A/N: A few notes before this chapter, I probably should have posted this earlier. This is largely a character-study fic for Anthea. It will feature Mycroft often, but will also have original characters and people that Anthea would interact with. This is the start of that. Thank you for all your kind words so far.

Adhibetur Gavin
A new employee, July 2006.

Anthea had been in the employ of Mycroft Holmes for one year and three months when she first stumbles across Gavin Parker. Quite literally, as she is walking out the door of the office building.

"Sorry pretty lady. You 'right there?"

Anthea rights herself, pulling away from the hand that is supporting her. She turns her gaze on the man standing in front of her, taking note of dishevelled appearance and hunched shoulders. She automatically files away the information for examination later, already dismissing the man in front of her in favour of checking the time on her blackberry.

"Fine. Now if you'll excuse me."

She turns away moving towards the black car waiting on the curb. Anthea doesn't notice the access card that he is twirling between his fingers, not the satisfied smirk on his face as he straightens and casually walks away. She opens the door to the car and slides in, pulling the door shut behind her. Anthea smiles at Trevor in the driver's seat speaking as she places a file on the seat next to her.

"Afternoon, Trevor. How's things?"

"Miss Anthea," he pauses while negotiating out into the London traffic before continuing, "All the better for seeing your face."

"One day I'll actually believe that." She smiles fondly. Anthea and Trevor have always gotten along. Since she joined Mycroft's team, Trevor has made sure that Anthea is safe. He is head of security, in charge of the safety of all staff. He has also given Anthea a few lessons in self-defence, something she has taken to rather quickly. "How bad is the traffic?"

"It's moving, which is more than it was doing this morning."

"Small mercies. I'll fix the traffic lights, take some time off."

"Very good, miss."

It was one of the perks of working for Mycroft Holmes. A small, innocent application on her blackberry that tracked her location and synchronised the traffic signals so that they were green on approach had made journeying through the worst of London's traffic bearable on more than one occasion. Today, it might just get her to Downing Street on time.

Might be late. Delayed leaving and who knows what the traffic is going to do. –A.

Do hurry. Blair is being particularly taxing today. MH

Trying my best. While I can manipulate the traffic signals, unless you have invented a teleportation machine, which I doubt you have, I will arrive when I arrive. –A.

How precise of you. MH

I do try. –A.

Anthea smiles, placing her blackberry into her pocket and staring out the window as the buildings go past. She arrives five minutes after the official start of the meeting, entering by the side door to avoid the press who have set up camp outside the front entrance. She signs in and follows one of the aides the meeting room. A quick glance as she opens the door establishes that Blair is already disagreeing with the points Mycroft is making. He glances up at Anthea as she makes her way around the table to the empty chair.

"Hello, my dear."

She nods, sitting in the chair and handing one copy of the file to Mycroft before turning to hand Blair the third copy. "Primer Minister."

"Miss Jones. How are you?"

"Good, thank you. The wife and children are well?"

"Yes, yes."

There was a slightly harried look to Blair's face, and knowing the contents of the file she just handed him, Anthea knew it would only get worse. She stood and moved quietly to the corner of the room where there was a small stand containing a kettle, tea and instant coffee. She made a face at the coffee before boiling the kettle and placing a tea bag into each of the three cups. Adding water, then milk for herself and Blair, Anthea carefully balanced all three cups as she returned to the desk, placing them down to a grateful look from all.

"Will anything else be needed, sir?"

"No thank you. Just keep an eye on the time, we have that lunch meeting to get to."

There wasn't much for Anthea to do in this particular meeting. It was mainly a discussion surrounding red tape and paperwork, the finer details of months of planning. Anthea kept half an ear on the conversation as she focused on her blackberry, taking the time to work on the backlog of emails that were currently awaiting her. Including one from her mother demanding a phone call to know she was alive. Anthea grimaced and sent back a quick reply, promising to call later. She had no intention of it, but it would be enough to stop her mother incessantly calling her every five minutes until she gets a response.

The meeting continued, and Anthea moved from checking emails or writing up the staff roster for the next week. Anthe checks the time on her blackberry before glancing at Mycroft and quietly tapping once on the desk. She waits until she sees his acknowledgement before standing and leaving the room. Anthea's standing at security when Mycroft catches up with her.

