Author's Note: Hi guys. Thank you for the really kind words last chapter, it means the whole world to me. As for this chapter… It was going to be longer than this but then I got a three day migraine that through off this and uni work. The only thing that survived unscathed was my actual work because I was done for the week by then. So I decided to cut it this chapter into two. I really hope you like it. I must apologise that the editing on this one will be particularly shocking because I've spent the last four or five days trying to minimize the time I spend looking at screens. I've done so much knitting. And after I made such an effort to read over last chapter more than I usually do! Enough blabbing. 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 Paid Sherlock's Debts
Anthea was tired after walking up the stairs at Baker Street. Sherlock had his back to the door. He was looking out the window in his dressing gown while playing his violin. It was a common site, much like walking in on Mycroft playing the piano when he thought he was all alone. Instead of introducing her presence Anthea immediately made a beeline for what was called John's chair. She lowered herself into it with a soft grunt.
The violin strings stopped. Keeping the instrument under his chin, Sherlock rotated his body to look over in Anthea's direction. She offered him a veiled smile as he lowered the violin, frowning.
"Nobody's here." He said. "How did you get in?" Anthea rolled her eyes.
"You kept the door unlocked. Anyone could waltz up here." She said. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, satisfied with this answer, and turned to put his violin down safely on the desk.
"You look well." Sherlock said, placing the bow down in the case.
"I look rounded." Anthea corrected with another roll of her eyes.
"That's what I meant." Sherlock said. He looked over to Anthea with a naughty school boy smile and she gave him a Mycroft-esque sarcastic smile in return. Sherlock glided over and sat down in his chair without offering a drink or anything. Of course it was Sherlock and Anthea shouldn't expect social airs and graces but she wanted some water or something. On second thoughts she'd known where all the cups in the kitchen had been and what had been in them and she doubted Sherlock's cleaning abilities.
"Where's John?" Anthea asked, gesturing to a baby's toy that sat discarded near Sherlock's feet. The detective hummed and pushed it aside with his foot.
"It appears that your best friend convinced Mycroft's pet dog that some 'father-daughter' bonding time together would be a good idea so they went for a walk."
"Oh." Anthea quirked her eyebrows. "That's nice." That sounded like something Jamie would do. She and Mary had always been in the same stages at roughly the same time – wedding plans and pregnancies overlapping – so from time to time when a milestone happened she thought of Mary and John and Rosie. She probably thought it was a good idea for John to be around another good father rather than around another woman with her heart bleeding for him.
"Yes," Sherlock widened his eyes and cocked his head to the side. "But what John fails to realise is what he considers a walk, the puppy considers a warm up." Anthea burst into laughter and while she did Sherlock broke into a sinister smile. James and Carol worked hard, it was well established. Jamie said watching James work out made her tired. Mycroft said the agency put too much emphasis on peak physical performance when mental performance would allow them to do less.
"Poor John." Anthea sighed once the laughs subsided.
"We can only hope one of the girls gets fussy before John collapses." They probably would, and if John played his cards right he could get James to sit down at a café or something and then James would be all over ordering food.
As far as Sherlock was concerned that was the nice friendly small talk out of the way. Now onto business. Anthea should just feel blessed that she got the small talk now unlike the old days.
"Mycroft's away." Sherlock announced. Anthea nodded, ignoring that it just sounded like Sherlock was telling her where the man she lived with was. He had to make some international deals and Anthea wasn't feeling up for the trip. "So why are you here?" He asked. Anthea opened her briefcase and pulled out a manila file. She waved the file in the direction of Sherlock's face. The detective snatched it from Anthea and began flicking through the pages at lightning speed. "Busy work?" He asked, disgusted. "He couldn't wait until he got back to give me busy work?" Sherlock dropped the folder onto his lap, a pout setting deeply on his face. "I've told him already I'd rather him ask me how I am if he's worried about me instead of handing me this nonsense. It's an insult." The reaction was cute. It reminded Anthea of how Sherlock always reacted but there was more heart and honesty in it then there would have been a year ago. Instead of saying he was insulted by the work he seemed more insulted that his brother hadn't come to check up on him himself. Well Anthea could rectify that.
