A/N: Sorry for the wait, this chapter was a lot harder to write than I thought it would be. As I warned in the last chapter, this chapter is the reason the story's rating has been upgraded to MATURE. There is a reason for that rating; this chapter is dark and uncomfortable and honestly, I hated writing it, so I can only imagine how it is to write it.

For anyone who is uncomfortable with this chapter, I apologize and advise you to stop reading at any point. You won't miss much in the way of plot, so I'll just say that Sherrinford is rough to Chelsea in a way she hadn't anticipated, and for that she has been thrown off-guard completely and is very distressed. There is no interaction with Mycroft yet, that will be in the next chapter.

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the story! I'm trying not to make the author's note too long before this chapter, so I won't thank you individually, but I just wanted you to know I loved each and every one of the reviews and they definitely helped me get this chapter written and posted. To answer the question: Mycroft and Chelsea(Anthea) will be getting together romantically soon, but it will take more than a few chapters to get to. This part of the story is important for developing their relationship because I feel that, based on the way they interact in the series, there is a deep trust and bond between the two, and this is how I am establishing that in my story.

One last warning: MATURE CONTENT.

Mycroft Holmes owed her a major pay raise.

No, Chelsea decided as she relaxed further beneath the bubble bath she had drawn herself, Mycroft Holmes owed her a promotion and a pay raise when this was all over.

The things she had to put up with for the sake of his personal mission to spy on his brother far eclipsed anything she had done as a proper sleeper agent before the accident.

Chelsea winced at the pain that shot through her wrists when she twisted the handle to stop the water before the tub overflowed. She knew they were purple without having to look at them; she dreaded to consider the condition of other, more intimate, parts of her body.

She had certainly not signed up for this. Let impressing her boss be damned; she deserved a damn medal after the events of the night before.

A medal, a promotion, and a pay raise.

Chelsea leaned over the tub and turned her Blackberry on silent after it pinged, letting her know someone was having some kind of a crisis. She wasn't in the mood; she had a crisis of her own to deal with.

A medal, a promotion, a pay raise, and the latest Blackberry model were exactly how she planned for Mycroft Holmes to remedy this for her.

Her throat constricted uncomfortably as she replied to Mycroft's instructions.

All in.

Chelsea wondered briefly if his decision distressed him as much as it did her. She figured it didn't; she was the one who had to carry out the mission, after all, not him.

He was probably reclining into a cushioned leather chair somewhere in the depths of the Diogenes Club, retreating into the endless vaults in his mind while he enjoyed a particularly expensive brand of whiskey in front of a roaring fire.

When she had been an agent prior to the explosion, she obviously had to engage in relations with her targets to maintain the facade of a loving girlfriend, carefully protecting her intelligence mission. While she was never attracted in the least bit to any of her targets, she was able to put her personal opinions and feelings aside in order to play her role, especially when it came to bedroom relations.

But with Sherrinford Holmes as her target, and her mission director being his elder brother, Mycroft Holmes, everything was different; Chelsea found herself struggling to divorce her feelings for Mycroft from her faked interactions with Sherrinford.

Feelings… Chelsea denied it in her mind for a while, but she finally had enough time to herself, not having to run around and carry out every single one of Mycroft's orders, to sort her personal life out. But she had, and she could definitely admit to herself that she felt more than a friendly attachment to her boss.

For a while Chelsea thought it was just a mere attraction to Mycroft, but after thinking it through, she realized she had been playing moments with Mycroft over and over in her mind whenever she was around Sherrinford.

And tonight was no different, she thought, pushing the ramifications of her task to the back of her mind as she undressed until she stood in the middle of the living room, scantily-clad in her lacy lingerie.

"You survived an explosion," she whispered to herself, getting her prepared to do something she had put off for months, "you can survive an encounter with Sherrinford."

As she walked through the house, she was thankful that all of the household staff had been given the night off. Her hand outstretched, about to wrap her knuckles against Sherrinford's study door, she decided that the sooner she did this, the sooner it would be over.

Seconds after she knocked on the door, it swung open, revealing Sherrinford with an annoyed expression on his face; she did know that he hated being disturbed when he was in his study, but she hoped he would make an exception just this one time.

And she was right. Sherrinford's eyes hungrily took in her body. "I take it you've come to your senses?" he asked moodily, his voice becoming gravelly with lust.

