Author's Note: So glad last chapter was received positively! I really like Mary and wanted to do her complex character justice. Now! We are awfully close to the one year mark of this fic, so I asked people out of three choices what they wanted for this chapter. Romantic, suspenseful, or action. Romantic won by quite the lead. If you've followed Anthea's blog for a very long time you might know this one vaguely. I'm worried though. I really hope you like this one but I'm not sure… Anyway, 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 Time She Almost Said It

"Anthea, dear."

Anthea looked up from her computer to find Mycroft standing just outside the door that leads to his inner sanctum. He was standing, tall, and powerful as always, but a gentle sort of smile on his face. Anthea swivelled her chair towards him and returned his polite smile to demonstrate that she was listening.

"If at all possible I would like you keep Friday evening free for us from..." He stopped and pursed his lips as he thought. "Five P.M., just to be safe." Steel eyes so light, it felt out of place at work. Anthea sniffed, almost scoffing, as she noted this down on a post-it she had on her desk.

"I can definitely do that, sir." She laughed. Oh, having to go home at five, what an issue. Mycroft shook his head so faintly at his assistant that Anthea almost missed it as she looked back up at him. As she smiled, he folded his arms across his chest and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. Anthea widened her eyes and shrugged. She didn't know what he wanted.

"Don't you wish to know why I want Friday evening free?" He asked, leaning forward into her space a little. Playfully, Anthea bit her bottom lip and shook her head.

"I tend to not ask, sir. You'll tell me if it's important." Mycroft's face fell flat, eyes turning ever so slightly cold. Anthea crinkled her nose cheekily, enjoying the reaction. "Alright, fine, sir. Why do you want Friday evening free?" She battered her eyelashes a few time, just to continue the playful mood she was in. It earned her a quirk of the eyebrow before Mycroft dismissed it and continued with his point as he stood back up straight.

"Well, my dear." He began with a sigh. "As you clearly brought to my attention, my first attempt at a… date fell short."

"Because you didn't tell me it was a date." Anthea cut him off with a nod. He faintly scowled to himself.

"Yes, because of that. I would like to reattempt." A pause as Anthea frowned.

"A reattempt?" She double checked. Mycroft saw no problem with this. Anthea looked at her shoes and exhaled sharply before looking back up. "You know you don't get to redo the first date? You're a genius, you know."

"Oh come now," Mycroft rolled his steely eyes. "Of course I know that." He cocked his head to the side and one side of his mouth pulled into a half smile as he looked down at Anthea. "I simply want to prove, much like your half an hour picnic, that I can orchestrate an event that we both may enjoy." Anthea, full of amusement and warmth, felt her mouth pull into a large grin as she looked over the awkward genius of a man.

"Alright, I accept you re-do." Anthea laughed. "Do I need to bring clothes to change into?" She asked. Mycroft licked his lips as he took a deep breath.

"What you wear to work should be positively acceptable, dear." He hummed. "But if you wish to change your clothes first, that's up to you." She probably would. She liked the Anthea Mycroft was seeing to be more like Alice than the Anthea who turned up for work. Anthea pouted and nodded at Mycroft.

This could be interesting. It was time to see what Mycroft could come up with when he really put his head to it.

Mycroft never told Anthea what they were doing Friday night. All she got out of the genius used to keeping large secrets was that she was definitely going to enjoy it, or at least the first part, and that no, she didn't have to dress overly fancy if she didn't feel like it. Anthea managed to rule out most fancy restaurants then, if she didn't have to look posh, and she ruled out any of his events – which was okay in her book.

So on Friday around four forty-five, Anthea went to the bathroom at the office. She changed into a simple dark blue dress, with black stockings and nice ankle boots. She fixed up her hair, refreshing some of the waves and curls, and reapplied her makeup and perfume. Of course, when she re-entered the main space of the office, Mycroft was leaning on her desk looking no different. That wasn't completely true, he'd combed his hair and Anthea could smell his cologne anywhere, so she knew he'd put on some more.

Anthea stopped just into the office and playfully twirled slowly, asking for approval in her choice of apparel. Amusement in his eyes as he nodded, it seemed what Anthea chose would do fine at whatever Mycroft chose. Mycroft, umbrella already in hand, strode over to the door out of the office. He pulled it open and with his free hand did a swooping gesture out of the door, asking Anthea to go first. With a nod of her own, Anthea accepted the offer to go first. As she past Mycroft she tried to ask one last time.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" She heard him click his tongue behind her as he closed the door.

"Really now," He hummed. "Can you not be patient for fifteen more minutes?" Anthea hummed as she pursed her lips.

