Mycroft's POV
He was awaiting his assistant just outside of the entry door to the wing that their rooms were in. According to a few of the diplomats that he had already seen his outfit was very like the Phantom of the Operas. Though he frowned at the comparison, he had not dressed to match a story character. A few minutes later, while he is doing a mental review of all of the political players that are currently dancing in the ballroom below, his attention is drawn when the door to their wing of rooms is opened and out steps Amaya. His thoughts stop as he processes the red and gold touched gown she is wearing with the mask.

A red chrysanthemum, his mind supplies, her dress reminds me of a red chrysanthemum, which means I love you. Then her mask and hair is decorated with ambrosia flowers, meaning your love is reciprocated. What? Why has she worn a dress with that sort of meaning?

She is gorgeous, he thinks, there is no way that she would ever be interested in someone as plain as him. Despite that his mind, which has always been so much faster than everyone except his mother and brother's, freezes for the first time in his life. The implications of her chosen outfit sent him processing everything he has ever known about her. From her tendency to change her name based on her mood, though he might be the only person who actually knows her real name any more, to the fact she is rather fond of her clothing choices and dresses sharply always to the details of the men she has dated over the years. While his outwardly expression says nothing of his inner turmoil, his mind seems bound to taunt him because every man she has dated has been similar to him in some way. Since nearly the beginning of their working together, when he had hired her after she had gotten past his staff while breaking into his house while coming after treasure she was sure his house would hold. There had been attraction that night too, though he had ignored it as he had taken in the rest of her details. Since they had started working together he had learned even more about the determined young woman, and she had applied the same amount of details to her job with him as she had when she was still a thief.

He comes out of the mind freeze as her lips curl in something of a smirk, the same one she gives any time they are going to be on assignment and her outfit is what it needs to be.

Offering her his arm politely, the two of them walk downstairs to the ball proper where they are announced, him under his official name, and her under her favorite secondary name of Anthea. There is not actually a goal here tonight rather than just attending a masquerade and the normal political visits that occur when so many get together. It is rather unusual for him to have no secondary purpose but alas, his assignment was merely to attend and make sure that he maintained relations with those they were already working with.

Over the next few hours, the majority of his time was spent speaking with different diplomats though his PA rarely left his side as they moved from group to group. When they were not doing that, they were dancing, something he found to be rather enjoyable. Particularly on those dances where they ended up pressed close together, his mind realizing that they were a physical perfect fit, with her being just the right height and curvy.

Maybe when they return home he should ask her about the dress, he is excellent at double speak, so he should be able to come up with a logical way to do so. Right. Like any of his reactions to that dress and its meanings have been logical so far.

oOo

Anthea's POV
So far it has been a wonderful night. When the younger Holmes had first suggested a combination of a masquerade and arranged kidnapping she had figured he could never pull it off even as she had agreed with him. That's why she had been surprised when orders had come through to attend the Valentine's Masquerade ball and a letter was delivered by a rather creepy looking man detailing his plan for her kidnapping, including telling her which of Mycroft's guards to have on duty that night. The night of the ball she had done as directed by the letter and was simply enjoying herself.

Just after midnight, she was going to be passed a drink by one of the waiters that would cause her to become tired. Apparently it was designed to mimic true exhaustion and leave no chemical after effects. At that point she was to head up to her room for the night where a pair of men was going to be waiting to kidnap her. They would be staging the scene to look as if there was a serious threat, and she had been told one of their problems would be the fall man, though she was concerned about which one would be selected and how they would be dealt with.

She was unaware of where she was going, because at that point she would probably be unconscious, though he had promised the antidote to the drug as soon as she arrived wherever it was he had arranged for her to go. Still, she was quite happy that the dress he had decided on held spots for her tools, particularly since she never liked to go anywhere without them. Even better was the fact that her dress hid them, and a cursory check would not reveal any of them if the situation somehow got out of hand.

As the ancient bell tower in a nearby church began to chime, she cannot help the smile that curves her lips. Its show time. Now to see if he was right, if there was any chance of something happening between herself and Mycroft.

oOo

Sherlock's POV
The trip to Germany was a quick one, and all the arrangements had been made already for how the night was going to unfold. When he had first approached the German Defense Minister about assisting with a pet project while helping to get rid of a local problem, she had been leery, however he had carefully outlined his plan, well the parts she needed to know, and the older woman had agreed with a shark smile. Tonight was going to be one of those nights for the record book. It was not often he pulled a stunt like this. Even better was he had John at his side while he did it, and while he could not be the one to give Anthea the drug-one of his own design actually- he had selected the best member of the Minster's staff to do so. Giving the young man a rather nice tip to give her the drink, though he did not tell him what was in it. Really, it's best not to let the pawns know they are pawns.

