Author's Note: Oh man, guys! What am I supposed to do with all these wonderful words about last chapter? You're all so lovely! Thank you! As for this chapter. Well, I'm nervous but excited and hopeful that you'll like where we're heading. I like it so I have faith. Let me know. 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 Fought With His Parents

Anthea's fingers were frozen hovering over the keyboard as her palms rested on the edge. She should be working, in fact she was trying to convince herself to work. It was very hard to focus when your emotionally distressed boyfriend – who won't say anything about being in such a state – was in the other room with his family as his parents yelled at him.

Anthea licked her bottom lip and strained to listen in closer. She heard Sherlock front right in front of the door say something and Violet respond in an angry tone. Anthea clenched her jaw and crinkled her nose to stop from entirely wincing.

It was understandable that Violet and Siger were upset, they had lost years upon years of time with their daughter. However, they hadn't seen Mycroft in the two days since Sherrinford. The man was always lost in his head, distracted, and always looking like he was in some kind of mourning. Sherlock, having his own issues to deal with, hadn't been round to see Mycroft. He did know, though. He was there too, after all. Sherlock and Mycroft had gone through the whole ordeal together, along with John, and they all knew had the others had been effected. In fact, Anthea even received a text from Sherlock the day after asking how Mycroft was. She responded and asked how they were doing on his end.

It's not like this whole thing had been set in motion by a teenager. That's what Anthea could see. That's why it was so easy for her to forgive Mycroft for all the secrets. He was following orders he was given by his uncle. Everything he'd learnt about protecting the family he'd learnt from Rudy. Yet it wasn't her brother that Violet was blaming. Her and Siger were blaming Mycroft for the whole lot, not just the years he knew.

Anthea couldn't hear it properly from out here. She could hear the occasional word and she could make out who was talking, but that was it. She hoped that meant her imagination was running wild and that the tones were nowhere near as angry as they sounded on this side of the door.

Click.

Anthea quickly glanced over her shoulder. It was only Sherlock. Having slipped through the door he shut it gently behind himself. He offered Anthea a small, fake smile. She gave him one back. She turned back to her screen and minimized anything Sherlock shouldn't see, leaving up on a report she was supposed to read.

"You okay?" She asked. She heard Sherlock hum behind her and it didn't sound like it was a confirmation. He walked around the desk to come to stand in front of it.

"I needed a break." He said, bright blue eyes looking over the objects on Anthea's desk. "They were trying to bring me onto their side and I'd rather not. I'd like to be neutral at best." Anthea sniffed a laugh. She cocked her head to the side and looked at Sherlock. He seemed different too. More grown up than a few days ago.

"Thanks for not making it worse." Anthea said to him. The detective looked at her with a brief flicker of fondness before he was looking at her pens and rearranging them.

"I owe him a favour or two." Sherlock responded dismissively. Sherlock picked up Anthea's cup of tea. "And he's not all that bad." He said. He sniffed Anthea's tea and put it back down. Anthea chose to ignore that and probably ignore the tea entirely now.

"No, he's not." Anthea agreed. Sherlock rolled his eyes. She heard Violet's raised voice again. Both Sherlock and Anthea looked back at the door, Anthea's breath hitched in her throat. She sighed as she turned back to Sherlock. "How upset are they?" Anthea asked solemnly. Sherlock pulled his eyes away from the door. He looked over Anthea's face for a few seconds before he responded.

"Mummy called him an idiot." He said. Anthea hissed and fully winced this time.

"That's not going to help." Anthea muttered mostly to herself. "I think he's feeling a bit like one anyway." Sherlock's brow furrowed.

"Well, he shouldn't." The genius said with some determination. "He made some stupid choices but he isn't stupid." Those words. For some reason those words out of Sherlock Holmes' mouth in regards to his brother made Anthea feel more at ease. Those were kind words as far as they were concerned.

"Give it a few days." Anthea crinkled her nose. "He'll be cocky and pretentious again." Sherlock sniffed.

"Great." He said sarcastically to cover up that he actually meant it. Anthea smiled. If anything good came from this mess it was this; Sherlock's development. The brothers' chance to come closer. Anthea would foster it as much as possible without looking like she was forcing it. She took a breath and went to talk further to Sherlock.

