Author's Note: Ahahaha, I am so happy you guys liked the fun little chapter that we had last time. Sulky Mycroft and bossy Mummy seemed to go down well, and we will be seeing the dress in the future :P. And thank you for all the amazing feedback relating to the Mycroft POV special too. I was so worried about meeting you expectations and I'm happy you all liked it. This chapter… This chapter has been in my mind for weeks. The first half anyway. I came up with the second half about a week ago. I've been putting it off for timing's sake and now I feel like we're at the right spot for it. I hope you really enjoy this chapter. So please, 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 Interrogation

The black, dark, coldness of James Moriarty's eyes was a sight to behold. The way they were void of any emotion, even after all the pain and torture he'd been put through while in custody. They seemed to stare right through Anthea's sole despite her standing behind the two-way mirror and it made her skin crawl. Bruises and sweat on his baby face, cold eyes staring at nothing at all, a twisted smile on his face. It was a terrifying thought to think that this man was probably one of the very few people out in the world who had a brain similar to Mycroft and Sherlock and, if not for Violet and Siger, this could have easily been one of them. Sherlock's boredom could have easily gotten him into all sorts of trouble if his parents hadn't given him a sense of right and wrong and Mycroft hadn't kept him out of trouble. Mycroft and his secrets collecting and interest in the darker side of the world could have been a criminal mastermind in a split second had his parents not given him a little brother to learn to care for and therefor learn to want the best for the world.

But even Mycroft right now. His eyes could be just as cold and harsh as the steel they derived their colour from, but there was always that spark of humour and life behind them that stopped you shivering. That was most of the time. As he stood in Moriarty's containment cell his eyes were so sharp and equally void of anything but a deep loathing. In all her time working as his second, she'd never seen that lack of light behind them. She could see why people could be afraid of him now.

This whole situation was getting difficult for her to watch. Five hours of torture, or interrogation for information as they were officially calling it, was enough to make anyone feel squeamish. Five hours of a previous torture victim watching her closest companion, two of her friends, and various other colleagues try to break a man was enough to make her want to throw up, even if this was the worst criminal the world had ever seen. Anthea could practically smell the rust and bleach again. She flinched when James backhanded Moriarty and the man took it as if it were positively nothing. James was a strong man, much stronger than any of Anthea's captors had been, and he hadn't been holding back. Her breathing grew heavier as she watched Mycroft crouch down to be eye to eye with Moriarty in order to get him to say anything. It seemed to work. Moriarty's twisted smile and slowly he said one word. Mycroft stood straight up and stepped away three steps, hand rubbing his chin. James was straight into Moriarty's face with some type of angry threat. She'd never seen James not smiling or in good humour either. It was starting to get really hard to breath.

Anthea rubbed her arms and sighed as she looked around the room.

"Are you okay?" Carol asked. Carol who had a teenaged daughter and a husband. Carol who had suggested not giving Moriarty any water until he spoke. Anthea didn't look up to meet the tall woman's eyes.

"I'm just going to step outside for a moment," Anthea mumbled, shaking her head. She picked up her bag and briefcase and started for the door. "I just need some fresh air."

"Okay…" Anthea heard as the door clicked behind her.

It had taken longer than she would have liked, having to take an elevator followed by some sets of stairs, but as soon as Anthea was outside she felt like she could breathe again. Anthea closed her eyes, folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath in through her nose, held it, and released it through her mouth. Opening her chocolate eyes she watched as the nearby trees swayed in the wind. She cleared her mind and allowed her brain to be empty of anything work related or of seeing friends in a new light. She just needed a second to be herself before she went back in there to be the impalpable assistant once more.

That's when she heard footsteps behind her. Heavier than Mycroft's steps, smaller stride than James', it was Carol. Anthea didn't turn around as the woman stopped next to her side. They stood in silence as Carol dug through her own handbag and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

"You don't smoke, do you A?" She asked as she placed the tip of the cigarette on her thin lips. Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head. Carol nodded. "Good, you shouldn't." The lighter sparked into life and Carol had to shield it from the wind. "If my job wasn't stressful and I didn't have to put up with James every day I wouldn't either." Anthea's straight mouth cracked slightly, the left side of her mouth pulling into a slight smile.

Anthea continued to watch the trees, Carol watched her smoke float up into the sky.

"We know this is hard for you." Carol sounded somewhere in between her agent persona and the voice she used when speaking to her daughter. "But you've been involved in all the Moriarty related cases. If we let you off this one we can't let you back on." Anthea looked at her shoes. She'd worn those Chanel flats Mycroft had bought her a long time ago when she'd made an idiot of herself and fallen down the stairs.

"I know that. And I'm fine, don't worry." Anthea breathed, looking back up. "Five hours and I need a break." Carol shrugged and nodded.

