Author's Note: Ah, I'm so pleased you all enjoyed last chapter! It was nice to see :). Now, this chapter is nothing major, but it's the beginning of the formation of a plan I have to come! Mwahahah. Now as you can see, though I'm still in Sydney, I survived meeting Mark Gatiss, but I'll explain that at the end. Please have fun reading this, I hope you like it. 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 They Didn't Care About Others' Opinions
It was one of those blissful Sundays where it was freezing outside but nice and warm inside the flat. Anthea, in a hooded jumper and tracksuit paints, her curls falling freely across her face, was currently in the kitchen slicing tomatoes while listening to the audio from her television. She was currently watching – well, listening to – a document on the so called curses placed upon some of the Egyptian pyramids. Not that she really cared, not that she believed in such superstition of a long gone king, but it was one of those days. It was icy outside, and she was perfectly happy staying inside in warm baggy clothes, watching whatever happened to be on the telly.
Being in the habit of always having her phone near her, Anthea was not surprised when the small black device lit up and began vibrating on the other side of the counter. Quickly washing her hands of any tomato juices that may be on them, Anthea dried her hands on a tea towel and picked up her phone.
Mycroft – mobile.
Shortly after the NDA, Anthea would have either been annoyed to see that number pop up on her phone, or very surprised. Now, she found she was neither, smiling to herself as she pressed answer.
"Hello." Anthea peeped cheerily as she moved from the kitchen to take a seat in her makeshift dining room.
"Hello, my dear." Mycroft's lyrical voice came through the blackberry speaker. Anthea leaned her elbow on the table, using her hand to absentmindedly twirl a curl through her fingers. "I trust you are doing well." He went through his formalities.
"How can I help you today?" She was talking very light and friendly, she was aware. But it was a Sunday, and it was only Mycroft.
"There are two things you could help me with."
"Oh?" Anthea tilted her head to the side as if Mycroft could see her through the phone.
"The first, and most important, is I need your signature on a few documents at the earliest possible convenience."
"Absolutely, sir." She agreed, switching into work mode but allowing her informal cheer to seep through. "Have someone bring them by whenever." He'd send Walter or someone to her door with the documents; she'd sign them, and continue her lazy warm day without so much of a fuss.
"The second item, you'll find, is not quite as dire." The voice through the phone hummed. Anthea rolled her eyes at her boss' choice of words. "An old peer of mine is involved in the opening of a new Art gallery and has sent me tickets to the opening." Anthea frowned as she ran her tongue over her top front teeth. "Now, this is not an event I myself would be interested in going to, but I believe it's to your interests. I could be persuaded into attending if you wished to go."
An art gallery? That did sound interesting. Unlike Mycroft, Anthea did appreciate art and loved to look deeply into it. It was probably the same reason she loved reading. It sounded like something very fun to do… one a day where you could step outside without a thousand layers of clothes on. A gallery opening suggested the doors would be open letting the cold air in. Anthea was in comfortable clothes, in her warm flat. Did she really want to go out into the cold and look at art with a man who didn't want to be there, all while putting up with a bunch of pretentious people?
"Um..." Anthea tossed the idea around in her head one more time. "No thank you."
A pause.
"No?" Mycroft sounded genuinely surprised by her answer.
Another pause.
"Forgive me if I was interrupting any plans…"
"Oh, no, you're not, Mycroft." Anthea quickly added. "Normally that sounds like fun." She tucked a curl behind her ear. "But it's cold outside; I'm staying home in the warmth, watching television."
"I see…" was the very slow, very calm response Anthea received.
"But, if you want to bring the documents over," Anthea winced as the words were falling out of her mouth. "Maybe you could stay and… relax with me?"
"I don't know, Miss James…" He sighed.
"I'm watching documentaries right now. Come tell me about how wrong their research is." She teased playfully, while still trying to stay inviting.
"I'd hate to intrude on yours and Miss Thompson's living space…" Ah, he doesn't want to be around Jamie. Is that it? Anthea smirked, tapping lightly on the table with her blue fingernails.
"Jamie's out house hunting for James, and then she's staying at his flat tonight." She pursed her lips and took a breath. "It's just me here enjoying a Sunday, trying to make this haloumi and tomato dish."
A pause.
"Oh, Anthea." Mycroft sighed. Anthea could visualise him rolling his eyes in her mind's eye. "You're not attempting to cook again, are you?" If he could see her, Anthea would pull a face at the genius right now.
"How hard are tomato, haloumi, and basil?" She defended herself.
"Do you have balsamic vinegar?" Anthea's brow furrowed.
"Why would I need balsamic vinegar?" She heard the exasperated noise that followed.
"Don't step foot in that kitchen again until I get there."
"Okay. Bye."
Click.
Well, then. Today was going to be, warm flat, baggy clothes, and a genius to watch documentaries with. Not bad for a Sunday.
