Author's Note: Hello, hello! Last chapter was very well received so thanks very much for all your lovely reviews. As for this chapter, the most commonly requested chapter was Mycroft and Anthea looking after some kind of animal. So here it is. I'm quite happy with how it worked it out and I hope you enjoy 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 She Found A Puppy

It's a wonder Anthea even heard it on the busy streets of London no matter what time it was. The soft slightly erratic whining that had to belong to a living thing rather than the more consistent whine of machinery. The unusual noise stopped Anthea in her tracks as she tried to listen to it. Frowning to herself, she looked around. No one else appeared to hear it, or at the very least they didn't seem to care. Being who she was in the professional word Anthea shouldn't care either but she was absolutely curious. Then there was the fact that the noise sounded as if it were coming down the alleyway directly in front of Anthea. Her own dislike of alley's since a particular incident left her with physical and emotional scars, the idea of something discarded in an alley was something that pulled at what was left of Anthea James' heart.

Anthea held her phone tight in her hands, put on her best brave face, and ventured towards the alley to investigate the noise. The whining got clearer and louder as Anthea walked down the alley, drowned out by the tapping of her heels on the concrete bouncing off the brick walls. She could tell it was a small animal now. Some sort of baby or a very small animal. It tugged on her heartstring in a way she really should be strong against. The alley was a dead end. Against the wall hiding behind the large rubbish bins used by the neighbouring buildings was a tiny little tail sticking out. A tiny little black tail with a brown tip. She wanted to reach out and scoop up what tiny little animal that tail belonged to but a voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Mycroft's warned her. When the voice in her head sounded like Mycroft she tended to listen to it. Anthea crouched down and placed her bag on the cement. She opened it and took out her pair of gloves, slipping them on her hands.

"Hello." Anthea gingerly called out in a sweet, higher pitched voice. The tail disappeared behind the bins. "Hey there, don't run away." She was careful not to move quickly as she leaned in by a few centimetres. A little brown and black head with tiny ears flopping forward popped out from behind the bins. Sad black eyes looked up at Anthea fearfully. The tiny little puppy melted away any ice that had been built up around Anthea's heart she cooed silently and leaned forward. The skittish puppy leaned back against the brick.

"No, it's okay." Anthea stopped moving. "I'm not scary. I'm a stray just like you." She held her hand out limply, passive and not intimidating for the scared little animal. It watched her hand wearily, looking very familiar how it seemed to view this alien object as out to hurt. He took a tiny step forward and sniffed the black clad hand. She could see now that it had no collar. "Did no one want you? I've been there." She raised her hand to test its skittishness. When it didn't run away she scratched it behind the ear. The thing whined again and leaned into Anthea's hand.

"I wish I could take you. You've very cute." She couldn't help but coo at it. "But my boyfriend, he's not a stray and he's very protective of his pack. Won't let just anyone in." The puppy licked her glove. Anthea sighed heavily at the gentle little action. "But he donates to charity. I'm sure he'll be charitable enough to let you have some food and a warm place to sleep for a night. He's very thankful to those who do that for his brother." The little thing was looking up at her now. Anthea tapped lightly on her knee. The thing looked like it was about to run away again. Then, carefully, one tiny paw at a time, it came up to her lap in search of the hand to pat its ear again. "And if he won't, his brother was once a dog person." The little thing licked her gloved hand once more. That was it. Anthea couldn't take it anymore. She picked up the animal, it yelped in fright as she did so. She stood up, cradling it in her arms, and walked out of the alley.

"Let's get you somewhere safe."

The puppy clamoured on to the top of Anthea's foot as the noise of the front door being unlocked and opened was heard. Anthea put her book down and leant down to pick the little guy up. She placed the brown and back ball of fur on her lap, getting fur on one of her work skirts. She scratched behind his ear to comfort him.

Mycroft was on alert as soon as he entered the living room. Fiercely intelligent eyes scanned the immediate area before landing on the little ball of fluff sitting quietly on Anthea's lap. Mycroft swung his umbrella up, using the tip to point to the dog.

"What is that doing here?" He asked, sounding like he was talking about a disgusting wild rat rather than a freshly washed little puppy.

