Author's Note: Hey guys! First things first, thank you for your lovely feedback for last chapter. I'm glad you all seemed to appreciate the gift choice – as both unique and lovely. Secondly, thanks so much for all the new followers. Please, followers, do not be afraid to leave reviews. They are, after all, my lifeblood :P. This is a nice, long (by my standards) chapter for you so 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.

The First Time She Took The Lead

Anthea knocked three times rhythmically on that ghastly green coloured door before, after twisting the doorknob to confirm it was unlocked, opened the front door to the flat and stood in the doorway. Sherlock Holmes was sitting on the couch in his striped dressing gown staring intensely into his laptop screen, newspapers open and spread across the rickety coffee table. Anthea leaned against the doorframe and smiled mockingly as she absorbed the scene. The chaos of the flat was very indicative of its owner and was a fantastic contrast to Mycroft's flawless office. Sherlock's shockingly bright blue eyes flickered from the screen momentarily to confirm the visitor was who he thought it was. Of course it was, Anthea always used the same knock – it was her own way of giving away her identity without having to wait for the door to be answered. Sherlock's focus was back on the laptop for another ten seconds before he chose to speak.

"What is it this time?" The low timbre of his voice growled as he spoke. "Are you here to scout and report on my wellbeing, or does brother dear want something done for him?" Both really, isn't that the point of getting Sherlock to do things? To make sure he was ok? Anthea let her facial features relax slightly from the mocking smile into something gentler. She opened her mouth before she got a whiff of some odour. Closing her mouth she took in a deep breath from her nose. It was rancid. Rancid might not even be the right word, putrid maybe, as if it filled up all your senses with a thick rotting like smell.

"What's that smell?" She asked, chocolate eyes scanning her view of the dingy flat from her position in the doorway. Sherlock didn't shift in the slightest as he answered.

"I'm testing the ability of different acids to dissolve flesh under increased temperature to find the ideal degrees to optimize the speed of reaction." It was spoken as a fact, as if this high school chemistry test taken to the extreme should be obvious answer to what he was doing. If Anthea didn't have firsthand experience of the absurdity of a Holmes brother she may have been appalled. Or more amused than she was now, either way. She titled her head as she observed the younger Holmes.

"Got a criminal who gets rid of his bodies on the run?" She asked, not keeping the slight bemusement from her voice. Sherlock hummed a disagreement.

"Just curious." And this time Anthea actually barked a laugh. Nothing should ever surprise her anymore and yet something always did. Opening her briefcase, Anthea pulled out a manila file. She swung it in her hand, tempting Sherlock. His eyes landed on it and stared for a moment before meeting her eyes, eyebrow quirked faintly.

"Got a case for you." She spoke in a sing-song voice. Sherlock licked his lips in thought and then held his hand out. Knowing what this meant due to his brother, Anthea stepped into the flat, walking towards Sherlock and handing him the slim file. "Just an internet thing," She shrugged. "It should only take you a few hours." Sherlock, with his laptop still open on his lap, open the file and began skim reading it. "At most."

"Details?" He asked regardless of what he was reading. Anthea shrugged again, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Someone has details on an important political figure. It's blackmail; that much is obvious. He keeps getting email threats followed by these codes. We suspect they'll lead to incriminating photos, documents, or videos. The minister won't tell us what this might be."

"'We', meaning you and my brother?" He asked. Anthea nodded in an indifferent manner. "I'm assuming Mycroft was asked to look into it." Again Anthea nodded as she looked around the flat. It was just as messy and filthy as it had been the last few times she had been here. That skull that moved around was currently sitting on the top of an old television.

"He did. Mr. Holmes informed him that he is quite busy and doesn't have the time to deal with trivial matters but he'd get one of his best men on it just this once." Anthea was interrupted by a scoff and an eye roll from the younger Holmes. She allowed herself to roll her own eyes at this. "I suspect an affair – he's married. Your brother agrees but he thinks it's a tad more complicated than that." Sherlock hummed in agreement to this statement as he flicked over the page to look at the list of emails.

"Find out who did it?" Sherlock asked. Anthea let a smirk cross her face.

"Find out who did it, and what they have. We'll deal with the rest." Sherlock's glance reached Anthea's face as she allowed her smirk to turn into something a little more sinister – playing the role of the mysterious PA perfectly that if she were not dealing with a Holmes might scare anyone else.

"Fine. I-" Sherlock's response was cut off by Anthea's blackberry ringing. She held up a finger to silence him and gave him an apologetic look as she dug out her phone. It was from Downing Street.

"I have to get this." She mused as she stared at the screen. She pressed answer. "This is the personal assistant of Mycroft Holmes, how can I help you?" She answered with her practiced response to political figures.

