Author's Note: Hi guys! Thanks for the great feedback for last chapter. There were a lot of fantastic reviews. I'm so glad you're all excited but that makes me nervous about my abilities! This chapter is one of those talk-a-lot chapters that I hate because I think they're boring for you guys but you all usually like. So with that said I really 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 They Talked About Eurus

The security team at the front gates told Anthea what Sherlock had done when she pulled up. Doctored his film collection to come across as a message, bleeding paintings, a clown with a sword. It sounded like a scene out of an old horror movie. It sounded just dramatic enough to actually frighten Mycroft. The poor guy, Anthea thought with a little bit of satisfaction mixed in with her empathy. He had been cautious of clowns before – unsure about who the people under the makeup were – so he'd be downright afraid of them from now on. Sherlock knew that. Sherlock had played his brother well.

It had to have worked, too. The text to let Anthea know she could go home read simply Mission accomplished. So the cat was out of the bag now. Eurus was a known name. No more keeping it a secret. The question now was how much of the truth was Anthea going to get out of Mycroft? While she no longer felt ill she did feel exhausted but she'd have to summon some energy out of thin air if she wanted any answers. Given the opportunity to keep his mouth shut Mycroft would take it in a heartbeat.

Upon entering the house the air was practically filled with the aura of commotion. The empty quiet house was silently screaming the events at Anthea. Everything was the same but different. Things were off screw, knocked, or just not quite where they were supposed to be. As she walked past the banister of the stairs Anthea patted it, as if soothing the house. She found Mycroft standing rigidly in a fully light living room, a barely touched glass of scotch in his hand. From here it appeared that his thumb was bleeding. Alert, if not panicked, steel eyes landed on Anthea and immediately flashed with relief. Mycroft began walking briskly towards his assistant and girlfriend, putting his glass down on the way.

"You won't believe what Sherlock just pulled on me!" Airy, exhausted, frantic, and dramatic all in one. He looked like he wanted to rip the rest of his hair out. Anthea gave him a very tight smile.

"Scared you into revealing to him that he has a sister?" She raised her eyebrows. "I know." Her smile dripped with some of his own venom. Mycroft's face dropped and his eyes desperately searched hers. "James told me." Anthea nodded, placing her hands on her hips. "Turns out Emily, who has been messaging me, might be Eurus." If Mycroft looked panicked before he looked positively panicked when Anthea said this. The fear mingle with anger as he looked at nothing in particular, searching his memories or his mind for who knows what.

"What?" He hissed. "How could this be? How could that possible happen? She's-"

"Locked up? James thought so too." Anthea fumed. "Funny thing is, if I had known about this little sister beforehand then I could have probably told you months ago that she's gotten out of your secret prison." Her words might have been too harsh given Mycroft's current state. His anger dissipated and what took its place to mingle with the fear was sadness. Anthea sighed, some of her anger escaping in her breath. "Why didn't I know you had a little sister?" She asked, her words still sharp but not hurtful. Mycroft's face steeled.

"To protect you." He said with some determinism. "To protect everyone. Including her."

"To protect us from someone locked away?" Anthea questioned. "That doesn't make any sense. Even by the way your brain works, it doesn't make sense."

"I was told it was the only way." He sounded like a solider. Anthea's brow furrowed. He was a commander, not a soldier. Soldiers took orders, Mycroft did not take orders.

"What do you mean?" She asked quietly. "Who told you it was the only way?" Mycroft met her eyes with some hesitance and it caught Anthea off guard. "Mycroft what the hell happened with your sister?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

So Mycroft explained everything. He explained his brilliant magnanimous sister who was too bright for her own health. Who had no idea what being human meant. He explained all the warning signs, all the odd behaviour, her loathing and jealously and strange enough longing for Sherlock. Her distant curiosity which meant she was even willing to hurt herself to find something out. He explained Sherlock's best friend, Victor Trevor, and what Eurus' jealousy, and contempt, and yearning lead to. He struggled to explain what it was like searching for a solution and searching for the child. He explained with a broken soul the fire at their family manor. Then with his own learned distance he talked about Eurus being taken away. About the second fire and for years how he thought his sister died in a fire she started at the mental hospital. How Sherlock blocked memories of Eurus like she was never born.