"I can." She raised her eyebrows as she and Mycroft headed down the hallway. "But I don't want to be. I use up my patience with you every day at work."

"Too bad." Mycroft dismissed her, almost singing as he talked down to her. "You'll just have to dig deep within yourself to find more." If they weren't still technically at work, Anthea would have elbowed the genius.

When Walter dropped them off, Anthea was so surprised to see their destination. It was so un-Mycroft, but so her. A tiny little old fashion cinema with an old marque bury in the depths of London. Two screens max at a place like this. The outside was looking worn and tired, but the magic of what going to the cinemas would have been like back before television and all that was still captured in the appearance. Anthea stared up at the building awestruck as she took it in. It looked straight out of a black and white movie or photograph.

"Is this still a cinema?" She breathed, talking to Mycroft by her side on the sidewalk without taking her eyes off the building. "Or is it some pretentious restaurant that has kept the old structure and worked it into the theme?" Mycroft scoffed quietly as he placed his hand on the small of Anthea's back – ushering her to move forward.

"Please, Anthea dear, would I go to such I place?" He had a point. As they walked up to collect his pre-ordered tickets, Anthea noticed what they must be seeing. Inside the box office booth was a poster for a special event – a French film festival. The one tonight was and old film from the fifties called Le Plaisir. Anthea felt a strange but welcomed tightness in her chest as she studied the details of the poster. Now it was starting to sound more like something that Mycroft wouldn't mind doing, but it was so… Anthea and Alice at the same time. The man meant it when he said he wanted to make up for their weird first date. Anyone she would have hugged for this. She would have pulled any other boyfriend into a large squeeze for remember all these details, the French, the interest in films and theatre, for something so unique. Not Mycroft though, and not on purpose. So she carefully slipped her hand into his as he took the tickets. His face completely neutral as steel eyes flickered down to see the invading object, then flickered up to meet Anthea's face. She smiled, he did nothing but steered her towards the candy bar. It wasn't cruel. Cruel for Mycroft would be snatching his hand back or making a fuss. He let it happen.

When they came up to the candy bar, Anthea actually laughed in disbelief and delight. The popcorn was being served in old fashioned red and white striped small boxes, and the popcorn machine itself had to have come from a bygone era. They even had the staff serving the drinks and assorted treats wearing uniforms ripped straight out of an American film.

"How did you even know this existed?" Anthea squeezed lightly on the hand in her own.

"Well," Mycroft hummed, sounding cocky and proud of himself. Of course he was. "I can use my abilities for good."

"You do a lot for good." Anthea rolled her eyes as she dragged Mycroft into the line. "This is more proving that you can use your abilities for frivolous and fun activities." She turned to Mycroft, eyes wide and gasped. She placed her free hand on her neck, clutching at her necklace. "Mycroft Holmes, having fun? Who would have thought?"

"And yet you continue to be as annoying as ever." This time she did nudge him.

Going to the cinema seems like such a stereotypical date, but with someone like a Holmes, nothing is stereotypical. Seeing an old French film in a very old cinema with someone you care about – and also speaks French – was absolutely breath taking. That alone was enough to put this date into Anthea list of favourite dates ever. All it did for Anthea was prove how much Mycroft listened to her. How he remembered so many small details about her, just as she did about him. Mind you, she was paid to know what she knew – he just paid attention when she said a thing or two, or looked at something for a little too long. It made her feel special in a way she didn't know she could.

As it turned out, he was taking her back to his house for a late dinner. Yet again, dinner and a movie, done the Mycroft way. Walter dropped them off after the movie. Mycroft walked Anthea into his front room where they once watched Fight Club together. He brought her in a glass of scotch, which she thanked him from. She noticed the absence of a second glass.

"Where's yours?" She inquired.

"I have tasks to do before I can join you." He answered. Anthea mimed an 'Oh?'. "Yes, I need to put the main in the oven and set up the first miniature course up in the dining room." Anthea nodded and hummed curiously.

"My, my, aren't I lucky?" She sung playfully. "You're learning fast, though I shouldn't be surprised. It's taken you longer than it takes you to learn a language."

"My dear." Mycroft sighed, shaking his head at her and her ever present attitude. "If I could charm my way through schooling and university, I can certainly charm an infatuated woman if I put my mind to it." Anthea crinkled her nose as she brought her glass of scotch up to her face.

"Prove it." She grinned, quirking her eyebrows.

"I intend to." Mycroft accepted the challenge as if in a work related discussion.

