Author's Note: Hello everyone! Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Holidays. Thanks for all the very nice comments on "The Abominable Fiancé". I'm very happy with how that turned out and so very pleased at how well received it was. It was a pain reading the first two chapters again to write it though. The writing of the early chapters are so barebones. I don't explain anything. This chapter is pretty short, and by short I mean average. After pulling out 8000 words I didn't quite have it in me to pass the 2500 average this time. I'm okay with how it turned out. 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 He Put Her Before Sherlock
For the first time in a very long time Anthea woke up with a smile on her face and a truly content feeling in her heart. The expensive sheets caressed her skin, welcoming her home where she should be. The dim light in the room seemed brighter than normal, happy to see her. Best of all, though Anthea had woken up with Mycroft's arms around her many times lately, Anthea woke up with her head and her hand resting on the chest of the man she loved. And she could say that again without bitterness. She loved Mycroft and she was allowed to. He held her to his chest and she had slept there comfortably.
To be honest Anthea couldn't entirely remember making her way upstairs last night. All she remembered was wearing only her t-shirt as she sat down on her side of the bed and patted it like patting a loved pet she had not seen in a while. She'd looked for her phone in her trouser pockets, her trousers she'd carried up, and went to place it on the bedside table only to feel Mycroft sniffing her hair from behind her. His nose went down her head to the nape of her neck. Anthea giggled and turned to say something to him when right at that moment he'd bitten her neck light enough that it wouldn't leave a mark but strong enough that Anthea yelped in could still, if she focused on her neck, feel where his teeth had touched her soft skin.
Anthea sighed contently to herself as she reflected upon this and opened her eyes. Welcomed by the sight of the stunning bedroom she hadn't seen in such a long time. Her bedside table was exactly how she left it. Even the hand cream she'd been trying still sat half empty next to the lamp. The pillows on her side of the bed were her pillows that she'd insisted on bringing into this room. Not that she was using them at this very instant. Speaking of which… She lifted her head and her eyes fluttered up to look upon the genius' face. He was awake and watching her silently with his vastly intelligent allowed a smile onto his lips as Anthea looked upon him. She smiled back and tenderly rested her head against his chest once more.
"Morning." She greeted in a quiet sigh.
"Indeed." Humour and life filling the velvet voice of Mycroft Holmes. She could feel his eyes still on her as she rested on him. She looked at nothing in particular. She just enjoyed having this wonderful room in her vision once more. The room was an ordinary room, but coming home after so long, it felt like what she'd imagine it was like for Jamie, or James, or Mycroft to go back to their bedrooms in their parents' houses. It was a place of refuge and comfort. The world did not exist outside this room like it might in the kitchen or the study.
"Sleep well?" Anthea asked sleepily. She shut her eyes once more and focused on Mycroft's breathing.
"Phenomenally." He answered. This was good, this was very good. He never slept well. Even in recent times when he'd ask for her company and despite being broken up Anthea would oblige he hadn't slept fantastically. Anthea would take this as a good sign if she was not trained to dismiss omens and such. "And yourself?" Anthea hummed and stretched out her toes. How did she sleep? Like a rock. She'd fallen asleep and not woken up again, the familiar smells and touch allowing a comfort not permitted in a foreign bed.
"I didn't check my phone." Which indeed meant like a rock. The answer she received was a satisfied hum. "Why are you staring at me?" Anthea asked.
"I'm not staring at you." Mycroft laughed as he responded. Anthea scrunched up her nose and nodded that yes, he was indeed staring at her.
"I can feel your eyes on me."
"That's absurd." Mycroft scoffed. Anthea sat up and looked incredulously at the genius. His face looked particularly gentle today like some of the great weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could relax for just a moment. It was nice to see. Even at his brightest he always looked like there was something on his mind that he knew he should be doing. Anthea was only distracted by this for a fleeting second before continuing.
"You always say you can feel me looking or hear me thinking." Mycroft pressed his lips together to stop from smirking as his eyes glittered with mischief.
"That is entirely different." He lazily shrugged. Anthea scoffed a laugh.
"How?" She asked. It was a relevant question to her, to him it was not.
