Author's Note: Thanks for the lovely reviews last chapter. I was a bit worried about the subject matter but I shouldn't have been with you wonderful lot. So it came to my attention on my blog that certain things I've talked about have to happen soon (nothing bad, I assure you) and to get there we need to get through events like this. It also came to my attention that given Margot's date of birth this would be coming up pretty soon anyway. So… Here we go. I actually like this chapter a lot more than I thought I would. I hope you all can see why! Please read, review, and most importantly; 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.

Margot's First Christmas Decorations

Anthea was certain that in his entire adult life Mycroft had never put up a Christmas tree or even some tinsel or the like. Anthea had never asked him to. The man who hated celebrating birthdays, who chose to ignore Christmas unless his parents summoned him, who fled from all emotions less he get burnt again. Anthea knew what she was getting into when she started dating him, even before that.

Anthea had usually put up a Christmas tree. She missed a year or two, and there was that year at James and Jamie's, but before moving in with Mycroft she had a small plastic Christmas tree she put up just to feel a little festive. There was never anything at the office to remind her of the time of year, after all. Unless she was feeling brave, of course.

She didn't miss it until she saw someone else's tree, and even then it was a fleeting 'aww' rather than a sad longing. Christmas wasn't for busy people after all. It was barely for adults except for the exchanging of a gift with someone close to you. For years older adults had been saying to Anthea that Christmas was only fun with children in your life. Even Anthea's uncle had once remarked he only liked Christmas again when Anthea was below thirteen and they'd all meet at Grandmother's for lunch. He'd even said that when she was fifteen and her mother had said something about it always being fun. Anthea's mother was a bit of a dreamer, though. Bless her. Violet had lamented the lack of children until she at least could adopt Rosie as her own. Anthea had got to see what they meant with Hope and Rosie last year with the promise of it only getting better as they got older and understood it. She hadn't gone as overboard as she had with Hope's birthday but it had still been brilliant buying for kids who would get overjoyed with it.

Now.

Well, now there was Margot.

Anthea had her own little child who it was her responsibility to fill with the whim and wonder of the season. How was a rather melancholic soul with an even darker soul for a partner supposed to fill a child with excitement? It had to start with decorations, right? The same way Anthea reminded herself of the season would be the same way she'd remind herself to act excited for Margot. A Christmas tree, some tinsel, maybe a mistletoe above the stairs. She doubted Mycroft would let her put a wreath on the door…

Yes. Mycroft.

It was his house, wasn't it? Anthea's name was on the deed now but she wasn't the one who earnt enough money working hard at such a young age to buy the place, was she? She wasn't the one who felt safe hiding in these halls, was she? It was Anthea's home but it was Mycroft's house. He didn't like Christmas. How much would he let Anthea get away with for Margot? For Margot's first Christmas when she was still too young to remember any of it? He might call this one pointless. Then again he might not. It was hard to call these days when it came to what was best for Margot the man could be surprising in the best ways… But Anthea hated making him uncomfortable.

Tinsel on the stairs. He would let her do that. She knew it. At least he wouldn't make her take it down if he came home and it was just there already. He'd moan and that's about it.

Mycroft came back to the Diogenes Dungeon after a meeting upstairs. He would have greeted Anthea with a smile and walked past her to his office had his eagle eyes not spotted the one different thing in the dank and dimly light place. The bag of shopping Anthea had by the door.

An eyebrow raised.

"Yours?" He asked Anthea. She crinkled her nose playfully.

"No." She hummed. "A staff member brought it down here." A pause as Mycroft's blank expression showed he found no humour in the teasing while Anthea's expression showed how proud of herself she was.

"May I?" He gestured to the bag. Anthea shrugged a shoulder lazily, giving consent for the genius to look inside. As Mycroft lent over and looked in the bag his brows furrowed.

"Christmas decorations?" The genius asked as he stood back up. "In this office?" The idea clearly disgusted him and it was enough for a low chuckle or two to escape Anthea's mouth. Imagine the dungeon decked out with tinsel and snowflake decorations. They'd probably manage to still look gloomy in this place where colour and fun went to die. Even upstairs little six inch Christmas tree on the reception desk looked like it wanted to die peacefully anywhere else.