"Everything in order, sir?"

Mycroft sighs. "As much as it can be. I am not going to hesitate to say I told you so when this whole plan falls around their ears."

"Quite right, sir."

The exit together and Mycroft holds the door open as they get into the car. He greets Trevor before turning to look at Anthea.

"And now to lunch. Mind explaining why you haven't called your mother when she is obviously worrying?"

"How could you know that?"

Mycroft smiles. "You get a particular look on your face when dealing with emails from your mother. Easy to pick when you know what you are looking for."

"Worrying would be fine if she didn't do it every week. I'm 26. I haven't lived at home for the last 9 years. Haven't even lived in the same city as her for that long. You would think she would be used to the idea."

"Call her."

"Later. I sent her an email."

"Written word is no substitute for the voice."

"Trust me. There are times when it is a benefit not to actually speak to…" Anthea stopped, an alert appearing on her blackberry. "That shouldn't be possible."

"Anthea?"

"Apparently I just entered the office."

"Software malfunction?"

"Doubt it. If it was a malfunction it wouldn't be just one card setting off the alerts, it would be all of them."

Anthea picks up her bag from the floor, opening the front pocket searching through it. "My access card is missing. I placed it there after leaving…" She stops and looks up at Mycroft. "Bloody hell. Sorry."

With a slight smile on his face, Mycroft waves the comment aside. "Explain."

"Ran into someone as I was leaving the office. Literally. Only incident I can think of that would explain why my access card is missing."

Mycroft nods once, calling out to Trevor. "Back to the office. A situation has arisen." Mycroft pulls out his own blackberry as he turns back to Anthea. "Contact Sharon and let her know that we are cancelling the meeting."

She briefly hears Mycroft's call connect through and hurried instructions to activate temporary lockdown before her own call connects and she is distracted in making apologies for the disruption and a re-schedule.

Arriving at the office and giving the correct code to alleviate the lockdown, Mycroft checks each room and staff member to make sure everything is in order. Anthea is standing in front of his office door as he enters. He makes his way over to her before speaking.

"As I thought. He's not here. If he was smart enough to get in here in the first place, then he would be smart enough to get out of it before we came looking."

"Indeed."

Anthea nods at the door. Attached is a handwritten note, with Anthea's access card taped next to it.

I'm impressed by the place you have here. Took a nice look around. Don't worry I didn't touch anything. It's not what I do. You should take more care with those access cards. But to be fair, don't take it out on the poor girl I swiped the card from. I'm just good.
Помните помню 5 ноября. Это может быть важно.
Cheerio.

Anthea makes a slightly choked noise when she got to the 'poor girl' comment. "Poor girl my arse. Who does he think he is?"

Mycroft coughs, and when Anthea looks at him, she could swear he was trying to cover up a laugh.

"Not exactly important right now, my dear."

Anthea sighs. "Right. The message. My guess is Russian."

"Russian."

She steps forward, taking the note down and pocketing the access card before examining the characters. "Well, Russian or Ukrainian. It's not Greek, I would be able to read that."

"You can read Greek."

"You've seen my university transcripts. I took classical languages. Yes I can read Greek."

Mycroft looked thoughtful for a moment before coming to a decision. He tapped the note in Anthea's hand and said, "You get on translating that. I'll sort through the CTTV from this morning."

"Yes, sir."

Anthea moves over to her own desk and taps the keyboard to wake her computer, enters her password and sits down. She pulls up the translation software before locating a portable scanner to transfer the written note to electronic format. With a few tweaks to get it into a form the software can read, Anthea sets it to decoding the message.

Within five minutes, Anthea has an answer. She stands, clicking a button to send the translated copy to the printer before collecting it and the original and walking over to knock on Mycroft's door before opening it and entering.

"Russian. As I said."

Mycroft glanced at her, a smile tugging at one side of his face. "Well done."

"Remember, remember the 5th of November. This could be important."

Mycroft frowned slightly. "The gunpowder plot. Hmm."

"Sir?"

"Two possible meanings. The message is either implying that there is a group trying to simulate a modern version of the gunpowder plot, or that something is going to happen on the 5th of November. Or possibly both. But I doubt it."

Anthea leans forward on her chair. "What makes you sure?"