"It doesn't normally take this long." She didn't even need to pretend like this sort of thing happened, Anthea knew it did. Usually she and Mycroft weren't involved, they simply got the results. "Most of the time James insists we play a good cop bad cop routine and that works on most people." Anthea laughed at the thought. James and Carol did make the perfect good cop, bad cop team. Carol's harsh features softened at the sound of Anthea's light laugh.

"I'm fine, Carol." She smiled. Carol put the cigarette out on the nearest wall. She walked back over and stood in front of Anthea. She neatly placed Anthea's curls to the side of her face and stroked away a few stray hairs, most likely the way she did to Katy before the girl went to school.

"If you want you can come over for dinner tonight. Katy has some friends coming over and they'd love you. It's just Stephen and I entertaining three teenaged girls, we'd love you too." Anthea wanted to smile wider. The first time Anthea had met Carol was during a mission that ended in an explosion, throughout today she didn't so match as bat an eye at anything going on in that basement, and now here was the mother figure. Anthea wasn't the only one in this group of people who had a double life.

"Not, it's alright. I'm fine." Anthea shrugged. "I'll come over some other time. Maybe the next time my makeup artist friend is in town we can get her to do Katie up." Carol scoffed and patted Anthea on the arm.

"That's a very good idea. I fail in the mother department when it comes to hair and makeup."

"Hey Carol, Holmes wants you." They'd been so busy trying to escape from this Moriarty business into normal life conversations that they hadn't heard James approach. The blonde had washed his hands, that was clear, and his face was still shockingly sombre for the jovial person he usually was. Carol nodded.

"Take a long break, James. You're working too hard." She began walking away. James sniffed a laugh as he walked forward to stand next to Anthea.

"No such thing, right, 'A?" He cracked a smile but it was so extremely forced it looked alien on his face. "If I never have to see that man again, it will be too soon. His smile gives me the creeps."

"I think he can see that James, and I think that's why he keeps smiling at you." Anthea raised her eyebrows and looked over to the blonde, trying to fake her cunning smile as James visibly shivered. James must have noticed Anthea's mood, he was a trained agent, how could he not? He sighed and joined her in staring off into the distance at the trees.

"You don't see me work often, 'Thea." James nudged her shoulder. "I get to see you being all shadowy all the time, I've even done your job every now and again. Thing is, you don't really know what I do."

"I've seen you run around commanding other agents, I've seen you run operations, you've been the one to fill me in on the details at every Moriarty safe house location." Anthea prattled off a list. "I know you're a great field agent."

"Hey, I'm one of the best." Anthea scoffed and rolled her chocolate eyes. "Why else would Mycroft trust me even before you showed up on the scene." A pause.

"I see your point. Continue."

"I'm just saying, I've had to kill people before. You have in defence. I have in cold blood. It's not easy knowing you're surrounded by killers but you are." Anthea rolled her eyes.

"Great defence, I'm ready to throw myself at you know." Anthea mumbled sarcastically, earning a small chuckle in response.

"You know, I was really young the first time I helped out in one of these interrogation situations." He shoved his hands into his pockets, squinting slightly as he tried to look out further out into the distance. "Probably around my twenty second birthday." Anthea winced and hissed. James pouted and feverishly nodded. "It was your old pal Walter who took me aside when I was looking green and said 'If you're ever going to make it to your potential you need to stop viewing these criminals as people and start viewing them as all the lives they've ruined. It doesn't make it better but it makes it so you can get out of bed in the morning.'." Anthea looked down at her Chanel's once more. She could see a scuff at the tip of the shoes.

"I love Walter. He says some brilliantly timed things." James nudged Anthea's shoulder again.

"Do you love him more than you love me?"

"Oh yeah, definitely." A hand was placed over James heart and he feigned dying of a broken heart, Anthea laughed and laugh kicked him in the back of his calf. They returned to pensively looking at the trees close together. Anthea took a few more deep breaths, feeling her chest open up again. A thought came to mind and she chuckled to herself.

"You know, my friend seems to think you're super cute." James looked down at Anthea, his eyebrows raised in curiosity he pouted.

"The blonde who was here to help you move." Anthea nodded.

"Yeah, every time we talk about my friends she mentions how cute you are." James was looking very proud of himself as he rolled this fact around in his head. "I always knew she had horrible taste." James gasped and nudged Anthea playfully once more.

"You're not a very nice person, you know." He laughed.

This time they both heard the footsteps approaching, they knew them way too well. The laughter died down as Mycroft Holmes came to stand on Anthea's other side, already brandishing an unlit cigarette in his hand. And he was doing so well at not smoking recently, too. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the cigarette with more ease that Carol had managed to.

"Dare I ask what could possibly be happening today to have you two so jovial?" He sighed, steel eyes still freezing cold looked them both over, analysing every detail. James, all smiles, was the first to answer.