Then he talked of Uncle Rudy. How one day Uncle Rudy had taken him aside and explained that Eurus hadn't died – how he had her taken to Sherrinford. He told Mycroft like a commander tells a soldier that it had been the only way. That Eurus was such a danger that was the only thing that could be done. That he had kept it from the family because Violet and Siger would want to visit her and that couldn't be allowed. How he was telling Mycroft now because Mycroft was smart and the right kind of distant, how the late teenaged boy was planning to work for the government and it was better hearing it from Rudy than finding out on his own one day. That it was now his responsibility, as the closest next of kin to know the truth, to take over.

Suddenly Mycroft's relationship with Uncle Rudy made sense. How sometimes he spoke of his Uncle as a role model and at others had nothing but negative things to say about how. How Rudy constantly wrote letters and yet more often than not, with a heart full of resentment, Mycroft would choose not to open them and instead put them in a drawer to be opened in the middle of the night weeks later. Actually, a lot of Mycroft made much more sense learning about this whole ordeal. His coldness, his constant concern for his little brother, the walls he had around his heart. Most of all his absolute need to be in control of everything and to know everything. His habit to make things disappear or keep things secret for what he believed were for everyone's sakes or safety. The whole Holmes family had been through a lot and people come out of these things with scars and wounds that never heal. That thing Mycroft had with touching… Anthea wondering briefly if that was something to do with Eurus?

Anthea didn't know what to say. What do you do when someone tells you something like this? How do you react to learning some of your favourite people in the world have been through a great ordeal? Or learn that a criminal mastermind who didn't comprehend emotions, including pain, had been messaging you for ages?

Anthea cursed as she rubbed her forehead.

"Yes, I believe that's what I said to Rudy." Mycroft spoke quietly. Anthea couldn't tell by Mycroft's flat tones and sombre expression if he was joking or incredibly serious. She looked into those steely eyes, the same colour of his sister's eyes, and continued to shake her head.

"Mycroft." Anthea exhaled his name, not knowing what she was going to follow it up with. She looked to the floor and continued shaking her head.

"It's understandable that you are mad but you must also understand why I have kept this to myself." He said. Anthea snorted a laugh.

"No, I don't." She grinned despite herself as she looked at him. "I don't because even if you couldn't tell your brother, or Rudy convinced you not to tell your parents – which is a stupid idea, you could have told me." She dropped her hands to her side. "I'm your partner in more ways than one. I could have helped you with this, Myc." She held onto his gaze. "Hell! You know I have nothing to do on Christmas! I could have come with you all those years."

Silence.

No real answer would ever come, either. Mycroft looked down and swallowed his breath.

"My apologies…" He muttered with a slight tilt of his head.

"Don't apologise to me." Anthea stepped forward into the genius' space. "You're the one who missed out on having support." A wave of exhaustion hit Anthea. She looked up to the roof, took a deep breath, and ran her hand through her hair. Today was hard for her. It had to be all this new information. "Big tough Iceman, hidden behind his stone walls, fighting his battles all alone but always willing to help others. His resources finally running thin." Again Mycroft said nothing. Anthea gave him a piercing look. "No comeback?" She challenged him. One side of his mouth pulled up and he shrugged.

"Clearly you are correct." He said. "If you and Dr. Watson are right, and Eurus has been in London, then yes, my resources are indeed running thin. How else could I have let this happen?" Anthea groaned.

"You're not getting what I'm saying." She heaved.

"Oh no, I completely understand that you believe I should have asked for your help or at least informed you. I understand that you can't comprehend why I would follow my uncle's orders and not tell my parents." Mycroft said. "However, it is far too late for that, isn't it?" Anthea cocked her head to the side and looked at Mycroft. She really looked at him. Was it too late? She didn't think so, so why did he? This was just the start for Sherlock. Whatever. She was too tired to argue with the Ice Man. She rubbed her eyes.

"There's one thing I still don't understand." She said as she stopped rubbing her eyes. Mycroft rose his eyebrows, his invitation for her to continue. "You had a dog. Redbeard, I've seen him in photos." Mycroft smiled sadly as he looked at the floor. "How can this Victor also be Redbeard?"

"Because the dog's name was originally Newton." Mycroft answered, that bittersweet smile plastered on his face. His eyes looked glassy. "Despite the allergies…" Mycroft paused to rethink his words. "When my sister supposably died my parents naturally fell into some level of despair. It left grandparents looking out for me and me looking out for the shell that was Sherlock." Anthea's anger dissipated as Mycroft continued. "When my parents returned to the living, being the attentive parents they were, they felt quite guilty for ignoring us. So, as I said, despite mild allergies, my father came home with a puppy which Mummy named Newton." Anthea's lips pulled into a small smile. "Over time Newton brought Sherlock back out of his shell-shocked state. Soon the boy was laughing and playing again. However one day I was alarmed to hear him calling the dog Redbeard. When we questioned him about it he stated we had owned the dog for years." Mycroft's bittersweet smile faded away. "Sherlock had transferred his memories of his late friend onto our dog." Anthea took a sharp breath inwards. Mycroft nodded at her. "We spoke to doctors but they all suggested we go along with it and one day he'd recover. He never did and Newton became Redbeard."

