Author's Note: Taking this opportunity to thank all my lovely reviews, favourite-ers and followers once again. The reviews are just so exciting for me. I hope you're just as generous with this chapter and tell me what you think of the general dynamic. Anyway, read, review, and 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.

The First Time She Spoke to Sherlock

The town car had come to a stop in front of a small, dank, house that had been turned into smaller, dinkier apartments. Anthea looked up from her blackberry and took in the look of the disgustingly dark green painted building, the green blistering and splitting to reveal and equally repelling orange underneath. Her eyes flickered over to Mycroft as he opened the car door.

"What are we doing here, sir?" She asked, her hands were still frozen in the middle of answering an email on the instalment of new CCTV cameras. He inhaled deeply, keeping his features very calm.

"I'm here on personal business, Miss James." He used on of those fake half smiles as he too observed the building through Anthea's side of the car's window. "You may follow if you like." That was an invitation from Mr. Holmes if Anthea had ever heard one. She was falling deeper and deeper into being the keeper of Mycroft Holmes' work life, might as well give herself some more insight on the man. She pocketed her blackberry and got out of the town car to follow her boss up the cement staircase up to the main door, her high heels clicking lightly as she walked. He kept his leather gloves on as he opened the door, gesturing for Anthea to enter first, and quite frankly she couldn't blame him as she smiled and entered. The inside was just as bad as the outside. Watermarks on carpet, stains on the wallpaper. At the very least it didn't smell too bad, just musky. Perhaps wet dog? Without speaking Mycroft began towards the staircase that was curiously covered in different carpet to the rest of the family room turned entrance way. Once the duo reached a specific door on the second floor Mycroft and Anthea stood before it, facing each other, neither speaking yet. Mycroft concentrated, listening for noise or any sign of life on the other side of the door. What type of personal matter was this? This was more covert than most work Anthea did for Mycroft, and so far felt far more like a mission of sorts that someone like James would go on. With the wooden handle of his umbrella Mycroft tapped twice firmly on the door painted in that ghastly green colour. There was only the briefest pause before the reply came.

"Go away, Mycroft!" The melodic tenor voice came from behind the door. Mycroft raised both his eyebrows and smiled at Anthea, blue eyes sparkling with some form of defiance she had never seen on Mycroft before. It was a boyish defiance that Anthea had seen many times – during her school years and when one of her boyfriends were being playfully naughty – but such a childish twinkle in Mycroft's eyes was not something Anthea had ever thought she'd see and et she hoped she'd get to see it again. The voice telling him to go away, this seemed to be what he expected. Mycroft opened the door and the pair entered. Anthea had only just made it through the doorframe when something had been catapulted in the direction of Mycroft's head. He sidestepped and easily avoided it. Looking down on the floor where the item had landed Anthea could see that it was a crumpled up piece of paper. Mycroft too looked at it and clicked his tongue.

"Really now, Sherlock. Is that how you greet all your houseguests?" He chided, that typical sarcasm oozing. Wait, Sherlock? Anthea's brown eyes shot up to review the room. Sure enough, sitting practically perched on the couch with a laptop on his lap was the man who had been in the hospital. Mycroft's baby brother, Sherlock Holmes, in all his glory. The brown curls, sharp features that made him look so different from his brother, Anthea recognised. The absolutely kinetic energy about him now he was awake she did not recognise, nor the blue eyes. Now she could see those vibrant blue orbs that had endless depths of intelligence as the pierced the scull of his brother, Anthea could see the family resemblance.

"Only when they're not invited." Sherlock scowled. The briefest moment of silence pasted as the brothers stared each other down, before Sherlock huffed and put his attention back onto his laptop. "Since you wouldn't have left the comfort of your office unless you felt utterly compelled to, what do you want?" Anthea could feel the smirk radiating off Mycroft as he twisted his umbrella into the dirty carpet.

"I came to talk to you about your… interest in illicit chemicals." Sherlock sniffed in response.

"Really? You want to discuss this in front of her?" Sherlock didn't even look or gesture to Anthea as he mentioned her. Anthea merely glanced over to Mycroft, whose attention didn't even flicker her way. "What about your precious secrecy?" Mycroft kept his steel gaze on his brother, shifting the umbrella once more, and still fake smiling.

"She's quite trustworthy, Sherlock, I assure you." Mycroft spoke to his brother as if speaking like a child. Watching these two talk to each other now, their relationship was nowhere near as close as what had been portrayed in that hospital room.

"Clearly." Sherlock scoffed. His eyes flashed up to meet Anthea's and quickly landed on the laptop but as soon as they hit the screen they were right back up at Anthea's a frown on his brow. Anthea quirked an eyebrow suspiciously in response. "You've met me before." He mused, searching her face for the answer. He looked back at his brother. "So you were at the hospital." It sounded accusing. Humming to herself Anthea got out her blackberry to pretend she wasn't listening to this private conversation.

"Of course I bloody was. I wasn't trying to cover it up Sherlock, try to pay attention more often." A moment of silence as Anthea stood next to her boss, perhaps as silent back up? An extra support that the umbrella couldn't supply? "This all alludes to my original intention. I thought we were passed all of this addict business." Mycroft's concern was rewarded with yet another scoff and if Anthea looked up she would bet good money that Sherlock was sneering again.

"I'm not addicted to it, Mycroft. I was merely passing time between cases and experiments." She saw Mycroft shift in the corner of her eye to turn away briefly from Sherlock but then step towards him. His grip on the wooden handle of the umbrella was tighter.

"Oh for goodness sake, Sherlock. Bored? Do me a favour and get a better hobby for your pastime. Anything really, get a pet, learn a few new language, tend to bees, just, don't be such an idiot."

