Author's Note: Hello friends! A couple of things to note first today. As always thanks for your very lovely feedback on a chapter I wasn't very happy with. Secondly, half the reviews for this chapter aren't appearing but I did get them in my email box and read them that way. Thirdly, I don't want to comment on the special because I have way too many theories floating around in my head and if I started I'd write you all an essay. I loved it! That's all I'll say on it. Finally, I couldn't be bothered being discrete with the chapter title. Here it is, and I planned it alongside the understanding in the first place so it's been in my head for ages now. I really hope you like this one, I had fun writing it. 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 Date

Anthea, dressed in a pale pink dress, hair straightened so only the ends flicked and waved, answered the door to her flat. Mycroft was dressed the same as always, in one of his bespoke suits, but Anthea did take notice to the fact he was wearing those cufflinks she bought him for is birthday the first year she worked for him. It was enough for her face to pull into a bit of a grin. And enough to distract her from the somewhat distant look he'd had on his face before he took notice of her presence at the door.

"Hello, you." She raised her eyebrows as she stepped out her door, closing it lightly behind her.

"Good evening, Anthea." Mycroft spoke gently as he gave a small nod. He pursed his lips as he scanned over Anthea. "You don't wear lighter shades often." He noted out loud. Anthea tilted her head to the side as Mycroft's brow knotted. "It does wonders for your complexion." This seemed to be one of those rare times Mycroft didn't know what to say. That could be due to the whole 'you look older' fiasco. A single laugh escaped Anthea lips, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Thank you?" She shrugged, humour dancing in her words. Mycroft scratched at the side of his eyebrow with his ring finger as he inhaled. It was… odd to see.

"What I meant to say is that you look nice this evening."

"I know you did. I'm just teasing." Anthea assured the awkward genius as she stroked his arm. The man seemed to go stiff under her touch – something that had not happened in a very long time. Anthea wasn't sure whether this should off put her or make her concerned, either way it certainly put her on alert. "Is something wrong?" Anthea searched his steel eyes. "Because as both your assistant and your friend, you know I should hear about it." Mycroft gained a fake smile as he waved her off with a flick of his hands and a small shrug.

"No, everything is absolutely fine, my dear." As if she didn't know what his fake pleasant tone sounded like. It was what he used every time they stepped foot in Buckingham Palace. "I only worry because we have reservations and we're bordering on being late." Anthea's eyes narrowed as she wet her bottom lip. It was believable for someone like Mycroft, but at the same time it didn't taste right. No point arguing unless she knew more, though. So Anthea let it slide.

"Okay." She spoke in a high tone, a few small and fast nods. "Where are we going tonight? It wasn't in your calendar." She added as the pair made it into her building's elevator. Mycroft pressed the down button, folding his hands together in front of him.

"Nowhere you know, my dear." He sounded far more natural in his almost flat tone, less stressed if you will, as he stared at the elevator doors. "A restaurant I hope you'll enjoy."

Anthea was immediately put off by the restaurant. It confirmed to her that something was most definitely up, and she did not like that. White tablecloths, waiters in tuxedos, the most ridiculously expensive wine list. Mycroft took her to nice places, but not this nice. Not so nice that it might cost one of her ex-boyfriends an arm and a leg to go there.

"This menu is expensive." Anthea noted through gritted teeth. "Where do they get their produce from?" What did they do, import specialised organic food to feed the livestock they themselves were raising? The prices, they just didn't make her feel comfortable. At least most of the time she was allowed to argue and push and shove her way into paying the occasional bill. She didn't really feel that comfortable letting anyone pay for something like this, let alone paying it herself. It didn't matter how comfortably she lived. It scared the inner poor university student renting her own flat that she once was. From above her menu Anthea saw Mycroft purse his lips.

"Don't worry about the price, my dear." It was certainly his dismissal voice, that 'listen to me' tone, but there was still that hint of… uncertainty. "Order whatever you like." Anthea swallowed some air.

"Mycroft…"

"It doesn't matter, really." He finally looked up from his own menu and met her eyes. "I'll know if you order based on price and I won't stand for it." Anthea tilted her head, and opened her mouth, about to argue. "No, you can't split the bill, no you can't pay for the wine, and no you can't try to pay me back by buying me one of your gifts." A pause as they both cracked a bit of a smile. "Pick something. Please." Anthea looked across the room and sighed before she turned back to her menu.

