Anthea stood in the Watson's apartment bouncing a baby in her arms not knowing what the hell to do. Her phone kept vibrating on the counter in front of her and every time it buzzed with a new message, it moved closer to the edge. Any second it would drop and probably break and then she would be without her lifeline, something she desperately needed now more than ever.
However, she was petrified of disturbing little Bethie Watson who had just settled down after a howling fit.
"Oh, little girl, where is your auntie?" She whispered.
Anthea was out of her element. As an only child whose parents had her in their forties, her experience with children was next to nil. Her phone alerted again with an incoming message. She knew it was important as she'd counted at least four texts in the last five minutes.
A knock sounded at the door. Anthea let out a breath. "Oh, God, at last."
She went quickly to the door and looked out the porthole. She saw a woman who looked an awful lot like John Watson on the other side.
"Um, be just a sec! I have to put down the baby."
"No need," came her muffled reply. "I'll use my key."
Anthea stepped back as a blonde woman, about forty with a grim look on her face entered the apartment. Her blue eyes were red rimmed and she looked as if she'd been crying.
"Hi, I'm Harriet. I'm sorry I am late," She wiped her eyes. "I just received some terrible news."
Anthea chewed her lip. She looked anxiously down at the sleeping baby in her arms. Her little lips were parted slightly and there was a tiny pout on her face. Anthea's heart twisted in her chest.
"Oh, bother," she said softly as she looked up again, "Is Mary not well?"
Harriet covered one side of her face with her hand and leaned into it. She shook her head.
"Sh-she died. Her heart stopped for some unknown reason. John just called me while I was on the way over here. I had to stop and pull over for a spell. It's just terrible, he's in such a state."
Anthea swallowed. Unexpectedly, tears tingled in the back of her eyes. She was normally a machine when confronted with this sort of thing. She could usually separate herself and compartmentalize things but something about holding Mary's warm little bundle in her arms made her choke up. She looked down at the snoozing baby who had just lost someone so terribly important and had no idea.
She sniffed. "What a shitty world it is sometimes. I am so sorry, Harriet. Bethie . . ."
Harriet nodded sadly and extended her arms. "Um, w-would you mind if I held my niece now?"
"Oh, yes, of course. I apologize."
Reluctantly, Anthea stepped towards Harriet. Bethie emitted a small gurgle and a squeak of protest and tried to snuggle against her chest. She held her breath and placed the baby gently in her aunt's arms. Anthea felt inexplicably bereft as soon as she let go. She turned quickly and grabbed her phone, then brushed a tear from her eye. She swiped through the messages on her screen. Mycroft had been trying to reach her.
Are you still at the Watson's apartment?
Where are you?
It is urgent that you contact me as soon as possible. You may be in danger.
I am heading over there now.
Bang!
Anthea jumped as the front door of the apartment burst open and two men clad in black brandishing guns strode in. Harriet made a yelp and stepped back. When the two men saw Anthea, their arms dropped.
"Hello, fellas," she murmured. "A little overkill don't you think?"
"Boss' orders," One shrugged.
Mycroft stepped into the flat then, his face pensive. When he looked at her, she saw him let out a long breath. However, if he was relieved it was short-lived. His face darkened.
"Why didn't you answer my messages?" He tapped his umbrella against the floor.
She buttoned her blazer and smoothed her hands over its grey fabric. Her chin tilted up.
"I am sorry, boss. I was unable to get to my phone."
Anthea was hit by an onset of melancholy. She blinked away tears. Mycroft's eyes narrowed and they flicked over her face. His brow wrinkled then he stepped closer as if to confirm something.
"You've heard," he murmured, then looked at Harriet. "My condolences, Ms. Watson."
Harriet blinked and dipped her head once. "Thank-you."
"I have come to remove you all from this flat," Mycroft straightened. "Mary's death is as of yet, unexplained and my brother Sherrinford remains at large. Harriet, I do not think you should take anything from here until we determine it is safe. I'll have my people purchase whatever you need to care for your niece. Would you like somewhere to stay or to return home?"