"This," Anthea took the puppy in her arms as she stood up and took a few steps towards where Mycroft still stood at the door. "Is a Yorkshire Terrier, I think." She smiled happily down at the little thing. The puppy looked up at Anthea's face like it was looking for some kind of security. It then began sniffing in Mycroft's general direction. The man in question stood at the door wearily.

"You ignore my question. Why is it here?" His lip pulled upwards in a small scowl that Anthea chose to ignore.

"I found him filthy and whining all alone in an alley." She explained. The scowl disappeared from Mycroft's lips. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding the umbrella.

"No doubt someone received him as a gift and didn't appreciate the gesture."

"Look at him," Anthea cooed as she petted the puppy's ear again. "I couldn't leave him out there to die, Mycroft." Mycroft remained silent. He looked into the puppy's eyes. He then pursed his lips, lightly shaking his head as he looked to the left.

"I don't want a pet, Anthea." He breathed reluctantly. "It would be horrible unfair to leave it alone for weeks at a time. I barely have time for Sherlock." Anthea crinkled her nose playfully at the connotations that Mycroft's little brother was a pet to him. She took another step forward.

"No, not to keep! Just for a night. Two at the most." She explained. "I just wanted him to be clean and have a nice warm play to sleep while I try to find someone to look after him." She cocked her head to the side and smiled as kindly and sympathetically as she could. "I've messaged Jamie about James wanting a dog, I've thought Carol might want a puppy for Katie, and I even left a message on Tim's office phone to see if his nephew wants a puppy." Mycroft looked over Anthea. He deduced her and analysed every bit of her face and body language. His steel gaze fell to the puppy. They looked at his tiny nose, his little tail, and particularly his timid eyes. Mycroft's jaw clenched and unclenched as he played with the umbrella handle in his grasp.

Finally he spoke.

"Please tell me you bought him some dog food for the night."

The puppy's nervousness remained at all times but soon it was feeling as comfortable around the strange tall man as it was around the nice lady that had picked it up and brought it to the safe place. Refusing to let the puppy on the carpeting in the longue room forced Anthea to sit in the living room reading instead of watching her program that night. Mycroft had his laptop was doing what he called light reading next to her. If you asked Anthea research papers did not count as light reading.

The puppy had found a bout of energy and had apparently decided it was time to play. He placed his two little brown paw on Anthea's stocking covered legs and wagged his tail rapidly. Anthea smiled down at him causing his tail to go faster. When Anthea turned back to her book he barked at her. Mycroft visibly flinched at the noise, brows furrowing as he continued to read his research papers.

"No, no, sweetie." Anthea leaned forward and gently pushed the puppy off her leg. "We use indoor voices here." The puppy swatted at her hand playfully. "Do you want to play?" She laughed as he tried to chew at her thumb. "Sweetie, I don't think we have anything dog friendly for you to play with." She'd just finished her sentence when she heard a heavy sigh of exasperation from next to her. Mycroft took the laptop off his lap and placed it on the coffee table. He then proceeded to undo the laces of his shoe and take it off, followed by the other one. Anthea watched intrigued as Mycroft skilful removed his socks and combined them into an almost perfect ball shape.

"Here." He held the balled up socks out to her, balancing it on the flat palm of his hand. Anthea quirked and eyebrow as she looked from the socks to Mycroft's straight face. He rolled his eyes and tossed the socks across the room. With a happy yap the dog ran after the socks. He tumbled over his front legs and fell over in excitement as it reached the socks. Then it took hold of the ball almost the same size as he was and dragged it back over to the sophisticated looking couple of the couch. Anthea laughed gleefully the whole time. She took the socks off the puppy and threw it again. Once more the little thing fell over and pounced around.

"Look at you knowing everything as per usual." Anthea giggled, speaking to Mycroft as she gently played tug-of-war with the puppy to get the socks back. Once she did she threw them again. Mycroft threw his head lightly to the side in a humble shrug. He leaned forward, picked up his laptop, and placed it on his lap though he continued to watch Anthea and the puppy play.

"Redbeard loved socks." He explained in a somewhat sombre tone. "The rule of thumb around the house was if you couldn't find your socks go look under Sherlock's bed or in Redbeard's basket." He had that wistful look he got whenever he spoke of young Sherlock. Anthea's face softened as she looked at Mycroft with a swelling heart.