Minutes later he came and retrieved her, finally with his own drink in his hand. The genius led the brunette woman into the dining room they'd been in many times before. The candelabra on the table was lit, candles burning brightly, but in the surrounding space on the table were little tea candles. Not over the top, sparingly so, but just so very Mycroft and enough to see the effort put in. He'd set the head of the table, his usual spot, and the place to its left. On the black placemats with matching napkins, was a very lovely looking salad. She could see various lettuce leaves, feta cheese, olives, avocado, and more. It looked so fancy compared to what she'd whip up for herself to take to work for lunch some days.

This time, when Anthea placed her hand on her chest, just above the collar bone, she'd done it on purpose – on sheer instinct as inhaled sharply.

"Oh Mycroft." Her voice was barely audible as she continued to gaze around the table, committing the image to memory.

"You approve, then?" By the tone in his voice, Anthea just knew he had a proud smirk on his face. Anthea slowly began shaking her head to herself. Approve? Approve of someone who hated putting in too much effort doing this for her and her alone? Approve of something so thought out?

"Mycroft Holmes, you are the definition of a quick learner."

It was at this moment where Anthea wondered how her life had turned this way. Even when she'd been at the job for a while, she'd never have predicted this.

After the salad Mycroft cleared the plates up and most likely checked on how the rest of the food was going. He came back in the dining room and sat back down at his usual seat, legs crossed.

"Well, my dear." He began, straightening his cutlery without probably realising that he was doing so. "We still have some time before the next course is ready." After the cutlery was back where it apparently should be, Mycroft folded his hands on top of his knee. "We have time to talk, perhaps play some music, or I could find the deck of cards." Anthea looked down to the table as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I have an idea but I know you'll want to say no." She met his gaze. With a subtle change in facial expression the man urged her to continue. "Play the piano for me?"

A pause.

A lift of the lip into a deep scowl.

"I don't think so…"

"Come on." Anthea scooted forward in her seat. "You're played in front of me before, but not since we've been… under and 'understanding' or anything more." Mycroft pulled another drawl face. "You're doing so well tonight, don't you want to get a perfect score?" That got to him. She could see his fingers tapping on his knee as his brain ticked away.

"Fine." He heaved exhaustedly. "One song." He got out of the dining chair like it was the hardest thing to do.

They walked back into the main living space and over to the piano, Mycroft making room for Anthea to join him on the bench at the piano. Mycroft ran his hand over the piano's key lid in an almost affectionate manner before he lifted it up. He stretched his fingers over the keys, making up chords but not pressing them, to stretch his fingers. He then practiced a few scales, a melodic minor here, an augmented scale there.

"Do you have a request?" He asked as he ran through another scale. Anthea licked her lips as she watched Mycroft's fingers dance over the keys in precise patterns. If she knew as much about music as he did, she might. Her classics were limited, though she knew it was magical to watch him play.

"How about that one you had in your car on the way to Jamie's house warming that I liked?" She asked, almost leaning into him. "La Ca, something." She heard him hum in thought as he moved onto a Dorian scale.

"La Campanella? That's quite advanced." Anthea realised how quietly they were both speaking. "I'll need to warm up, effectively giving you two pieces." Smiling, Anthea shrugged.

"Two it is, then." He didn't even try to argue. He simply finished the scale and took a second to think up a song, then went right into it.

He'd chosen the aria from the Goldberg Variations. Slow, calm and beautiful. Mycroft played it so softly, fingers gently pressing on the keys. Anthea got lost in the music, watching in being constructed in the movement of hands and pressing on keys. When it came to a stop she took a deep breath, only then realising that somewhere along the lines she became too lost in the music to breathe. She turned to examine Mycroft's profile as he paused before the requested piece. He looked so calm and focused. It was now that Anthea realised why he hid this gift. It opened you up and made you not only express yourself but susceptible to emotions. Sherlock could handle others seeing this side of him, Mycroft could not.

Anthea didn't speak in the interlude between pieces. She quietly reflected, and waited peacefully. This was by far the closest she'd felt to Mycroft Holmes, and she could wait for the next piece. Soon enough he began the requested piece. Once again it was a marvel to watch as his hands danced around the keyboard, this time with amazing skill. She watched as he managed to hit certain keys so gently with one hand and almost pound on them with another to vary the tempo. She'd thought the song was magical when she'd heard it in the car, watching Mycroft play it Anthea thought it was positively enchanting.

When he'd finished, Anthea couldn't think of a single word to express what she was feeling or her appreciation to the very closed off man for opening up that way. She simply sat with him at the piano in silence, reflecting. It seemed that was enough gratitude for him.