"Actually I think its busy work for me." She smirked. Suddenly when they'd made an almost last minute decision that Anthea wasn't feeling well enough to go Mycroft had materialised this list of things for her to do out of thin air. None of them terribly important, none of them dangerous, and none of them fun. Basically a list of things he thought would keep an ill feeling pregnant woman's mind active and busy while she stayed comfortable. Sherlock's bright brilliant eyes looked Anthea up and down.
"Oh yes, of course." He muttered quietly. He picked the file back up and thumbed through it. "In that case I'll have it solved for you by tomorrow afternoon." He looked carefully at a photo before turning the page. "Come over after four and John will be here. Mrs. Hudson can fuss over you and you can see Rosie." Anthea rolled her eyes again. Now Mycroft's brother was joining in on keeping Anthea mentally busy. She wasn't them – she didn't go stir crazy without something to do. Give her a book and she'd be fine. She really did appreciate the concern though, especially when it came from Sherlock trying to back up his brother.
"I was just feeling a little crook." Anthea sighed. Sherlock hummed and nodded. "And I'm pregnant, not dying."
"Of course." Sherlock nodded.
"I don't mind running around after work things. I get paid for it. I did it two days ago. I was on my feet all day." She continued to explain though she got the idea Sherlock wasn't listening to her.
"Naturally. But Mrs. Hudson will kill me if I you keep visiting when she's not here and I'm sure you want to see Rosie. It's been a while." For the fourth time Anthea rolled her eyes.
"Yeah okay, I'll come by around five." She relented. The expression on Sherlock's face read as nothing but satisfied. He looked like he might say more before something behind Anthea got hold of his attention. His expression fell and the long limbed detective got to his feet.
"I think you should leave now." He said to Anthea without looking at her.
"What?" Anthea asked. She'd only just sat down and he was going to make her get up? "Aren't you trying to eat up my time?"
"Not right now." He said with some urgency in his tone. "I think you should leave."
"Sherlock." Anthea sighed. She fought to get onto her feet as Sherlock came to stand directly in front of her. "I don't get paid to put up with behaviour like this from you too." Once she was standing she followed Sherlock's sight line to the door into the apartment. Walking up the stairs, having not quite made it to the door, were two rather large goods. They looked like your typical bruiser type lackeys from the movies and for a second it felt like Anthea was in the middle of one of Mycroft's old crime films. They looked like paid protection. While they were laughable to Anthea they were also very formidable. This could only mean that Sherlock had angered the wrong person.
"Mr. Holmes." One spoke. His voice was surprisingly gentlemanly for a man in his position and appearance while trying to look tough. A good upbringing, perhaps. "We've come to collect your money."
"Money?" Anthea asked Sherlock. Drug debt no doubt. Sherlock ignored her.
"I didn't create that debt all on my own." Sherlock explained to the men. "And the other party hasn't appeared before me in a long time. I can't give you your money until he comes forward."
"Yeah that's what you told us last time." The man snarled. Anthea blinked.
"Wiggins?" Anthea spat at Sherlock. "Are you talking about Wiggins?" Sherlock looked at her but kept his stony Holmes expression. "I thought he was your supplier. And I thought you were done!" She looked at Sherlock disapprovingly.
"He was, and I am." Sherlock tried to explain to Anthea. "But we were in need of more than he could supply on his own." Pain shot through his eyes. "I was…" Anthea held up her hand to silence Sherlock. She knew all about the drugs and how he'd stupidly done it for Mary in order to save John. She wasn't excusing it but she didn't need him to explain himself for the hundredth time to yet another person.
"We don't care if your friend doesn't turn up." The man said.
"That's your problem." The other one snorted, sounding like he brought up a whole glob of phlegm from his throat.
"We gave you a chance last time. This time we want our money." The first man said again. Anthea sighed. She was a part of this family now no matter what, thanks to her little one, and if that meant anything it meant helping to bail Sherlock out of trouble. She'd seen Mycroft do it enough times and she'd seen him and his parents lose sleep over it. If she had to do it this once it was okay. It wouldn't take her long to rebuild her savings and better now than after she had a kid to support.
"How much does he owe you?" Anthea asked the men with the most fed up expression she could muster. The other man, the shorter one with the phlegm, looked at her then back at Anthea.