"For Margot's room." Anthea sighed, rolling her eyes. She was smiling the entire time of course. She leaned forward on the desk, a little eager to tell Mycroft of her plans for their daughter's room. "I want her to start to get to know that Christmas is something special, you know?" She could hear the excitement in her voice and it surprised her. Christmas really was better with kids. Mycroft nodded for Anthea to continue. "So I thought I'd get some decorations for her room. I got these little snowmen and reindeer figurines. I wanted to get a Santa too but I'm holding out for one that doesn't look creepy." Mycroft's mouth twitched at that. "And I got paper snowflakes to hang on her wall."

Mycroft opened his mouth.

Anthea held up a palm.

"I know I could make some, but these ones are intricate and prettier than I could do with printing paper and scissors." She continued. Mycroft closed his mouth. "I thought it might be cute to set up a little train on her bookshelf too but I didn't find one today. I thought the places around the government office might have some. There's a gift shop or two around there…" Anthea trailed off, her excitement urging her to continue but she had run out of things. She only got a few… Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. "And that's that."

"Mhhmm." Mycroft hummed. He folded his arms across his chest and nodded at the bag. A piece of silver rope like substance hang out of the bag, trying to send lights dancing but not having enough lighting in this room to do so. "And the tinsel?" He asked. Anthea took a deep breath. She leaned back into her chair.

"I was thinking, or hoping," She winced, "that we could, if you wouldn't mind, put it on the banister of the stairs. For Margot." Anthea's shoulders wearily rose to meet her ears. "I don't want to make her room too overstimulating but…" Her eyes drifted over to the tinsel. "Tinsel is Christmas." She pouted her lips before looking back at Mycroft. "But if that's too much I can put it up closer to her room."

Mycroft didn't answer right away. A few different kinds of storms flickered in those cloudy blue eyes. He cocked his head to the side.

"Anthea," He began in a breathy voice. "I don't… You don't…" He stopped and took a breath. "It's…" He stopped again. Arms still folded across his chest, he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "You can put the tinsel on the stairs." He managed to finally say. Anthea broke into a smile and if it was supposed to make Mycroft feel better it apparently didn't as another storm crossed through his eyes.

"Margot is going to know that something special is happening." Anthea said proudly. Mycroft looked down at his shoes. He checked the sides for scuffs.

"It's… something." He muttered.

It took Anthea no time that evening to set up Margot's room and wrap the tinsel carefully around the banister of the stairs. She considered taking it all the way around the balconied area upstairs but didn't want to push the issue – not this year. Well, that and she hadn't bought enough tinsel.

The house itself would have liked it. Even with just this little bit added it felt more alive and vibrant than ever. It seemed to glow – proud of its first decorations since probably its previous owner. Could you imagine the vibrant and stunning Christmases a manor like this would have seen? Parties. Eggnog by the fireplace. A gigantic tree guests admired while musicians played Christmas Carols from the living room. Unless of course it always belonged in the hands of someone like Mycroft.

Mycroft himself had found Anthea – presumably to talk about what the hell they were going to do for dinner – as she was finishing the tinsel. She had come to stand beside him to admire it as he no doubt critiqued it. His face was a stone wall of nothingness while Anthea had the smallest smirk on her lips. She folded her arms across her chest and huffed like a workman finishing a hard yet satisfying days' worth of work.

"What do you think?" Anthea asked her partner proudly. "Not 'do you like it', obviously, but it looks good, right?" She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. Mycroft licked his lips. He took a few steps forward towards the silver bloom and touched it like one might touch the petals of a flower.

"It's fine." He said in a higher than usual tone. His words were short like cutting himself off from speaking further. Then he obvious thought better than shielding whatever it was from Anthea and continued. "Reminds me of Christmas at home." And the way he said it, home, Anthea knew he wasn't talking about the cottage they lived in for his teenaged years – the one his parents still occupied. He was talking of another manor no longer standing. Anthea recognised the distant sound in Mycroft's tone as what she sounded like whenever she felt grief for parts of her childhood unrecoverable.

