Author's Note: You guys have got to stop showering me with praise in reviews and on Tumblr – you're going to give me a big head. What did I do to deserve all you fantastic readers? I am so happy to be a part of the fandom. I'm finally feeling a lot better so that's something! I was going to leave this a chapter or two but it was quite requested and since it flows nicely, why not. I hope you like this chapter! So please, read, review, and of course, 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 He Was Sick

If Anthea had thought she was stubborn trying to work through an illness she had yet to see Mycroft after he caught her flu. She'd have made a joke that it was harder to spot on him because he always looked miserable but it hardly seemed like an appropriate time. She'd seen it coming though, had seen it develop the same way it had with her – from the shivers and the throat clearing to the headaches. The issue was always going to be getting Mycroft Holmes to have a break, let alone have a day off.

After a meeting in the morning some recently elected upstart who was way too eager to please stopped Mycroft on his way out of the boardroom. Anthea and Mycroft, in almost perfect sync, had stopped in their tracks, both sighed deeply and visibly, and turned around to face the man with matching sardonic smiles – Mycroft leaning on his umbrella and Anthea's thumbs paused mid text message. The colour that had drained from the average height, average looking man's face proved he had just been given the quintessential introduction to Mr. Holmes and his illustrious assistant. Still, the average man had the gall to have the two of them standing there while he babbled on about nothing for about twenty minutes.

Ten minutes in Anthea had seen Mycroft's grip tighten on his umbrella handle and more weight placed upon it as he shifted it. Her dark eyes shot slowly up to study his face in time to catch him blinking his eyes wide twice. To an untrained eye it was most likely just looked like Mycroft Holmes being disinterested. To his assistant, however, it was weariness made clear by the strained line of his mouth. Anthea's brow furrowed as she continued to concentrate on her phone. She could tell he was straining and from her own experience with this cold she knew it was because the dizziness would be effecting him and he'd be feeling faint. If she could hurry along the conversation she would. If she could just get this guy to go away without exposing a weakness she totally would. Unfortunately she had to keep standing there, silent support, working while looking bored. It only hurt her more when the umbrella was moved to be directly in front of her boss and his left hand joined his right, clutching the smooth wooden handle. It made her stomach knot at the thought of his vision fading at the edges.

When the idiot had finally left muttering his apologies for taking up Mycroft's time, Mycroft had groaned and Anthea watched the man with the deadliest look she could muster. Anthea leaned into Mycroft to speak quietly and carefully.

"Do you want to sit down for a moment, sir?" She asked – her tone low and controlled – can't show too much concern but she was. She was worried about all those stairs up to the main office. She'd despised them when she was sick, they'd seen never ending and designed specifically to kill her. Mycroft shifted the umbrella back into his right hand only and shook his head lightly.

"Absolutely no need, my dear." He breathed as he started walking forward. "Why delay the inevitable?" Despite her concern and belief to the contrary, Anthea merely nodded and followed. She'd stuck closer to his side than usual and slowed her own ascent of the stairs – claiming issues with her new heels – to slow him down. He'd see through it of course, but he'd also see her trying her best to be nonchalant about it. Concern must be handled with the upmost of care.

"Sir, have you had any painkillers?" Mycroft raised his head from his hand as he heard Anthea's voice come from the office door. He had been reading through a file, head resting in his hands and Anthea had caught him in an unguarded moment looking absolutely shattered. That tight fake smile landed in place to cover up half of his weariness. Anthea continued into the room and placed a cup of tea down in its usual position on his desk.

"I'm fine, thank you, Anthea." He tried to dismiss her. Anthea kept her face as blank and unconcerned as possible as she moved to stand in front of the desk.

"Paracetamol? Ibuprofen? Cold and flu?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. Mycroft waved her off and looked back down to his file.

"Would you leave me alone if I said paracetamol?" He answered dryly, she rolled her eyes. She doubted it, he was so weird with headaches and he got them so badly sometimes.

"No, because I am reading pain on your face, sir, and we can't have that." His pen was lowered, hands we clasped together and steel eyes looked up to meet dark brown ones. Mycroft pursed his lips in consideration. She'd had a feeling that would get through to him.

"Fine, what if I didn't and I allow you to get me some?" He tilted his head as he spoke, looking Anthea up and down. She mirrored his head tilt.

"With codeine, sir?" The pen was lifted back up and he was back to reading the file. She'd pushed her luck.

"No thank you, Miss James." Anthea took a step closer to the desk, placing her fingers on the dark wooden top.

"Sir, normal painkillers do hardly anything to you when you've only got a headache." The pen slowed but continued to write. "You a little groggy still works at like ten times the speed of anyone else." A page was turned as Mycroft cleared his throat.