Anthea had done nothing to improve her appearance when she pulled open her front door. To be fair, she thought she looked perfectly fine anyway. Mycroft, however, standing on the outside of the door, was dressed as impeccably as ever. He didn't even flinch at Anthea's casual appearance compared to how she dressed for work – he'd seen her in most situations and probably already deduced she'd be dressed this way by her lack of interest in leaving the house. In the free hand lacking the umbrella, he held a long thin bottle, resembling a wine bottle. That must be the ever important balsamic vinegar. She tossed her boss a lopsided grin as a greeting. Mycroft's expression stayed neutral and flat as he stared his assistant down.
"Please tell me you followed orders." Anthea almost laughed as she quirked an eyebrow at that line. It wasn't an order, it was a Sunday. If anything it was a request.
"Of course I followed orders, sir." Anthea stressed the sir, mocking the man's choice of word.
"Good." He moaned, ignoring the sarcasm, coming through the door and pushing the vinegar in Anthea's general direction. Anyone else might have dropped it in surprise, Anthea was already expecting it. She closed the front door as Mycroft made his way over to her dining table. He took his briefcase off his shoulder, placed it on the table, opening it. Carefully he took out a thirty page document and a pen from his breast pocket. Anthea came to stand by his side as he held the pen at the same level of his shoulder to his side. She took the pen. "Only a signature on the last page, no initials or the like needed." He hummed.
"I'm skim reading, first, sir." Anthea tried to hush the brunette calmly. "I need to make sure there's nothing in here that is against my best interest. Such as selling my soul, or an NDA." She turned her head to look up from the pages, smirking coyly, to be met with an icy glare. He pursed his lips before speaking.
"Absolutely hilarious, my dear." The venomous sarcasm oozing. Anthea sniffed a laugh, turning back to document. "Although, I am rather proud that you still read all the documents." Proud? Well that felt nice to hear, though she wouldn't let herself look effected by it. Anthea turned to the last page.
"Thank you." She signed the document and closed it. "I was well taught." She held the pen over her shoulder to Mycroft, and he took it and the document, placing them back into the briefcase. With two clicks sounding in unison, he closed the case, effectively ending the business for the evening.
"Now," Mycroft leaned back, turning to Anthea with one of those forced smiles that didn't quite reach his eyes. They had a lot of meanings; this one meant he was attempting to be friendly. The glittery, sparkling eyes only truly happened when he was amused in one way or another. "About your dish…" Anthea nodded, leading the way to the kitchen.
"I've cut everything up into pieces, I was just waiting for you and your balsamic to turn up and help assemble them."
Sending her to assemble the dish the way she normally would, Mycroft watched as Anthea stacked the cheese and basil on the slices of tomato, talking about what she was doing rather than making small talk. Mycroft watched Anthea's hands without any judgement, simply letting her work.
"Alright." Anthea nodded, wiping her hands clean on her tea towel, turning to face the genius behind her. "This is where I need your input, Mycroft." Mycroft raised his eyebrows and nodded lighting in a gesture towards the balsamic vinegar to their side.
"Pour a thin layer of balsamic across the baking tray." Anthea took the bottle, and unscrewed the lid. She turned back to the tray, hovering the bottle right side up above the tray. Carefully – or what she thought was carefully – Anthea began tipping the bottle over.
"No! No, no, no, no." Anthea pulled the bottle back upright in her grasp as Mycroft stepped closer behind her.
"You poured too much in one section. We're trying to add a small depth, not an entire chasm of flavour." Anthea smirked and rolled her eyes. The Holmes' could be such drama queens.
"I thought I did it right."
"No. You held It above the same morsel for far too looking before you even thought of moving." He stepped up right behind her. "Here, let me help you." Her hand still around the neck of the bottle, Mycroft's long elegant hand took hold of the base. Moving his hand very slowly, Anthea allowed hers to follow, tipping the bottle once more. She watched as Mycroft smoothly and swiftly, guided their hands and the bottle in a quick zigzag movement. "See? Only a drop." Anthea nodded very slowly, forcing herself to remain calm.
"Uh-huh." Came out of her mouth as he let her take control of drizzling the dark liquid over the last few pieces.
"Good." He hummed in a pleasant tone as the finished and he took his hand off the bottle. Careful not to shake, Anthea placed the lid back on the bottle and sat it on the counter.
"Now, back to me." She opened the over, tossed the tray in, and closed it, setting the timer for five minutes. She leaned on the counter as she turned back to Mycroft, smiling wryly. "Done. Let's see me try to mess this up." He looked his assistant once up and down, lips slightly pouted.
"Do we have a backup plan?" Anthea just smirked.
"If you're okay with left over spaghetti from last night?"
A pause.
"Who made it?"
"James."
"Oh, that's an acceptable back up plan, then." Mycroft waved Anthea off. Anthea tilted her head, and smiled warmly. She was just taking in the image of Mycroft, making fun of her in her own kitchen. It has only happened once or twice, but each time it was a delight. He caught her doing so and cocked his head to the side, questioning her. She ignored him, wiping her hands on her trousers.