Ah.

And she finally got this in a way she never had before.

She'd never connected birthdays and Christmas to what had happened before. It made sense, it was the emotions and sentimentality of it that scared him off. It was all that which scared him off feeling in the first place.

Maybe she shouldn't have asked to do this.

Maybe the tinsel was a step too far.

Or maybe this was the perfect time, now the healing had truly begun, to do this type of thing.

Anthea resisted the urge to wince, or twitch, or even cock her head to the side. As neutral as possible she spoke.

"Is it too much?" She asked. Mycroft very gently let go of the tinsel and let his hand fall to his side.

"I was going to ask you if it's too little." He said over his shoulder before turning to face Anthea, back to the tinselled stairs. "Why bother with this at all if there is no Christmas tree?" Anthea's eyebrows disobeyed her and twitched ever so closer together.

"I didn't want to push you on the first year." She said. Mycroft sniffed. He looked at the roof in exasperation then down to his shoes again. It was like the office.

"Don't do that, Alice." He said before looking back up. "Stop walking on eggshells around me. This is no longer a partnership, it's a group. Not only does two against one win, but I should actually think putting Margot's childhood should come before either of our own grievances." Anthea let her face contort.

"I'm not walking on eggshells." She said. She stepped forward to close the gap between them. "I'm just respectful of your whole…" She waved her hand around her head. "Mess." Even his mouth pulled into a smirk. "For all I know Christmas trees could be in the overstimulating category." Mycroft let a small laugh escape his lips. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, it's not." He said. "It's-"

"Emotions and stuff. I know." Anthea cut him off. "I was proving a point." Mycroft's smirk turned into something gentler. He reached out and cupped one side of Anthea's face. She leaned into it longingly as his thumb stroked her cheek.

"Stop putting me first. You're not my assistant here." He said softly. "You want Margot to feel the holiday around her? Then let's get a bloody Christmas tree." He dropped his hand as his words increased with volume. Anthea laughed, her whole insides feeling light.

"Yeah?" She said. Mycroft shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

"I thought the lounge by the fire would look particularly festive, although the living room would ensure that Margot saw it every day." He said.

"I like the lounge room." Anthea agreed, her nose crinkled as she smiled. "I think that's what a room like that is for." Opening presents by the fireplace. It felt out of a fairy tale. That's what Margot's first Christmas should be like. Mycroft nodded thoughtfully.

Bless the man. He was trying so hard. You could hear his brain rebelling against it from here but he was fighting past it. It was brave when you thought about it. Not in an obvious way, not like someone standing in front of a gun or running into a blazing building. It was the quiet kind of brave that went with issues of the heart and mind that people didn't recognise enough.

"You're a good father." Anthea said. She just felt it needed to be said. That a bravery needed to be recognised. Immediately Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"No." He sung in that dangerous work viper tone. "I'm a rubbish partner that makes his partner feel like they need to tiptoe around me. I am an adequate father in this case." Anthea just kept smiling at him. She held her fingers close together in front of her nose, indicating something small.

"You're a little bit of a rubbish partner." She teased. Mycroft scoffed. "But you're a good father." The genius looked passed Anthea to the wall just above her head. If he was going to argue he chose not to.

"Shall we go get a tree?" He asked. "I'll leave the decorating to you." Anthea nodded.

"Real or fake?" She asked. Mycroft scoffed. He began walking off, presumably to get their coats.

"I'm not cleaning up after a real one. Are you?" He called out behind him.

"No." Anthea called back.

"Then why bother asking?" She heard yelled back. "Honestly, dear." Anthea laughed.

Yeah, he was a rubbish partner but that was rather half the reason Anthea loved him.

Author's Note: This chapter had way more character development for both our main characters than I expected. I thought it would just be… kind of there, but it turned out well! In my opinion, anyway. I can't wait to hear yours! Now I just need to work out what the hell I want to do with Christmas… while it's currently August. Thanks to our guest reviewers; Guests x2, and Madalina. Thanks to all of you reading this. See you in five days!