Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Her First Rescue

The mission was quite routine, really. Simply even. Mycroft, Sherlock and John were to go ahead with the first wave of agents to begin the clear out. A second wave, led by James, would be in charge or securing the location. Once Anthea was located John would stay behind with her a keep her safe until James confirmed their safety. That was if she was alive, of course. Mycroft and Sherlock would keep going ahead with the agents in order to locate anything of interest or people of interest. It promised to be routine and quick, and it was. It absolutely was a very quick mission. One cannot account for emotional responses and how they shade your view of a mission. To Mycroft it would always be a failure because they could have gotten there sooner. They could have got to her when she still looked like her.

John Watson, being the soldier he was, gun in hand, was the one to kick the heavy metal door as hard as he could. It crashed against tiles as it ricocheted open. The first thing that hit you was the stench of the room. It smelt of bleach, blood, and rust. The bleach was the most assaulting smell, the blood and rust feeling more like a disgusting aftertaste left in your mouth. Then in the centre of the room, chained to a metal chair, there she was. Anthea James, Mycroft Holmes' assistant, born Alice Clarke, sat looking far worse for wear, trying to blink through the bright light that had just landed on her face. Mycroft's blood ran cold.

"Mycroft!" Anthea exhaled through cracked and bloodied lips. Her voice croaked when she spoke and it only added to Mycroft's cold icy anger. Mycroft kept his face still, masked of any emotion, as he looked over Anthea more carefully than he ever had before.

He face was bloodied – the origin of the blood being multiple locations. One being her bottom lip, the laceration on her left cheek, and a horrible looking gash just across from her left eye. Minor cuts in multiple locations, her wrists appeared very raw against the handcuffs and the girl seemed to be favouring a shoulder. Dark painful bruises littered her small frame. And he meant small frame. She looked thin. So thin. It caused Mycroft physical pain to see her like this and made him want to rip every single person within this building to shreds. Anthea, so sophisticated looking, so proud, looked so broken. He knew they should move on but Mycroft was stuck looking his personal assistant over. It was reminiscent of the time nine year old Sherlock had accidentally knocked over one of Mummy's porcelain dolls her own mother had given her. Seeing that porcelain cracked and broken, it was hypnotic in a most heart breaking way. If one allowed themselves to feel such emotion. Anthea wasn't broken beyond repair though, the way her warm chocolate eyes clung to his cold steely ones made that obvious.

Sherlock tapped Mycroft on the shoulder, breaking him from the hypnotic trance of the broken doll. He looked over to see sky blue eyes with something that might be concern mixed in them. Sherlock gestured for the two of them to move down the hall.

"John." Sherlock took the lead, giving John the go ahead. He tossed the keys they'd kindly required off of a now deceased man to the doctor who caught them mid-air.

"Got it." John nodded, his head clear and focused. With a slight hesitation Mycroft and Sherlock headed down the hallway at a quick pace. Time to finish this off as quickly as possible. Time to make these people realise who they were dealing with. Time to get the broken doll to safety.

Mycroft stood in the doctor's surgery set up of the safe house meticulously reading over the doctor's findings. Most of these he had discovered for himself just by glancing at poor Anthea, right down to the fractured cheek. Most of these were things you could clearly see just by looking at her. Yes, alright, he knew what those injuries were, he knew they could be fixed. It was what he could not see that he was concerned about. First of all was mental health, which needed to be assessed. He'd deal with that when Anthea was ready to deal with that. Secondly, what a group of men could do with a beautiful girl, or anyone for that matter.

Mycroft looked up from the document and eyed the doctor suspiciously. The doctor, a greying man of about Mycroft's height and slightly slimmer build, gulped under the steely gaze.

"Have you checked for everything? Internal bleeding, infections, diseases, STIs?" The doctor cleared his throat and gained a bit of his courage back in order to talk like a professional.

"All of them. All of my findings are listed there for you to read-"

"Yes I can see that." Mycroft interrupted, his tone slightly on edge without him meaning for it to happen. He pursed his lips, reading over the report quickly once more. "Nothing more?" He asked. "You are absolutely certain?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Holmes." The doctor nodded, adjusting his glasses so they sat further up his face. "Miss James has a substantial amount of bruises, a sprain or two, irritation to her skin, and her cheek is fractured. That is all. Other than the antibiotic for the infection she's perfectly fine." Perfectly fine? What a horrible choice of words when talking about a torture victim to their…. Employer. Doctor Watson would have put it better. She will be perfectly fine. In fact, he'd said that very thing when filling in Mycroft and Sherlock after the raid. Mycroft placed the paper down and folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowing on the doctor.