"Miss James," it was the voice of the Prime Minister's first assistant. "There is a problem. The deal with Cuba is collapsing. Your office phone seems to have diverted to your mobile." Anthea bit her lip, staring at the brown coloured carpet, scuffing it with her black stiletto heel.

"Mr. Holmes is currently at the Diogenes Club." A sniff of contempt came from Sherlock. Anthea eyed him carefully as she continued to talk down the phone. "They're not fond of noise there so I'm collecting all calls. Is it urgent? I can get him anything you need completed." Mr. Holmes was currently working on a case he'd agreed to do for the FBI, with pleasing financial imbursement of course, which meant working from the club rather than his government office. This deal had been the reason for their visit to Arlington after Paris.

"It's quite important Miss James. We're on the verge of a collapse here. It needs to be dealt with immediately. The Minister for Defence is already here." Anthea frowned deeply, feeling a panic start to grip around her heart. She quelled those feelings and took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to collect her thoughts. What would Mycroft tell her to do? What has he asked her to get for him in these situations and what was his first point of action?

"Ok, here's what's going to happen." She spoke with authority and fake confidence she had recently discovered she was good at. She could see Sherlock watching her from above the manila file. "You are going to send me a list of what needs to be addressed right this second to prevent an immediate collapse. I won't be able to establish a solution but I'll delay it and help out any way I can to allow enough time for me to reach Mr. Holmes at the club and get him to you. Sound good?" The sound of very faint muffled voices was heard on the other end of the phone. Most likely the assistant was relaying this information. Anthea counted the seconds between her last word and the first word of the assistant. She reached 67 before he spoke once more.

"That would be acceptable." Anthea sighed silently.

"Excellent. Please forward the information to my email."

"Right away." Opening her briefcase once more, Anthea pulled out her laptop. Looking around for somewhere nonintrusive to sit that wasn't covered in junk and not finding any, Anthea settled for the other end of the couch to Sherlock.

"I've just got some urgent business to deal with before I leave." Anthea gave an excuse to Sherlock, not caring for his response. He placed the manila file to the side, pushed his own laptop to the side, and got off the couch to walk towards the kitchen, most likely to check on that experiment.

"By all means." was his response. Whether it was sincere or sarcastic, Anthea didn't have time to care, she had some damage control to do. She tapped her nails on the edge of her laptop, her heart pounding at the same pace, as she waited for the email to come in. This was dangerous. What happened now affected multiple countries – if something we wrong at this stage it would be on her head.

Her laptop pinged as the high priority email came in. Anthea clicked on it to open it and took a deep breath as it took a second to load. As soon as the wall of text with multiple dot points loaded Anthea skimmed read it once to get the gist and then read it very carefully, taking in all the details. Sherlock re-entered the room and Anthea watched him skulk over to the couch as she formulated responses and results in her head. She tapped on the side of the laptop one, two, three more times before she clicked respond. She responded to each dot point carefully and precisely. Once happy, or better put somewhat satisfied, Anthea sent Walter a text to see if he was still out front, closed her laptop and placed it back into her briefcase.

"Sorry to cut the briefing short, Sherlock, but I've got some urgent business to deal with." Sherlock 'mmm'ed a response indicating no hard feelings – if any feelings at all. "Text or email me when you're done."

"It won't be long." Anthea walked to the door, turned around to face the flat once more, and flashed a smile at the younger Holmes before shutting the door and running down the stairs as fast as she could without tripping over her heels.

Walking through the Diogenes club with her heels clicking loudly lead to a lot of incredulous stares. Anthea ignored them, keeping her eyes straight ahead and walking like she owned the place. This was only her second time within the club itself and if she were to be the assistant of Mycroft Holmes for a long time they'd have to learn to accept her strutting in her on important business. One thing Anthea had discovered – fake some confidence and you looked like you belonged anywhere. The identification helped too. Once reaching what could possibly be perceived as the front desk Anthea dug out her government ID, for the blonde lady in white to look at she then pulled out her phone and in the notes section wrote;

Mycroft Holmes?

The blonde woman peered over her glasses to read it then nodded once curtly. She got to her feet, walked around the desk and gestured for Anthea to follow her to the elevator. Anthea noticed that she was wearing white flats with a soft sole. Pursing her lips Anthea held back an eye roll with all her convictions. Out of the elevator, still silent, the blonde lead Anthea to a door a few doors down, pressed a button which appeared to do nothing. She nodded at Anthea and curtseyed, making Anthea uncomfortable as she nodded back, and left Anthea standing in front of the plain black door.

