Author's Note: Hello, my dear friends! Thank you for being very kind regarding last chapter. I'm very happy that it seemed to meet expectations – considering how weary of it I was. Also, quick update for those of you asking about my arm – it still hurts but nowhere near as much. I can tell its healing pain, you know? Still doing physio, and every time I get used to it, he makes it harder -_-. Enough about me… this chapter is one that people, particularly on Tumblr, have been asking me to do for a long time but I've been holding off on until the time was right. With the "understanding", we have finally reached that time. 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 He Called Her While Drunk

Anthea stopped typing on her phone to take a sideways glace at Mycroft, her mouth pulled into a tight smile. He was sitting in the town car with her, legs folded, concentrating on his phone but looking as bored as he ever did. When they were in private like this, Anthea didn't have to hide the smiles he brought out in her. The way nothing seemed to occupy his attention fully, the way everything seemed to annoy or bore him, but how he always seemed to give her his full attention. It was absolutely charming to her and just made everything a little more entertaining. To be honest, even if they weren't actually dating, it had been a long time since Anthea had felt this content. Jamie in London, and no longer having to choose between a boyfriend and work. It was nice.

It seemed that her gaze had been felt as a single eyebrow rose as Mycroft continued to read something on his phone.

"Can I help you, Miss James?" He asked with that little hint of condescension that followed him around. Anthea sniffed a laugh and looked down, grin growing. Arrogant fool. She loved it. She looked back up and cocked her head to the side.

"What are you doing Saturday after work?" Eyes flickered up from his phone to her phone. The second eyebrow rose to meet the first as he locked his phone and placed it down in the seat between them.

"I trust this isn't a work related conversation?" He asked, looking her face over. Anthea pursed her lips and shrugged one shoulder playfully. "Ah." Mycroft nodded, gathering her answer from her actions. "Unfortunately I have to attend an event at the Diogenes Club." Mycroft answered, a few hints of apology and sympathy flashing on his face. He'd clearly let the mask fall off slightly so Anthea could see the regret and understand that he wasn't actually ditching her. "As one of the club's benefactor members, I really do need to put in an appearance."

"An event at the club?" Anthea snorted, scrunching up her nose. "What does that involve? Everyone sitting around quieting, drinking pricey alcohol all day?" Mycroft looked forward to the back of Walter's seat.

"Essentially, yes." He nodded, sounding vaguely amused. "Apologies, my dear." Anthea shook her head and used one hand to wave him off.

"Don't worry about." She turned back to her phone and answering the emails regarding a sighting in Russia. "I know what's important to you." She turned back and threw Mycroft a lopsided grin. "I'm not needy. I see you almost every day." His lips pulled slightly as he hid his smile. Anthea turned back to her phone once again. "Next week is a busy one, just make sure you're clear headed for Monday." She heard a scoff.

"Do try to remember who you're talking to."

"I know, sir. I'm just enjoy the fact that I can say things like that."

Anthea was sitting on her couch, knees pulled up to her chest, eyes glued to the TV. Jamie was out at James' tonight, and had left Anthea alone watching horror movies all night. She was trying not to think about how realistic this direction had managed to get this torture scene as she waited on bated breath to see if the main character would manage to get out of it, or if this would be one of those movies where everyone died. She winced, watching as a drill turned on.

Ring, Ring.

Anthea almost leaped out of her seat as she felt the vibration of her phone on her lap. Realistically, she knew it was her phone, but the sudden loud noise and vibration was enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone who'd just spent the entire evening watching people being dismembered. She quickly paused the movie – thankfully not while the drill going through the guy's hand was on screen – and looked down at the number.

Diogenes - Proper.

As opposed to the other Diogenes number she had logged under 'Diogenes – Dungeon'. That meant that the call was coming from the reception desk.

Now, this would have seen weird, had she not known that Mycroft was there. You know, due to the fact that she was not a member and there didn't seem to be a single female member of that deadly silent place. Anthea took three long and deep breaths – she'd rather not Mycroft work out she was out of breath and deduce that he'd just frightened her to death. Anthea shook her head, cleared her throat, and pressed answer.

"Hello." She answered in a professional tone, not know whether it would be an employee of the club or Mycroft that she was speaking to.

"Hello, Anthea." It was Mycroft. Well, it certainly sounded like Mycroft's voice – it just sounded a little too… chipper to be the Ice Man. "How are you, my dear?" And it sounded like he was trying way too hard to sound normal. Anthea frowned to herself.

"I'm fine, sir." She spoke slowly and carefully. "How are you?"

"Yes, well…" He spoke in a tone slightly higher than his usual tone. There was a pause, followed by the sound of the genius clearing his throat. "Do you remember that time you and uh, Jamie called me to come pick you up?" The time that they'd gone out drinking? Of course. Jamie had embarrassed Anthea to no end when she'd hugged Mycroft. She remembers thinking how outlandish it was that anyone would dare touch Mycroft Holmes. That was before the Einstein and Miss Monroe nicknames emerged. That was when Tim was first Anthea's boring. That felt like a long time ago now. Why did she call Mycroft instead of Tim? She knew the excuse she'd told herself…

"Yes, I remember." Anthea hummed.