What he had not told Anthea is his brother was also being dosed, only throughout the entire night so the effects would not strike until shortly after midnight with a truth serum of his own design as well. Might as well make sure that he is being honest about his feelings for his PA after all.

As the bells ring above he smiles happily at John standing next to him. The plan is about to go into action. Excellent.

oOo

Mycroft's POV
Just a little after midnight, he is surprised when his normally energetic PA suddenly claims to be tired. Glancing at her mildly concerned, he automatically reads the situation, realizing that there is something off, she does not show any signs of being drugged, yet she is far more tired than she normally would be at this point in the night. Something is going on. He just has to figure out what it is.

Politely excusing himself and his assistance from their hostess, he escorts her to her room above stairs, carefully checking the door for any signs of tampering before she goes in, and deciding at the last minute to check the room itself too.

What he finds is a bit of a shock as a thick hand biffs him on the back of the neck, causing him to collapse unconscious.

When he comes to, his assistant is gone, the signs scattered about the room point to a locally run but international drug and gun organization that he had been working on getting rid of for years, though they had not been as problematic as some of the other groups so he had never fully focused on them. Well that was changing as of this moment. Carefully not to touch anything, he scans the room, discovering a notice to him on her bed.

-Mr. Holmes
Your assistant will be in our tender mercies until you agree to the terms we set forth. Do not bother to bring anyone else into the situation or you will receive pieces of her.-

There was no signature and the point was quite clear. However it left him in quite a quandary, he was known as the Iceman for a reason and it was not his sunny disposition yet he did not want to risk her life prior to discovering if all the signs he had been reading tonight were correct. She is the most useful PA he has ever had, there is no way he is going to allow them to harm her if he can avoid it, and woe to any who thinks to try. Why the hell did this have to happen when he was trying to decide what to do about her? Narrowing his eyes, he decides to play along but they really do not know what they are in for.

After retreating to his room, and carefully rubbing the back of his sore neck, he carefully opens his brief case before removing the false bottom and taking out the two hand guns that are kept there, along with the lock picking kit, throwing knives, and garrotes. Within a few minutes he has changed out of his costume and into what appears to be one of his regular sleek black bespoke suits, only this one is designed for when he actually has to go into the field with spots for a variety of his tools.

If anyone would have seen his expression as he finished tucking the carefully designed garrote into his sleeve they would have shivered in fear. While anyone who saw him just after would have fled for their life.

Silently, he makes his way out the building, by passing all the areas where there are lots of people and out into the garage where he finds his driver resting in the front seat. He is mildly surprised at that, until he remembers that he had not dismissed him for the night, so he was waiting for orders.

Carefully waking the other man, he gives him directions on where to go, and silently settles into the back seat. Take his assistant and threaten him? Not a good idea, they were about to learn why he was the Iceman in the most brutal fashion he could manage without his staff. Speaking of his staff, he would have his driver check in with his guards as soon as he was at location. Upon pulling close to where he needed to be, he had the driver stop, telling Jack to check with his guards, before slipping out of the car and ghosting his way up to the building.

His mind automatically determines the layout of the building from its dimensions. The two guards that are at the door go down quietly as he strikes out with a quick thrust to each of their throats, hitting the nerves that controls movement and easy breathing. Both are living but it will be a long while before either is going anywhere. Just as silently he slips into the building, following the same trend with each of the guards that he can. He is trying to avoid killing any of them at this moment, though he has his weapons at easy access just to be on the safe side.

After making his way through the building he finds his assistant, along with the leaders of this particularly group, including the primary leader, gathered in a room with his assistant just sort of thrown on a cot in the corner of the room while the different men are arguing. Carefully listening, he is surprised to learn that this was not the leaders plan, however his men thought it was. They thought that they were following his orders. No matter, the entire lot of them were about to be out of the question. Clicking a button on his phone he sends out a message to a team to come do clean up, not worrying about how long it will take when his phone vibrates to tell him the message got out.

"This was a very stupid idea," he informs the room at large, using a voice trick he had learned years before to make it sound like he was speaking from everywhere and nowhere.