Mycroft's blank expression turned into a frown as he assessed Anthea's presence in the club. With a flick of his hand and a sidestep he gestured for her to enter the room. The tall man closed the door gently to avoid any noise before turning to face his assistant, blue eyes calculating all possibilities for her presence. He folded his arms and inwardly sighed.

"So, Anthea, what has happened?" A subtle smile crossed Anthea's lips at her boss' perception skills – she could have searched him out for so many reasons.

"Walter's waiting out front for us, sir." She spoke as flatly as him, nothing but their professional manner. "Some issues have arisen with the Cuba deal, the Defence minister is waiting for you at Downing Street." She watched as the subtle signs of deep thought crossed Mycroft's face – the slight raise of the eyebrows, the flicker of his gaze off her face to the cabinet to the left of her. Almost as quickly as they appeared they were gone and Mr. Holmes was collecting his phone and his umbrella from the desk and walking back towards the door.

"We best make haste then, my dear." Mycroft responded, walking past Anthea. Anthea nodded and followed two steps behind her boss.

Once they arrived at Downing Street they barely had time to press the doorbell before they were ushered inside and Mycroft was being passed a couple of files, the assistant Anthea spoke to on the phone talking his ear off. Once upstairs and in a conference room with the defence minister and the prime minister followed and a few more dignitaries the talk became less rushed and more calm as the people more used to dealing with Mr. Holmes allowed him time to synthesize the information. Anthea got out her blackberry and began collecting all emails from previous dealings with these particular people about this particular deal over the last six months and sending them to the assistant with a note to print them and bring them to the room. Mycroft's eyes were currently reading over the email Anthea recognised to be her own followed by how the government followed up with these instructions with a crease in his eyebrows as he frowned. Anthea was careful not to watch him or bring attention to herself as he read.

"Anthea." He hummed. Her eyes shot up, locking onto his steel blue eyes. She raised her eyebrows, gesturing for him to continue. "Did you do this?" His voice was high and Anthea could not detect his meaning from it and she fought the urge to look around to the other people in the room to see their reaction. She nodded once before finding her voice.

"Yes, sir." Her voice came out softer than she expected. He pursed his lips and read the currently open page once more before flicking it to the previous page. He nodded, looking over at Anthea with the smallest of smiles, eyes twinkling.

"Good work." Anthea felt her heart in her throat as she gulped.

"Thank you, sir." Her voice was ever so louder this time as she spoke.

Not-Anthea. The codes are links to a password protected download and the password to unlock them. Attached are the photos. Do what you will with the information. – SH

As the men around her continued to talk with their raised voices and heightened anxiety she clicked open the attachment to see the photos. She felt her eyebrow rise as she examined it. Well, this was certainly interesting.

Thanks. I've got to go have a chat with someone and then let you know what we want to do. – A.

Glancing over to her boss – who was looking absolutely fed up by his standards – Anthea cleared her throat to get his attention. Without looking at her, Mycroft leaned in closer to hear her; she leaned closer to and spoke quietly.

"A less important matter has arisen. If you don't mind I'd like to get it out of the way and leave you to it here, sir." Mycroft nodded, moving back into his previous sitting position and waving her off with his hand. Collecting her belongings Anthea silently nodded to the group and made her way from the meeting. As she walked down the stairs she sent another text to Walter to come and collect her.

Anthea knocked on Mr. Smead's door three times. She waited for the muffled sounds of acknowledgement before she opened the door and strutted in with all the confidence she had at the Diogenes club. The average build, average looking man with an average level position's eyes lit up when he saw Anthea enter. He stood up where he sat to welcome her.

"Margaret!" His voice was over eager as he greeted her, gesturing to the chair opposite to his desk. Anthea smiled politely with a curt nod, walking over to the chair.

"Mr. Smead." She greeted back. Both of them sat down at once, Anthea crossing her legs with her hands placing firmly on her knee.

"I'm guessing that your presence here means that Mycroft's man found something." Anthea fought of the sigh that she wanted to expel at the man's eagerness and instead let a sly smile tug at the left side of her mouth. She got out her blackberry and found her way to where she had saved Sherlock's photos.

"I have a few questions for you." Anthea's uniform but confident tone came as she flickered through her phone. "My first one would have been 'does your wife know about your boyfriend?' if it had not been for the inclusion of her in the third and fourth photograph." She held out her phone for the man. She saw Mr. Smead gulp as a shaky hand took her phone and he flicked through the images. "So my question becomes; was it her boyfriend too, or did she find out about him, and in order to save your marriage you invited her into the relationship?" No answer from the oh-so average looking man. "Considering she didn't appear until the third image I'd go for the second opinion." Mr. Smead puts Anthea's phone down on the desk and slides it back to her. She picks it up, locks it, and pockets it in her suit jacket.

