Author's Note: Thank you for all the wonderful, wonderful feedback last chapter. It's so awesome to have gotten this far with so many of you that I remember from way back when you all started reading. I'm so very happy that chapter 100 went down really well. After hitting such a milestone, I wanted 101 just to be something light and fun. So that's exactly what I did, back to basics. I hope you have fun with 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 Time They Went Shopping

It was three in the afternoon, and it was one of those rare times when Anthea had completed all her work before the sun had even set. She considered the fact that James was on his honeymoon might have something to do with it. With Carol running the agents, and without James coming in every third day, work tended to get done a lot faster. Not that James' faffing about was a problem, Anthea enjoyed it. She also enjoyed going home at three in the afternoon, even if Mycroft was staying in the office until five just to do some extra work. Well, she wasn't going home per se.

Anthea unlocked Mycroft's front door, letting herself into his large empty house, locking the door again behind her as she gained entrance. She walked through the main living room right up to the kitchen counter to place down her handbag and briefcase, walking right past the glaring absence in the room, had it not just caught the corner of her eye. It registered in her mind as she placed down her stuff, suddenly realising that something had been different in the room adjoined to the kitchen. She frowned, her movements slowing down.

She turned around slowly, hoping that the something different wasn't going to be another presence in the room. Anthea released a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding upon a first glance around the room – no intruder. Good. Closer examination seemed to point out that it was fine. The piano was fine, the lack of items in general was fine. What was the problem? Then she looked over to the couch. She continued to frown but a bemused smile crossed her painted lips. So actually, there were less items in this room than usual. The coffee table. Mycroft's wooden coffee table that was usually in place in front of the couch was gone. The one his family would all place their cup of tea on, the one he placed his laptop on if he was sick and working from home, the one Anthea usually had a book on. That table, being one of the only surfaces other than the kitchen bench in the rather large room, fulfilled a great need in this main living space. Anthea had only just noticed it was gone and she was feeling its absence. The question was, why had Mycroft gotten rid of it?

She rolled her eyes as she expelled a breath, noting to ask Mycroft about it when he got home. For now she'd have a drink of water, sit down on the couch, and enjoy her book. She'd have to put her water on the ground since there was now no place to put your cups unless you sat at the bench. Technically she could place it on the piano, and leave a rim on the precious surface, but that would be cruel. Humorous, lesson teaching, but cruel.

Anthea looked up from her book midsentence as she heard the front door open and shut. As Mycroft entered the space he offered Anthea a fake half smile.

"Hello." Anthea hummed, her nose peaking over the edge of her book, as she sat on the couch. Mycroft took off his jacket and placed it carefully on the back of one of stools.

"Hello, dear." He offered in return as he wandered into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie. Anthea watched as he nonchalantly got out two china cups, and switched the kettle on for tea. So casual. Didn't he notice the lack of somewhere to put those lovely cups of tea he was preparing? "You're staring." Mycroft noted, his back to Anthea as he took out the tea from the cupboard. "What is it?" Anthea closed her book and placed it in her lap.

"What happened to the coffee table?" She asked, her voice light and amused. Mycroft turned around and glanced in the direction of Anthea and the couch. He looked bored as his eyes fell onto the spot where the table once stood.

"Ah, yes." The man hummed. "There was a scuffle."

Anthea blinked.

A what? He brain spat.

"A what?" She laughed as she said it out loud. She could practically sense Mycroft rolling his eyes.

"You heard me perfectly, my dear." He sighed. "I don't care to repeat myself." A scuffle? What does that even mean? What happens in a scuffle? Anthea looked at the negative space that once surrounded the table.

"Did you have a fight in here?" She asked, sounding quite ridiculous with her voice high and loud in confusion.

"No." Mycroft drawled over the soft twinkling noises made as the spoon hit the edge of the cups. "Not a fight, exactly."

"A scuffle?" Anthea repeated flatly. She received a curt nod as Mycroft brought the cups of tea. He handed Anthea one and sat on the other end of the couch. Anthea placed the tea on the ground next to her feet. "What happens in a scuffle?" She received a shrug in response.

A pause.

Let her rephrase so she might get an answer.

"What happens in a scuffle that a table is no longer here?"

"Well clearly it was broken." Mycroft scoffed into the side of the cup. "Do try to use your brain, it's usually quite clever, dear." Anthea could only imagine the look of confusion on her face as she looked Mycroft up and down. He was so calm, as if this wasn't a big deal.

