunger. He had just enough time to get dressed before it would be time for Anthea and him to drive to the party.
"Darling?" He called out. His voice rang out in the empty expanse of the front entry and then reverberated throughout the rest of the house.
"I'm in our bedroom, Mycroft."
The soft smile he only allowed to show when he was at home stole over his face. He loved the sound of her voice. He quickly climbed the stairs and traveled to their bedroom. His wife stood before their bed, dressed in slacks and an old t-shirt while staring down at three outfits spread out on the bed. Her hair was wet and piled up on top of her head, but a couple strands hung down to surround her face in soft rings.
"Help me." She said without turning around.
"What's wrong?" He asked, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek.
"I can't figure out which one to wear. Me! Which one do you think?"
"Well…" He turned his head so that he could stare down at the three dresses on the bed.
The first was a floor-length, red, off-the-shoulder dress with a patterned bodice and lace overskirt. The second was another floor-length dress with three-quarter sleeves. It faded from a black bodice down to a midnight blue skirt near the middle of the skirt and sequins decorated the right shoulder and wrapped around the back. The last one was all black and stopped just shy of the floor. The bodice had a lace overlay over it which would rise halfway up the shoulders. The waist was gathered to one side allowing the rest of the fabric to drape and fold elegantly.
Mycroft contemplated for a minute before saying, "Go with the black dress with the lace bodice. It better fits the function."
"Are you sure? Isn't it a little too casual?"
"Not if paired with the jewelry set I just got you."
She turned to him and kissed him, "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Darling."
They separated, each gathering the clothes they needed and went to get changed. Mycroft finished first, needing only to switch out his shirt and tie for something more formal than those he had worn to work. He walked over and rapped on the bathroom door.
"Come in." Anthea called.
He pushed open the door. Anthea was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Her hair was still piled on top of her head in a messy pile, but it had been blow dried.
She turned a frazzled gaze to look at him. Her eyes crinkled in apology, "Sorry. I know we have to go. I'm hurrying as fast as I can. My hands just aren't wanting to cooperate tonight. I haven't been able to make any headway with my hair."
"We are all right." He said. "There is no need for you to rush."
Anthea raised an eyebrow, "It won't look good if we're late. I know how important this party is."
Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Unfortunately. If it was not, we would not be going. Why the Prime Minister's wife decided today was the day to have her baby, I shall never understand. Tomorrow would have been much more convenient."
Anthea finished the final steps to her makeup, put the mascara brush down, and reached up to begin to try and style her hair again. "Maybe for you, but not for them. And besides, it's not like she could choose the day of the baby's arrival."
"I have my doubts." Mycroft muttered.
The couple fell silent for a few minutes, and Mycroft continued to watch his wife struggle with getting her hair into some semblance of order. It resisted everything she attempted to get it to do - from not holding a curl, to flinging bobby pins halfway across the bathroom, and breaking every single ponytail holder in half.
"Arg!" Anthea threw down her comb and shook her head. "I give up. It won't do anything. I'm just going to pull it back and call it done. If anyone at the party has a problem with it, I don't care."
Mycroft chuckled and stepped forward, "Here. Allow me to attempt to tame the beast."
Anthea dutifully turned so her back was to him and passed him the comb. With brisk even strokes, he smoothed down the snarls and fly-aways. Then - with an ease that belied the amount of times he had actually done the action, he swept the hair up into a simple twist.
"Where are the pearl pins I gave you?" He questioned.
"In the safe in the bedroom. What are you doing?"
"Be patient."
"We have to go, Mycroft. We don't have time for this."
"I already told you. We have plenty of time. Now, hold still."
Needing to hold the hairstyle in place, Mycroft slipped some bobby pins into the twist to hold it in place. Then he pulled Anthea out into the bedroom. He stationed her in the middle of the room, out of the range of sight of the mirror.
"Don't move."
"Mycroft." Anthea chuckled. "What are you doing?"
"You are not done yet." He strode over to the safe and retrieved the hair pins. He set them in various places within the hairstyle and then turned Anthea so she could see.
"There. That should suffice, I believe."
Anthea turned her head from side to side inspecting her husband's work. "It's perfect, Mycroft." She turned and kissed him. "Thank you."
She scurried over to the safe and took out the pearl jewelry set that Mycroft had gifted her for their last anniversary. Slipping the earrings, bracelet and necklace on, she turned to face Mycroft. "Is it all right?" She questioned.
Mycroft gaze deepened and a smile flitted around his lips, "Darling." He whispered stepping close and pulling her closer. "You look wonderful tonight."