The main was Beef Wellington – which Mycroft admitted he did not prepare but did indeed cook himself because who has the time to prepare that? And beautiful steamed vegetables. The food and the conversation was utterly delightful. Anthea was certain that after the blissful mood she'd been put into this evening that everything would have seemed delightful.

After that was crème brûlée, which was absolutely prepared by someone else and again heated up at home – and torched on top. Now that was stunning, and Anthea couldn't find a reason to argue otherwise.

Feeling almost dizzy on music, sugar, and scotch, Anthea leaned back in her seat and sighed contently as she looked over Mycroft's face. By his expression she could tell that she must have had an equally dizzy smile on her face.

"Who would have thought?" She whispered as she played with her hair, locks dancing around her finger. "Mycroft Holmes can organise a near perfect date."

"Near perfect?" Mycroft challenged, leaning in closer to Anthea. She shrugged and looked off to the other side of the room for a second.

"There's always room for improvement." He laughed at her, and in her light state it just made her smile. She turned to him and pulled her chair closer to his edge of the table. "Really, though, it's been amazing. A plus worthy."

"I can live with that." Mycroft hummed quietly, also dragging himself closer to the corner until they were up close and face to face. "Honestly, though, I am very pleased you had a wonderful time."

Forgetting who she was in, Anthea leaned in, closing the small distance between her and Mycroft Holmes, and kissed him. She started with a simple peck on his lips, pulling away with her bright smile back in place, but she decided that wasn't enough. She leaned in to kiss him again, this time deepening it. At first, as there often is with new levels of intimacy, he froze, but then allowed himself to follow suit. The kiss continued, and Anthea's hands found their way into Mycroft's hair, just as his found the familiar spot on the small of her back. Anthea felt herself being pulled into him and she allowed it, on the very edge of her own chair.

Then it stopped. Suddenly and without warning, Mycroft stopped and tilted his head down, staring at the floor. His hands still around her, and her hands still on his neck and hair, Anthea felt her heart begin to race and her mind begin to panic. She wouldn't be able to do it if this turned out just like before. It could not be like before.

"Alice…" His voice was so quiet she could barely make out her name on his tongue. Yet his hands did not drop from around her. Trying to steady herself and refrain from the panicking, Anthea very carefully removed her hands. What she needed to do was to remove herself before it all fell to pieces around her.

"I should go." She whispered. As she spoke she couldn't help but push his hair away from his face. He did not pull away. "It's getting late." Mycroft swallowed as his steel eyes looked back up, looking so lost and confused.

"Why?" He asked, having found some more volume. "You have a room here." And Anthea felt the panic dissipate. It wasn't like before, it wasn't. He just took time, he took patience, and Anthea had already seen him grow tonight. The panic was gone but her heart continued to race in relief. She smiled, eyes looking in his, her face still close to his.

"Alright." She nodded. "I'll go to bed here then." She gave the man a chaste kiss on the cheek before she got to her feet. "Good night." She offer. He stood up and stood where he was.

"Good night." He replied, still sounding a little lost. Anthea paused at the dining room door. She felt like she had more to say. She felt compelled to turn around and look at the tall, put together genius who could manage to look like a lost puppy even in his tailored suits and with his intimidating steel eyes. She had do. She turned around to face him again.

"Myc…" She began. His attention was fully on her, and Anthea lost what she was going to say, if she ever had it in the first place. What was she going to say? What was the follow up to that? What was so important that she had to say it now? Anthea thought she knew what she wanted to say… but not now. "Thank you." She offered so sincerely. The genius' face melted into something so kind it might have frightened her on any other occasion.

"It was my pleasure." His tone met her own sincerity. Anthea, feeling a little overwhelmed, looked down at the floor and just tempered for a moment. Finding her calm once more, she allowed herself one last look over to the man before heading off to her room.

Well, if that wasn't just one of the best evenings of her adult life…

Author's Note: My music love is showing… People shouldn't let me near the subject. Anyway, how was that? Was it okay? Ugh, I hope so! It was based on a "fourth date" mentioned on Anthea's blog a long time ago and I had to follow the beats (events). I did some rearranging and reimagining of my own idea, but it turned out well… I think. Guest reviewer thanking time! Thanks to: Corrine, Bunnyrabbit100, Tadaa, Wink, Loyal Elf, enola, Guest, and EggsBenedict. Tsk, tsk, ovejalucifer. Falling behind again? It's okay, she's become a friend, I'm allowed to tease her. But really, I love everyone who reads and reviews this! And welcome to those people I know are slowly reading this thanks to their occasional review!