Each and every one of the thugs and idiots below eyes widen and jerked as they looked around looking for where the voice came from.

"Apparently someone has decided to set your foolish selves up, and look you feel right into that trap." He continues to move along the edge of the room while keeping his voice pitched to carry. "Give up before you are all dead."

In the pocket with his phone, he feels it as it buzzes not once or twice, but three times, the sign that the team is getting ready to enter. Whenever he ends up in the field, he makes sure a team is ready in case of emergencies, but this is a bit quicker than he had expected.

Moments later the team is infiltrating the room as he slips in behind his PA to cut her bonds, only to discover they have already been cut and her eyes flicker open with a smile.

"Hello Sir," she murmurs, partly sleepily because it had been a long day, "is it time to go?"

He nods, offering her a hand up, "It is. Did I mention you are looking quite beautiful tonight?" he responds before actually thinking it through. Blinking in shock, he stares at her for a moment as he reviews everything he had eaten tonight. It was a lot of the same things as everyone else, so why did he feel as if he had been given truth serum? There was an overwhelming urge to tell her that he wants her, though it is one he is fighting. After all, his assistant might not want him.

Giving a small shake of his head, he carefully tucks a hand against the small of her back as he helps her out to the waiting car. All of the idiots that had been here are in custody, either his men's or the German police. As they slide into the car, he finds himself wondering how long the serum is going to last, particularly since he has not been able to identify what type it is.

As he settles next to her, she answers his question, "Not aloud you did not, but your eyes did earlier."

Nodding, he inquires, "Do you understand exactly what that dress was designed to say?"

Tilting her head to the side she nods once, a light blush covering her skin.

Raising an eyebrow, he looks at her thoughtfully for a moment before deciding that he could lose nothing if he did not try. So he carefully scoots closer to her, carefully lifting one of her hands and carefully running the tips of his fingers over the pads of her fingers. They are nearly touching from shoulder to knee and he can feel the warmth of her body. When she softly gasps, his eyes flicker over at her to take in the slightly glazed expression in her eyes. A small part of him is curious how responsive she really is going to be if just this simple action can cause the flush and look on her face now. Perhaps something more could come of this. With a smile, he moves from rubbing her fingers to slowly working his way up her hand, rubbing small circles into her wrist.

Several minutes later they have returned to the mansion, where the Defense Minister is waiting for them. After the necessary formal conversation is done, everyone retires to their rooms. When they reach their rooms, he is mildly surprised when she takes hold of his hand at her door and gently tugs him in after her.

Startled but willing, he follows, using his heel to close the door behind them. A moment later he steps up close to her, their bodies nearly flush as he studies her slightly upturned face. Like when they were in the car he can feel the warmth radiating from her body. Her eyes are wide the silver of her irises nearly overtaking her pupils. He can see the attraction reflected in her features from her shallow breaths to the upturned expression on her face.

Slowly, giving her plenty of time to step away he lifts his hands to cup her jaw before softly kissing her on the lips. The kiss turns from soft and gentle, deepening into something a bit more sensual. When he finally lifts his head, he studies her face, her breathes are even shallower, a slight flush has overcome her face, and her eyes have drifted shut. Smiling slightly, he returns to kissing her, nibbling at her lower lip for a moment before running his tongue across the edge of her lip. When her lips open once more his tongue slips inside to carefully trace her inner lips and teeth, before softly stroking her tongue. When she moans softly and arches just the slightest bit into him, he can feel the reaction his body is having.

When they break apart the second time, she murmurs, "Mycroft," her voice full of need.

"Yes Amaya?" he murmurs in response, using her real name.

Her eyes narrow for a moment before she smiles, "Take me to bed," she replies.

He nods once, nimble fingers stroking from the soft skin of her jaw down her throat to graze over her shoulders, his thumbs lightly rubbing circles into her skin, tracing each muscle and bone lightly. Once more he kisses her. This time her arms come up wrap around him, her long slender fingers skimming up and down his back, while one hand rises to sink into the thicker hair at the nape of his neck.

Somehow the two of them end up backed up against the bed without looking. Carefully he unfastens her gown by feeling rather than by sight, smiling as it falls to the ground in a puddle around her feet, leaving her in nothing but the lacy red bikini style knickers. For a moment he can do nothing but stare, because she is far lovelier to look at then he had realized with a body designed to make a man beg with curves in all the right places. He had never been one to like women who were too thin or two muscular. Her mocha colored skin is all natural, a gift of her Middle Eastern heritage.