"Say I was to take her to another professional. Are you one hundred percent sure that they would arise to the exact same results as you?"

"Definitely."

"Would you willing to risk your career on it?" Mycroft stepped forward. His tone was dark and low. This was not a threat, it was a promise. If there was something else wrong, anything else. This doctor would find himself working in a fast food restaurant. The doctor stood his ground, despite breaking eye contact that demonstrated fear.

"Mr. Holmes, I double checked your PA, she's all set to go home."

The bathroom door creaked as it opened. Both the doctor and Mycroft looked in the direction of the noise. Mycroft once again found himself scrutinizing Anthea with excruciating care as she stepped out of the bathroom. She still looked bruised and broken, no doubt about that. It looked as if certain movements would hurt her, including smiling. She had such a cunning smile, too. That wasn't point, however, the point was, now she was in those ugly things she calls pyjamas, with her body washed of blood and the open wounds closed he could see Anthea again. Mycroft found himself calming down at this thought and managed to school his expression back into a well-practiced facial expression. The doctor made an excuse to leave the room but Mycroft wasn't listening. He didn't care in the slightest. Once the door closed behind the doctor Anthea tried her best to smile at her boss. It was only a faint lift of either side of her mouth, her eyes glittering with both sadness and relief.

"Hi, Sir." Her voice cracked and something tugged at Mycroft's chest. He felt his expressionless face slip away faintly. She needed to be comforted, but how? Mycroft tilted his head and faked a warm smile.

"Hello, my dear." He hummed. Apparently that's how she needed to be comforted. At the sound of his voice, Anthea stepped closer to him. Closeness. Closeness and familiarity are what she was craving. Of course she was, being alone in an alien environment for so long. Should he step closer to her? Yes, of course he should. Mycroft hesitantly stepped closer to the girl in her band t-shirt and flannel trousers.

"Sorry I missed work." She shrugged. Once again Anthea attempted to smile, this time it was that cheeky grin, the one with the crinkled nose and the sparkling eyes. The sparkling eyes were there, none of the other features were, they would have hurt her too much. And there was that tug at Mycroft's chest again. "Something came up." Still joking around, that was good. She was still Alice. Mycroft shrugged, playing along.

"Perfectly understandable." He waved her off. "Just this once, however." Anthea sniffed a noise. It was supposed to be a laugh but clearly that would cause her discomfort by the way her voice croaked and cracked. Anthea gestured up and down her body lazily with both hands. She cocked her head to the side in a very Alice like manner.

"How do I look?" Absolutely amazing because you're walking around and talking and making jokes. Mycroft smiled.

"As stunning as you always look." And he meant it. A warmness crossed Anthea's features and she probably didn't notice that she'd taken another step forward, dangerously into Mycroft's comfort zone. Mycroft inwardly sighed as he searched those dark eyes of Anthea's. "Alice, have I ever told you that bravery is the kindest word for stupidity?"

Oh. No. That was a mistake. A bad choice had been made. This was not the intended outcome.

Anthea's eyes became glassy, filling with tears. She looked up at the lights as if trying to banish the tears the same way one brought out a sneeze. The girl tried desperately to blink them back, one or two escaping and falling down her purple and yellow stained face.

"I was just doing my job, sir." She croaked in a quiet voice. She looked back at Mycroft and Mycroft could see how desperately the stoic character was trying to remain strong and not break to pieces. "I didn't let them have anything." Without even thinking, Mycroft began stroking Anthea on the arm, the way Mummy or Father would when comforting him or his brother when they were little.

"I know." He whispered.

Alice has been retrieved and seen by the physician. On our way, be prepared – M.H.

Awesome! Great to hear. Cya soon – Jamie.

… You know you're not talking to some work person. Text like a normal human – Jamie.

Use a period at the end of your text and maybe I will. – M.H.

