Author's Note: I graduated from university on Saturday! Yay! Four years. My gracious mood leads to a post of another chapter. As far as this one I don't think she's been working there long. A month or two tops? Any way I just wanted to give a huge thanks for those who comment, favourite, and add this to their alerts. You guys are the reason I'm super excited for this fic – instead of just being terrified writing for a new fandom – and want to post new chapters so quickly. So please, read, review, and most importantly enjoy!

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 Mistake

The destroyed USB sat on the desk separating her from her boss. His elbows were on the desk, fingers sat rigidly against his temples of his bowed head. A quick sweep of the room using her latest training indicate that any weapons were concealed securely and the umbrella was out of reach. She was in no immediate physical danger. He let out a meaningful sigh and looked up at Anthea. The silence continued as he folded his arms, scrutinizing her with his every look. Many times Anthea thought of speaking, she had never been in a situation this dangerous before, but thought better of it. Eventually he spoke.

"One task." The irritation oozed from his voice.

"Yes, I know sir."

"One simple task involving a simple USB."

"I know." He pinched his nose with his nimble fingers and shut his eyes momentarily.

"All you had to do with it was hold it for twenty four hours and then take it to the exchange point."

"I know, sir."

"And what did you do?" Anthea gulped, she did not answer. Mr. Holmes opened his eyes, letting the anger seep out. If Anthea had discovered anything about her boss so far it was that he was far more dangerous when not wearing that emotion shielding mask of his. "What did you do, Anthea?"

"I left it in my jacket and put it in the washing machine."

"You put the USB through the washing machine." Anthea swapped her weight from foot to foot.

"To be fair, I'd have thought you would have used a waterproof device." He leaned forward, anger flashing more fiercely in those grey orbs.

"I'm sorry, do you doubt me?"

"No sir." She answered quickly. His fingers were back at his temples and the increasingly small office grew silent once again. There was no sound but the light hum of his computer and it was doing nothing to sooth Anthea – she had nothing to focus on but Mycroft – usually so cool – stewing in his own annoyance. He looked up and folded his hands together.

"I'd expect this from anyone else, but you, Anthea? You promised me you were better than this." Ugh, disappointment. Every person alive who remembers childhood remembers that the sting of disappointment hurts deeper that anger could ever hope to cut you. "You do realise that I vouched for you?"

"I know, sir." She stepped forward, trying to lock his eyes with her brown ones – trying to get him to hear her out. "I appreciate your confidence and I'm sorry." He seemed to be cooling. "I know your work habits, that can't be your only copy sir, I can still drop off the information." Something flashed across his face briefly, gone before she could identify it.

"Of course it's not my only copy, Anthea." He threw an arm up, gesturing at the computer. "I am not an imbecile. However, it is hidden behind figurative miles of encryptions and codes. It will take a long time to access, after which I'll need to set up encryptions on the USB itself. You formatted the previous USB, you should understand." Even with her knowledge of technology, it had taken Anthea a fairly decent amount of time setting up the types of security measures expected of Mr. Mycroft Holmes and his associates. She was spending time now learning new encryption and even hacking techniques. He did not have time for a screw up, and neither did she. Anthea gulped.

"I'm sorry, sir." She spoke only slightly higher than a whisper.

"Just," he gestured lazily to the door, not looking up at Anthea. "Go. I should have expected a mistake eventually." Slowly Anthea turned around and started for the door. "Please don't step foot in here again unless I call for you."

Anthea was at her computer working on two things simultaneously. She was filtering through the office's emails and ordering them from important and requiring immediate attention to least important, and she was also working on her code breaking skills using declassified cases involving cracked codes – trying to crack them herself. She was just closing a file and replacing it onto the bottom of her pile when she heard the tell-tale sound of a wooden umbrella handle being tapped twice on the edge of her desk. Her eyes only had to flicker up slightly to be met by a hand holding out a USB towards her, she looked up to meet Mycroft's eyes. His face was stern, lips tight in a straight line, eyebrows slightly lifted. She said nothing, only looked him in the eyes.