While he is busy staring, her cleaver fingers are carefully unfastening the buttons on his clothing, pulling the bottom and tails out of his pants so that his shirt and jacket are hanging off his solid frame while her fingers are tracing over his muscles.

Coming out of his daze, he shrugs off the shirt and coat, mentally chiding himself when he wants to stop to hang their clothing up. Times like this it really sucks to have OCD. Instead, he focuses on her carefully pushing her backwards to sprawl on the bed while he leans over to explore his way across her body. He nibbles, licks, kisses, rubs small circles, and touches every inch of her body he can reach. While taking care to pay close attention to her reactions with each touch. She gasps when his tongue flickers against the pulse in her throat, moans when his fingers cup her breasts, writhes when his lips close around first one nipple, than the other. Each reaction is catalogued for later use.

He loves the little noises that escaping her, her pleas, gasps, moans, groans, and breathy sighs.

He knows when she is close, he can feel her straining her against him. Smiling as he continues to explore his way down her body, he pauses when he gets to the edge of her lacy panties, thumbs cooking under the edges in order to slowly pulls them down. He runs the edge of his tongue down the crease between where her torso and leg before nibbling across her lower stomach to do the same thing on her other side. There is a delectable scent of arousal coming from her. Once her panties are gone, he settles himself between her legs, hands grazing back up her legs, skimming them softly as he pushes them just a little bit further apart.

Glancing up, his smile grows at the sight laid out before. Amaya is stretched out with her head thrown back, small little dark pink spots scattered across her body from where he had nibbled on her, her fingers are clutching the blankets on either side of her.

"Please," she keens arching towards his touch.

He smirks as he leans down just a bit and runs his tongue along her opening causing her to arch her hips and gasp. One long finger slips in her, seeking that sweet spot within. He knows when he has it because of the cry of need that escapes her.

"Mycroft," she groans, "please," she starts pleading, "more!"

The next several moments are spent with him enjoying himself and making her beg for more before he finally presses down on her clit and g-spot at the same time, making her arch as her body lets go. The taste of her arousal is excellent, but the taste of her pleasure is nearly perfect. Slowly straighten, he enjoys the view for a few moments more, considering whether he should strip and join her or not.

The decision is made for him when she sits up after a moment, slender fingers unfastening his trousers to push both them and his pants off. Smiling, at him, she kicks off her heels before sliding further up the bed and crooking her finger at him to join her.

Groaning, he kicks off his clothes, toeing off his shoes and socks as he does so before clamoring on to the bed beside her. Now that he is completely bare and she is actively watching him, his self consciousness comes to the forefront including the doubt that she could find him physically attractive. While he knows he looks good in a suit, their designed to look good after all, he knows that without the suit his body is not much to look at. He lacks any firm muscles, has a pudgy middle, pale freckled covered skin, and slowly losing his hair.

Apparently she is aware of his feelings of self doubt because she pushes him back so he is sprawled out and kneels on either side of his hips, her hot center pressing against his hard length. Now it is her turn to explore him, slender fingers and hot mouth pressing into his skin, making him arch and groan as she touches everything she can reach.

When she shifts her hips, taking just the tip of him within her, he finds himself gasping and arching up. His fingers grab her hips, holding her steady as he slowly works himself inside her even as her hips rotate against him. After several moments of a slow thrust and withdraw he is sunk all the way inside her. It is almost more than he can handle after years of celibacy. Over the next few minutes the two of them work out a pattern, a dance as old as time. His peak nears far too quickly for his liking, making him feel like a teenager once more, however he is not a teen and uses one hand to carefully hold her hips, while his other goes to playing with that tight buddle of nerves that makes her cry out for more.

Moments later they are coming together, a ragged sigh being torn from her as he groans her name, arching just one last time as he empties himself deep inside her body.

Afterwards she sprawls across his chest, one hand making small circles across the muscles there.

Slowly drifting off to sleep, he hears her murmur, "I love you Mycroft Holmes," before exhaustion of a long day claims her.

For a while he lays there holding her close, a part of him demanding that he get up to clean them both, but he finds he cannot force himself to let her go. He finally has a goldfish, no a salmon, of his own. If this is the type of feeling his brother has when curled up with his doctor it makes perfect sense to him. Now that he has her, he plans to never let go if he does not have to.

She might be an unexpected gift, but she's his unexpected gift and that is all that matters.