Author's Note: Hey guys! How are we all? I hope you all had a lovely Christmas/Holidays! I got a violin as that's the next instrument on my list to learn. Thanks for the feedback last chapter! I really appreciate it :). This is our last chapter before season 4 airs, and lucky for me that this is the end of season 3! So I'll be prepared to edit my plot for whatever works. More on that at the end. This chapter is average length and just needs to happen to set up for what may come. I hope you like 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 Told Sherlock She Loved Him

Anthea sat with Sherlock in the holding cell as they waited for the confirmation that everything was ready. Then Sherlock would be escorted to the town car and taken with Mycroft to the plane. Dr. Watson and his wife were invited, as the closest people to Sherlock, to say goodbye there. It was a curtesy only allowed to the minimum amount of people. Out of all the choices it had to be John and Mary. So the boy's parents had come already – though they did not know of the dead ion six months part most people didn't. And so had everyone else. This was Anthea's last moment with Sherlock. Waiting here for him to be sent away. Like the priest sitting with the man on death row, trying to comfort him with worlds of peace and forgiveness. But that's not what would comfort Sherlock. Those words flew off Holmes' minds like water off a duck's back.

Sherlock was in a strange mood, Anthea had sensed that from the beginning. He seemed tense, rigid, and like he was putting on an act. She put it down to today and trying to appear stoic and uncaring in front of everyone. Still, she found it very unnerving. What should she say to him? They'd said their goodbyes before and he'd been less stiff then, so had she since the chance of him coming back and/or staying alive were quite high. Now, however… How does one say goodbye like that? Humans struggle to say goodbye to beloved pets let alone beloved friends and family members, let alone humans who hid from emotions!

Anthea and Sherlock, sitting side by side at the table, looked up at each other at the same time. They both turned back to stare at the one way mirror at the same time too. What should she say? What could she say? This was too hard… She didn't want to.

"You're back with my brother, I see." Sherlock mused, still looking at the mirror. He was observing his own reflection. Studying it. Watching it to see if it was out of line. Anthea took the opportunity to try and commit the side of Sherlock's face to memory. His curls, his eyes, the shape of his lips, his nose. If she could hold onto Sherlock as best as possible then maybe she could talk about him better with Mycroft and make it easier on him.

"What gave it away?" Anthea asked. Humour danced in her tone but only just. It lifted the spirits of an otherwise quiet and sombre timbre. Sherlock smirked a little and shifted in his seat.

"You're a lot more relaxed." He answered smugly, implying exactly what Anthea thought he was implying. He turned to Anthea and she met his smirk with one of her own. "Also," Sherlock turned back to the mirror. "He doesn't seem quite as afraid." He stopped, winced, and tilted his head to the side. "A little less afraid." Anthea heard it. That little thing that sounded like caring in Sherlock's voice. She saw it reflected in those sky blue eyes for a millisecond also. Like he was afraid what might become of his brother somewhere deep inside of him. Like he knew how much of Mycroft's world depended on him being okay and safe. Anthea might have hugged Sherlock in that moment if she were another woman. She might have rubbed his back and told him it was going to be okay. She might have told him that Mycroft would always have his back. But she wasn't that woman. She was Anthea James. So she folded one hand over the other, folded her legs, and looked back into the mirror.

"We love you, Sherlock." She said in her work persona voice. Bored and uncaring, but she meant it. Boy, did she mean it. Despite being older than her, Sherlock felt like a little brother to her. How many years had she been chasing after him? How many years had that stopped being a mandatory part of her job and became something she cared about? Anthea loved the Holmes family as much as she loved Jamie and James. She loved them all more than she ever loved her Aunt and Uncle. She had a feeling she should feel guilty for that but she really didn't feel any guilt what-so-ever. Sherlock's lip lifted up and he looked at Anthea with a sneer.

"We?" He scoffed. "You're a 'we' now?" Anthea quirked an eyebrow as Sherlock sniffed and lifted up his nose. "Of course you are. You were a 'we' before you were friends." Anthea wanted to laugh but all she managed to do was exhale air quickly and smile gently.

"I do." Anthea pursed her lips empathetically. She hated the finality of this talk but she had rarely ever gotten a chance to speak like this to the people she cared about. "I love you very much. You're one of my favourite people. Even when you're really annoying, you are." She shook her head. Sherlock looked over her face and smiled. He smiled so gently she could have sworn she'd never seen it before. His friends would have, and no doubt his family would at least know what it looks like, but this had to be the first time Anthea saw it. It shocked her as much as it did whenever she saw it on Mycroft's face.

"You're my favourite get out of jail free cards." This time she actually did laugh, leaning forward and resting her forehead on her hands. Sherlock Holmes. What a unique character. London would suffer without him. Anthea sat back up and squeezed his hand.

