Anthea wasn't used to this.
Not just the loss of talk from and about Mr. Holmes' younger brother, but also the silence that only seemed to exude ever more from Mycroft.
Truth be told, once Mycroft had explained to her about the various options that could occur upon the rooftop of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, she had rested her head into her hands, wondering how in the world can I pull this off?
Not two weeks later, Operation Lazarus was set into motion, commanded by Anthea herself.
It all a bit of a blur, immediately afterwards, but the weight of what she had lead struck Anthea in the stomach as she stood at the (false) funeral, dressed in her typical black office attire, watching out at the ones who had known Sherlock Holmes the best.
You see, Anthea did not have the deducing skill that the Holmes did, but there was no need for that, when the pain was so clearly illustrated
She didn't see a frustrated, exhausted officer- she saw a man who grieved over the genius who he had saved once, but had failed to rescue another time.
She didn't see a landlady or a housekeeper- she saw a mother weeping over the son who she would be gone without.
She didn't see the timid pathologist- she saw a woman keeping a secret that was bursting to get out; a woman who had lost the love of her life after keeping him in her sight and care for so long.
She didn't see a strong army doctor- she saw a broken, lost man who had to deal with the loss of his other half; a man who lost the person who mattered the most to him, a man who had nowhere to go.
And Anthea did not see the cold exterior of a British government official- she saw the warring sides of Mycroft Holmes: one of brotherly compassion (which, believe it or not, he was prone to exuding) and the other of duty to the government he was so much attached to.
Anthea believed that she was the least qualified person to be attending Sherlock Holmes' funeral- not when the others had suffered so much: too much: for a simple friendship.
So she stood by the tree, shivering, and wished for an umbrella to shield her from the rain and the pain that was thick in the air, reminding herself that this silence that hurt was essential to the survival of Great Britain- reminding herself that this was essentially for the greater good.
But somehow, she just couldn't manage to convince herself of that fact as a single tear slipped down her face.
A/N: So! This is the opening oneshot to A Study In Silence, which is basically seven oneshots, each one focusing on a different character, and looking into how they're going to deal with the "Reichenbach Fall".
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