"Because I said so." Humour and attitude – the closest thing to a light hearted Mycroft that existed. Anthea rolled her eyes, forgetting about it. No point arguing with a stubborn mule. She looked over to her bedside table and light up the screen of her phone. It was 9.30am. Not a horrible time to wake up. Her mind gave her a quick flash of the things she had to do today. She had people to email, plans to make, probably a personal visit or two. Not to mention she now had to find time to pack up her items at Jamie's again. Anthea put her feet on the ground and sat up on the bed. She began scanning the floor with her eyes looking for her trousers. "Would you like some breakfast?" Mycroft asked.
"I don't eat breakfast." Anthea muttered, dismissing the idea, not even paying attention to the attentiveness being paid her way.
"Coffee then?" Anthea pouted her lips. She stopped looking for her trousers, with a frown, and turned back to Mycroft.
"In bed?" She asked. He nodded once. How odd. Never had they done that here. They'd done it in her flat before Anthea moved here… the first time, but food nor drink other than water had ever really graced this room. He was offering her breakfast and coffee? Anthea gave Mycroft's face a quick once over – trying to look for signs of anything being wrong. She came back empty.
"Coffee sounds great." She answered, lips still pouting, with her own little nod.
"Excellent." Mycroft spoke mostly to himself as he got out of bed from his side, found his own trousers, and headed for the door.
"Oh!" Anthea held her hand out in his direction. The genius glanced over his shoulder at her. "If you see my handbag while you're down there can you bring it up?" Mycroft laughed in his throat and continued out the door.
"Right away, Miss James!" He called back to Anthea, mimicking what she'd do in the office, making her roll her eyes and smile like an idiot. Had mornings always been like this? No, she was certain this was a rarity.
The genius returned with a mug in each hand and Anthea's handbag hanging off his arm. He pulled an annoyed look at her before gently passing her the black coffee and letting the bag slip to the ground next to the bedside table. He took his white, and much sugared, coffee and sat back on his side of the bed. Anthea inhaled the scent of the strong coffee and felt her sense invigorated already.
"Thank you." She sighed, both to the coffee itself and the deliverer of coffee.
Anthea enjoyed the coffee and the beautiful silence that could exist between her and Mycroft. The only thing wrong with this situation is the genius was still watching. He watched how she moved the cup to mix the coffee. He watched as she pushed her hair out of her face. He watched as adjusted the covers of the bed to cover her feet.
"Okay!" Anthea put her coffee down and gave Mycroft and exasperated look. "Why are you staring at me?" She folded her arms across her chest. He smirked and rolled those steely orbs.
"I'm not staring." He said once more, looking down his nose at her like she was a school child.
"Yes you are!" Anthea nodded, laughing a little as she spoke. This time Mycroft didn't deny it, he simply remained silent. "What is it?"
"I'm cataloguing everything away." He tried to play it off like it was nothing. He shook his head faintly and shrugged a shoulder as he looked dismissively off towards the other side of the room. "When you weren't here I realised just how many of your domestic behaviours I didn't have memorised. I remembered how you smelt your coffee on cold days, and how you looked asleep, but I couldn't recall which foot you'd rub on top of the other when they were cold, or which hand you'd used more often to push your hair away from your face." Anthea's smile faded as she was a little stunned. She often forgot she wasn't in a normal relationship until Mycroft said stuff like that. Stuff so Holmsian it sounded absurd to think about out of context. She didn't know what to say to that. If she said it was sweet Mycroft would likely shut down and stop doing it. If she said nothing she'd be perpetuation the coldness that she'd been using to keep her safe recently. Yesterday was the day for romantic things. What even was this?
"I use my right to push my hair back when it's not just a strand or two." Anthea smirked into her coffee. "Like how you scratch or rub your brow with your left but you push your hair back with your right, too." She crinkled her nose and looked playfully up at the genius. He was watching her with twinkling eyes. It seemed her approach had worked well. She'd successfully kept them both open.
"I don't deserve you, Alice." Mycroft said not for the first time in their relationship.
"I know." Anthea pouted and nodded. She was kidding, or half kidding at the very least.