"It's been my pleasure." It really had been. She took her hand back and folded it on top of the one that was waiting? "One last guess?" She asked the captive detective, cocking her head to the side. She was, of course, referring to her name. Sherlock gave her a tired and forlorn look.

"I've never put much effort into finding out who you are." He mumbled. "Mary knows, I can tell, but it doesn't interest me much. You're not-Anthea and that's all I need to know." A little tickle in Anthea's chest made her want to touch Sherlock lovingly the way a mother would. She refrained from such an instinct.

"I know, but it's a bit of a game between us." Her eyebrows danced up and down. "Just one last stab in the dark." Sherlock's bright blue eyes began examining her at once, honing in on her face. He hummed to himself and all but chewed on his cheek.

"Alana." He ruminated. Anthea, tight lipped, shook her head. No doubt her eyes were glittering with defiance and pride.

"Not quite." She answered quietly.

"Close, though?" She wasn't entirely sure if it was a question from the genius or a statement. Anthea lifted an elbow in a small shrug.

"The closest you've gotten." Sherlock 'ahh'ed and seemed to deflate a little.

"Maybe next time." He breathed. Anthea felt like the wind had been kicked out of her suddenly by those words. Those simple words that were spoken with the most fallacy she'd ever heard. It would be enough to break a lesser woman.

"Yeah," She sung. "Next time."

That's the last thing she got to say to Sherlock Holmes before he was escorted out of the room.

It felt like both five seconds and a lifetime between this and the transition shown on every television screen in London. In reality it had to be two hours at the most. Time distorts so quickly in the memory when you are going through a lot. Anthea was typing at her desk in the normal office when her phone beeped.

Turn on the t.v. and flick through the channels. – Carol.

Her interest peaked, Anthea switched her computer monitor over to the channel plugged into digital t.v. As soon as she turned it on there it was, mocking her like some sort of caricature of the real thing. A still photo of Moriarty with his lips being pulled up and down to mimic the actions of a movie mouth. A distorted voice rang through the screen saying "Did you miss me?" over and over. The police would no doubt have it analysed later and restored to see whose voice it actually was. Anthea flicked through the channels and sure enough it appeared on every single one of them.

With a strange calm, Anthea checked her phone again. No calls, and no text messages from Mycroft. If that was the case then her skills were more needed in the office right now. Everything was under control despite the city wide panic this would be creating. Anthea changed her monitor back over to her desktop computer and got to work like this was something she expected to happen. Like it was on the schedule for today.

Only moments later Anthea's phone began to ring and vibrate on its spot on Anthea's desk. She looked down her nose and peered and the screen.

Jamie – mobile.

In all honesty, Anthea had been expecting this. Jamie never had the pleasure of meeting the man but thanks to the papers and all the drama that surrounded the fall, Jamie knew what Moriarty looked like. She had commented that he was cute once, "You know, if he wasn't crazy". Molly the shyly told her that she had dated him before she knew who he was. Of course Jamie would call her. She'd probably call Anthea before even calling James. Technically Anthea had more to do with the man purely through her relationships to Mycroft and Sherlock.

Anthea could ignore the phone call. She'd just text Jamie back and say she was busy. There was no one else here, though, and there was no reason to ignore her best friend. The blonde girl wouldn't be a problem. She had no connections to anyone. She just knew a little too much. So Anthea picked up her phone and prepared herself to speak as calmly as she ever had.

"Hey, Jay." She said as she answered.

"Oh my God, Ali." Jamie spoke at twice the speed than normal. "Have you checked out the telly?"

"Mmhhmm." Anthea took a deep breath and nodded to herself. "Carol sent me a text."

"Does James know?" Jamie asked, confirming Anthea's theory. "Does Mycroft know?"

"I don't know…" Anthea answered as she traced the groves in her wooden desk with her free index finger. "They're at the airstrip."

"Oh man, that's today! I forgot!" Jamie's speech slowed down and she sounded apologetic. Like she forgot a birthday, or more appropriately: a funeral. "Oh yeah…." Her voice changed to hold some suspicion and Anthea could just imagine the pregnant woman narrowing her eyes and practically glaring. "That was today." Anthea began drawing on a spare piece of paper she had on her desk.

"Yep. Big day." Anthea drew a crude drawing of an airplane. She moved onto drawing an umbrella.

"Coincidental, isn't it?" Jamie asked. Anthea furrowed her brows. "That, you know, Sherlock's archenemy turns up on the day he's being sent away." Anthea was half way through drawing an old CRT T.V. when she put her pen down to focus on the phone call.

"What are you saying, Jay?" Anthea asked like talking at a negotiation; guarded and careful.

