Author's Note: Thank you so much guys for letting me take a break to focus on exams. It was totally worth it. The class I was most worried about I think I did really well in. Also thanks for the kind reviews and just well wishes. Those of you who follow me on twitter know the development of this chapter. First I asked if I could write an inconsequential chapter of 1000 words that just sets up next plot thingie. Then I wrote up to 1500 and estimated the chapter would be 2000 words. It ended up at about 2600. Whoops. Either way, I hope you like it! It could have been so much worse given that my last exam was yesterday. 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 Her Back Ached

If Anthea didn't know better she'd swear that the baby was torturing her from the inside. The dull ache that had been present in her lower back for two whole days now, that was the kind of slow constant pain you inflicted when you wanted to break someone. If Anthea could convey the information that Will or Margot wanted to know she'd give it to him/her right away just to get the pain to stop. Unless they wanted to know what sex they were, or if their biological father was going to be in the picture. She'd have to lie and give them what they want to hear like some torture victims end up doing.

In all seriousness, Anthea would do a lot to get this pain to stop. All the stretches and all the adjusted sitting positions had done nothing to help her. Mycroft told her it was the change in centre of gravity that was doing it to her. She liked to blame her beloved heels. It was only fair, cheese and coffee – two things she loved – had turned on her. Why wouldn't another beloved thing turn on her during pregnancy too? Mycroft said yes, that was probably a contributing factor.

Carol came to the office yesterday after seeing Anthea's complaining text message. She can with a pair of sneakers and told Anthea they were going for a walk.

"They always helped me when I was pregnant." The agent explained.

"Yeah but you're an amazon. I'm not. We don't have the idea of how long walks should be." Anthea replied flatly. The tall intimidating woman rolled her eyes to the roof and then promised it would be a short, light stroll. Admittedly it did take some of the immediate sting out of Anthea's back but not enough to feel relief.

"Pregnancy sucks." Anthea grunted as they came to a stop outside a shop to buy some drinks. She rubbed her back.

"That's why I only did it once." Carol replied, a tiny smile dancing shyly on her lips. Anthea sniffed a silent laugh up at the woman. "Katie was a horrible baby, too. That didn't help. She was a great little girl but as a baby." Carol widened her eyes and shook her head. It was hard to imagine. Katie was such a well-adjusted and wonderful young lady. That she was ever difficult was a shock.

"No kidding?" Anthea asked, pouting.

"Fussy. Fussy about everything. She still is but I don't have to force her to do much anymore." Anthea laughed but the laughter soon died as she felt the ache in her lower back begin to increase again.

"I'm whining about this." She mocked herself. "How am I going to deal with a fussy baby? Especially on my own?"

"You're not alone." Carol answered back. Her tone was flat as always.

"Not yet, anyway." Anthea replied, pessimism shining through during a moment of weakness. Carol touched one of Anthea's curls.

"Don't talk like that, it's not you." She said. Those were words of comfort coming from the strong woman and Anthea knew it. She scoffed and looked down to the ground.

"Yeah, I know." She said, maybe lied. "It's the pain, it's wearing me down."

Any benefits from that walk had soon disappeared. Anthea was in bed unable to get a moment of sleep. She had been tossing and turning, trying to find a position that was comfortable for both her back and her bump. Apparently it was impossible. Her hot water bottle had long since gone cold and wasn't aiding her at all.

If she had to guess she'd say that she'd given up trying and had been staring at the room for about an hour and a half at this point. As she lay there, bored and in pain, her mind kept drifting back to that conversation with Carol. About the idea of raising this baby alone… That wasn't the only reason, of course. Jamie had been talking about plans for a baby shower and… No, Carol was right. This wasn't Anthea. Her job was to be optimistic and have everything go according to plan, that's how she was trained. Of course, she and Mycroft always made sure to have a few contingency plans in place. But this wasn't work.

Oh, her back was killing her. That was the problem. Laying here was only making it worse. Anthea couldn't do it anymore. She had to get up and at least do something before she went insane or drove herself into a self-inflicted depressed state. She didn't know what she was going to do but first things first, she was going to heat up the stupid water bottle so it would actually do something again.

On her way down the hall Anthea passed the baby's room. She stopped by instinct alone to peer in. She leaned against the doorway, holding the water bottle in both hands against her lap, and looked around the space. It was looking so much more like a home for the baby now. They hadn't got very many more items since the big shopping trip for a crib but it looked inviting. The colours we comforting. The crib and the dresser were there, Varya's painting was on the wall, and an empty bookshelf waited to be filled with favourite stories and places to visit.