"Was it an intruder?" She asked. "Was it someone you know?" A thought popped into her head. Anthea ran her hand through her hair. "Was it Sherlock? Is he using again?" All she receive was a small gentlemanly shrug. No answer. She rubbed her forehead. "Why didn't you tell me you had a scuffle?" She mocked his choice of words, but she was very serious.

"Because it was dealt with, Ali. No sooner had it begun then it was over." Funny how she took no comfort in that.

"Dealt with by who?" She sighed in exasperation. "You? Walter? Agents? Security?"

"It was over in minutes."

Anthea's face fell into her hands. She realised she wasn't going to get any answers from him. When the Ice Man didn't want to tell you something, you can be sure you'd never get the truth out of him. Then there was the Holmes stubbornness that seemed to run through all members of that family. Pigheaded and stupid, that's what that stubborn streak was. She clicked her tongue, folding her hands across her chest, tapping her foot. This was something she wasn't sure she'd ever get used to.

"Well, whatever happened you need a new coffee table." Anthea huffed, throwing her arms up in defeat. Mycroft once again glanced at the lack of coffee table.

"I suppose so, yes." He hummed, unperturbed by his very perturbed girlfriend.

Anthea waited for him to add anything else.

He didn't.

"You don't seem in a rush to get one." She noted.

"Sweetheart," Mycroft sighed. As if he had a right to be at all exasperated by the conversation. "I'm barely home. I'll replace it when I have the time."

"I'm here enough to miss it already." Anthea argued. "And if I'm here enough, then you're definitely here enough." Mycroft seemed to consider Anthea's words as he pursed his lips in thought. "And you don't want more questions from people like Sherlock or your mother. They'll be more demanding than I was." Mycroft clicked his tongue, looking tired at the thought alone.

"Fine." He groaned. "I'll replace it."

"Good." Anthea perked up, now willing to pick up the cup of tea and enjoy the taste. "We'll go get one tomorrow." Mycroft looked her up and down.

"We?" He questioned. Anthea gave Mycroft a cheeky smile, crinkling her nose.

"Yes, we." She laughed. "I need to make sure you actually do it."

"Is this assistant Anthea, or the woman I'm dating Anthea?" Anthea shrugged.

"This is an overlapping area."

Anthea and Mycroft had stood in the extremely overpriced furniture store for half an hour bickering over coffee tables. If it hadn't been for the price range it would have reminded Anthea greatly of the time when she was little and her parents had gone to five different stores arguing over couches. She remembered them going back to the first store and picking one of their first choices. She'd thought it was insane. She'd since learnt that apparently this is something adults do. If she and Mycroft argued over furniture, God forbid what people who didn't work together as well as they did acted like. The unusual thing was, Anthea usually found Mycroft to have quite fantastic taste. He was elegant, sophisticated, but simple. Today, however, that was not the case.

"What is remotely wrong with this one?" Mycroft bemoaned as the pair stood in front of a simple dark wood table. No style, no substance. It was a practical table, and as stylish as a lump of stained wood.

"Nothing is wrong with it." Anthea folded her arms across her chest. "But nothing is right with it either. Your other one was so much nicer than this." Mycroft hummed in agreement as he dug his umbrella into the store's old carpeting.

"Yes, well, you see I bought the other table because I liked it." He breathed mockingly. "Today I am simply trying to get this task over and done with as fast as humanly possible." That was a long winded sentence for someone trying to be fast. Anthea gave Mycroft a flat look. He could be suck a teenager sometime.

Anthea chewed on her cheek as she looked around her immediate surroundings. To be honest she was a little out of her depth in such a high end furniture store. She'd seen tables she liked, but certainly not at prices she liked. Plus, what she'd pick for her flat wouldn't suit in Mycroft's place. She was eclectic in her decorations, he was… sparse. She gestured to the table across the walkway from the plain one.

"What about that?" She asked, unsure. Mycroft scoffed.

"It belongs at the Diogenes club." Anthea turned to look closely at the table. It was stained lighter than the rest of Mycroft's wooden furniture, but it was still dark enough to fit in. It had ornate designs and, and this is what she thought might have just sent it over the top, a marble desktop. Anthea nodded. It did belong at the club. Right down to the vase sitting on top the table. It was black with little golden flowers painted on it. An empty vase. How very Diogenes. How very Mycroft.

"But you like the club." She tried half-heartedly.

"Not to decorate my home." He scoffed. Anthea quirked an eyebrow, looking carefully over Mycroft.

"Is that man who has a suit of armour in his gym criticising how another person decorates?" She smirked. He sneered at her, and she laughed. "You've got to admit, that vase would suit your house." She nodded to the empty black vase sitting atop the ornate table. Mycroft pursed his lips, considering it. He nodded.