"Whose she?" He gestured at her with his nose. Anthea was used to a far better class of criminal.
"She's no one." Sherlock answered a little too quickly. "She's a client and she was on her way out."
"I'm family." Anthea ignored Sherlock's attempts as she glared at the smaller man. "How much does he owe you?" She heard Sherlock exhale a breath in frustration. The first man passed her a slip of crookedly cut lined paper. It had this address on it as well as a large figure. Anthea spluttered a laugh in disbelief.
"Sherlock." She eyed him.
"Wiggins doesn't negotiate well." He shrugged his shoulders. Anthea continued to stare at the paper. It was absurd. She scrunched it up and put it in her coat pocket.
"That's insane, I can't afford that." She said. "I'll give you half of it and you can chase up Bill Wiggins for the rest. He's a street rat he can't have gone far."
"Anthea-" Sherlock began to argue. She held a hand up to him again.
"Piss off." The first man said. Anthea looked down her nose at him. "We're leaving here with the full amount."
"You leave here with half or you don't leave here at all." Anthea sassed at him.
"You've got a mouth, don't you?" The second one said, stepping forward. Sherlock took a step forward at the same time. "Ain't you ever been taught some manners?"
"Don't talk to her." He said.
"I was taught manners." Anthea smirked sarcastically. "But they go out the window when I hear someone make a ball of bile in their throat." The second one was getting antsy. Anthea and Sherlock could both see it. He would do something any second. Normal they'd both be revelling in the situation. However right now it seemed only Anthea was enjoying it.
"Anthea. Go. I've got it." Sherlock practically commanded. It almost made Anthea laugh. He didn't have that kind of money and neither did John or Molly. Mrs. Hudson might but that would not be fair.
"We gave Sherlock a chance to give us half. He didn't so we're here for all of it." The first one said. Anthea looked up at him.
"There are other ways to make him pay." The second one said. "Breaking his stuff, taking the valuables. Rough him up, and his family here."
"I'll give you three seconds to leave."
"Want to say that to me again?" Anthea and Sherlock spoke at the same time, Sherlock cool and Anthea heated.
"How 'bout I show you?" The second one said. His hand went into his jeans pocket to pull something out. Anthea only saw a flash of silver before her heart began racing in her chest. She took the man's wrist in her two hands and snapped it backwards. Unlike what John had done to Wiggins, Anthea actually broke the man's wrist. She kept hold of it, listening to the man scream, as she looked to the ground. It had been a serrated knife. It looked horrendously dangerous lying on the floor glittering in the light.
A look up had revealed what else had happened. The first man was a step closer to her with a gun in his hands. However Sherlock had jumped back over his chair and pulled John's gun from the desk. She had one man in her grasp, the other had a gun to her, and Sherlock had a gun to him. If Anthea stopped to think about how she and her child could have and still could be killed she'd probably crumble but she couldn't do that right now.
"Put the gun down." Sherlock spoke to the first man. "We'll both put our weapons down and no one else gets hurt here." He and the first man both carefully and slowly lowered their guns to the floor. Anthea watched and waited for it to be done before she spoke next. She was still holding tightly to the man's broken wrist.
"You've seen I'm not just another girl." Anthea spoke carefully and precisely. "I can give you half of the money right here, right now. The other half you're going to have to go after the right people because I can tell your right now that Sherlock's siblings are a thousand times more dangerous than we are and aren't as nice as I am." The first man looked deeply into Anthea's eyes as he considered this. He was probably weighing up the pros and cons of going back to whoever was footing his bill with half the money.
"Yeah, alright." He said. "Bill Wiggins, yeah?" He asked. Anthea let go of the second man's wrist as she nodded. As she turned around to pick up her purse from the chair Sherlock came to stand with one shoulder in front of her. She took out her chequebook and began writing out half the rather large sum to cash. She felt like she was flushing all the hard earned money down the toilet. This wasn't like buying something she really wanted but was kind of frivolous, this was giving it to fund more drugs. Goodbye setting up the baby room real soon.
"No cheques." The second man spat. Anthea eyed him, her pen frozen on the cheque.