The newest item was a rocking chair. This was not Anthea's idea, she thought they were old fashioned and a little silly for someone like her. A powerful, sophisticated woman rocking a baby in a rocking chair. The ideas didn't combine well. Then Violet had powerfully suggested she get one. She had gone on and on about how much she loved her rocking chair. That's when Mycroft began questioning Anthea's decision not to get one. He casually brought it up in front of John and Sherlock. John said it was a bloody life saver and he'd happily trade his good leg for it. Even Sherlock admitted to using.

"I spoke to James today." Mycroft had said, returning to the office after running a few jobs. "Did you know Jamie has a rocking chair?"

"Mmhhmm." Anthea hummed, eyes widening in annoyance. "Her step father gave it to her and she felt obliged to keep it."

"That might have been the case, then." Mycroft purred and Anthea knew he had a reason for the confidence. "Now, however, it is the best way – other than a ride in the car – to settle Hope if she is fussy." Anthea glared at the genius. He smiled self-righteously. They held this for thirty seconds.

"Why do you want me to get one so badly?" She asked. "Is it because your Mummy said so?"

"No." Mycroft blinked a few times, looking mildly offended. "Because I only want what's best for you." That was it. That was the final blow making Mycroft victorious.

"Fine." Anthea waved her hand dismissingly. She was holding her white flag up. "Get the chair."

"I already brought it." Mycroft announced cheerfully. "I've been waiting to bring it into the house."

Idiot.

He only wanted what was best for Anthea. Not for the baby, but for Anthea. It was sweet and only months ago it would have been the perfect words to melt Anthea. Now it also filled her with some unease. Was that further proof that he was going to disappear one day and just be gone for good? Because he couldn't do babies or children and didn't even want to try. Or was the fact that he even bought the chair a sign he was thinking of the little one?

This was Jamie's fault that Anthea was thinking about this now. Her and her stupid suggestion for a baby shower soon…

Anthea shook her head and kept moving.

She heated up the kettle in the kitchen and filled up the hot water bottle, making it hot and comforting once more. It might not help much but it made Anthea feel psychologically better about her back. Now she just needed somewhere to go and something to do while also resting her back…

Anthea found herself going straight for Mycroft's study. It was the wall to wall books that did it. Anthea loved this room. It was a symbol of Mycroft and Anthea; a work desk and computer but also a couch and hundreds of stories and worlds to explore. The dangerous minds and the creative individuals all in one. It was also one of the rooms in the house that only ever smelt of Mycroft. Well, Mycroft and old paper.

Technically this was Mycroft's safe space in the house and Anthea should go somewhere else but he wouldn't begrudge her this. She just wanted a nice book to read and a comfortable place to sit or lie down so she could pass the time. This room was perfect for that.

Anthea chose a book. Unfortunately she picked one from a higher shelf and hurt her back as she stretched to get it. She cursed under her breath and rubbed her back. She set up the couch as comfortably as she could and put the hot water bottle roughly where her lower back would be. She sat down, readjusted a few things, tried to rub some pain out of her back and began reading.

Anthea attempted to read, anyway. It had been quite some time and Anthea had yet to get past chapter one. The ache in her back kept distracting her and making her lose her place. It was also making her mind wander when she began to search for her spot on the page causing her to think rather than actually read.

All these doubts that had been flying around her mind lately, it was all Jamie's fault.

"As your best friend and your sort of adoptive sister I bags throwing you a baby shower!" The blonde had exclaimed excitedly. Anthea looked at the makeup artist with amusement. Jamie's exuberance was astounding, especially when she had a baby to look after and still managed to be just the same.

"Sure." Anthea laughed. She had no idea who Jamie intended to invite – Anthea's friends list wasn't exactly long – but she had thought if anyone would attempt to throw Anthea and shower it would be Jamie. Maybe Jamie could pad the invite list a little with her friends that Anthea knew. She wouldn't mind if Jamie invited James' sister, Poppy. She was nice. Jamie's mum could come too.

"I've even got an awesome theme in mind." Jamie clasped her hands together as she beamed.

"If it's Alice in Wonderland I will murder you." Anthea warned her friend. Jamie pulled a face.

