Author's Note: Hi everyone, how's it going? That's an Australian colloquialism that means "how are you?" Thanks for the lovely reviews. I loved how it brought about the confusion over Margot's name. It's French, it's a silent 't'. For those of you who wonder when work will come back into the equations, I have a bit of a plan I'm following. Anthea won't be officially back at work for a while but that doesn't mean she won't be privy to certain information. Not for a couple more chapters though. Plan and all. This chapter turned out pretty well all things considered. I hope you all enjoy 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 He Soothed Margot

Anthea woke up to silence. It felt like an unnatural silence or, if you will, a sudden silence. As if there had been a noise previously there and now the sudden absence of it was what woke her up. It was strange and it was extremely unnerving.

She stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom and thought. She thought about what was missing. Mycroft wasn't next to her but it wasn't abnormal to wake up like that.

Margot.

The thought came suddenly to the forefront of Anthea's mind. Her daughter. That's what was missing. Her subconscious had been fighting against waking up to a noise that was associated with Margot and the sudden absence of it was enough to rally her whole body awake. Anthea didn't know whether to feel ashamed that Margot's noise – most likely crying – hadn't forced her body away or pleased that she was at least reacting to the lack of noise. It was a little too serious of a topic for half-awake Anthea's mind to fully work through right now. She'd sort that away in the later file.

What mattered now was what happened to Margot? Why had she stopped crying? Maybe she didn't need anything and this was another attention cry. Maybe she'd given up. Or maybe someone else had heard it, like Violet, and helped her before her mother could even be bothered to get out of bed. Either way didn't matter and either way didn't help Anthea feel any better about herself. All she wanted now was to go check on the baby to make sure she was still there. To make sure the light of her entire life and everything that was good in her and Mycroft was still alive and in her room – or at least her home – somewhere.

Anthea got out of bed, walked out of the room, and went to Margot's room. She stopped short at the door, something catching her attention.

A figure was in the room.

Mycroft was in there.

He had his back to the door. His jacket had been discarded hours ago and his shirtsleeves rolled up since just before dinner. Nothing about his appearance in the room was odd except perhaps how he held Margot in his arms and bounced her comfortingly with only a little hint of discomfort. Afraid to break the moment and cause Mycroft to freeze up Anthea jumped sideways out of the way to be hidden by the wall just before the doorway. She turned around and rested the back of her head against the wall. She took a slow and carefully quiet breathe once she was sure she wasn't caught.

Mycroft was speaking. He had been speaking when she saw him but her brain had frozen at the sight and not focused on comprehending speech. So it was only now Anthea decided to listen.

"… She's just sleeping." Anthea caught the tail end of a sentence. Mycroft was talking to Margot presumably about Anthea. "I know being alone can be scary," He was talking in a soothing voice. "Especially at night, but your mummy is just in the other room." Mycroft Holmes was talking to a baby in a soothing voice. Anthea bit her bottom lip to stop from smiling like an idiot.

Margot made a strange baby noise that Anthea had yet to categorise to mean anything in particular.

"No, she is." Mycroft replied to Margot's noise. "Right at the end of the hall."

Margot made a louder noise that could be classified as a cry and made Anthea's heart ache but she wanted to let Mycroft do this.

"Well, it would be rude to wake her up." Mycroft was talking to her again like she could understand him and he could understand her. It took more effort to not make a noise as every part of Anthea's body wanted to laugh at the absurdity and joy she felt about this. He had done it before but only in passing. Here he was practically having a conversation with the child he was afraid to pick up. "See while you need to sleep the majority of the time, once you hit a certain growth milestone you begin to only sleep in the evenings." A pause. Anthea could practically see Mycroft pulling a face at his own choice of words. "Well, not all people." He said, proving Anthea right. "There are those who do nightshift and plenty of people with sleeping disorders or strange biological clocks, but that is being rather pedantic when one is trying to explain a concept to a baby." Anthea wondered if Mycroft could appreciate the irony that he was saying this to said baby. The Holmes family had a certain amount of whimsy and the irony might have completely gone over his head.

Margot cried again. Mycroft hushed her and spent a moment to calm her.

"Shh, sorry." He said quietly. "Sorry. I meant no offence but you are indeed a baby."

Margot continued to cry.

"Margot, please." Mycroft cooed. Ignoring the cry, Anthea subconsciously placed her hand against her chest in a fist. As the crying was soothed and softened to a whimpered her hand relaxed and opened.