"No, I'm fine thank you, Anthea, dear." Anthea sighed as she took her hands off the desk. She'd pushed too much. She could at least attempt to backpedal.

"Just some paracetamol then, sir?" She asked in a professional tone. She counted to five in her head before she got an answer.

"If you insist."

Mycroft emerged from the office about an hour later, empty cup in hand. He walked right passed Anthea's desk and towards the kitchenette. The PA did her best to stay focused on her work rather than watch her boss as he walked by. She'd only fussed over him, kind of, a little while ago and you really can't lay it on thick if you want to get through to him. She caught a glimpse of his frame as the kitchenette door closed behind him and she pursed her lips as she turned back to the computer.

By now she was already homebound. Today was the day she had tried to get out of bed and failed miserably. She had all intent of going back to work the next day but ended up needing the rest of the week off too. Anthea had felt horrible but it had been entirely necessary. The soup Mycroft had brought her had lasted a few days which was nice and by the time it was done she could stand up long enough to make herself toast and the like. Mycroft liked to complain about his little brother's stubborn streak but it was just as strong in him as it was in Sherlock. Mycroft was probably just less vocal about it due to being the older brother and having an advantage over his brother in arguments where Sherlock had to overcome being the younger and 'less intelligent' one to win.

CLANG.

Anthea jumped in her desk chair, eyes shooting to the door as she heard the loud noise. Her heart began beating fast in her chest. She got up and sped walk to the kitchenette. She pushed the door open to find Mycroft on his knees picking up the broken pieces of the white porcelain teacup. Anthea's heels clicked on the tiles as she walked over to join him picking up the pieces. Mycroft gave Anthea a small smile with a hint of embarrassment.

"It merely slipped from my grasp." He offered an explanation quietly as they picked up the finer pieces. Anthea nodded in acceptance. Once they'd picked it all up and tossed it into the small stainless steel bin, Anthea washed her hands and dried them on a tea towel. She placed her hands on the counter behind her as she turned to face Mycroft.

"Sir," She began. "I think it would be best to stay home tomorrow." Mycroft looked away and clicked his tongue. He took a breath to begin speaking as he turned back to his assistant but Anthea held her hand up firmly, halting him. "I'm not suggesting you have a day off tomorrow." She raised her eyebrows, continuing. "I'm suggesting that I come here first, do anything that needs to be done of the premises and then bring anything we need back to your house. We can work from your couch." Mycroft's lips pouted and pursed as his steel eyes darted around the room as he considered this. The fact that he was indeed considering this spoke enough about how he was feeling.

"If I agree to your proposition that does not mean I am going home now." Anthea's face cracked into a half smile and she shook her head.

"Of course not, sir. Today's a full work day." His eyes narrowed on hers.

"Bring all the paper work. We'll get as much of that completed as possible." Anthea nodded.

"Very well, sir. I'll bring you in a new tea when it's ready." She clicked on the kettle and pulled out a new teacup from the cupboard.

Instead of disturbing Mycroft and making him answer the door – If Anthea knew this could she knew that he wouldn't want to move far today – she had security ring ahead to the house and tell Mycroft that she'd use her own key to let herself in. Anthea parked her car and walked around to the passenger side to grab her items. She'd brought her briefcase full of documents, an extra stack of paperwork, her electronics, and a shopping bag full of supplies. She also very carefully picked up a takeaway carton of coffees and had to closer her car door with her hip. Clearly not thinking this completely through the brunette had to pace the coffees on the steps in order to get the right key and unlock the front door. She then had to pull it close with her foot and almost lost her shoe in the process.

Anthea walked right into the kitchen and with a heavy thump placed all of her items on the spotless counter. Placing her hand on the counter to steady herself, Anthea heaved a heavy breath and peered over to the open space living room to see a very exhausted looking Mycroft watching her with faint amusement shining in his dulled eyes. She had to stop herself for a moment to drink in the image of her boss. Mycroft was in trousers and a white undershirt, his black dressing gown still on. He'd clearly ran his fingers through his hair but not combed it back as there were natural kinks present that weren't normally there. Of course, his laptop sat open on his lap, shining blue light on his already pale looking skin. Anthea had spent multiple nights in this very house and this was the most unkempt she'd ever seen him. It was positively heartbreaking but exceedingly handsome at the same time. Probably as weird to her as him seeing her open a door while using a large duvet as a cocoon. An eyebrow was quirked at her. Anthea smiled, rolling her eyes at herself as she walked over and handed Mycroft the coffee she'd brought from the café near work.

