Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback last chapter, guys! I'm glad you liked it. Also thanks for being totally understanding about that break I took. You guys are great. I took a poll for what you wanted next chapter on my Tumblr but for this chapter I just randomly got a spark of on idea and needed to do it. It's a shortish chapter but I liked writing it so I hope you like it. Thanks for being awesome. 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 Time She Realised He Needed Her

Anthea was about reading to curse out whoever was waking her up on a Sunday morning. That was until she looked at the time and realised it was 11am. That was considered a reasonable time to call people usually. That's what happens when you actually have time to go out on a Saturday night. She rolled onto her back and picked up her phone.

Mycroft – mobile

Of course it was. Because who else called her ever? Anthea closed her eyes as she answered the phone and held it to her ear.

"Hello?" Her bleary voice croaked. There was a brief hesitation on the other line.

"You can't be serious. Did I really just wake you up?" If her eyes weren't shut Anthea would have rolled her eyes. Instead she rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

"My free time, sir, my business. Remember?"

"Ah, yes. Quite." Mycroft sighed, not sounding entirely pleased. He'd lost his open invitation to Anthea's personal life when he'd betrayed her trust and stabbed her in the back. Anthea held back a yawn as she prepared to talk again.

"Before I fall asleep on you, sir, can I help you?"

"Right. Well," He began. "It would be greatly appreciated if you wouldn't mind using your Sunday to assist me in some work." Ah the work tone. So professional, so lacking of any emotion. Sometimes Anthea wondered what age Mycroft had developed this tone of voice. University? High school to diplomatically deal with bullies? Before hand to stop anyone calling him cute? As a way to reason with his mum? Anthea opened her eyes and blinked up to her ceiling. She bit her bottom lip as she thought.

"Is it an emergency?" Because otherwise she'd have to say no. Not that she had anything better to do, she was just trying to prove her point to him. That she wasn't his pet monkey to use at his whim.

"Well, no, not quite." Mycroft hummed. Anthea could practically see him wincing in her mind's eye. "I have simply hit a brick wall, as the saying goes, and could use you as a form of assistance." He was dancing around his words, the way he did with the politicians and other government workers. What did he really want? Obviously it was work related, that wasn't a lie. Anthea quirked an eyebrow up at the ceiling.

"It's my one full day off, sir."

"I am fully aware of this fact, Miss James."

"And you want me to come help you work?"

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Anthea's upper lip twitched, threatening to scowl.

"Sir. I have a life." Not really, and he knew it. Still, she wasn't going to go back to being his goldfish so willingly.

"I know that, my dear, and that's why I would be very appreciative."

Anthea took a deep breath and sighed.

"On a scale from one to ten, how dressed up would I have to get?"

"Two."

"You'll have to buy me lunch."

"Certainly." Anthea groaned as she ran her free hand through her hair.

"Fine. Give me forty-five minutes and I'll be there."

Click.

Whatever kind of spell Mycroft Holmes had over her, Anthea had no idea. Whatever it was, she hated it and wished there was an antidote. No matter how much her brain and her hurt and anger inside wanted her to say no, that ache in her heart made her say yes.

Anthea arrived at Mycroft's with her hair tied in a loose ponytail. She was wearing a short sleeve button up blouse and loose black slacks. A very casual outfit that wouldn't look shocking if she had to run into an office or another. In fact, this was nicer than she used to turn up to her old jobs on some days – namely the day she met Mycroft. When Mycroft opened the door he gain a small half smile, one side of his mouth quirking up, as he looked her up and down. Clearly he was amused by her overly casual professional wear. She rolled her eyes but smirked back, shrugging.

"You said two out of ten." She noted. Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded.

"This could be anywhere from a one to a six." Anthea crinkled her nose as she stifled a laugh. Normally she'd play around after a comment like that but she still wasn't completely in the mood. She knew Mycroft was really just happy to see her smiling every now and again. Anthea shoved her hands into the pockets of her slacks.

"You have work you need help with, sir?"

"Ah, yes." Mycroft's face brightened up with a rare show of emotion as he stepped out of the way to let Anthea into his house. As per usual, she could hear her footsteps echo though the cold hollow hallway. "Follow me." Mycroft muttered after shutting the door. He took the lead with Anthea following a few footsteps behind.

Mycroft lead Anthea to his private study. The smell of his cologne and books entered her senses and regardless of anything that may have happened recently, Anthea still found the smell absurdly comforting. Anthea loved this room. The wall to wall books, the dark wood furniture, the red curtains, the ornament. It was without a doubt one of the most welcoming and lived in rooms within Mycroft's estate. If only he put this effort into the other rooms. Anthea stood just past the doorway as Mycroft made his way over to the desk. Before he sat down he gestured to the couch to the side of the room.

"Please my dear," he hummed. "Take a seat." He faked a smile as he sat at his desk. Anthea pursed her lips and nodded. She sat down lightly on the couch, hands on her lap. She watched and waited for instructions as Mycroft opened a file. He picked up a pen and began writing. Frowning to herself, Anthea still waited for instruction. She tapped her fingers on her knee and looked around the room. It was now that she noticed that the books were organised as they would be if they were in a library. The fiction was in genre, followed by author in alphabetical order, and the nonfiction were actually in what appeared to be the Dewey Decimal System. Anthea chuckled to herself and shook her head. Only in the home of a Holmes would you find such an organised book collection. She'd have to make a note to look at Violet and Siger's collection when… if she ever went back to their house. Anthea took a deep breath and sighed, trying to find something else to look at in the room. When she still had yet to receive instructions her dark eyes flickered back to Mycroft. He was quite contently working away in his file silently. Anthea pulled a face, slightly taken aback and annoyed.

