Author's Note: Alright, I'm sorry I'm late. I got really stressed studying for exams. It is legitimately all I've been doing. I even had to miss a day of nanowrimo on Thursday because all I've been doing in studying. Only one exam left now though and that one isn't as stressful as the two I had this week. This chapter is a short one but I am pretty pleased with how it turned out given how braindead I've been since my exam 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.

Margot First Called Out For Anthea

It wasn't often that Anthea and Mycroft found the will and determination to cook dinner together but whenever they did it became this big elaborate thing. It was treated a bit like a date night… Well, a family night since the arrival of little Margot. It was more than just dinner, it was a whole meal. If they were going to do this with Anthea's ineptitude and Mycroft's laziness then they were going to do it right.

The game plan tonight was set; Mycroft on a starter and dessert, and Anthea on the main meal. Risky, yes, but they had thought this through. Caesar Salad (with homemade sauce) and grilled chicken. How hard was it to screw up a salad that she really liked? And chicken. Anthea had a better record with chicken than any other protein. She could do this. Mycroft was trying something new for the starter; crumbed garlic mushrooms. He had admitted to Anthea that he had chosen it as the mushrooms could take the place of the chicken should she over or undercook it. She teased him about his faith in her but honestly it wasn't a bad idea to have a backup. Another all-time favourite had been chosen for dessert; crème brulee. Mycroft had come very close to ordering it from a restaurant until Anthea had argued that it defeated the purpose of home cooking.

Anthea wondered what it was like for Margot to watch her parents fiff-faff around a room they usually barely used. Cutting things, rinsing things, lining things. It must have been so unique for her. For some of it she was set up in the living room where Anthea and Mycroft could see her and occasionally she was moved to a highchair in the kitchen. It depended on whether their need for Margot or their need for space in their ill-used kitchen was winning out at the time.

It was a really fun late afternoon early evening thing to do. Really fun. It made Anthea wonder why they didn't do it more often. If Mycroft ever retired (or semi-retired) they might end up doing this more often. If that were the case Anthea might have to bite the bullet and take some cooking classes just so she could hold her own against Mr. Good-At-Everything.

It happened when Anthea was trying to fry up her own croutons (they had premade ones just in case). She was concentrating on it so hard she couldn't even hear the sizzle of the pan.

"Ma." The lithe little voice broke through Anthea's concentration – her mothering senses very acute aware of what Margot's voice sounded like. Anthea's head looked up from the stove top and her spine straightened. Mycroft, too, had stopped moving.

"What was that?" She asked, just in case her imagination and created that. Or maybe Margot had called out for Mycroft and the noise from the kitchen distorted it.

"It was Margot." Mycroft said. He was at the bench and in a better position for sight and sound. He was looking over at Margot herself. He would have heard it better.

"Did she say what I think she said?" Anthea asked, looking over at Mycroft. His eyes narrowed on the baby and he pursed his lips.

"I don't know." He hummed thoughtfully. "She did say the syllable but it's hard to discern from baby talk, particularly when she's looking at Patches and not over here." Mycroft turned his body so he could look over at Anthea. He smiled. "Maybe she thinks Patches is her mother." He teased. Anthea crinkled her nose and pulled a face at Mycroft.

Anthea chose to ignore Margot again and return to the croutons. Mycroft, too, returned to work. When the croutons were perfectly golden brown, and they were perfect (yes!) Anthea took them off the heat. She placed them on paper towel to get an excess hot liquids off them.

"Maa." Margot called out again. Anthea and Mycroft froze again.

"She's looking our way this time." Mycroft whispered. They must have looked like those animals who think if they stay perfectly still their predators can't see them. The looks on their faces probably looked equally as frightened. Slowly Anthea turned around to face Mycroft and the bench. She approached the bench to peer over at Margot where she was. The little girl's face light up.

"Ma-ma!" She babbled happily at Anthea's appearance. Anthea inhaled sharply. Mycroft's face broke out in a smile and he looked at Anthea as if he'd just received sweet revenge that was a long time coming.

"It's now your turn to become an obedient dog and come running every time she calls for you." Mycroft said. Anthea knew he was right. That little girl had two of the most powerful people in Britain wrapped around her little finger.

"Yeah, sweetie?" Anthea called out. She abandoned her cooking utensils on the bench and walked as quickly as she could to Margot. Anthea sat on the floor. She picked Margot up and placed her in her lap. Margot babbled happily and reached out and touched her mother's face. "What did you want to show me? Want to play?"

Mycroft cooked the rest of the meal. He let Anthea sit happily on the floor, loving their daughter as she got to play with her.