"I'm serious." Mycroft breathed. He was looking right into her eyes with a real gentleness that hardly ever exists. The steely gaze was a calm ocean blue. "I do not believe in such entities but if I did, I'd say you were a guardian angel." Anthea blanched. That was not something she ever expected to come out of a Holmes' mouth. Her heart did a backflip and her mouth went dry. She leaned in and examined Mycroft for any subtle signs that something was off.
"Seriously Mycroft, are you okay?" She asked, laughing nervously.
"I'm fine." Mycroft frowned dejectedly at her.
"Do you have a fever?" She placed the back of her hand on his forehead but before she could interpret any body heat he swatted her hand away. She laughed a little.
"No." He pulled away against the headboard. "I'm trying to be nice. Why do I have to be ill to be nice?" For many reasons, actually. Anthea could list them but she decided to let it slide.
"I'm sorry, you don't!" Anthea smiled with sympathy but a hint of humour still played on her lips. She stroked the genius on the arm and he didn't pull away. "I missed you to, and I love you too." She leant back into his space and kissed him on the cheek. Though this was a fun little interlude away from reality there was work to be done. Anthea sighed in preparation and sat up in the bed.
"Where are you going?" Mycroft asked. It was his work tone, like speaking to his assistant.
"I have work to do." Anthea turned back to explain.
"You don't have to work now. Your boss isn't going to fire you." Mycroft quirked an eyebrow as he toyed with his reunited girlfriend.
"No, this is important." Anthea pulled a face. "I have to get my stuff from Jamie's and then I have documents to sort out. Basically I have a plane flight to organise." A gloom filled the ocean like eyes once more. He knew what plane flight Anthea had to organise. The one for his beloved brother. The only person he's ever truly valued his entire life. Mycroft clenched his jaw and tilted his head. But then he looked back at Anthea with longing eyes and said the most surprising thing of all.
"Sherlock can wait." He said sincerely. "Stay for another hour." Mycroft patted the bed. "The plans aren't going anywhere and neither is Sherlock until we are ready." Anthea was still trying to comprehend these words in her head. She must have looked so confused as she looked at Mycroft. "Stay." Sherlock can wait? When has Sherlock ever had to wait? Hasn't big brother and his assistant been on beck and call from day one? Sherlock was Mycroft's life and they'd worked so hard to get all these plans organised and done as quickly as possible. Anthea had honestly expected Mycroft to be working on it when she woke up. Sherlock can wait? Who can Sherlock wait on? Her? On Anthea? What?
"Okay." Anthea nodded. "Okay." She leaned down and dug out the book of sonnets from her handbag. The book Mycroft had given her yesterday as one of her gifts in his big romantic gesture. He'd used that lovely phone call as a basis for all those gifts. She was starting to suspect that the phone call wasn't the best thing he'd said to her anymore. Something else was suddenly holding great weight. "I'll read some sonnets for a while until you want to work." Mycroft didn't nod. He didn't agree either. He simply watched with a content look as Anthea settled back into bed and cracked open the book of sonnets.
"Hey Myc, check this one out," Anthea said as she leaned against Mycroft's arm. Pulling out any memories of iambic pentameter and how to read Shakespeare out loud naturally, she head out Sonnet 35.
"No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,
(Thy adverse party is thy advocate)
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:
Such civil war is in my love and hate
That I an accessary needs must be
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me."
Anthea inwardly sighed and held the open book to her chest.
"How fitting." Mycroft muttered, his chest rumbling. "Does the fact you chose to read this specific one out loud mean you forgive me for the outburst that lead to us living apart?" Anthea bit her lip and shook her head, a curl or two falling out from behind her shoulders and into her face.
"It means I love you." She explained.
"Oh." The genius pouted. He took a moment as if allowing the words of the sonnet to play around in his head a few more times. "I like it far more now."
Author's Note: It wasn't that bad, right? Feels like the first… normal chapter we've had in a while. I can't wait for your reviews. Which prompts me to thank our guest reviewers from "TAB": Francesca Watson, Singing Ferret, PinkFriday28, Chulija, IreneMary, B, and ovejalucifer! Nice to see some of those names again. Once again, Merry Christmas or Happy Holiday of your choosing. I'll see you all in five days for the final update of the year… which should involve a plane.