Chelsea followed him inside the study and locked the door slowly behind her, sauntering confidently to the center of the room to press her body against his, already feeling him react to her. "I have," she purred, although she honestly hated the way he was being so controlling with her. He wasn't like this when she first started dating him, but then again, she supposed Mycroft had warned her about him, or at least tried to since she wouldn't listen to him.

Sherrinford aggressively pulled her flush against him with one hand pressed to her lower back, the other one snaking around to unclasp her bra. Chelsea didn't react as the fabric fell away from her, choosing to stare into his eyes intently to make sure he didn't suspect anything off about the interaction.

Brushing her lips against his neck, Chelsea began to unbutton his shirt. "You've got too much on, Sher."

Sherrinford grabbed her hands and walked her towards his desk, stopping once her back came into contact with the hard surface. So he wanted it rough, fantastic,Chelsea thought disparagingly; she really wasn't one for this kind of intimacy, instead preferring candle-lit romance that lasted the entire night through, continuing through until the morning until one of them collapsed into contented sleep, the other one slowly following suit.

Sherrinford roughly kissed her lips, and she finally noticed the taste of vodka on his lips. In the back of her mind, distant alarms began ringing, but she knew she couldn't stop now. If she did, she would jeopardize the mission.

She had to go through with this, whether she wanted to or not. She just hoped Mycroft would never know about the specifics.

"Stop," he growled, seizing her wrists once more as she tried unbuttoning his shirt for a second time. "You will submit… Understood?"

Chelsea nodded slowly, making Sherrinford narrow his dark eyes at her. "Anthea, tell me you will submit to me."

Letting her arms go limp, Chelsea surrendered herself to him. "I submit," she whispered, allowing her voice to quiver slightly, knowing it would please Sherrinford to hear such a passive noise.

Sherrinford made a low noise, deep in his throat as he unzipped his trousers, pulling her panties to the side roughly. "Say my name," he demanded, pressing himself against her, holding her wrists beside her hips to prevent her from struggling.

Chelsea swallowed down the fear that was rising in her throat, drawing on all the years of resistance training she received when she was training to be an agent. Despite whatever she felt, she could never show it, not now. "Sherrinford."

At the murmur of his name, he plunged himself deep into Chelsea, ignoring her startled, pained cry. "Say it again," he growled, demanding her to say his name once more as he thrust forcefully against her hips for a second time.

Chelsea squirmed against his driving thrusts, but her wrists were still restrained; she hadn't figured Sherrinford was actually this strong. She had underestimated him at her detriment once again.

"Sherrinford, please," she begged quietly, tears beginning to well up in her eyes at the pain caused by Sherrinford's violent movements, "you're hurting me."

Sherrinford paused for a moment and glowered down at her. "Do not tell me what to do, Anthea" he barked, thrusting powerfully into her hips to punctuate each word.

Despite the fact that she had been intimate with the couple of targets she had had before, she had never felt this scared as a result of it; she had never been hurt like this from any of her targets, and that scared her the most. The loss of control was something she had never experienced before, and it terrified her.

Chelsea screwed her eyes shut, unwilling to be mentally present in that moment anymore; Sherrinford had absolutely shattered her confidence in herself and her mission, and more than that, he had assaulted her in a way that would haunt her for many years to come, if not for longer than that.

She couldn't tell Mycroft what happened, that much was certain. He would take her off the mission, and she couldn't deal with being a failure in his eyes. At least, she hoped that would be how he would react; there was always the awful possibility that he wouldn't care and tell her to continue the mission.

Chelsea shook her head, telling herself not to think of that, not to think of Mycroft behaving in such a way, but there always was that possibility. She was the one with personal feelings, not him.

No, she would carry on the best way she could, even if that meant losing herself in the process.

Minutes later, Chelsea lay on the study floor, leaning against the cold desk legs for support. Sherrinford had left her abruptly after he finished getting his way with her, muttering something about going to the pub, or to work, or whatever, Chelsea didn't listen because she didn't care at all in that moment.

She just wanted to go back to her morning car rides with Peter and Mycroft, her long hours spent in the office with Mycroft, her nightly after-work car rides with Mycroft, the two of them not saying much from exhaustion after a long day… she just wanted to go back to being with Mycroft.

He was all she wanted in that moment, but at the same time, she never wanted him to see her this weak, this pathetic. Chelsea was always her best around him, which is just what Mycroft deserved of his personal assistant.

As she felt her eyes burn with tiredness and unshed tears, Chelsea slid to the floor, laying her head against the warm carpet, letting her thoughts wander through cherished moments between her and her boss that she hoped with all her heart he cherished as well.