"It's not shocking." He agreed.

A pause.

"You should get it."

Another pause.

Mycroft turned to eye Anthea. She rolled her eyes.

"It and a coffee table. You're not leaving yet." God, it really was like dealing with a teenager. A teenager who complained and was argumentative purely for the sake of it. Mycroft groaned under his breath.

Leaving Anthea where she was, Mycroft took a light stroll down the aisle of furniture. Anthea watched as the genius came to a stop at one of the living room displays. With the very tip of his umbrella, Mycroft tapped on what Anthea assumed was a coffee table.

"This is quite nice." Mycroft hummed lightly. Anthea walked over to view it. The table was nice. Dark to suit the rest, of course, and it was indeed ornate, but a lot simpler than the Diogenes disaster. The legs were shaped delicately, and the tabletop was cut in a way so it was not just a rectangle, but there was a simplicity to it. In its simple handle on the drawer and no embellishments. Anthea leaned in, resting the side of her head on Mycroft's arm, and tried to picture it in Mycroft's house3. With that black vase on top of it. Or better yet, a laptop, a book, and two cups of tea on top of it. Anthea rubbed Mycroft's arm as she smiled to herself.

"There's your wonderful taste." She beamed. Mycroft let a single laugh escape his lips.

"You know what?" Anthea tapped Mycroft lightly on the arm as they made their way to the car. She looked up to his steely eyes. He seemed to mentally be preparing himself for whatever it was she was going to say – like he already knew it was going to delay him getting home. "While we're out we should get you a new toaster."

"There's that we again." He sighed. The man stopped walking through the parking lot and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dare I ask what is wrong with my toaster, my dear?" He breathed. He was lucky Anthea was highly amused by his moodiness, as she stopped and smirked at his dramatic behaviour.

"I don't like it." She shrugged. "It only cooks two pieces of bread at a time." Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her. He was questioning her logic. "That means one of us always has to wait or ends up with cold toast." Mycroft clicked his tongue and cocked his head to the side.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear." He apologised sarcastically. "Here I was so consumed with our usual issues, such as stopping the world imploding on itself that I forgot to address the rather large issue of cold toast." It was harsh, but there was no venom. It was how a Holmes brother talked. Anthea rolled her dark eyes, shaking her head.

"Yes, Mycroft, I know it's not the end of the world." She sighed. "But I don't like cold toast, and as your girlfriend, you should care that I don't like cold toast."

"I don't care."

"I know you don't" Anthea smirked. "But you should."

Silence fell as steely blue oceans searched her eyes. Anthea bit her lip as she waited. Then it happened. Something shone in the back of Mycroft's eyes. They narrowed and he smirked, and Anthea knew she should start backing away from the dangerous animal. She held her ground.

"Very well, sweetheart." Mycroft hummed. "If I agree to this, and get a new toaster, then I suppose this rule also applies to you?" Anthea didn't like the confidence oozing off of Mycroft. She swallowed her breath and nodded. "Well," The man chuckled. "I don't like instant coffee. Since you have put it out in the open for all the world to see that you love me, you should care that I would very much like it if you got a coffee machine." Anthea laughed.

"Mycroft, that's just wasteful. Instant coffee is so much quicker." She watched as Mycroft leaned casually on his umbrella.

"No, my dear, what is wasteful is buying an entirely new machine when your current one is still in working condition." Anthea's eyes narrowed.

"You're the only one who's going to use it." She tried. The man shrugged.

"I'm just your boyfriend and I'm expected to buy a new toaster. You love me. What does it say about you if you don't get a nice coffee machine?" Anthea was against a wall. She knew it. She knew that she had now given Mycroft the ultimate weapon against her. She took three deep breaths.

"A toaster at yours in exchange for a coffee machine at mine?" Anthea asked.

"Deal?

A pause.

"Deal." The pair shook hands as Mycroft chuckled.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Miss James." Mycroft smirked. Anthea shook her head.

"You're so lucky that you're cute when you're smug."

Author's Note: There! Like I said, just small and fun. What did you think? Okay? It's been on the list of firsts to do for a long time, and it's also been suggested to me a handful of times. I like to wait until it feels like right timing and this felt right. Can't wait for your opinions. Thanks to my guest reviewers; Anna, Guests x2, EggsBenedict, Wink, Yulia, MinaCarlyle, Enola, Maia, Louise Pond, Tadaa, Nana, ovejalucifer, and Wheezzy8. So very nice to see a lot of familiar reviewers, guests and people with accounts, come out for the 100th. Thanks to everyone who reads!