Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the fantastic feedback last chapter. There were some in-depth reviews and some that just made me laugh out loud and smile. All are so very appreciated. 800 reviews guy. When does that ever happen? You're all so freaking amazing! Now, you may be noticing that this is 12 hours too early to be updating… That is because I'm going to a friend's house over the weekend for a Doctor Who marathon and for the first time since the beginning of this fic the chapter upload falls on a marathon day. Because of that, I delayed the next big chapter until next update and came up with a light and smaller chapter for you, with your help on Tumblr. I'll still be available to answer reviews and talk on Tumblr, just not post stuff. I'm still happy with how this one turned out so I hope you all like it too. Read, review, but 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 Time He Ate Fast Food

If it weren't for the time on her computer screen currently emanating blue light onto her face, Anthea would have lost complete track of time. It seemed to cease existing days ago. Well, in reality it had been only a few hours ago but when you have absolutely nothing to do hours drag on for an eternity. Anthea was resting the side of her head on her arm, lying almost the whole of the top half of her torso on her desk. Listening to music at a soft volume on her iPod, Anthea gently tapped the rhythm of the current song out on her desk with the pen in her free hand.

They'd been waiting hours for the piece of communication to come in from a particular mission currently taking place. There had been no point in heading home because they'd need to act on the information as soon as they received it in order to ensure the mission were completed smoothly. That was, however, when they had been assured the information would arrive via secured routes at 8pm their time, almost to the second. Then there were hiccups… then the mission had been delayed… twice.

"My dear." It was soft and muffled from the music playing in her ears, but that was definitely the melodic voice of Anthea's boss. Anthea pressed pause on her iPod. She sat back up in her chair, blinking to clear and focus her vision and turned to face her boss, smiling lightly. Mycroft had lost his tie and jacket, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, allowing Anthea to trail her gaze up his forearms… Focus, Anthea. Mycroft looked faintly exhausted but she gathered he wasn't practically falling asleep the way his assistant had been by the fact that not one strand of his pushed back hair was out of place. Anthea opened her mouth to speak but hours of no use caused nothing to come out. She scowled and cleared her throat.

"Yes, sir?" She tried again. Anthea kept herself from yawning as she spoke. A faint crease in Mycroft's forehead suggested that he was fighting off a frown that threatened to cover his features.

"It's officially Thursday, you're more than welcome to go home." Anyone else might think Mycroft's tone was condescending but Anthea knew it better as a shielded concern. She closed her eyes as she shook her head.

"You said, sir, that you'd appreciate my help with Carol's information." Anthea noted. Mycroft folded his arms across his chest.

"Yes," He nodded. "That was when the information was to arrive at eight on the dot." He looked at his watch and quirked an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, midnight came after eight at night."

"That depends, sir. Eight tonight isn't for another twenty hours." Anthea gave a wry smile, earning a glare in response.

"Now is not the time to be coy, Anthea."

"You're right, the coy period is six until ten."

"Miss James." Mycroft glowered.

"Yes, right." Anthea cleared her throat again. "Sorry, sir." Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Please go home, my dear. I don't think I'll be in the mood for a sleep deprived Anthea who finds herself absolutely humorous tomorrow." Anthea raised her eyebrows as she looked her boss up and down.

"And leave you alone to do all the work and maybe stay for the whole night? I don't think so." Anthea was one of the few people who could get away with talking to Mycroft Holmes that way and live. Instead of turning her to stone with an icy glare the way he might with everyone else, steel eyes searched her face, lips pursed. He could see her point, that was clear. It was almost her job to keep him alive and functioning after all.

"At lease allow me to buy some dinner for us, my dear. You must be starving." She was, but she hadn't planned to say anything. Then again, when had Mycroft begun to care about those types of things? Particularly when he didn't stop to eat or drink unless reminded during times like these anyway. Best not to think about that right now – Anthea would just file the odd concern under 'sleep deprived behaviour'. Anthea bit her lip as she considered this offer. She was hungry, very hungry, but not for Mycroft Holmes' fancy weird food. She wanted food for normal people, people too tired, drunk, or lazy to cook food. Fast food. Oh how she could just do something that was bad for you right now, just to keep her going.

"Okay, sir…" Anthea hummed, suspiciously. That cheeky smile in place on her face. "But only if you let me order it." Mycroft's eyes narrowed on his assistant's face, probably knowing exactly what the girl was planning.

"And what if I decline to let you do so?" He asked in a threateningly low tone, pompous grin place on his lips, on eyebrow slightly quirked. It only made Anthea herself smirk more. The brunette girl shrugged.

"Then I won't eat or sleep, sir. I'll just sit here." In all reality she was expecting more of a fight. She expected to hear him say something along the lines of 'fine, don't eat' and return to his inner office, nose in the air. Instead he sighed and shook his head.