"So," She peeped brightly. "Documentary time?"
Food, which was successful edible due to its simpleness, long gone, time slipped away. Mycroft and Anthea sat on her couch watching documentary after documentary. There was one on the Mayan calendar, one on the Roman Empire, one about crop circles that Mycroft just ripped to shreds. When they were informing, they were interesting to watch, when they were bad, Mycroft made it hilarious. Time passed quickly without the pair knowing. Anthea ended up lying on half the couch – her legs on the arm rest and her head on couch. Mycroft lost his shoes along the way, followed by his jacket folded on the armchair.
The current flavour of the hour was episodes of Carl Sagan's Cosmos series. Somewhat fascinated, Anthea lay silently watching, as Mycroft half watched and half tapped away on his phone. Anthea was just about to lean over and try and reach for her water bottle on her coffee table when the noise coming from the dining room caught her attention.
Keys in hand, scarf draped over one shoulder, Jamie entered the room on a set course to get to her bedroom. She made it just past the bookshelf/makeshift room divider, before she stopped dead in her tracks. Her hazel eyes took in the scene around her with a confused pout forming on her lips. Slowly her eyebrows raised and her lips fell from the pout into a small smile.
"Oh, hello." She spoke slowly, sounding very cheeky. "You two look comfy." Anthea sat up, Mycroft moved closer to the arm of the couch. Jamie held her palm out. "No, don't mind me. I'm picking ups some pyjamas and getting out of here for the night." Anthea rolled her eyes.
"Jamie." She sighed, as the girl walked past them into her bedroom. Anthea turned to Mycroft and rolled her eyes; Mycroft pursed his lips and turned to his phone. Anthea jumped out of her seat to stand closer to the hallway to talk to Jamie. "Jamie. It's work. We had contracts I needed to sign immediately." The blonde emerged from her room with a small bag of her nightly items to take to James'.
"Mmm-hmmm." She winked. "And did you send those documents off immediately?" Anthea scuffed her foot against the floor, trying to think of an answer. Jamie looked quite proud of herself as she nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought." The blonde walked past Anthea into the living room. "Mycroft." She said goodbye.
"Miss Thompson." Mycroft answered flatly, eyes on his phone.
"Have a nice night, 'kay?" The blonde opened the front door. "Bye Ali!" Anthea mumbled and sneered as the blonde laughed and closed the door behind her.
After she left Mycroft and Anthea stayed firmly where they were – Mycroft sitting properly on one side of the couch, Anthea leaning against the door to the hallway, arms folded tight against her chest. A few solid minutes – maybe even ten – passed before anyone thought or dared to move. Mycroft cleared his throat, standing up, placing his phone in his trouser pockets.
"Well, my dear, I suppose I'd better be off." Anthea froze for a millisecond before her eyes widened.
"Hang on." She stepped forward into the room, and closer to Mycroft. "You're not leaving because Jamie made you feel uncomfortable are you?" Mycroft sniffed in derision and looked away. Anthea's eyes narrowed on his face. "If you're going to pretend what she said didn't make you feel uncomfortable, Mycroft, then you'll have to commit to your act and stay for at least another hour." Mycroft ran his tongue over his front teeth, looking over Anthea's bookshelf as if it had the answer. He turned to Anthea with a tired expression written all over his long features.
"Miss Clarke…" He breathed. Anthea held her hands out in front of her and shook her head.
"We're just two friends, hanging out." She reasoned. "You and I know that, and that's all that matters." Mycroft's steel eyes narrowed on Anthea's dark orbs as he thought and reasoned with himself. The man held up the index finger of his left hand.
"One more documentary."
"One more." Anthea nodded, grinning.
He stayed for three more, and dinner, before he realise the time and left. Then Anthea was left to her own devices to think of a way to get back at Jamie. Maybe she'd create a scavenger hunt around the building using Jamie's make up brushes…
Author's Note: So? What did we think? Did you like it? I hope so. There are some good beats in there for me. The dish is a dish my sister's ex-girlfriend made a few Christmas Eves ago. Time to thank the guest reviewers. Thanks to; Bunnyrabbit100, Mary, Corrine, Guest x2, Lillie, ovejalucifer, Minacarlyle, Wink, and FIF. Thanks so much to all of you, and all the awesome people who review!
I'm still in Sydney and I'm very, very, tired, but the festival was awesome. Mark was so sweet, by the way. I don't know how I survived. And my friends kept finding ways to keep us in the same space and I was so embarrassed, but he was so nice and funny about it. I think I bowed when I said thank you for the photos. I think. It's my display picture on Twitter and Tumblr now. I also got to talk to and joke with Steven and Sue, because my best friend saw them wandering around. Sue actually got Steven's attention for my friend specifically, and she didn't know who Sue was. After they left she turned to me and was like "Wait, was that Sue?" It was great. A lot of fun. I've spoken to the creative team behind Sherlock, guys.