"'Thea here was telling me that he friend has the hots for me?" Mycroft frowned and analysed James once more.

"Who?" He asked indifferently, looking over James as if trying to work out who could possibly find him attractive. "Miss Thompson?"

"No, sir, one of my other friends. I have them in abundance." Anthea responded sarcastically. Mycroft scowled, not at Anthea's words but at the thought.

"That would be an extremely annoying couple. I'd have to move a continent over if such a thing ever happened." At this, and the look of shock and betrayal on James' face, Anthea actually tossed her head back and laughed. Nothing like a Holmsian comment to remind you that you were all human. Mycroft took a drag of his cigarette. "James, there has been a change of plans. I'm afraid you can't have a break." James frowned but did not argue.

"I understand, sir. What is the issue?"

"I need Anthea to return to the office to deal with some political drama that has arisen. Carol will take your position so you may have a moment to collect your thoughts. You and I will observe for the meanwhile." James sighed.

"Yes, sir." He nodded. Anthea frowned.

"I'm fine, sir. I'm perfectly capable to continue this work. I've worked hard with the Moriarty case." Mycroft nodded at Anthea's argument.

"Yes, I know that, my dear. You're extremely valuable and entirely capable of any work you set your mind to." He took another drag of the cigarette and coughed as he tried to keep it in his lungs for a moment. "Which is why I need you to go continue work. This is taking far too long. A few more hours and I'll be heading to the Diogenes Club anyway." Anthea pouted but nodded.

"Yes, sir." She sighed.

Anthea had finished work at seven thirty, turned off her computer and sent a text to Walter to come pick her up. This was earlier than usual but considering she'd been summoned at six in the morning to deal with the Moriarty mess Anthea was certain that an early night would be looked down upon.

Walter was waiting outside the car when Anthea arrived in the carpark. He looked up and gave her that lovely and kind broad smile, one she couldn't help but match.

"Hello Walter." Anthea chimed as the driver opened up her door for her.

"Hello Miss James." He responded warmly. She slid into the car and automatically got her phone out, a habit formed over the years. The next time someone spoke was after the car was turned on. "Where to, Miss James?" Walter's eyes met Anthea's in the rear-view mirror as she looked up.

"Mmm, home." She spoke, pouting slightly as she thought. "Walter, has Mr. Holmes gone home yet?"

"Ummm." Walter focused on the turn out of the garage into the busy traffic. "No, I haven't had a call from him since I dropped him off at the club." He answered once he'd made it onto the road. Anthea mimed and 'oh' and went back to her phone. She just had this feeling…

"Hey, why don't we go to the club and pick him up? You both need an early night as much as I do." She spoke into the face of her phone. There was the faint noise of Walter's warm chuckle.

"That's very kind of you, Miss James. Changing destination to the Diogenes Club."

The Diogenes Club was always busy at this time of day, dead silent, but busy. Luckily these days the old men didn't even flinch at Anthea's presence in the Club and the staff were just as friendly – but silent – to her as they were to their paying patrons. Anthea walked up to the front desk and smiled at the girl her age who seemed to be on the front desk most afternoons to evenings. The redhead smiled warmly back and nodded. In other words, or words at all, she was wondering what she could to for Anthea. Anthea waved her finger around, gesturing to the upper floors and where their dungeon lay, a confused look on her face. Do you know where he is? The girl nodded in understanding. She pointed upstairs and mouthed His room. Anthea smiled and clasped her hands together near her chest, giving them a tiny shake Thank you. She walked off to take the elevator up a couple of floors.

Sure enough, when she got to his floor, Anthea could see the light on under Mycroft's door. She tapped lightly on the door. Within she heard a chink and light muttering, causing her brows to knit together. The door was pulled open and Mycroft's facial expression changed from slightly disgruntled to a rather large smile considering who it was.

"Ah, Anthea!" He hummed brightly. "Do come in!" He left the door open and walked back to his desk. Anthea, eyebrows still knotted, walked in and closed the door behind her. She watched as Mycroft fell back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, his face vibrant with a pained expression. He was never this expressive.

"Sir, have you been drinking?" He looked up and searched for Anthea in the room. He found her still standing near the door and smiled at her once more, holding up his half-drunk crystal glass of scotch.

"I have!" He sung. "Come in, sit, join me." Anthea slowly made her way into the room. She chose to stand in front of the desk rather than sit on one of the office chairs or the couch behind her. "Have a drink, my dear. Your laugh has this light airy tone to it after you've had a drink or two, it's quite delightful." His face fell from a smile into what could be considered a frown. "But no more than two. After two you become touchy and I can't deal with that. I almost jumped out of my skin last gala when you tried to lock arms with me. Don't do that. Don't try to kill me like that again." Anthea couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at Mycroft's rambling, though her concern was still written on her face.