"Well, you see. This is kind of like that." Anthea lowered her blackberry to check the number. Yes, it definitely said he was at the club. Then it's not like he was stranded anywhere. Anthea bit the bottom of her lip as she considered what to say to the man on the phone.

"Mycroft," She spoke slowly and clearly. "You have a driver. Why did you call me?"

"Your name comes first." In the phone book of his phone?

"You're calling from the club, not from your mobile."

A pause.

"… Your name comes first." Anthea rolled her dark eyes.

"In the phone directory in your brain?" She questioned. Only afterwards did she realise to anyone else that is a joke, to a genius who keeps their brain organised it's not.

"… Yes." She didn't know whether to laugh or to sigh. Whatever. If he was intoxicated it was probably a good idea she go and get him.

"Alright, I'll be there soon."

"Good." He chirped.

Click.

Anthea pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen. Sure enough, the call log was off. He'd hung up on her. Apparently Holmsian rudeness gets no better with alcohol.

He was so lucky she found it endearing rather than annoying. Well, as well as annoying.

She had to get changed to be able to turn up to the club – and for that – not for disturbing her evening, Anthea was considering killing Mycroft. She'd thrown on the first dressed she could from her wardrobe – a black A-line dress, and scooped her hair up into a pony tail rather than having to worry about the state of her waves and curls.

She pulled out in front of the world's most elite club in her old car and took her heels off the passenger seat, placing them on her feet. A quick look in the mirror of the sun visor to confirm she looked presentable, Anthea got out of the car and strutted up to the club like she was on business. Turns out she didn't have to go far. Just at the front door, Mycroft was leaning on the wall with a cigarette in one hand, umbrella in the other. She would have chastised him for smoking when he didn't need one, but when he looked up and flashed her an honest to god smile she didn't have the heart to do it.

"Anthea." He hummed, still smiling, as he dropped the cigarette to the floor and – trying to keep his balance – stepped it out. "You're here." Anthea widened her eyes.

"I know." She spoke just as slowly as she did on the phone. "You called me." She mocked.

"I know that." He grimaced. "I'm allowed to state the obvious when I'm happy to see you." He climbed down the few stairs to meet her on the footpath, hand finding her shoulder to balance himself as he came to a stop. Anthea was trying to keep the surprise off her face.

"Well, it's always nice to see you too, sir." She chuckled. He frowned for a second, seemingly confused by her words. Suddenly his face light up.

"Oh, right." He whispered as gestured back up to the club with his head. He then held a finger to his lip in a hushing motion. Anthea couldn't help but smile as she rolled her eyes. This was already proving to be an interesting time. She wondered how she and Jamie had appeared all those years ago – probably worse than this.

"Let's get you home…" She sung, gesturing to her car a few metres away. As they approached Mycroft headed straight for the back door. "Mycroft, get in the front." Anthea moaned. "I'm your…" His what? Not girlfriend, not friend… "I'm your assistant, not your driver." Mycroft smiled again, closing the backdoor with a light thud.

"Ah, yes. Silly me." He wandered to the front passenger side, opening it. "You're far prettier than Walter is." Anthea rolled her eyes again as she laughed, getting into her car. She waited for Mycroft to practically fall into the passenger seat, clutching his umbrella, and put his seatbelt on, before Anthea even considered starting her car.

For the most part, Mycroft seemed content in his thoughts, happy to sit quietly in the car as Anthea drove to his house. She hazard a glance over to her, well, boss at the lights to see him gazing out the passenger window the way he might in the back of the town car. Halfway there however he turned to look at Anthea similarly to how she'd been looking at him in the town car a few days ago. Quietly, enjoying the person. Anthea visibly frowned so that he knew she noticed.

"Yes?" She asked.

"You are, you know." He assured her. Of what, she wasn't quite sure. She quickly glanced over to make sure he was actually talking to her. Finding his eyes on her, Anthea was sure he knew who he was talking to and about what.

"I'm what, Mycroft?"

"Very pretty." There was confusion there, as if he was unsure why she'd think he was talking about anything else. To be fair to him, it had been the last thing he was talking about, but to be fair to her, that was minutes of silence ago.

"I know." Anthea nodded with a wry smile. "You've told me before." Apparently this wasn't the correct answer. Mycroft shook his head, sitting up in his chair.

"No, no." He sung, waving his hand. "I've told you you're aesthetically attractive like… like a painting… or… an ornate coffee table." He held his hand out as if gesturing to said coffee table. In fact, he was doing a lot of talking with his hands, the umbrella now abandoned to the side of his leg. Anthea scoffed.

"Yeah, thanks, Myc." She said flatly at being compared to a coffee table.

"But what I mean is that you're so pretty." He sighed. "Pretty to watch move, pretty to see laugh." Anthea's face softened as she felt little tingles at the back of her neck.

"Oh." She pouted, blinking. She wasn't entire sure what to say to that, that was the nicest thing he'd ever said… and it was drunk Mycroft. "Thank you." She meant it.

"Don't say thank you when someone is stating a fact." He scowled, turning to look out the side window again. "That's stupid."