"Fine." She raised her eyebrows. "I'll play nice." She would pick something she liked, because she wouldn't be able to get away with ordering lightly. This only made the whole situation stink more. Something was up. With the way Mycroft was acting… This had to be something he wasn't comfortable with. Two options flickered in her head, but for now she chose to ignore it.

As the pair of government workers waited for their main course to come, the air was filled with the same awkwardness that had tainted the evening. Anthea watched as Mycroft played with the rim of his wineglass. He always busied his hands, with glasses and umbrellas, but particularly when he was uncomfortable. The faint frown on his face as he looked at the glass confirmed this. Anthea didn't act on her observations, she was continued to watch and wait.

Mycroft's frown grew. The man placed his hands together on his lap – not on the table, Mummy would have a fit – and cleared his throat. He looked up at Anthea with an open expression that looked horribly unnatural on his face. It made Anthea lean further away in her chair.

"So, Anthea…" He stopped to prepare himself for whatever he was going to say. "How is Miss Thompson finding her new house?" Anthea quirked an eyebrow. Asking about Jamie? He'd never ask about Jamie unless it was to work something out about Anthea. This was very strange indeed. This only confirmed that he was trying too hard to do nice things. Either he'd decided that the understanding was going nowhere and was trying to let her down gently, or this was a date… and that didn't seem like something he'd do. Anthea kept her face neutral of all suspicion.

"She loves it." Anthea answered carefully but honestly. "A flat is too limiting. She has too much stuff. James is discovering that." A polite sniff posing as a laugh escaped from Mycroft.

"I believe you said she likes to leave shoes all around?" Asking a follow up question?

"You saw them at my flat." Anthea laughed it off.

"I can only imagine that would baffle James to no end." Small talk? Actual light hearted small talk about people they know? No, this was not boding well.

"Yeah, it does." She nodded.

Silence fell. Almost in unison Anthea and Mycroft reached for their glass of red wine and took a sip.

"And how is..." A pause as Mycroft scowled. "Robbie?"

That's it. That's the last straw. This isn't right.

Anthea shot up straight in her seat, placing her hands on the very edges of the table.

"Okay, Mycroft." She breathed. "Asking about Jamie is one thing, but Robbie?" Steel met her dark eyes. "What is going on here?" She levelled. "What is up with all of this?" Mycroft's face fell into an expression much more natural on his face. He pouted, and quirked an eyebrow.

"My dear, isn't it obvious?" He asked, almost talking down to her. Almost. Not quite. That was still a warning sign as far as Anthea was concerned.

"Well," Anthea laughed. "I have two theories and they both seem very unlikely to me. So please," The PA scooted forward in her seat. "Spell it out for me." There was a moment of silence that past as Mycroft's blue eyes searched Anthea's face, his own expression falling. He looked down to his wine glass once more as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"This." He stopped before he began and cleared his throat. "We're." He stopped again. Anthea crossed her legs and waited. Mycroft closed his eyes, head moving faintly to the side, steeling himself. After what Anthea presumed was a count of ten, he opened his eyes but kept them on the table. "I've decided to start… courting you, Miss Clarke." Anthea felt the hairs on her neck rise and the colour from her face drain. Had the least likely scenario won out? This… was quite impossible. The longer she tried to think about it the further her heart went up her throat.

"Is that a date?" Anthea asked, her voice dropping about an octave in shock. It felt like the temperature in the room had increased astronomically. "Mycroft, are you? Do you? Are we dating?" Mycroft looked off to the side, his eyes following a waiter across the room, frown on his face.

"I suppose. If you want to be common about it." He mumbled. Anthea felt her heart skip a beat. She placed her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. She needed to function correctly right now.

"I presumed this would be acceptable."

"No, it's not acceptable!" Anthea almost yelled as she lowered her hands, gaining glares from other patrons of the restaurant. When she spoke next it was a fierce hiss of a whisper. "Mycroft, you can't do that. You can't just decide we're dating without asking me."

"I thought it was fairly clear." Anthea felt a small pang in her chest for the honest confusion present on Mycroft's face.