"Don't torture me too much with your choice." He turned to head into his inner sanctum. "You know my credit card details, I don't need to give it to you…"

Anthea collected the box from the Domino's delivery boy from the security entrance of the building. She made a little bit of polite small talk before the kid headed back to his car and Anthea, after saying thank you to the security guard, Anthea went back to the stairwell of the building.

Anthea walked into Mycroft's office and placed the box in the centre of the area on the dark wooden desk she'd cleared earlier. Steely eyes were staring at the foreign object as if it may come alive and attack him.

"Anthea," Mycroft breathed, leaning back in his black office chair. "What is that?" He sounded utter disgusted. Anthea grinned, holding back a chuckle, as she opened the box.

"It's pizza, sir. I got vegetarian." Mycroft scoffed.

"My dear, that is not pizza. I've had pizza." Anthea ignored her fussy boss. She pulled her chair up closer to the desk.

"I tried to get a type that we'd both like." Her hands hovered in mid-air over the box as she choice a piece. Eventually deciding on one, she picked it up, wrestling it free from the stretchy strings of cheese still attaching it to the rest of the pizza. Mycroft watched, his top lip curled in abhorrence as he watched the cheese snap back into the cardboard box.

"I'm not even sure that's food." He bemoaned. Mycroft leaned forward in his office chair to peer into the box. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were created entirely out of grease. Look how it has already stained the cardboard." He scowled once more.

"And chocolate cake or sweets are healthy for you, sir?" Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

"Chocolate cake is not a heart attack in a box." He replied flatly. Anthea rolled her dark eyes but Mycroft's flat comment still extracted a soft laugh from Anthea.

"Just eat it, sir." Silence as steel eyes locked onto chocolate ones.

"… No."

"Please, sir, you need to eat something." Anthea singed, placing her half eaten slice down on the top half of the box.

"You should have thought about that before you ordered death hastening food." Anthea looked to the side of the room and took a deep steadying breath. She turned back to her boss.

"Sir, just try it. Do you know how many weird things I've tried because of you?" She asked. Mycroft cocked his head, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, my dear, but I've never tried to poison you."

"It's fine!" Anthea huffed.

"I'd rather go to your disgusting little diner again." Again? The first time he'd ordered toast and barely touched it.

"Sir, you need to eat."

"I've gone far longer without eating and been completely of sound mind and body." Anthea clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on."

"Miss James…"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not, but you're pushing your luck."

"You said I could pick."

"I did and you did. I said nothing about swallowing a single morsel of your choice myself. I've had to deal with horrible chicken and pasta, and so-so quiche thanks to you already." He was just so stubborn with everything he did. It was annoying, it was frustrating. How was she expected to deal with this?

"Mycroft, just eat some pizza, for me."

Silence.

A neutral mask fell filming into place over Mycroft's face. He began analysing Anthea with his hawk like eyes. After a solid minute of analysis and consideration, Mycroft closed his eyes and swallowed the figurative lump in his throat.

"Fine." He exhaled painfully. "Since my money paid for this greasy monstrosity I might as well try it." Anthea's lips pulled from its firm straight line into a very soft, warm smile.

As Mycroft reached in and picked the smallest slice, he still looked like he was afraid it would turn sentient any second now and attack him. With a deep breath to mentally prepare himself, Mycroft took a very hesitant bite. Anthea felt like she could burst into laughter at any second thanks to her boss' theatrics. Sometimes a Holmes' drama queen gene was annoying, other times it was absolutely amusing and utterly adorable.

"And?" Anthea giggled. Mycroft's eyes flashed briefly over to Anthea before returning to give the slice of pizza a look of utter disdain.

"It's only half as bad as expected." Mycroft muttered. He raised his eyebrows as he sighed. "I suppose it won't kill me." Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled at her boss.

"How does it rank with my quiche?" Anthea asked out of sheer curiosity.

"Please, your quiche was somewhat nice." He scoffed.

"And my chicken?" Mycroft glanced over at Anthea like she was insane.

"Are you joking? Anthea, I can actually eat this."

"Does this mean you'll eat your half?" She asked.

"I might as well." Mycroft sighed again.

"Though your friend Carol will most definitely have to pay some sort of penance for circumstantially putting me through this ordeal." He took another bit of his slice, looking slightly less put off. Anthea tilted her head as she watched Mycroft, her whole being filling with warmth. She'd almost forgotten how tired she was.

This man, honestly…

Author's Note: So? Did you like it? Like I said, it turned out pretty well considering my writing time was pretty much cut in half. Thank you to my guest reviewers: Anon, Guest, Corrine, ovejalucifer, Another Guest, and Wheezy8. Every review makes my heart sing. Thank you!

Speaking of which, 800 reviews! Now I really do want to do something for this and I'm feeling oookkkaaayyy at the moment so I could probably do a Myc POV. I'm going to give you guys a chance to re-pick a chapter. Whoo.

Update on my arm. I have to get an operation in late September. It's about an 8 week recovery period so I will probably change the update schedule to be a tiny bit less around then and I'll probably write a huge stockpile of chapters so I can just write me A/N's and post them.