The door behind her was opened with force. Out emerged Violet, flustered and angry. With such chaotic energy swirling around her, never had she looked so much like Sherlock. Siger followed behind her, a far quieter shower of emotion – holding it all tight to his chest.

"If you think any of this makes any sense, Mycroft," Violet hissed as she walked right past Anthea not even looking at her. "Then maybe you're the one who need professional help." Sherlock looked and clenched his jaw. Anthea sat there quietly, a little shocked.

"Am I the only one who remembers her being responsible for killing a child? Or burning our house down?" Mycroft's own voice was raised at this point as he too walked through the door but stopped merely centimetres out of it. He'd obviously given up being quiet and taking it. "She cut her own skin in front of me, Mummy. Out of curiosity." Violet and Siger turned around to face Mycroft. Violet's eyes were burning with a blue fire.

"We know she needed help, Mycroft. Give us some credit." Siger chided him. Mycroft visibly faltered a little.

"I do, father. I'm sorry." Mycroft addressed his fingernails rather than looking at his father. He looked back up and in between his parents. "I'm simply trying to explain my point of view."

"Your point of view is pathetic." Violet spoke with a coldness that chilled Anthea. Sherlock glanced over at his brother. Mycroft's own vision dropped away from eyelevel once more. "I never expected one of my children to be so heartless." She huffed. Anthea felt her stomach lurch into her throat. After everything that Eurus had done, Mycroft was the heartless one?

"That's not fair." Anthea spoke up from her desk. All but Mycroft's eyes fell onto her. "Everything Mycroft does and ever will do will be out of love for you four. He's just follow what Rudy told him to do." Sherlock almost smiled at her. Violet sighed. She looked up at the cement roof, hands folded across her chest, and sighed. It was very Mycroftian of her.

"Anthea, dear." Violet held her hand up in Anthea's direction. "You're a sweetheart but this really doesn't concern you." Anthea blinked at the words, pouting as they sunk in and she sat quietly once more.

"Really?" Mycroft scoffed, stepping one step forward. He had some fight back in his expression. "You dare say that to my partner after you all but forced her to be your daughter?" Mycroft cocked his head to the side. "I suppose now you have your actual daughter back you don't need Anthea and you no longer care what happens between us." Violet and Mycroft were staring daggers at each other.

"Mycroft." Siger said, trying to stop him. Mycroft ignored him.

"Would you like to take your doll back from Anthea now and give it to your real daughter?" Mycroft smirked venomously. "Just to warn you; it has more cracks now. Anthea had to glue it back together again after Eurus made her break it again." Mycroft stepped forward. "You see, that was after Sherlock almost shot me, but before Eurus tried to drown John."

"All of this could have been avoided if you had the foresight to tell us our daughter was alive." Violet argued back.

"Although, to be fair." Sherlock muttered. "It could have been avoided if I knew I had a sister and, while all three of you knew, Mycroft isn't the one who hid family photos." His parents turned to his with soft, gentle expression. Sherlock looked between them. "Oh no, I'm not bitter." He pointed to Mycroft with Anthea's pen he was holding. "I'm just saying it's not all his fault. There are plenty of factors in play. Who could have predicted what happened to the guards?"

"You're a good boy, Sherlock." Siger said warmly to the younger Holmes brother. Anthea widened her eyes to stop from rolling them. Violet walked closer to her eldest son. She unfolded her arms, looked deeply into his face, and shook her head.

"You can't possibly know how much you've disappointed us, Mycroft." The words made Anthea bury her head into her hands. She missed Mycroft's reaction but she could imagine it wasn't good. "We're going now." She said in the same sombre tone. "We won't have time for lunch or dinner, this visit. We have our hands full helping Sherlock replace his belongings and visiting our daughter." Anthea lowered her hands to see Mycroft swallow his breath, look away, and nod. "Come on Siger, dear." Violet stroked her husband on the arm as she turned on her way out. "Sherlock, are you coming?" She asked with the most fondness Anthea had heard this entire time. Sherlock licked his lips, his eyes narrowing in thought as he put Anthea's pen back down on the desk.