Mycroft walked Anthea up to her flat. He had to, the girl was inching forward to him every chance she got. She was not aware that she was doing this, but Anthea was clearly venerable and needy. The broken doll needed and escort and someone to hold the pieces together. Mycroft would have to do that until Jamie could do it.

They reached her front door and Anthea patted the left side of her body, feeling the absent of her purse. Her brain seemed slow on the uptake but that was to be understandable. She blinked a few times, pouting slightly. She looked up at Mycroft, brown eyes full of confusing, and shrugged.

"I don't have a key." Her quiet voice cracked on the last word. Ah, you made the connection, well done. It's a good thing they didn't need a key to get inside the flat today. Mycroft quirked his eyebrow and faked a smile as he leant over and knocked on the front door. Hopefully that annoying little thing inside the flat would be of some comfort. Jamie must have been in the middle of one ridiculous task or another as there was rustling and frantic noises from within the flat. Confusion crossed Anthea's face at the noise. The door was pulled open. Jamie's face flashed with the same list of emotions as before when she lay her eyes on Anthea but this time the final emotion was relief. Anthea's expression was still confusion, plain and simple.

"Oh, Alice!" Jamie cried, Mycroft winced. Jamie placed her thin hands on either side of Anthea's face and stood on her toes in order to give the taller girl a warm kiss on the forehead. She then pulled her in for a gentle and warm hug. "I was so worried about you! You can't do that to me! I'm so happy to see you again!" Anthea's eyes were warm and sparkling again, good. If there's one thing the annoying blonde was good for, it was to restore Alice to Anthea.

"Jamie?" Anthea pulled out of the hug a few centimetres in order to look her best friend in the eye. "What are you doing here?" Jamie's eyes narrowed onto Mycroft.

"He sent a helicopter for me." She nodded to him, accusing him of some great crime. "Without warning." He eyes still narrowed and angry, but Jamie's mouth pulled into a playful smile reminiscent of her best friend's. Mycroft rolled his eyes at her. "Honestly, I thought I was being kidnapped." Jamie then pulled Anthea back into a hug before the girl could even respond.

This was all getting too touching and emotional for Mycroft's liking. He needed to get out of there. This was not something he was comfortable with, he was merely getting in the way at this point. Mycroft cleared his throat to get the girls' attention. They pulled out of the hug and both looked at him with vastly different coloured brown eyes. Mycroft pulled out his phone and pretended to look at the time.

"I best be off." He sighed, feigning reasons to leave. But there was one more topic that needed to be approached before he did leave. Placing on his strict boss persona, Mycroft regarded Anthea with a serious expression. "My dear, I do not expect to see you back at work until next Monday." The broken doll's warm expression shattered and she shook her head.

"But-" She whispered.

"No buts, Ali." Jamie cut her off, shaking her head in return. "Mycroft and I knew you'd argue so I'm here until Sunday to play doctors and nurses with you." So you had someone to lean on. Jamie could be your familiarity, she would be much better at it.

"What about-"

"My work?" Jamie finished Anthea's sentence for her.

"Her boss has agreed to a paid vacation." Mycroft finished it off. Anthea looked between her boss and her friend, looking bewildered. The two of them working together didn't make sense to her. That was fair enough, it didn't make sense to Mycroft either. Mycroft turned back in the direction of the stairs. Time to leave before things got too emotional again. "As I said, next Monday, Miss Clarke. Miss Thompson."

"Bye Mycroft!" Jamie called out like an eager child saying goodbye to a family friend. "Say hello to your brother for me!"

Sunday generally meant the day off. If you had a personal assistant, Sunday generally meant the day off. Having gone without an assistant for about two weeks at this point, Mycroft was working today. He was sitting in his home office dealing with emails that Anthea would usually sort and answer or delete. It was a very time consuming process. After this he'd move on to signing all the contracts that needed to be signed.

Mycroft is never surprised by the ringing of his phone – he turned to look at it vibrating on his desk – he is merely annoyed at its bad timing. Mycroft sighed as he picked up his phone and looked at the number.

Anthea

Of course. It was Sunday, Jamie was leaving and therefore Anthea was left on her own. Anthea would be in that flat so close to the abduction site and still most likely feeling so uncharacteristically needy. Mycroft had been half expecting this call.