"Just because you know things, doesn't mean I do." She steadied herself, taking a break. "You know how Sherlock talks to John when John's not even there? You make decisions and presume I know you've made them. I know you very well, Mycroft, but I don't think the way you do." Anthea scratched her neck as she took a brief second to think. "This isn't just some decision you made in reaction to Sherlock, is it?" She asked, worried at the answer. "You're not going to wake up tomorrow and decide it was a horrible mistake? Because I can't do another NDA."

"Heavens, no!" It was Mycroft's turn to whispered harshly, a frown on his face. "Sherlock did say a few comments in passing that might have led to this decision." He nodded. "But I assure you, this has nothing to do with spiting my brother."

"Oh, Mycroft."

A pause as Anthea once again placed her head in her hands.

"Did you…" She looked up to see Mycroft watching her carefully. "Not want to do this?" He dug into his breast pocket and pulled out his phone. "I can organise for Walter to pick you up." She felt her heart ache once more.

"No, don't call Walter." She sighed. Anthea sat up and ran her hands through her hair. "Now that I know, let's just try this from the top, okay?" She took a gulp of her wine as Mycroft, still watching her, pocketed his phone once more. "And you're trying too hard, Myc. Just be yourself, and now I know what's happening I'll help it along."

This was without a doubt the most absurd first date she'd ever been on. But really, with Mycroft Holmes, did Anthea really expect anything normal to happen? She'd have to give it to him, at least he'd been trying. That said a lot.

The rest of the very weird evening passed in a far more successful manner, thanks mostly to Anthea's leadership and insisting that they act normal. It didn't completely erase Mycroft's awkwardness but at least Anthea knew why he was acting off and could find it endearing. The poor Ice Man had no idea when it came to the organ most people were certain he was missing.

The car pulled up to Anthea's building, and both of them got out. Mycroft walked Anthea up to her building. His gloved hand went to open the door for her when she stopped him by holding her hand in the air, smirking.

"No." Anthea sung. "Proper first dates don't go past the outside door, not even the ones with absolutely no intentions of trying to get into the flat." Mycroft's expression was flat as Anthea quirked an eyebrow. There was light in his eyes though as he lowered his hand from the door.

"Very well." He raised his eyebrows, folding his hands together in front of him. "You're the expert. What happens now?" Anthea crinkled her nose playfully.

"Well," She hummed. "What happens if it's good is I tell the guy I'll call him, and in a few days I will call him."

"A few days?" Anthea's smile grew and she nodded. "Am I supposed to do anything to increase the chances of this call?" She shrugged.

"No. Send me flowers tomorrow and I'll think you're needy. With a job like mine I can't have a needy guy in my life." This earned her a half smile that she was very proud of. "So…" Anthea bit her lip playfully. "I'll call you." Anthea could see Mycroft's brain ticking in the two seconds it took for him to look her over.

"I do believe there is one first date tradition that may help my chances." He hummed, a naughty gleam in those steel eyes.

"Oh?" Anthea asked, all cheery and bubbly. Mycroft placed a hand on Anthea's arm, leaned in, and gently kissed her on the cheek. Anthea felt the hairs on her neck raise once again that evening as Mycroft pulled back, folding his hands together once more.

"Goodnight, my dear." He hummed in his melodic tone. Anthea found herself biting the inside of her cheeks to stop from grinning like an idiot. She stepped backwards, placing her hand on the handle of the door.

"I'll call you." The brunette repeated. She turned on her heels and entered her building.

Anthea asked a very crucial question on Monday morning.

"Do you have any regrets over the weekend, sir?" She'd asked while they'd been going over their schedule for the week.

"Regrets?" He'd questions.

"Nothing you want to take back? No decisions you made that might have been the wrong one?" She was giving him an out. A chance to decide this wasn't what he wanted. A much kinder way of running for the hills than the old NDA on the desk. He'd just cocked his head to the side and said:

"Why would I?"

She'd just nodded in response and got back to the schedule.

It wasn't until Friday evening that the subject had come up again. Anthea was in the middle of shutting off her computer and packing her laptop when Mycroft emerged from his office. He didn't come to stand in front of Anthea's desk, that might appear to domineering, he stood just outside of the door he'd come through and watched her as she packed. Anthea had known he was there despite any lack of greetings. By the creak of the door and by the aura he brought with him into any room. She'd been amused by his dramatics, she was in the mood for it.