"I know you don't like to feel alone little one, but it can be a good thing." Mycroft said over the whimpered. It teetered off as the room fell silent for a moment. "There is a vast difference between being alone and being lonely." He told her. "Being alone can be nice. It's loneliness that can be dangerous but with the support network around you, you have no excuse to feel such a thing." Loneliness. A tough topic when it came to the three Holmes siblings. The two brothers spent years trying to convince people that they didn't feel loneliness. Sherlock learnt better long before Mycroft. It wasn't until Sherlock was 'dead' that Mycroft learnt better. It wasn't until he realised what losing someone felt like that he realised he didn't want to lose Anthea. Would he let his fears and concerns get the better of him this time?

He felt something for Margot, that much was obvious. Anthea could see it in a way that couldn't be explained as a coincidence or wishful thinking. What worried Anthea was Mycroft thinking he didn't deserve this or Margot deserved better. Would he allow himself to be lonely again if he thought it was in the best interest of everyone involved? It was still quite the unanswered question.

Margot gurgled, bringing Anthea out of her thoughts.

"I suppose you can use being an infant as an excuse little one, but that will only work for a few years." He paused and hummed. "Although by then I suspect you'll have grasped the difference between being alone and loneliness anyway."

He stopped talking for at least a minute. Anthea had no way to measure time but it felt like it was at least a minute, or maybe two. What was that idiot thinking?

"The point is, if your mummy isn't in the room it doesn't mean she's not around or doesn't love you. Never doubt the love that woman has for you." Mycroft said to the quiet baby. "And if I'm not around it doesn't mean I'm not watching out for you. Your uncle can tell you all about that. Your aunt too, should you ever meet."

Another silence. This one was only thirty seconds at the most.

"Better? I'm glad I could be of assistance."

Anthea sucked on her bottom lip and snuck off back to the bedroom. Certain that she escaped successfully, Anthea slunk back into bed. Before she could fall back asleep thoughts danced in her head.

Mycroft.

If Anthea needed more proof of those feelings he had towards Margot than this was it. What other baby would he do that for? He talked to Hope like she could understand him, certainly, but not with that same level of gentleness. He never spoke to Rosie. He spoke of her but not to her. You could argue that he went in there to soothe Margot for Anthea's sake but that would not explain his behaviour towards the baby. With Hope he'd have put her down right away. Margot got conversation and soft calming noises.

He might still decide to leave. Sherlock and Mycroft had a level of unpredictability about them. Mycroft might decide that he's a horrible father and leave so that Margot may benefit from his absence – because that's how his weird brain work. That might be something he does but at least he can't argue that he doesn't love her. He clearly does.

And maybe that's why he looked at Anthea in a way Anthea didn't understand these days. Maybe it was this love for Margot. Maybe – it had seemed unlikely so Anthea hadn't considered it before – just like Anthea now loved Mycroft more for helping her create Margot, Mycroft now loved Anthea more. Maybe Margot had helped melt some more of that ice that kept his heart hidden away from view.

Anthea fell back asleep with a smile on her lips.

Anthea awoke a few hours later. Not due to uncomfortable silence this time, in fact not due to anything in particular. For the first time in nights she felt a familiar warm being next to her. She sat up and looked to her side. Just as suspected Mycroft was laying on his back with his eyes closed. He wasn't fast asleep that much was obvious. His face was always relaxed when he was asleep but now it held at least some of the creases and angles Anthea associated with Mycroft as a conscious being. His breathing wasn't light enough to be in deep sleep either. He couldn't have been here long then. But he was here.

Anthea sighed happily. It was Mycroft who appeared to need her presence to sleep more than she needed him, but she was certainly happy to have him there. It felt like something was right in the world to turn and see him there. Anthea rolled over and rested her hands and her head on Mycroft's chest. She inhaled his scent, feeling blissfully happy.

"That was a sudden invasion of privacy." Mycroft spoke. Anthea felt his voice reverberate in his chest. Anthea smirked but did not move nor open her eyes. She knew he wasn't asleep.

"Hi." She said softly. Mycroft chuckled and it sent more warmth through Anthea's chest, spreading out through her body.

"Hello." He replied. A sudden weight on Anthea's back indicated that Mycroft had rested his arm on her. She could feel the faint movement of him stroking her with his thumb. It was lovely. How long had it been since they'd done this? They remained like this for a few minutes; neither of them falling asleep but both of them enjoying it.

"Thank you." Anthea had uttered in her serene and blissful mood. She realised she needed to explain once she finished. "For taking care of Margot before."

"Ah." Mycroft replied, nodding once. If he was surprised Anthea knew about this then he didn't let it show. "It was the least I could do." He said. Anthea sighed contentedly once more. Mycroft's hand moved to stroke Anthea's hair. It was gentle and made Anthea more relaxed than she'd been in months. She wondered if Mycroft felt similar. Enough to sleep for the first time in… How long?