"Yes, Anthea?" Mycroft answered the phone using his trained bored and neutral tone. She may not be able to face her home alone, but some normality would do the girl wonders. Silence followed for thirty seconds, Mycroft counted.

"So um, Jamie just left…" The PA trailed off, losing her nerve. Mycroft looked at the pile of contracts on his desk. He'd have to keep working, he couldn't keep her company if he wanted to. Still… Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Bring a book to entertain yourself." He sighed.

She was looking better as she stood in his at his front door waiting to be let in. Her bruises and wounds were all pretty much the same but the swelling had come down and she was starting to look like herself again. Anthea had a little bit of that spark back that made her so…. Her. She could smile a bit more now, too. She had Wuthering Heights clutched in her hands as she smiled sheepishly at her boss. Mycroft stepped aside to let Anthea in without saying a word. He shut the door behind her and began his way back to his office. Mycroft turned to look at Anthea with a bored expression, establishing some normality once more in such an abnormal circumstance.

"I'm ordering out this evening. The menu is in the kitchen, write down what you wish to have for dinner. I'll be in the study." He began to walk away but paused mid-step. "You may bring your book in there if you must." A little bit of metaphorical hand holding won't hurt her recovery.

A few minutes after Mycroft had gotten back into his work, now onto the contract, Anthea slipped into the office. He felt her pause at his desk, most likely she wanted to help. Luckily she kept walking and made her way to the couch near the bookcase. She opened her book and began reading with a contented sigh. Mycroft looked up to watch her. He quirked an eyebrow at her choice of book.

"Wuthering Heights again, my dear?" In the time Mycroft has known her, Anthea has read that book at least twice a year. It was almost always within her purse. It was quite curious really. Anthea rolled her dark eyes and smiled at her boss. Good, even more of Alice was coming back.

"It's my comfort book, leave me alone." The broken doll huffed. Mycroft sniffed a laugh and went back to signing the annoying contracts that apparently no one else had the authority to sign. "Do you mind if I put my feet on the couch?" It was a quiet voice and a thoughtful request. She knew better than to just presume but how could Anthea think that given the circumstances Mycroft could even say no to such a request? Mind you, he would normally say no and he was trying to establish normality.

"Be my guest."

Mycroft sighed heavily as he signed the last contract. He leaned back in his office chair and stretched out his back, relishing the feeling.

"That's the last of those." He hummed. "Now to see if any other idiot needs me to sort out their issues via email." Mycroft turned back to his desktop and opened his web browser. "Honestly, I'm impressed with how you can tolerate reading these all day, my dear." No answer. "Anthea?" Mycroft looked away from the computer and glanced over to the couch. Immediately his hands dropped from the keyboard and he leaned back in his chair to take in the sight.

Anthea had fallen asleep somewhere within the last hour. He hands were tucked under the less bruised side of her head, her ankles crossed. The book still sat slightly open as it leaned against her chest as it softly raised and fell with every breath she took.

Really, Mycroft should wake his assistant up and send her off to bed. Her room was far more comfortable than this couch. But her face, oh her face. It was so serine and she had the gentlest smile on her lips. Mycroft could not bear to wake her up and burden her with real life. Very quietly Mycroft picked up her book, closed it and placed it safely on the side table. He walked out of the room to fetch a blanket from the linen cupboard. Mycroft chose his mother's red blanket. The one that used to sit on the couch at home. The one she'd given him when she bought a new one in case he was even inclined to feel nostalgic of childhood. He wasn't so it sat in the cupboard. It was the perfect choice for now, however. It smelt of home and Anthea needed to feel safe. This would do nicely.

Mycroft snuck back in the room and gently draped the blanket on top of Anthea's sleeping form. He took one last look at his assistant fast asleep on his couch, committing the image to memory before leaving the room and turning off the light.

Author's Note: And there you have it, two of the most popular chapters of AFTFE re-written for Myc. What do you think? Was it good enough? I'd avoided it for so long because I was so proud of the original and didn't know if Myc's distance would get the same emotive response. Thank you for reading. Quadruple thank you for those who read AFTE. I am so happy to be a part of this fandom with such wonderful people. Let me know what you thought of the work!

Also…. Plug for Anthea's blog… because I love doing that blog :P.