"In a minute. I want to get some CCTV footage of Baker Street from before the explosion from Anthea." It was lie if she'd ever heard Sherlock lie before. If his parents picked up on it, Anthea couldn't tell. Violet nodded and she and Siger left the Diogenes dungeon leaving Anthea sitting at her desk and the two Holmes brothers standing awkwardly in the space. Silence filled the room as Anthea stared off past the door to where she could picture Violet and Siger walking up the stairs to the club proper. She blew air through her lips.

"I never thought I'd say this," Anthea said, still looking in the direction of the door. "But your parents sucks." She could see in her peripheral vision as Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose but remained quiet. It was Sherlock who spoke next.

"They're upset and confused, the need someone or something to blame." He said. Anthea looked up at the detective and glared daggers.

"So they blame their son who was twelve when then this all happened? Like he had any control!" Anthea could feel the anger welling inside of her.

"Anthea." Mycroft muttered. Sherlock looked Anthea up and down.

"I'm not saying they're correct. Far from it." The detective defended. "But we can't say we didn't feel initial anger towards Mycroft."

"Sherlock." Mycroft added with a sigh.

"But we didn't take it out on him. We used our heads and realised that this entire thing is a mess and is really no one's main fault. Except maybe your uncle." Anthea said, sniffing a laugh at the end.

"Agreed." Sherlock relented with a cock of his head. "But they're far more blinded by emotional responses than we are. Even Mummy."

"Both of you stop it." Mycroft demanded, looking between his assistant and his brother, his face drawn down. "I've had enough of this." He clenched his fist and unclenched it. "I appreciate you both but there is no reason to become so passionate about something you cannot change. Mummy and father have every right to be angry. Just because you may disagree in how it is manifesting doesn't mean they're wrong. Maybe none of us are wrong." Anthea clicked her tongue and cocked her head to the side.

"Myc." She sighed.

"Don't pity me, please." He spoke gently and calmly. "I don't need it." Sherlock pulled a face at his brother's words but said nothing. "If you want to support me then Anthea continue as if nothing's different, and Sherlock do as Mummy says and find a way to get to Eurus."

"Okay." Anthea said. Sherlock searched his brain for something to say but instead nodded so subtly it would be easy to miss.

"Thank you." Mycroft breathed in relief. "Now Sherlock, you should go chasing after Mummy."

"I would." Sherlock said, not moving a muscle. "But I really do need to talk to Anthea first." He cracked a smirk. "I don't need to make excuses to spend time with you, brother dear. I'm not that frightened of our mother." Mycroft scoffed.

"Fine." He shook his head, turning around. "You'll find nothing of use on those recordings if that's what you're after." He called out.

"Let me be the judge of that." Sherlock responded.

"Goodbye, brother mine."

Click.

The door closed behind Mycroft.

Anthea looked up at Sherlock and smiled wryly. In the dimly light dungeon Sherlock's face was full of shadows. It did nothing to lighten the melancholy mood that had filled the space since Sherlock and his parents had come down here. Luckily Holmes' thrived in such a state, or Anthea might be worried for the pair of brothers.

"We know you're not after footage of something when you know exactly what happened." Anthea folded her hands together on the desk, not thinking about how that was something she picked up from years of being around Mycroft. Sherlock seemed to notice it. "What do you really want to talk about?" Anthea whispered teasingly, hoping to lighten the atmosphere herself if the lighting wouldn't help. Sherlock took a breath in and out. He turned 90 degrees to Anthea's right and looked carefully at the drab painting hanging there.

"I don't how to say this." He said as his eyes analysed and memories every corner of the painting. It was an original Mycroft picked up from some street painter that he appreciated in some country. Drawn to the bleak that man was. "I've only done this once before entirely on accident, and John never ceases to remind me that I had no tact. Mary didn't seem to mind and you do have a temperament that resembles hers more than it resembles John." Anthea blinked, trying to keep up with and process Sherlock's fast words. He was rambling.