"I'm not mean!" She said. "I just don't know about presents." Jamie kept the conversation moving at lightning speed. "Like usually its stuff you need but what do you get the woman whose baby daddy would give the baby all of Europe if they asked?" Would he? Mycroft had certainly shown less distress about the whole pregnancy but would he do that? He'd move heaven and earth for Sherlock and Eurus, and Anthea. Anthea knew he didn't feel that way about the baby right now and a little voice in her head doubted he would even give himself enough time to like the baby let alone have the strong love for them.

"I don't know…" Anthea shook her head. She did her best to keep her thoughts off her face. "Lots of fancy coffee and scotch for after the baby is born would be nice." Anthea through Jamie a cheeky lopsided smile.

"You know you can't drink when breastfeeding, right?"

"You're kidding me!"

That was it. That was the comment. It niggled at the back of her mind but for the most past she could push past it and ignore it. Once her back began aching and she began feeling sorry for herself it was different. Once you began feeling sorry for yourself over one thing you could easily bring up the other things that made you feel uncomfortable, or sad, or worried. The human mind at its best.

Poor Anthea's book. It deserved better than this. It deserved Anthea's undivided attention. She should be reading.

"Anthea?" Mycroft's voice was a whisper in the room. Anthea looked up from the book to see him just past the entrance. He had his glasses on and his dressing gown. He worked one of his patented looks of concern. Did Anthea wake him up or was it his own issues?

"Are you okay?" Anthea asked her genius. His brows knitted together.

"Never mind that, my dear." He pushed her concern for him aside. "What are you doing in here?" Anthea closed her book and placed it on the couch.

"My back is keeping me up." She admitted, tucking a curl behind her ear. Mycroft hummed and looked her up and down.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"Yeah." She lied.

A pause.

Mycroft pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow.

"You don't believe me?" Anthea challenged Mycroft.

"I believe you." He lied back.

"It's not really sore," Anthea turned the topic back to her back. "It's just-"

"Bothersome." Mycroft finished her sentence. He was no stranger to lower back pain. He spent hours at desks not moving after all. Anthea nodded. "Have you-?"

"Done those stretches?" She referred to the stretches he gave her when she first started complaining. "Yup."

"You should get someone to work on your back." Mycroft told Anthea. Not like he'd ever done that for a sore back – he'd hate a massage. Someone touching you while you were venerable, it would make him tenser. He wouldn't give one either.

"Would you?" Anthea teased him.

"I'm not you." Was his immediate answer. "Get one tomorrow." Anthea nodded. She'd think about ordering one for tomorrow. Anything to get the pain to go away at this point.

Silence.

Mycroft stood at the door watching Anthea. She watched him watch her until those doubts started climbing in her mind again. He cared about her, absolutely. Look at him, he loves her. But would he ever like the baby? It wasn't his style. Talk about things that make him tense. Anthea looked down at her hands.

"Go to bed, Myc." She said. The genius hummed again.

"What would be the purpose of that?" He debated. "I see no point to being in bed if I'm not sleeping, not without you anyway." He was such a strange man. "Why don't I go make some tea and get the chessboard?" He asked her.

"I'm not in the mood for a game you always win." Anthea uttered.

"Mousetrap then?" He asked. Anthea made a noise through her nose that might be a laugh. She started smiling at her lap. The Holmes siblings were such children, it was so great. These brilliant thoughts intermingled with childish whimsy. Anthea looked up at the genius. She raised one shoulder in a lazy shrug and nodded.

"Sure." She laughed. "Do you still have all the pieces?" The genius' face shifted. He blinked.

"If you lend a hairband to the game, then yes." He smiled at her. Anthea sighed but she was still smiling.

"There should be one on top of the fridge." She said.

"On top of the fridge?" Mycroft frowned. "What are you doing leaving items on top of the fridge? What are you, my brother?"

"Go get the game, Myc."

"I will when I'm done being appalled, thank you."

It was hard to remember any doubts at a time like this. A time when he'd just been a caring and brilliant man and now was the pouty outraged teenager. When she went from serious talk to sassing him in return. Anthea loved it. It was what made this place home.

Author's Note: Was it alright? I hope so! I try not to disappoint. Please review and let me know what you thought. We only had one anonymous guest to thank from last chapter. The rest of you had accounts I could thank personally. I will see you in five days with an on time update!

Oh! Also, I finally created an Instagram, I'm tragic_vampire. I'm less whiny there than on Tumblr and less grumpy than on twitter.