Anthea and Mycroft always had meals like this at the dining table surrounded by the suits of armour (thanks to Mycroft's interesting taste in interior decorating). They sat on one end of the table each, as always, facing each other. The chair at the head of the table had been moved aside for the high seat so that Margot could sit with them. There she was, at the head of the table, like the princess she was. The couple still light candles, there were just less of them and they were far away from Margot's reach.

Anthe and Mycroft chatted to each other over dinner about everything and nothing. It was always nice to know that Mycroft was interested in even the smallest details of Anthea's life. It proved that he absolutely cared. Margot was babbling to herself – making sounds that could one day soon be words. Occasionally Mycroft would stop to have a conversation with her that only the pair of them understood and it would make Anthea laugh and her heart feel like it was going to explode. As fun and beautiful as these one sided conversations between Margot and Mycroft were, Margot's babbling made it exciting. Now she had two words who knew what she was going to say next. What was it going to be like when she could express herself clearer? What kind if little person was she going to turn out to be?

It got Anthea thinking of all the stories she knew of the people around her as babies and how they developed and matured. Mycroft was always a bit of a little adult and Anthea always had a bit of an attitude. Jamie talked long before she could walk, and James walked abnormally early. Robbie was apparently a climber. People had to watch him like a hawk in case he got into trouble. What stories would they tell Margot? That she was stubborn and determined? She'd hear all about the time she blamed the floor for her lack of balance. She'd hear all about how she had to have Patches at her Christening or she'd throw a fit. Would she be embarrassed or own it? Ah, it was all too much.

"Your first word was 'no'." Anthea said to Mycroft.

"Yes." The genius hummed sarcastically and gave a particularly slow nod. "Thank you for informing me of my own personal history, my dear." He smirked and Anthea rolled her eyes.

"I'm just saying that you said 'no' and Margot called to us." Anthea said. She looked over at her happy baby and smiled lovingly.

"She did." Mycroft agreed as picked around his food.

"I wonder what that means." Anthea mused. Mycroft hummed thoughtfully.

"That my main objective was to stop people giving me things I didn't want or making me do things I didn't want to do while her main objective is our attention." Mycroft mused. "Or that Margot has a normal attachment to us while I was always disconnected from my emotions, even as a young child prior to any possible trauma." Anthea crinkled her nose at him.

"I was going to say that she loves us a lot." Anthea laughed. Mycroft pursed his lips and shrugged.

"That's a good answer also." He said. Anthea snickered some more.

As they returned to eating an interesting thought crossed Anthea's mind. A question she probably didn't want the answer to because it was probably nothing nice. Yet curiosity got the better of her.

"Mycroft," Anthea said, putting down her fork. "What was Eurus' first word?" Mycroft took a steading breath and did not look at Anthea as he hummed. Yes, this was a bad idea. It brought up bad memories, Anthea could just sense it from this side of the table. Even Margot watched her father carefully.

"Eurus understood some complex language long before she chose to speak." Mycroft said as he stabbed one of Anthea's poor croutons. "Thus, when she chose to speak for the first time, it was more of a phrase." Mycroft looked at Anthea. "Two words."

"What was it?" Anthea asked.

"It's mine." Mycroft said.

"Oh." Anthea pouted and looked down at her food. By itself there was nothing disturbing about those two words. Lots of people say them daily and there's nothing at all menacing meant by them. It being Eurus, though… It just added something… odd about it. "I like your first word better." Anthea said with a smile to Mycroft. The odd atmosphere dropped immediately as Mycroft gave a small smile back. He looked over at their daughter. She babbled at her father.

"Personally I like Margot's the best." He said. Anthea scoffed.

"Of course you do." She said. "You and your ego."

"My ego?" Mycroft feigned hurt feelings, sounding as dramatic as he could manage while still looking sophisticated. "Are you insinuating something about me ego, my dear?" Anthea shrugged a shoulder.

"Just that it might be enlarged since Margot called for you first."

"Oh!" Mycroft hummed. He chuckled and shook his head. "This is not about my inflated ego, this is about your fragile one." He pointed at Anthea with his fork. Even that looked suave. Anthea crinkled her nose. She stroked Margot's head.

"See, Margot?" She said. "See how your father talks to me?"

"Don't bring her into this." Mycroft argued, smirking all the while. Anthea laughed lightly. She moved Margot's high chair ever so closer to her side. Mycroft sniffed and shook his head teasingly.

Author's Note: Good enough? I really hope so. Please let me know. Next update will probably be Friday so… six days! If my brain works and I actually have a chapter planned :P. Thanks to our one and only guest reviewer last chapter; Observant Potato. Thanks to all of you! I'll see you in six days.