"I-I would like to go home."
"Fair enough. I will assign you a security detail. Do you need any help with your charge?"
"No, I'll manage. Mr. Holmes, what's happening with John?"
Mycroft tightened his grip on his umbrella and cast his eyes downwards briefly. "He is sedated at present. I assume he will want to be with family when he wakes. I will arrange for him to be delivered to your home."
Bethie chose that moment to stir and cry.
"Shall we go?" Mycroft gestured to the door.
Anthea looked away from the flashing lights outside the window of Mycroft's car to the blank mask of his face.
"This is not the way to my flat."
His hands stiffened over the hook of his umbrella and he cleared his throat. "No, I did not think you should go home."
She blinked rapidly. "Oh? And why is that?"
"You know as well as I do how dangerous Sherrinford can be and he has never played nice. He may want to kick sand in my face and take my toys, which means he could take an interest in you."
Mycroft's eyes made the mistake of assessing the length of her skirt. He looked away suddenly as if surprised by where his gaze had been. Anthea uncrossed her arms and pulled at her skirt to prevent it from riding any farther up. Her face felt hot.
"I am not one of your toys, Mycroft!"
He looked out through the window guiltily. "Ah, well, you know what I mean."
"Do I?" She arched a brow.
The car pulled to a stop outside a residence she knew very well. She didn't say a word, just exited the vehicle with an angry sigh and walked quickly towards the front doors of Mycroft's apartment building. He followed. She could hear him skipping every second step as he tried to catch up with her. It wasn't until they had ridden the elevator to his floor and stood outside the entry to his flat that Mycroft spoke again.
"Are you alright, Anthea? You have been unusually antagonistic the past hour."
Her hands clenched at her sides as she gazed at him. He was almost unreadable, as always. Was he concerned for her? Is that why he asked? So long she had steeled herself against his indifference that she only now understood how cold she had become. A thought that had begun hours earlier rolled over her like a river finally breaching its banks. She realized then that she wanted more from her life and from him.
"No, I am not alright."
Mycroft's mouth went slack. A wrinkle slashed across his brow. He clicked his teeth together.
"Oh, um, well . . .I-"
She grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket and jerked him forwards before he could finish his thought. He stumbled towards her in surprise. His umbrella clattered to the floor as he flung a hand out to catch himself. Anthea made the sound of an 'oof' as she fell back and impacted something hard. When she looked up into his cerulean colored eyes, she found herself pinned between his chest and the wall.
He panted, winded by the collision. "My Lord, what has gotten into you?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes searched his face. She felt a falling sensation in her stomach. All she saw was confusion in his expression. Oh, she wanted to kick herself because it seemed she had made a terrible miscalculation. Then, unexpectedly, Mycroft gulped down a ragged breath. She watched as his eyes flitted to her lips.
It was now or never.
"Kiss me, Mycroft."
He licked his lips. "W-what?"
"You heard me."
Tiny spasms made the corners of his mouth tremor. He shook his head as if to rebuff her but moved in her direction anyways. With a little moan of frustration, she closed the distance between them and kissed him hard. Her hands slid around his middle, over his vest and beneath his jacket and held him tightly.
She wasn't sure what he would do but was shocked and thrilled when his hand came off the wall and wrapped around her waist. Then, he was kissing her back just as fiercely. His free hand crept up into her hair and he intertwined his fingers in the tresses at the base of her neck. A moment later he tugged her head back gently and kissed down her jaw and along the side of her neck. She felt his teeth drag against her collarbone then he pressed his lips against her throat.
Her fingers popped open the buttons of his vest and sought skin contact between the plackets where his shirt came together. He exhaled sharply.
"This is not something we should even be considering," he muttered.
She ran her tongue over each one of her teeth. "But you don't want me to stop."
"No," he grumbled.
He raised his head and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. "Anthea, you do know that this -this complicates things."
"Yes, but I am an expert at complicated things," She cupped the side of his face. "Let me worry about it."