"Nature of the message. He wrote this with an intention in mind. He got inside, which means he has been watching us for a while, and successfully got out again. He would have some idea that we are more than a standard government office, though I don't think he quite knows who you are."

Anthea nods her head in agreement as Mycroft continues.

"Message is in English, obviously planned out. Doesn't give an indication who he is or whom he is working for, yet there's a phrase in Russian, obviously meaning to be decoded. A warning, or a threat. Haven't quite worked out which yet. He's not in charge of the operation though. He's just the messenger"

"A messenger who enters a high-security government facility to gloat and leave a warning or a threat?"

"A skilled one. Hmm"

"You've got that look, sir."

Mycroft looked slightly indignant. "I don't have a look."

"You do."

Mycroft said nothing, and instead just looked at Anthea.

"Oh fine, keep whatever your plotting a secret. Have you worked out who he is?"

Mycroft beckons to Anthea. She stands and moves around the desk, leaning in to look at the screen of his computer.

"I've tracked him back. As I said, he's good. See here, enters Starbucks, waits 10 minutes, and exits in completely different clothes. He knew we'd find this. Finally a clear shot of his face here as he enters the tube. Ran it through the database."

Mycroft hands Anthea a sheet of paper. A photo stares up at her.

"That's him. Gavin Parker. 30. Un-employed. Yet wealthy enough to wear three-piece suits. Dropped out of school early and doesn't talk to his parents. Emigrated from America at age 3. Occasionally mistaken for the actor Simon Baker. Bisexual." Anthea stops at that one. "You discovered his sexuality in 10 minutes?"

Mycroft shrugs by way of response.

"Dear god, let me never get on your bad side. What are you going to do about him?"

"I'm not going to do anything. You are."

"What?"

"Address down the bottom. I need to establish if and when we can expect the Houses of Parliament to explode."

Anthea found the lock and security system on Gavin Parker's flat child's play to get past. It was small, but neat. A large bookshelf by one wall overflowing, piles of books stacked on the floor near it, dirty plates in the sink and the subtle smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. The flat was empty when she arrived, and Anthea sat herself down on the couch, waiting for his return. She was flicking through My Sister's Keeper when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and a brief pause outside the door. Anthea had deliberately left the door ajar slightly as a warning.

The door opened slowly, revealing Gavin in the dim light from the hall.

"Join me why don't you?"

Gavin froze; spread his arms wide, showing that they were empty. "Whatever they said I did, I didn't do it." The faint touch of an American accent shone through the distinctive Londoner tone.

"That is a conversation for another time. Be a dear and close the door."

"Who are you?"

"Did I really leave such a fleeting impression?"

Gavin inched slowly across to the light switch, flicking it on and flooding the room with artificial light. The look of surprise on his face is completely worth sitting in a deserted flat for the better part of two hours.

Anthea smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. "And the penny drops."

"How…"

"You make think you are good, darling, but really I'm a bloody expert."

Gavin finally closes the door before leaning against it, the colour draining from his face. "You weren't meant to work out…how…not possible. I was careful!"

"You were, really. We were impressed. If it had of been anyone else it might have worked. As it were, you swiped the access card of the one person who has security updates sent directly to her phone." Anthea holds up her blackberry for a moment, glancing at it and opening up an email.

Currently talking to Gavin Parker. What do you want done with him? –A.

"Gavin Parker."

He looked up at mention of his name. "What?"

"I know more about you then you really could imagine right now. Think about that for a moment."

Anthea's phone buzzed with a return message.

Bring him in. We need a new member of PR. Check he really knows how to speak Russian. And what else he can do. –MH.

"Ready to answer my questions?"

With a resigned tone, he answered, "yes," before moving to sit on the chair opposite, holding his head in his hands.

"Excellent."

"See, I told you, sir. It's freaky how much he looks like Simon Baker."

"I'm assuming that is some celebrity figure who is mildly appealing."

"Australian actor. And anyway, despite his outward charms, he's an insufferable prat underneath it all. Remind me why you hired him again?"

"He gets people to talk to him easily. You, my dear, can be a little intimidating. He has useful skills and the ability to think for himself while still following orders. He's much like you in that regard."

"The day I start acting like I own the place and everyone should worship the ground I walk on, fire me."

Mycroft smiled, "We'll see."