"So now you're going to delete all evidence and sweep this under the table, right?" He was fighting it, but Anthea could tell Smead's voice was as shaky as his hand had been. She tilted her head and looked him up and down once. Pursing her lips, Anthea paused before answering.

"Why should we?" She asked and watched as the man was shucked and tried to bumble a response together.

"Think of the scandal, Margaret!" He finally gasped. Anthea shrugged and nodded.

"You're right, this would be scandalous." She let the man simmer for a moment. "But it wouldn't affect Mr Holmes' work negatively in anyway. In fact, you have disagreed with my boss and delayed his work multiple times so if you were fired it wouldn't really affect him one way or another." The man shifted in his seat as Anthea watched him coolly. She watched as he slowly processed Anthea's words and fumbled once again to find a way to save his own skin.

"Come on, Margaret," He begged. "The scandal will be a lot of clean up for you two. There has got to be something I can do for you." Anthea shrugged once more, smiling carefully.

"You tell me, sir." A moment of silence as the man stared at his desk, thinking of something, anything. Anthe shifted her sitting position so that the other leg was now on top.

"I'll back all of Mycroft's ideas. I'll sign the next three documents that pass my desk with his name on it, no questions asked." His dark eyes to her own, holding her gaze, pleading. "Please, I can't survive this scandal." Anthea bit the inside of her lip as she pretended to consider it.

"I'm certain Mr. Holmes will find that acceptable." She sighed, getting to her feet and nodding to the man. He stood up and followed her in a hurry as she strode to the door.

"You will go and delete all evidence without a trace now, right?" He asked, voice oozing of desperation.

"Oh, yes." Anthea answered and watched as Smead's demeanour relaxed. "After I give a copy to Mr. Holmes for safekeeping, of course."

Sherlock, send me the URL and the password then destroy all your evidence. Thanks – A.

Anthea was in her usual position in that familiar dark town car. She sat in her seat furiously typing away on her blackberry, answering texts and emails alike, occasionally chatting with Walter as they waited for Mr. Holmes outside of Downing Street. Mr. Holmes finished shaking hands with other leaving dignitaries before getting into the car with a verbal huff. Without a word Walter started driving back to the main office.

"Disaster averted, sir?" She smirked over the screen of her blackberry. Mr. Holmes sighed again, twisting his umbrella in his hand.

"Barely, but yes." His tone was even and calm but Anthea could tell he was tired by the way he watched his umbrella as it turned. "Partially thanks to you, my dear." He hummed. Anthea kept her smirk as she shrugged.

"What can I say? It's a breeze after seeing Sherlock." She was rewarded with a light chuckle. The umbrella stopped turning as Mr Holmes' attention was turned to his PA, shifting in his seat to get a better view of her.

"Do tell me how Sherlock went today." Anthea smiled more, crinkling her nose, as she opened her phone to one of those photos yet again as she handed it over to her boss. Mycroft's reaction was almost identical to her own. "What did I tell you?" He mused, looking over to Anthea with a crooked eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, why should she be surprised by his astute deductions. He held the phone out and Anthea took it back, slipping it back into her handbag. "What further actions do you suggest that we take?" He asked.

"I already took care of it, sir." He titled his head and raised his eyebrows, a hint of what could be a smile on his lips. "I went and saw Mr. Smead. If we delete all evidence he'll agree with you and is willing to sign three contracts with no questions asked. Not counting our copy of the photos, but that goes without saying." An impressed look crossed Mycroft's face as he regarded his personal assistant.

"Not for the first time today do you impress me, my dear." Anthea's grin turned toothy as it grew at the praise.

"Thank you, sir." She beamed before shrugging it off. "It's been a busy day. I needed to take some responsibility for both our sakes." Mycroft's eyes twinkled before his attention was taken off her as he pulled out his own phone to check for emails.

"Keep up the pace and you'll allow me to get lazy." He mused.

"According to your brother you alre-"

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence." Mycroft cut Anthea off, holding a hand up to silence her, eyes shut, other hand to his temple. Her smile softened but her eyes shone with a naughty edge as she too brought her attention back to her own phone.

"Sorry, sir." She said honestly, regardless of her amusement. He sighed.

"I am in no mood for your whimsy today, my dear." A pause. "Try again tomorrow." Their eyes met and she flashed him that toothy smile once more and he rolled those steel coloured eyes.

Author's Note: There you have it! What did you think? Did you enjoy it? What do you think of our girl? Anyway, I appreciate all of you taking the time to read this, your enjoyment is half the reason I do this :).