"You have one hour to get this to the airstrip." He said firmly but not cruelly. Anthea nodded, taking the USB from his hand, fingers grazing, putting it in her handbag and getting up to walk away.

"An hour, got it." She grabbed her coat from the rack near the door.

"Run." She heard him behind her.

"Will do." She left the office.

"I don't mean figuratively. Literally run." She heard being yelled through the door.

"Running!" Anthea yelled back and started jogging through the hallways. No one would take notice of Mycroft Holmes' PA running through the halls. She would take her own car to the private airstrip – much faster than waiting for the driver.

The American contact was standing on the runway next to the small non-descript airplane. The pilot, she guess, would most likely still be in the cockpit, waiting to leave. The contact looked cold and irritated as he, hands in the pockets of his thick overcoat, tried not to shiver. He was wearing dark sunglasses, Anthea noted as she fought the urge to roll her eyes, he was only trying to emulate what he thought people like them dressed like – suits and dark sunglasses. To be fair, in her few months of working in this field Anthea didn't notice many people who didn't break this stereotype but perhaps they were all trying to fulfil some childhood dream of men in black being mysterious and powerful. At least Mycroft had the decency to be creative with his suits. She could feel the glare of the American as she approached.

"You're late." He complained as soon as Anthea was in earshot. She looked at her blackberry for the time.

"It's two on the dot. I'm on time." She raised an eyebrow at him as she stopped in front of him.

"On time is late." Up close she could hear the faintest southern accent. Anthea threw him a lopsided grin to counter his straight and narrow arrogance.

"Well, call me fashionably late, then." She said. "Thanks what you Yanks call it isn't it? When you turn up to meetings late? Like last time?" The American contact didn't even try to hide his scowl.

"You English and your fake manners. You think your pretty smile protects you?" He took a step forward. She scowled back digging into her handbag for the USB.

"No, I think the fact that both of our bosses want this done as smoothly as possible protects me." She held the USB out in front of her. He grabbed it and placed it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Good." He said and turned away. She turned away towards her car and 'tsk'ed.

"No 'thank you'?" She shook her head and smiled to herself. "Manners."

When she got back to the office it was empty. Placing her coat back on the rack she noted the absence of Mycroft's coat and umbrella. She took the time to make herself a cup of coffee and went make to multitasking at her desk. It was half an hour later when Mycroft re-entered the office, umbrella in one hand, phone in the other.

"I believe the plans are on their way to you currently." He placed the umbrella in the holder, freeing a hand to start to take off his coat. "No, no issues occurred what so ever." He walked to stand in front of Anthea's desk and looked down and smiled at her. "I am looking at her right now which confirms that the item is on its way." Anthea nodded. "Ah yes. Perfectly fine." A pause. "Certainly. Next time you're in London on personal reason feel free to give Anthea or myself a call and we'll set that up." That was probably a lie. Anthea had already noticed Mr. Holmes' habit of turning down any social event unless there was something to be gained. She had yet to decide if he was antisocial of if he just didn't like people. Probably the latter, since he seemed to know the right buttons to push and when to push them. It was all quite impressive. After a polite goodbye he hung up the phone. He raised his eyebrows at Anthea and sighed slightly – the phone call was taxing.

"I trust I wasn't lying when I said it all went well." Mycroft said as he flicked through his phone. Anthea rolled her eyes and smiled.

"The American agent gave me some strife about being just in time but I charmed him with my beauty." Mycroft looked at Anthea flatly but smirked – she returned the smirk with her own.

"You got away with it this time, Miss James. I hope I won't have to cover for you again." Anthea shook her head.

"I'm here to stay, sir." She smiled and he smiled warmly at her with that gentle smile that still did not quite reach his eyes.

He went back to his office and Anthea went back to work.

Author's Note: Hope this is still to the standard of the previous chapters!