"I'm sorry that not all of us can standing sitting in a cushioned seat all day, Mycroft." It seemed that Sherlock could hiss with the same venom Mycroft could, another family trait then. "Please don't let me keep you from your desk, you're looking positively out of breath just standing there." Anthea eyed the brothers discretely from just above her blackberry screen, both standing as a living example of Newton's laws. If Sherlock was an action, Mycroft was the equal reaction. And if Sherlock were a mass Mycroft was trying to shift, a large mass of willpower at that, then Mycroft needed more force to shift him. Mycroft sighed.

"Be serious, brother mine. If you're bored I could get you cases involving codes that not even the best cryptologists can decipher." Brother mine? How odd. A childhood nickname perhaps? Anthea might categorize it as cute if it were anyone else. In this case, however, she kept the smile off her red painted lips.

"I don't need your cast offs, brother." Sherlock sniffed. A moment of silence pasted as Sherlock stared at his computer screen and Mycroft eyed his brother carefully. Mycroft looked around the apartment – not subtlety, making quite the show of it, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh yes, I can see this consulting detective business of yours is quite successful." A sneer from the younger brother a step forward from the older one as his voice found more sarcasm. "Tell me, when am I going to see my investment into your business return? With interest due to this remarkable success." And there it was, the extra force Mycroft needed to shift his brother. Of course Sherlock owed Mycroft money, look at the state of each of their lives. Anthea didn't even think for a second that Mycroft expected this money back, this was all leverage. It showed care that he was emoting – regardless of how fake this emotion was. Sherlock closed his laptop, his eyes narrowing on the taller man. Anthea was invisible in this game of power.

"Really, Mycroft? Will it take giving you something of value to make you leave? What would you have me give you? Half my liver just in case yours fails?" Mycroft smiled one of those dangerous pride fuelled smiles.

"Do some casework for me, brother mine, and a debt can easily be forgotten." A moment passed as sky blue eyes drilled into steel blue ones before Sherlock snapped back open his laptop. He sniffed.

"Fine. I'll do your legwork for you, Mycroft." He mumbled in that deep register. "Have one of your monkeys drop something by. She'll do." He did not even look up as he addressed Anthea. Anthea looked at Mr. Holmes and raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes in response.

"I'll tell Mummy that you're still alive then." Mycroft sighed, sounding quite done with the whole situation.

"Please do." A monotone voice responded. Anthea looked up at Mr. Holmes who rolled his eyes at her and began walking towards the door. Anthea pocketed her phone and moved to follow when a voice called out for her. "You. Wait." Pausing in the doorframe Anthea let a quizzical look cross her features, silently asking her boos a question. Mycroft gave a put on shrug and nodded towards the door. Go ahead.

"I'll be at the entrance, my dear."

"Yes, sir." She watched as Mycroft walked down the stairs and out of view before turning back into the apartment, leaning on the doorframe and looking at Sherlock. Sherlock closed the laptop, leaped out of the chair and came to stand in front of her, looking her up and down. If she wasn't so used to Mycroft deducing her and other people she might be intimidated. She might also be intimidated by his height if she were not already used to the ever so slightly taller big brother. What he wanted though, Anthea wasn't sure. She kept on her own half bored, half annoyed face that she had learnt from watching the elder Holmes. "Can I help you?" She asked lazily.

"You work for my brother…" He muttered. Anthea sniffed.

"Clearly." Sherlock took a step closer, locking eyes with Anthea, sky blue on brown.

"What's your name?" He asked slowly, daringly. Keeping hold of his eyes she answered straight and calm.

"Anthea." She said. His eyes narrowed.

"No it's not." He answered and Anthea rewarded him with a sly smile.

"No, it's not." She echoed in agreement, tilting her head. She held herself together calmly, giving off that lazy curiosity as Sherlock considered her for a moment longer. She watched as his lips pursed ever so slightly.

"What is your name, then?" Anthea folded her arms across her chest.

"None of your business. Anthea is enough."

"Fine." He muttered, walking back over to the couch. Anthea titled her head and frowned.

"Excuse me?" She half laughed. Sherlock perched himself back on the couch and seemed to frown in confusion at Anthea's continued presence.

"I said fine. Ok. You can go." What was he even going on about? Sherlock was certainly lacking the social skills Mycroft had.

"That's all you wanted?" Sherlock opened his laptop and sighed to himself.

"I learnt everything I needed to. Please shut the door on your way out." Anthea looked around the apartment, as if searching for a catch before exiting, shutting the door as requested. If Anthea didn't know better she would have sworn that Sherlock was approving her as Mycroft's PA, but given the display from the two brothers she wouldn't think he'd care. Then again, there was Mycroft's positively stricken by worry at the hospital… When she reached the entrance way, Mycroft was looking at his own phone.

"And what, pray tell, did he want?" He asked. Anthea smiled.

"To know my name, apparently." She half laughed as she spoke. Mycroft looked up from his screen.

"And what did you tell him?"

"Anthea, naturally." Mycroft locked his phone and put it in his pocket.

"Naturally." He answered with that half smile and opened the door, holding it open for Anthea. He followed behind her, shutting the door tightly. "I'll have some files for you to drop off here by tomorrow afternoon." Anthea nodded, taking out her blackberry in order to add the change to the planner.

"Certainly sir, and when will you come to pick them up?" The only indication of surprise on Mycroft's part was a quick observing glance thrown Anthea's way. He started his way down the cement stairs.

"Friday around noon would allow him sufficient time." Anthea smiled to herself as she added Friday lunchtime into their planner.

Author's Note: Sherlock's not going to be a regular appearance per chapter but he's obviously going to make appearances from time to time – as to be expected. I hope you all enjoyed it and let me know what you think!