"Okay, what?" Anthea shook her head. "What are you trying to tell me, Sherlock? What about Mary and John?" She was certain she was wincing as she looked at the detective, a sheer sign of confusion. Sherlock's jaw clenched. He looked down at the cup of tea on Anthea's desk. Then he stepped closer to the desk and tapped the mug lightly with his right middle finger.

"I think it would be wise if you scheduled a doctor's appointment with John." He said with a kindness that was absurd coming out of his mouth and going towards Anthea.

Anthea's brain froze. It refused to comprehend what Sherlock was trying to say to her. It shut down even as it tried to gather more information from Sherlock's body language and facial expression. What did he mean Anthea needed to go to the doctor? What was he one? Was he crazy?

"D-doctor?" Anthea spluttered as her brain kicked back into gear. She looked down at her tea. What had that got to do with anything? "Why the tea? And why were you talking about Mary? A-" Anthea cut herself off.

Sherlock had told John and Mary that Mary was pregnant when he accidentally said so at their wedding.

That was what he accidentally told them.

Images of that day at the Diogenes Club came to Anthea's mind.

Anthea's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open. She tried to breath and couldn't. Her heart was racing and her throat was closing up.

"No." She shook her head. "Oh, no, no, nononono." She ran her fingers through her chocolate hair and shook her head furiously. "No, Sherlock. No." She stopped, laughed, and shook her head again. "No, I've been stressed." She placed the palms of her hands firmly against the cold desk, anchoring her body and soul. "That's all. I've just been stressed." Sherlock hummed.

"I don't think so." He spoke barely above a whisper, leaning closer to Anthea. "Perhaps, but I think it's more likely that the stress is why neither of you have noticed the truth yet, and I am very rarely wrong." Anthea pulled on her hair. She didn't mean to, she meant run her hands through her hair again but she gripped tightly and pulled, like trying to pull stray thoughts from her brain.

"I can't." Anthea whispered. She felt like she was beginning to fall into nothingness. "I wouldn't even know how to begin going about it." Her mouth was dry. When had it gotten so dry?

"Well…" Sherlock stopped. He was trying to think of an inoffensive, appropriate thing to say. He was trying full stop. "You don't have to begin it. I'll tell John. He'll make you an appointment and text you the time. There. We started it for you." Anthea's head fell forward and she laughed despite herself. Sherlock Holmes. So thoughtful but so blind. So helpful and not at all at the same time. It did help, despite not being what she wanted. It was a hand reaching out to stop her from falling. "Okay?" Anthea looked up, eyes glittering, and nodded.

"Yeah, okay." She sighed. "Yeah, alright, tell John." She placed her hands against the desk once more. "But don't tell Mycroft. Not if you're wrong. No need to tell him if there's nothing to worry about." For so many reasons there was no need to tell Mycroft yet if he hadn't seen any symptoms himself. For his sake, for her sake, and for their relationship's sake. This didn't need to be known. It could break so many things right now.

"You, me, and John." Sherlock agreed. "It'll give me something to Lord over Mycroft's head later." Anthea laughed again.

"Not until I tell you it's okay." Anthea forced a smile.

"Party pooper." Sherlock rolled his eyes, once again making Anthea laugh. God, she appreciated it right now. She wasn't falling anymore. She had found grips in the wall and a lip to rest her feet on.

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"Make it as soon as possible. The appointment."

"It'll be tomorrow, don't doubt that."

"Thank you."

"Well, apparently I'm the grown up, so…"

Author's Note: So? What did you think? Was it okay? This isn't the end of all things parents, it doesn't strike me as something that would be over overnight so we'll get back to it later. But man, I really hope you like or at least understand where I'm going. This IS a first time for everything. *sigh*. Please let me know what you think. Thanks to our guest reviewers last chapter; Madalina, Singing Ferret, Guesswho, Christie, B, and Guest. Thanks to all of you, really. Thanks for being awesome and reading my silly fic.

P.S. I have three assignments due soon and I'm a little stressed about it so next chapter will be late. I'm aiming for 7 days or 8 days, so expect it Thursday or Friday. I'm sorry, its bad timing, but I'm a little all over the place for once and I don't want this or my assignments to suffer because I don't have enough time to devote to either.