"Your dominant hand is useless and you're going to argue?" Sherlock asked him. "You're not very bright, are you?"
"Cheques can be traced and cancelled." The man sneered at the taller detective.
"Trust me, you'll be fine." Anthea muttered. "I don't exactly like having my money traced either." She ripped the cheque out and held it to the first man. He looked suspicious but took it anyway. "You'll be fine. Cash it right now. I'll stay here for an hour just so you can find me." She folded her arms across her chest.
He took it and after some veiled threats the men left.
Sherlock closed the door and Anthea collapsed with her hands against her face. Sherlock rested his head against the door and Anthea began laughing.
"I haven't had that kind of fun since…" She lowered her hands and looked at her bump. "Well…" She smiled and placed her hand on her bump lovingly. "Since this one became a thing."
"Do you think this is an appropriate time to make jokes like that?" Sherlock hissed. Anthea looked over to see his bright blue eyes on her. "You could have gotten hurt." He said.
"I stopped them from hurting you!" Anthea defended herself.
"And that would have been a legitimate excuse for me to give Mycroft?" Sherlock sneered. "Sorry brother dear, the love of your life and the only child you'll ever have died because they were protecting me from yet another drug debt."
"It would have been if it stopped you from getting killed." Anthea pulled a face. "You're not back to underestimating how much you mean to your brother, are you?"
"No, I'm not. But two lives against one, Ali." Sherlock held up fingers to iterate his point. "Logically losing two lives would be worse for the recluse than losing one."
"Okay!" Anthea rolled her eyes once again as she rubbed her stomach. The baby was jumping all over the place and she was hoping to soothe it. "I get it but I can't help it. It's my job and it's my family, it's what I do." Sherlock stepped forward.
"I don't need another loved one losing their life for me." He said deadly seriously. He was talking about Mary and what that had done to everyone. Anthea sighed. She closed her eyes for a minute to allow this to settle in her mind. How much guilt did Sherlock still carry over that and from John's anger? She got herself out of the chair and came to stand in front of Sherlock. She placed her hands on his arms.
"I'm sorry. It can't be nice going through that type of thing again." She said. Sherlock rolled his eyes to try and dismiss his own feelings but it didn't work. "I forget that I'm not looking out for just myself anymore and I'm not talking just the baby. And I forget all the time what kind of emotional trauma you and Myc have been through in your lives – even if a lot of it is self-inflicted." She laughed a little and Sherlock fought a smile. "I'm sorry, I should do better by you and Mycroft, and I should definitely do better by my own little Holmes. It's hard to remember you're carrying another literal life."
"You're forgiven." Sherlock muttered. "By me, anyway." He widened his eyes. "What's Mycroft going to say when he hears you let drug dealers go free?" Anthea scoffed as she let Sherlock go.
"With the bugs we have in here and on the street? I'll give them a week and then I'll sick James' men on them. They'll be appended by the end of the month." Sherlock smiled as Anthea let herself looked cocky and proud of herself for a moment.
"Don't let anything happen to… Wiggins, though. He doesn't deserve it." Look at that. Sherlock's new heart continued to exist. Anthea nodded, giving him her word. "And despite being cross at you for behaving deplorably I don't think I've ever seen you say two words in a high stakes situation before." The genius said.
"I'm good, aren't I?" Anthea teased.
"Very." Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Once my niece or nephew is born you can leave them under John's care and I'll take you on cases. You reflexes are twice as fast as his." Anthea laughed in reaction. She once again placed a hand on her bump.
"Maybe if I'm bored." She answered.
"And if Mycroft hasn't murdered us both over today." Sherlock added. Anthea groaned, her whole body deflating. She'd forgotten about Mycroft. "You honestly didn't think he wouldn't find out, did you? You drained your bank account and there was suspicious activity in my flat."
"You couldn't let me be happy, could you?" She sighed.
"It's just punishment for putting your lives in danger. Plural intended."
Author's Note: Man, action is not my strong point! I am a dialogue girl through and through. I just hope this still read nicely. Please let me know what you think! Thanks to our guest reviewers: Guests x3, Penny, Singing Ferret, Christie, and MinaCarlyle. Thanks to everyone who reviews ever. Given my head behaves then I'll see you all in five days!