"You don't sound very worried, Al."

"Mycroft would have everything under control." Anthea answered quickly. "And Moriarty is dead. There is nothing to be worried about."

"Yeah, I know he's dead." Jamie answered.

"Exactly." Anthea added straight after.

"So I wonder what all this is about." This is why people often mistook the blonde for being dumb. She danced around with the skills of a ballerina.

"We'll find out. I'm sure it's all under control." Anthea leaned back in her chair, staring at her page of drawings.

"But you know," Jamie was speaking quietly. "I am on any side that protects my friends and family and if you knew something that was keeping your boyfriend's brother in town, I wouldn't complain or have anyone to tell…" Anthea sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"I don't know what this is." Anthea said one last time. "I don't know if they'll let Sherlock solve this but he'd be the best choice. All I can tell you is that I'm sure Mycroft already has it under control."

A pause. Anthea could hear the faint sounds of 'Did you miss me' on the other end of the phone. Jamie had her television on. Jamie hummed suspiciously.

"I get that the people around me need to keep secrets," She sounded a little upset. "But it makes it really hard to know when you're all telling the truth. I don't believe half the business trip stories you tell me. You come back with bruises and cuts way too often for me to believe you guys." She was starting to get worked up – her voice quivering slightly. A mixture of Jamie's natural personality and pregnancy hormones. The poor thing. She must sometimes feel like the youngest sibling that no one tells anything to and just makes them even more suspicious.

"Jamie," Anthea levelled. "I love you, and everything is fine. There is nothing to be suspicious of or worry about. It's just another day of work for us."

Another pause.

Jamie sniffed.

"You sure?" She asked.

"I'm sure." Anthea cracked a smile. "I'll call you later with anything I can tell you."

"Okay." Just huffed, giving up. "Bye."

"See you."

Click.

Anthea placed her phone down on the desk and turned back to her computer. Yet she couldn't keep working. Her mind, thanks to Jamie, was now scattered. She kept thinking about Mycroft. She kept wondering if Sherlock knew about all this or if they were sending him away without so much of a word about it. Mostly she wondered how Mycroft was holding up. Anthea scooted her phone so it lay in front of her. She unlocked it and quickly sent a very professional sounding text. The receiver would see through it but continue with the charade anyway.

Status report? – A.

The response was quicker than she imagined it would be.

Higher ups gave permission to call the plane back. Landed down on strip. H and Ws on board now. Have been for a while. – J.

No doubt James was standing outside with another agent playing over paid bodyguards. No wonder he could answer his phone so quickly. So they'd all been on the plane for a while? Anthea bit her bottom lip. She considered leaving it there – James had probably told her all he knew – but she couldn't help herself.

Problems on the plane? – A.

She pressed send and began chewing on her thumbnail until another response came.

Problems with the passenger since Ws are there. – J.

Problems with Sherlock? Anthea felt herself deflate a little, some of her work persona disappearing into thin air. Problems with Sherlock meant problems for everyone. And for James to mention it like that it meant more than him freaking out over the message being broadcasted right now. He had seemed off when Anthea saw him. There was just something strange about him, like it was all a front. At least the three people most likely to be able to help were there with him. Anthea could only wait and find out.

Damn. –A.

Thanks. – A.

No prob. – J.

And she should have left it there. Considering she didn't want to text James in the first place, Anthea should have left it there. She was doing her job and what she was ordered to do – nothing more. However, she wasn't just a personal assistant – she was a worried girlfriend. She had just received troubling news and she wanted to know how her boyfriend was going. Surely it would be okay to check in on him? But how does one appear professional and also inquire into the personal? Anthea came up with a simple solution. She sent Mycroft a text to enquire into his wellbeing and let him know she was there.

X. – A.

Short, sweet, and to the point. He'd be able to read between the lines.

Beep.

The reply came two minutes later.

X. – M.H.

Author's Note: So that was the last update of the year. How did it go? I didn't want to go past what we know happens just in case some of season 4 happens straight after the plane and then all of a sudden a single scene of this isn't canon. Thanks to our guest reviewers: Sophie, Mollyrcmoo, PinkFriday28, Madalina, Hazel, Guest, Francesca Watson, and B! Thanks to all my reviewers! Happy New Year! Let me know what you thought!

Regarding Next Update: Given that the first episode of season 4 airs here the day before I update I think it's extremely unfeasible to expect me to watch the episode, analyse it and where it might be going, and write a chapter in one day. So! I'm going to take an extra two days and update again this time next week! That way, if there's a time skip somewhere in the episode I can do what I want or whatever and if there's plot to be played with I can do that. Next update will be right after the plane stuff but I am expecting at least one scene to happen straight after the events of TAB. I hope you understand! See you in a week!