"You packed lightly." His voice cracked as he took the coffee and Anthea had to fight the urge to stroke him on the arm. She cracked a toothy grin and headed back into the kitchen.

"I come baring gifts." She exclaimed.

"Clearly…" She barely heard it, with how soft he was speaking, but that was definitely the sarcastic comment she heard.

Right, first thing's first. Anthea pulled out the brown paper bag from the shopping bag.

"Look, the same soup you bought me." She held it up at the level of her head. Mycroft, holding the coffee in both hands, let his face visibly soften. That could just be the illness getting to him, of course, letting the mask slip too much.

"My dear, you didn't have to." Anthea tilted her head.

"But I did." She said softly. Blue and brown held onto one another, silent conversation passing. Anthea broke it as she turned to the fridge to put the soup away for now. "It's only fair when you caught it off me, sir." Mycroft pouted and shrugged. He agreed then. Anthea sniffed back a laugh. "And I got a bunch of cookies while I was at the café." She placed the white bag of assorted treats on top of her pile of files and brought them over to the coffee table. She placed her stuff next to Mycroft's own pile of work and what looked like an open and very well read copy of The Devine Comedy.

"Our greatest weakness." He nodded.

Finally… This would take some careful handling… Anthea walked back into the kitchen and opened her final shopping bag. She opened each packet as silently as possible and popped the pills into her hand. With practiced neutrality Anthea walked over and held her hand out to Mycroft – all six pills sitting in her flat open palm. Mycroft stared at them for a minute before looking up at Anthea as if she had just tried to poison him. His upper lip pulled into a snarl and if he wasn't so exhausted Anthea was sure the look in his eyes would be just as damning.

"Explain." He muttered. Anthea nodded once at the pills.

"A decongestive without any painkillers. Those are paracetamol with codeine because you get the worst headaches in the world, sir, and this made my head want to explode. Finally an antibiotic I picked up from a safe house this morning. The first dose is two and then it is one twice a day." A pause. "I've also placed some probiotics in your fridge, sir." He considered this for a long and very silence moment and for the longest time Anthea thought she was going to lose. Mycroft had begun to turn away and was about to dismiss all her had efforts. "I would have been out for at least another week without the medication you bought me, sir." Steel met brown. He groaned and snatched the pills quickly from her hand.

Work had taken a long time to complete. This paperwork that would have normally taken the duo merely hours to complete took the entire day. Of course, they usually work on things separately rather than slowly, methodically, and together. There was also the multiple breaks where Anthea insisted on switching the television on for half an hour and eating some food or making tea. There was also the time where Anthea practically forced Mycroft to go lie down while she took a phone conference that took an hour. She had also taken this time to run out and get something more substantial for dinner.

Then there was the brief interlude where she'd picked up his book to find it in Italian and tried to read it out loud anyway. Mycroft had laughed at her over dramatic reading and terrible butchering of a language Anthea could read and write fine but not speak. She'd tortured him and refused to stop reading until Mycroft promised to teach her how to speak Italian correctly some time. She couldn't stop smiling for half an hour after she'd managed to make him laugh out loud.

Now it was late. It was late and Mycroft was upstairs and Anthea had just finished packing up. The kitchen was clean, the food was put away, and work was put in completed piles and separated into what office they needed to be filed at. Anthea had even got to Mycroft's office and placed any of his personal files away also. She'd laid the medicine out on the kitchen counter with a strict sticky note reminding Mycroft firmly that if he wanted to get better he'd have to take them. With all this said and done she could go home and relax for a little bit then go to bed. Even if Mycroft stayed home tomorrow she'd have to go to the office first so it only made sense to go home, right?

Anthea could go home.

Or.

Or she could just stay here the night. She could go to her cream coloured room with the white furniture and the sunflower painting. She could stay there the night and make sure Mycroft had his medicine in the morning. She could check on his health herself and they could discuss whether to work from here or the office then. That way he could give her a list of things they needed from the office in person. With her laptop and briefcase already in the house Anthea wouldn't have to try and clamber through the front door with a thousand objects in hand again. She could also then maybe talk about picking up some breakfast.

It only made sense to stay the night.

Not just to check up on Mycroft. It made sense for the sake of work.

Author's Note: I kind of like having these two juxtaposing chapters next to each other. What did you think of this one? And compared to last one too? Thank you to everyone who reviews, you all know I love you! But of course, thank you to the guests that I can't reply to: Corrine, Wink, Wheezzy8, bgeiner, and ovejalucifer. You're all wonderful! Let me know what you think.

Again, shameless plug for the awesome fun that is 'Thea's blog.