"No, sir, I think I'm alright." His slightly hazed steel eyes looked her up and down before he shrugged her off.

"Suit yourself, my dear." He spoke into his glass as he rose it to have the last drab within it. His slender hands found the bottle of rather expensive scotch and refilled his glass. Anthea took a step forward and placed her fingertips on the edge of Mycroft's desk.

"Sir, are you okay?" She spoke slowly and allowed her concern to come through. He placed down the bottle and looked at his glass.

"No." He answered. With a huff he leaned back in his chair. "I mean, yes, I don't know." Mycroft raised a hand and pointed at Anthea. "I'll tell you what, you tell me what answer you want and that is the answer. That's normally how I play this game with people." Anthea looked to the side of the room, holding back a sigh, and shook her head.

"Sir, has this got something to do with Moriarty?" Mycroft leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk. His eyes narrowed on Anthea as if he was trying to deduce her but couldn't quite make out the results.

"…Nnnoooo." He spoke slowly, trying to guess what she wanted to hear.

"Mycroft!"

"Maybe. No. Yes." He leaned back again and crossed his arms across his chest. "Yes, yes, of course it bloody is. What else has changed recently to affect my usual pattern of behaviour? I really need to be more subtle about these thing." Oh, drunk Mycroft was a little bit like Sherlock with all the meaningless words coming out of his mouth. She'd need to remember this to tease them both about it later. Right now she needed to get to the bottom of it. Anthea's dark eyes searched Mycroft's eyes.

"Sir, what exactly is the matter? I want what is actually wrong and not some roundabout way." She gave him a lopsided grin. "You're not exactly doing a good job of lying right now." He gave her a small smile in return as his eyes continued to search hers. Eventually he let out a huff and began to rub one of his eyes.

"Moriarty has agreed to talk." He mumbled, words slurring ever so slightly. Anthea would not point it out, however. She cocked her head to the side.

"That's a good thing, right?"

"No, no, no, wait!" Mycroft held up a finger to hush Anthea. "We haven't gotten to the best bit, Ali. Moriarty has agreed to talk to me and only me about his plans and organisation if I agree to share a piece of information on Sherlock for every piece he gives me." Against her will one of Anthea's hands rose to cover her mouth. "Exactly!" Mycroft slammed his hand that had been previously silencing Anthea against the desk, the scotch in the bottle jumping and dancing. "If I want to stop James Moriarty then I need to sell out my little brother. The child who used to break into my room in the middle of the night because he wanted to play midnight treasure hunts." Mycroft picked up the glass of scotch and had a large gulp, placing the glass down with a wince.

"Sir." Anthea tried to start but found herself at a loss for words. She paused and started again. "Do we have a choice here, sir?" Mycroft looked to the large window in the room that looked out to the street and shook his head sombrely.

"Our careers have left us looking very morally ambiguous, my dear." The alcohol had made him mispronounce 'ambiguous'. "There are thousands upon thousands of shades of grey within our world but absolutely no black and no white." He paused pensively. Anthea watched him clench and unclench his hands. "In Sherlock and Moriarty's world of consulting criminals and detectives there most definitely is black and white, heroes and villains." Those deep blue eyes found her face once more. "If I do this, Alice, if I sell out my own brother that will officially make me one of the villains of this story." Anthea swore that at that precise moment, those words coupled with the earnest look on Mycroft's face, that her heart broke to pieces.

"Oh, Mycroft." She breathed. Carefully, as to not startle him, she leaned forward and placed her hand on top of one of his. "Sir, I'm going to tell you something very important and I need you to look at me." And so he did. "You might be a shade of grey, and darker than many, many other people, but you could never be one of the villains. Not when you're fighting one of the true villains of the world. Whatever you choose to do, I'll always see you as on the brighter side of the spectrum." Mycroft's face greatly softened. The two stood in that position for what felt like a very long minute. Eventually Mycroft pulled his hand free and used both of them to cover his face.

"This is why I should have gotten rid of you years ago." He groaned. "You've never been intimidated or afraid of me, not even in the beginning. It gives you a skewed view." Anthea laughed lightly.

"Come on, sir. Walter is waiting to take you home."

"Yes, okay, I suppose that's a good idea. Wouldn't do to pass out at this desk." A pause. "You'd bring me a change of clothes if I did though, so I suppose it doesn't really matter."

"Mycroft."

"Yes, coming! Give me a minute."

Author's Note: Well? What did we think? What did I tell you, it's a big one canonically. I cannot wait for the reviews for this one, there was a fair amount going on here. Also, I'm wondering how many people will pick up on a tiny little thing within this chapter… Hmmm :P. Thank you to our lovely guest reviewers who I can't thank personally; Corrine, ovejalucifer, Wink, Wheezzy8, Mycie, LizzieB, and anon. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers and readers, I love you all so much! Please continue to enjoy my fic.