That was a good question. When was the last time Mycroft had slept? The genius had trouble but not so consistently. He was usually in bed for at least the majority of most evenings.

"When was the last time you slept?" Anthea asked.

"Tonight." Mycroft answered. If her eyes were open Anthea would have rolled them.

"I mean through the night." Anthea huffed to show her reaction in another way. She also kicked his foot for good measure. Mycroft was smirking and Anthea knew it.

"Ah, well," He stopped to think. "The thirtieth of March." Figures. Anthea rubbed on Mycroft's chest. "That is what happens when one has a baby in the house." Or when one is tormented over what having a baby in the house means more like it. It wasn't unspoken nightmares then. It was thoughts keeping him awake.

They fell silent again. Anthea focused on Mycroft's breathing. Mycroft focused on Anthea's hair. He might have smelt it at once point. Anthea scooted closer to the wonderful body heat.

How long past before Anthea felt the need to speak again? Fifteen minutes? Maybe half an hour? It was hard to tell in such a relaxing environment. Anthea might have even dozed off for some time. If she did then it was when she reawakened that she began thinking of Mycroft's lack of sleep and his words to Margot. She was thinking about the thoughts his words has stirred before.

Anthea opened her eyes but kept her head snug on Mycroft's chest.

"You don't have to be alone again, you know?" She spoke from her heart. Mycroft's hand stopped moving in Anthea's hair. Another time Anthea might not have said this. Another time when she was awake and not drunk on sleep and the smell of Mycroft. But this was now and Anthea felt loved and she wanted to make sure that her strange partner felt loved too.

"Hmmm." Mycroft moved his hand back to Anthea's back. "How much did you hear?" He asked. His voice was carefully and measured but not cold. The ice walls weren't up but there was a fence or two.

"A little." Anthea hummed.

"Enough." Mycroft corrected her words. Yeah, well, that was true.

"Enough." Anthea agreed. She drew circles on Mycroft's chest. "But really Mycroft, you don't have to be lonely unless you choose to be." She waited for a response but didn't get one. Not verbally anyway, one of the fences had opened though – she could feel it. So Anthea continued. "When do you think you'll choose?"

"Not now." Mycroft's voice was full of stifled emotion.

"When?" Anthea asked carefully. "In the morning? Or when the month is completely over?" She was slightly teasing but very much earnest.

"Neither." Mycroft answered right away which was sooner that Anthea anticipated.

"The day before the last day?" Anthea teased. She touched his foot with her toe. There was a breathy laugh. The other fence opened.

"Perhaps." Mycroft replied. You could hear that humour in his voice. "Hopefully before then, but perhaps."

"Okay." Anthea hummed. Mycroft moved his hand up to Anthea's shoulder.

The conversation fell away to complete relaxation again. This was home; lying in bed with Mycroft and Margot only a door or two away. This was heaven. This wasn't what Anthea expected out of life and it certainly wasn't what Mycroft expected of his but it was amazing.

"I love you." Anthea whispered.

"I love you too." Mycroft answered without so much of a pause. It was impressive coming from him. It was… really nice. There was no other way to put it. Anthea sighed contentedly again.

The tinny crying came through the baby monitor on Anthea's bedside table. Margot. It wasn't loud yet, just a quiet sob – if babies could sob.

Anthea groaned and Mycroft chuckled.

The sob become a real cry. Margot needed something.

"Not only is it your turn, my dear, but you are also essentially pinning me down so I can't move."

"I know." Anthea spoke through another groan. "I love her and I know." Anthea stretched out on the bed and sat up. "She better need something and this better not be for more attention."

"Be kind, my love, she's only telling you she loves you too." Mycroft teased. Anthea muttered something as she dragged her feet, walking away from the warm inviting bed.

It was okay. It was Margot. If anyone could drag Anthea away from the comforts of her bed with Mycroft it was Margot. Once the baby was happy and settled Anthea could be too. The same probably applied to Mycroft.

Author's Note: So? How was it? I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. Let me know what you think because it makes me happy. Unless I get requests for a use of Violet and Siger they'll be going home in the next chapter. So if you want them to do something with Margot or Anthea and Mycroft before that happens this is your chance to say. With that in mind I'm going to post the next update in a week to make sure we have time for you guys to say something at the end of your review or whatever. Thanks to last chapter's guest reviewers; Marie, Guests x2, Enola, Judygrasham, Madalina, and Bibliophiler. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, and see you next Wednesday night my time.