"Umm… Sir?" She interrupted. Steel blue eyes flickered up from the page onto her face.

"Mmm?" He hummed. Anthea tilted her head to the side.

"Did you need me for something?" She asked. Mycroft pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side slightly in thought.

"No, you're fine there, my dear." Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

"Sir, do you have any work for me to do?" Mycroft looked slightly confused by her reaction, though not completely surprised, he never was.

"No." He stated like it was obvious. He gestured to his books with his pen. "You're welcome to read if you wish."

A pause as Anthea tried to compute what was going on here.

"Sir." She sputtered. "You said you needed my help."

"I did." Mycroft nodded. "I do." Anthea gestured around her with her arms.

"Then why do you have nothing for me to do?" She almost laughed. Mycroft placed his pen down and folded his hands together.

"I found myself unable to work. I did some analysis and deduction and realised the only difference between here and the office is you." He sighed. "I needed you in order to work." Anthea's face went blank.

"You couldn't focus, so you called me here on my only full day off to sit here so you might get some work done?" She asked flatly. Mycroft nodded. Anthea rolled her eyes and shook her head. "This is ridiculous." She spat as she stood up.

"Anthea." Mycroft interjected.

"This is what I mean when I said I wasn't going to cater to your whims anymore."

"Don't take it as an insult."

"You said you wouldn't treat me like a goldfish." Anthea huffed and walked to the door, closing it behind her as she left the office. He was completely ridiculous and out of line. He had called her over because he couldn't write? He had called her over as a piece of furniture? How degrading. What did he think she was?

Anthea reached the front door, all ready to leave, go home and salvage the rest of her day. As her hand landed on the doorknob she froze.

Hang on.

He couldn't focus on work. He'd done the deductions and worked out that she was missing. In order to work to the best of his ability, Mycroft needed her around. In other words, when she wasn't around Mycroft missed Anthea's presence to the point that he couldn't focus completely on what he was doing. Anthea's hand slipped from the doorknob as she thought of James' words when the two men had come to Jamie's house.

"We missed a meeting a few days ago. He's barely gone home and I don't think he's eating too well."

Neither James nor Mycroft were the type to just forget as meeting. Both of them were highly dedicated to their fields and well respected. For Mycroft to skip a meeting in her absence surely did mean that her lack of presence did make an impact on him.

Anthea felt that feeling in her gut again as she turned her back on the front door and turned to look down the hallway. She'd been so hard on herself and Mycroft lately. He was a douche and had done one of the worst possible things he could have done. But something Anthea had forgotten since then was that Mycroft was not a normal human being – that he and Sherlock reacted differently to other people. It wasn't what they said you needed to look out for, it was what they did. He'd come to get her from Jamie's, he'd taken he to his after picking her up from the police station, and he'd invited her over just to have her around. Just like how Sherlock could say the most horrible things in the world to John, Molly, and Lestrade, he relied heavily on them. Mycroft had been trying his best to say he was sorry in the most Holmsian way.

Anthea's hand fell onto the sapphire necklace around her neck. She hadn't even realised she was wearing it.

She thought about when he'd convinced her to move after her kidnapping and how he walked her to her door for months, how he chewed Tim out, how he eventually came through for her after her grandmother's death. Lately she'd been wondering how Mycroft could do such a hurtful thing to her after everything she's done for him but she'd forgotten how hard he'd tried for who he is to be there for her. It did not excuse his behaviour in the slightest, he should have trusted her. He should have known she would never betray him. Still. He did try. For Mycroft.

Maybe things wouldn't return completely back to normal in a rush. Sure Mycroft had asked her to be more professional, and she had been, but maybe she should start cutting him some slack. Maybe she should remember that he was stilted when it came to emotions. If she was more open and less prone to feeling attacked they could just slip back into their easy sarcastic jokes and comfortable silences.

Anthea groaned as she walked back to the office. As she opened the door and walked back in Mycroft looked up at her briefly and looked back to his work. He chose not to bring attention to her return, allowing them both some dignity. Anthea pointed to his books as she wondered over.

"If I'm going to sit here I'm going to borrow some of your books." She stated. She heard a low chuckle from the direction of the desk.

"Be my guest."

"And maybe I'll mess up your perfect little order to punish you a little for wasting my time." She heard Mycroft fake a pained noise.

"Do you really despise me that much?"

"No." Anthea hummed, smiling to herself as she thumbed through the books. "I'm just spiteful and trained by the best."

In the end she decided on one of his multiple copies of The Devine Comedy. In English, of course.

"Mycroft?"

"Mmm?" Mycroft answered, turning his ear towards his PA on the couch but not taking his eyes off of his work.

"It's four in the afternoon."

A pause.

"And?" Anthea tilted her head to the side and watched her boss in amusement.

"You promised me lunch." Blue eyes flickered up to meet dark eyes.

"So I did." Mycroft sighed as he stretched and looked at the time on his phone. "I'll tell you what, my dear. Allow me another hour of work and we shall make it dinner. What do you say?"

No.

No, just go home.

Screw him.

Anthea smiled.

"Sure."

Author's Note: What do you think? Did you like it? I feel as if it's what we need to keep going where I'm starting to head. The tension is breaking. I hope you liked it! Time to thank the guest reviewers since I can't thank them personally. Thanks to; Anon, Enomisje, Corrine, Guests x2, Wink, bgeiner, and Wheezzy8. I love all the readers and reviewers so much! Thanks for all the support so far, guys, it means the world to me.