"I forgot, you guys grew up with a dog." She was sure her eyes were sparkling the way his did sometimes. He looked at her like she'd just insulted him. "You're so good at this because once upon a time Mycroft Holmes had a pet."

"Sherlock had a pet." He interjected.

"Yeah, but when you're a kid – your brother's dog, my mum's cat – they always belong to the whole family." Mycroft looked over Anthea's face while he looked disgruntled. He glanced down to the puppy who was currently chewing on his sock.

"Do you hear this?" Mycroft was speaking to the puppy. "Do you hear how she tries to humanise me? If you're not careful she'll do the same to you." The puppy wagged his tail cheerfully.

"I just thought of the best name for the dog."

"We're not keeping it. We're giving it to James."

"I know, but we can give it to him pre-named."

"What is it?"

"Thatch."

"Oh God in Heaven…"

"I'm just going with family tradition."

It was late and they really needed to go to bed. Or to put it in more detail; Anthea really needed to go to bed and Mycroft thought it was wise to go to bed too. The only issue with going to bed for Anthea was what to do with the puppy. Knowing Mycroft he'd absolutely refuse to have it in the bedroom. How long did it take Anthea to reach the bedroom? But the poor thing was so cute and Anthea already wanted to do anything for it. She didn't want to put him outside when she promised him a warm place to sleep. She didn't want to make him sleep in the laundry room, and she didn't even want to leave him alone downstairs by himself.

Mycroft, re-entering the living room after disappearing to his office for fifteen minutes, must have caught how deeply she was thinking as she stared at the tiny little thing as he rolled his eyes at her.

"What is it now, Alice?" Anthea hadn't even realised she was chewing at her thumbnail until she pulled it away from her mouth to answer Mycroft.

"What are we going to do with Thatch tonight?" She asked apprehensively. Mycroft blinked. Anthea rubbed at her arm. "I don't know where he could sleep that makes both him and you comfortable." She explained. Mycroft's face fell into a deadpan expression. He held up his arm for her to notice what was hanging off of it. It was one of his blankets from his mother's house. The ones that smelt like the Holmes family living room no matter how many times they were washed. "On your mum's blanket?" Anthea levelled with Mycroft. "Myc, would your mother appreciate that?" She asked.

"I doubt she'd care given that Redbeard slept on Sherlock's bed." That response was amazing. Just another reminder that Mycroft had a very normal upbringing with a beloved family pet and an annoying little brother. She kept the smile off her face the best she could to save Mycroft his dignity as he walked past her towards the stairs. "Pick up the dog." He hummed. "I'll set the blanket up on the floor of the bedroom."

Mycroft Holmes was the epitome of a loner. He didn't do friends, he hated family gatherings, and he didn't want a pet. Yet constantly he'd surprise Anthea by proving how loyal he was to certain people, how much he cared for his family, and how good he was to a stray animal. So she couldn't keep the puppy. She got to keep Mycroft.

Jamie had barely let Anthea into the house when James came skipping over to her like an excited little boy. He even looked like a gleeful little boy full of awe and wonder as he looked at the puppy.

"Oh, man!" He cooed. "Is this little guy the newest member of the family?" Anthea handed the puppy over to James. Immediately the little thing was trying to climb up James' large chest to lick him on the chin. James laughed and stroked the tiny thing. The black and brown ball was currently the size of one of James' hands. Anthea laughed and looked over at Jamie. She had her arms folded across her chest looking at James the way a mother might look at her excited kid – with love.

"His name is Thatch." Anthea leaned in and gave the little thing another scratch on the ear. James pulled a face.

"Thatch?" He questioned. "Like Thatcher?" Anthea frowned and laughed at James.

"James!" Jamie groaned, rolling her hazel eyes. "Ali did not name our new little boy after a female prime minister." She pulled a face at Anthea, smiling as she turned back to look at the puppy with adoration. When she next spoke it was in a cutesy voice. "Thatch was Blackbeard."

Author's Note: So? For reader's choice of a happy chapter how did it go? Did it live up to your expectations? I was way too proud of myself for thinking of that name, by the way. Really proud of myself because I'm lame. Thanks to our guest reviewers; Conor, Yo boi, Catsdrwholock, LittleSchoolgirl, Eva's Dreaming, B, and Christie. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers because I love my readers so much. I am so excited for next chapter in 5 days!