"And we're back…" Anthea shook her head. She had expected the car to lull back into silence again and was contemplating turning on her car radio when Mycroft turned to her again and was looking her up and down. She decided not to turn on the radio and just wait for him to speak. He was going to say something.

"You do realise, had you forgiven him, Tim would have married you." And there it was. It just wasn't what she was expecting him to say. Anthea licked her lips.

"I know."

"And that waiter in France wasn't even trying to be subtle." She didn't respond this time. "Let's not even start on how long it took Mr. Kiernan to request your company. He'd been thinking about it since his last girlfriend left him… It was a total shock to him, that. You could tell by how horrible his attempts at shaving were for the month that followed."

"What are you trying to say, Mycroft?" Anthea stopped him. Mycroft pursed his lips, looking Anthea's face over once more before shrugging and looking out the front window.

"Nothing…" He dismissed both himself and her. "I simply think you're pretty." She could make some comment about not repeating yourself, just to get back at him for thank you comment, but she didn't want to ruin the nice things being said. So instead she giggled lightly.

"Thank you." She repeated once again. "I think you're pretty handsome, yourself." She got a very sloppy raise of the eyebrow – the other one coming up slightly with it – before the car finally went peaceful again.

Anthea was the one to unlock Mycroft's front door. She pushed it open and waited to the side, letting him waltz in before she followed behind him. He place the umbrella next to the door on his way through the entrance hall and for a moment Anthea was stunned, that was the first time she'd ever seen anything but papers and books out of place at Mycroft's house. It kind of made her wish he did actually leave things in human places like that and maybe make the place feel more lived in. The only reason she felt at home in it was because she was used to it, although knowing Mycroft he probably liked that it made people uncomfortable.

She shut the door and followed the inebriated man into the living room. She watched as he all but plonked himself on the couch and began taking his shoes off – the way normal people do when they get home. She was finding this human behaviour very weird. But she shouldn't just stand here watching him, it was late, he needed to get to bed, and she needed to go home. Anthea folded her arms across her chest and glanced over towards the kitchen.

"Would you like a tea, or maybe some water? Or do you just want to go to bed?" Anthea asked as Mycroft took off his second shoe and placed it haphazardly next to the other one by the side of his couch.

"What is the social expected thing to do?" He asked, tugging his tie a little looser. Anthea tilted her head.

"People say to have coffee to sober up, but I've heard that's a myth, and I would prefer you drunk some water. I don't really want you to have a really bad headache tomorrow." She hated it when he had a headache – it was like watching a football player get a knee injury. If he'd have some liquids now, it could minimize the dehydration in the morning. Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded to himself a couple of times, considering the information he'd received.

"No." He shook his head. He stood up, taking a moment to steady himself and blink away the wave of dizziness that Anthea could see had hit him as he stood up so suddenly. "I think I'd prefer to go straight to bed." Always the contrarian, apparently. Anthea sighed, but didn't want to argue.

"Okay." She walked over to him to take off his tie properly. It would save him some annoyance in the morning if she just undid it and left it on the coffee table, rather than he find it scrunched up and tossed somewhere, probably still attached to his shirt. While this close to him, she might as well take the opportunity to place her hand gently against the side of his face – like a caress – like she always wanted to. Right now, with most of the barriers down, he wasn't going to flinch away. And he didn't. It was lovely. She let him go and after only a second pause, he began to wander in the direction of the stairs, presumably to go to bed. "I'm going to go home then. I'll see you Monday at the government office, yeah?"

"No." Mycroft turned around to look back at the PA. His long features pulled into a mixture of a pout and a frown and suddenly Anthea felt like she saw a little bit of what kid Mycroft must have been like. She gave him an incredulous look.

"No?" She repeated.

"Stay. You have a room." It was almost like an order at work. He turned back around and began walking away. Apparently it was an order. "I sleep better when you're here. God knows why." Once again that evening, Anthea found herself blinking in surprised.

"Okay." She called after the man. "But not because you told me to, but because I want to tease you about this tomorrow." Not really, but she couldn't let him get away with an order out of work time, and it would be fun to see if he remembered any of this.

"That's fine." The fleeting form called back. "Goodnight."

"Night…" Anthea murmured to herself, finding herself alone in Mycroft's living room. She looked down at the abandoned shoes, then at the direction the intoxicated genius had wandered off in. She shook her head, having trouble trying to comprehend everything, before turning off towards the kitchen.

If she was going to be able to sleep tonight, Anthea needed to have a cup of tea and process the little pieces of information Mycroft had mentioned tonight, and decide what to keep secret and what to tease him with.

She was definitely going to tell him that he compared her to a coffee table.

And that she was pretty. That would be a fun reaction to see.

Author's Note: Okay, so, was it alright? Did you like it? Chances are, if you've been on Anthea's blog at just the right time, you probably knew what to expect. I hope you had fun with this one, it was fun to write. Thank you to our guest reviewers; Georgie, Tadaa, Guests x2, Corrine, enola, Wink, MinaCarlyle, Bunnyrabbit100, Wheezzy8, and Carmen D. All of my regular reviewers know just how much I love them. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this chapter!

Still accepting votes on the next Myc POV chapter, btw.