Once again Anthea found herself at a loss for what to say. She stood there searching Mycroft's eyes and he returned her with an open expression. He was completely telling the truth.

"How horrible." Anthea whispered. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

"Is it?" He asked, sounding detached once more. "It's been reality for so long I can't even tell anymore." Feeling nothing but tired once more Anthea found the nearest seat and sat down, burying her head in her hands. "Are you alright?" Mycroft asked, partly concerned but still behind that detached mask. Anthea nodded from within her hands.

"It's just today, I think." She answered. "I'm just tired." She lifted her head to rest her chin on her palms. She looked up at Mycroft. She wasn't angry. She was sad. Sad for him, and terribly sad for his lovely family. "You should have told me." She whispered. Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I couldn't. If I wanted to keep you safe I couldn't." He whispered back.

"She found me anyway." Anthea said. She leaned back. "And she found out without any information from you that I was your girlfriend."

"Of course she did, she's brilliant." Mycroft answered quietly. Maybe he was a little bit proud?

"Then you should have told me anyway." Anthea tried to raise her voice but she didn't have the energy.

Silence.

Mycroft didn't know what to say.

Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

"So you're going to Baker Street to tell Sherlock all this tomorrow?" She changed the topic, knowing she wasn't getting anywhere with the stubborn idiot of a genius. Mycroft scowled before he nodded.

"They're treating me like a common client." He practically spat the words. "Making me come tomorrow morning and tell them my case." He folded his hands across his chest. "I mean really, I'm family. She's family."

"Not to Sherlock." Anthea answered honestly. Mycroft looked at her like she was insane. "Sherlock just learnt that who he thought was his only sibling had been hiding another sibling he has no memory of from him." She shrugged. "As someone who has been betrayed by blood relatives and feels like she has no real family left but friends, I think I know how he's feeling right now." Mycroft's eyes flashed with a deep pain. Anthea almost regretted her words but maybe Mycroft needed to hear them. "So if he needs to treat you both like you're not family for the ten minutes it takes for you to tell him this, then let him deal with it the way he wants to." Mycroft looked Anthea deep in the eyes. He was dissecting her words, analysing them.

"How do you do that?" Mycroft asked. "How can you see that so clearly?"

"Because Sherlock's feelings are hurt." She said, fighting the urge to yawn. "And unlike Eurus I have feelings, and unlike you I haven't tried to lock mine away and toss away the key." Mycroft's lips twitched and he looked down at his shoes again. Anthea looked at the state he was in, his nerves shot, his weaknesses exposed. "Or maybe it was Eurus who threw away your key." When she burnt their house down. That's what Anthea was beginning to suspect.

"I don't like this metaphor." Mycroft muttered flatly, not looking at Anthea. "It's far too poetic. No basis in reality." He was trying to hide behind his masks again. He was building his walls, trying to lock that door again. Anthea rolled her eyes.

"Maybe I'm too tired." Anthea said. She knew her metaphor made sense but she wasn't in the mood for this anymore. "Maybe I should go to bed." She stood up and stretched out her back.

"Would you like to sleep downstairs?" Mycroft asked. Anthea blinked. She looked over at him and frowned. Did he think she was mad? Did he think she was going to give up just like that?

"And let you deal with nightmares about clowns on your own?" Anthea cocked her head to the side and smirked. "I would be a very bad girlfriend and assistant if I let that happen." Mycroft's mask remained on his face but his eyes sparkled at her works. He sniffed a single laugh.

"It wasn't that it was a clown." He said, coming to Anthea's side to walk up the stairs with her. "Anything would have been terrifying at that time."

"If you say so, sir." Anthea patted Mycroft's shoulder.

"Don't undermine me!" His dismay was mixed with a little hint of humour. "I'm being honest."

Sure her was.

Author's Note: So how was that? Was it okay? Did you like it? I get so nervous about talk-a-lot chapters. Next chapter continues TFP saga. Thanks to last chapter's guest reviewers; shortblondeone, Madalina, and Guest. The rest of you were account holders who I got to thank personally. Thanks to all my readers. See you in five days!