"Can I help you, sir?" She asked, twirling around in her chair to face him. There he stood, just the same as always. Neutral face, fiercely intelligent eyes taking in everything and sorting the information away, running his tongue over his teeth through a closed mouth as he thought. Careful and composed, just as the Ice Man always. He clicked his tongue and looked down at his shoes.

"It's almost been a week, Miss James." He hummed, still in his work tone. Anthea's lips almost pulled into a smile. She'd normally not wait this long, but she'd wanted to get him back a little. She'd wanted him to maybe feel something that most people feel. She'd also been planning to call tonight.

"I know, sir." She answered a tad sarcastically. That's all she gave him. Once he lost interest with his shoes he looked up with his bored expression.

"That's all." He dismissed her. Anthea went back to packing up her belongings as Mycroft waltzed back into his inner sanctum.

The first thing Anthea did when she got home from work was sit down on her bed and pull out her phone. Well, she took her shoes off, undid her hair, and then got out her phone. The girl didn't even need to go into her contacts to get the number, she just pressed redial. She'd called Mycroft today when someone she had to pick up wasn't co-operating and getting in the car.

"Yes, my dear. What is it?" Mycroft sounded faintly exasperated on the phone. He'd most likely thought she was calling due to an emergency or maybe she'd left something at the office. She smiled to herself as she tucked a curl behind her ear, preparing for her little game.

"Mycroft Holmes?" She asked. "It's Alice Clarke." At first there was no answer as, no doubt, Mycroft tried to deduce what Anthea was up to.

"Alice? From last weekend?" Ah, he'd caught on, and the genius was clearly deciding to play along with his slightly whimsical and very naughty assistant.

"Sorry I haven't called you sooner. I've been really busy, my boss is this Ice man who works his employees too hard." She heard the single laugh.

"Oh, that's quite alright. I'm sure he's the absolute worst." Anthea leaned back on her bed as she chuckled lightly.

"You have no idea." She added an exhausted sigh for extra flavour. "So listen, I had fun on Saturday and was wondering if you wanted to do it again sometime?"

"Certainly." His voice sounded lighter than, and not like part of the act either. "Allow me a moment to email my assistant to see when I have some time available." Anthea rolled her eyes as she got to her feet and began walking to the kitchen bench where she'd left her laptop.

"No rush." She answered. She logged into her laptop.

"I shouldn't think it will take long. She's a tad dim-witted, but she keeps a tight schedule." Anthea laughed, partly in shock at the burn, but fully in enjoyment.

"That's a shame. Good help must be hard to come by." She was still laughing as she spoke and the email notification popped up.

Anthea,

When do I have a rather large opening for a social visit? I should like to make it rather soon. It's quite important.

M.H.

"You should meet this agent fellow who works for me. Dumb as a post."

Mr. Holmes,

Next Friday we have a meeting from 8am to 11am, but after that you are entirely free.

A.

"Is he blonde?" Anthea asked flatly. "He sounds like a blonde."

"Oh, will you look at that. It appears that I have the perfect opening for a lunch date on Friday afternoon. Would that be suitable?" Anthea hummed in thought as she closed her laptop.

"I'd have to make sure with my boss that I'm free, but yeah, I think next Friday would be great."

"Excellent. I'll have my assistant fill you in on the details."

"I'll see you then." Anthea smiled warmly to her phone.

"I'll see you then, Alice, dear." Anthea had to stop and bite her bottom lip, just to enjoy that one specific sentence falling out of Mycroft Holmes' mouth. No sarcasm, no coldness, and complete truthful. What were the chances?

"Bye, Mycroft."

"Goodnight, Alice."

Click.

Author's Note: So? What did we think? Did we approve? Ah man, I really can't wait to hear what you all think. I'm all hopped up on Sherlock related feels thanks to the special, and it's only made me more excited to hear what you think of this chapter. Time to thank our lovely guest reviewers. Thanks to; Guests x4, Corrine, enola, EggsBenedict, Leelah, MinaCarlyle, Wink, and lll. Thanks so much for being awesome to everyone who reads this and please let me know your opinions on this chapter!