Author's Note: I am floored by the feedback from last chapter, guys! I'm glad you all liked that fun little chapter. Oh, and we passed 50 reviews! Yay! *confetti*. Analena was the 50th reviewer and is a consistent one too, so, thank you "my dear" :P. This made me finally get around to creating a cover for this fic – nothing special but on topic. Thanks for all the support guys, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! Please, read, review, and enjoy it!

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.

Her First Injury

The meeting with the minister for foreign affairs and the secretary for the state of defence had gone on for much, much longer than necessary and Anthea was one hundred percent positive that she didn't actually need to be there. The men danced around the same few points for hours arguing incisively and Anthea had a feeling that Mycroft had only insisted on her presence under the notion of 'If I'm going down I'm taking you with me'. If it were possible to die of boredom she would have died within the first half an hour. For the most part Mr. Holmes had looked like he was barely paying attention and Anthea's notes were little more than a handful of notes followed by a few rough sketches. One of the sketches may or may not have been a cartoon drawing of the secretary of defence's head exploding. She'd deny it if need be. At one point she was in the middle of sketching rain falling on her previously drawn umbrella when Mycroft – while fiddling with a pen in his hand, Anthea might add – had looked over and raised an eyebrow at her. She subtly smiled back. He had rolled those sparkling blue eyes and then pretended to nod in agreement to something he'd lost any interest in. If she was bored, imagine what was going on in Mr. Holmes' head.

Currently the duo were walking back to their own office a few floors up at a rather brisk pace – very relieved to have that ordeal behind them and very behind in the day's agenda. Anthea would have to pick up some of those cookies from that bakery nearby later to counteract the boredom and waste of their time. A meeting like that called for double chocolate chip regardless of whatever phase of the diet Mycroft was on. Like stated earlier, if one of them goes down, they're both going down.

"We will have to reschedule the phone conference with Australia for another day, there is simply no time and that is the least pressing matter." Mycroft spoke as they walked, checking the time on his phone. Anthea nodded once.

"I sent an email to the Australian Prime Minister's office an hour ago, sir, asking if Thursday morning our time will be suitable. I am awaiting a reply but I believe it's out of office time in Canberra now, sir." She felt him give her a quick look up and down – hopefully impressed.

"Excellent work, my dear." Very pleased then, brilliant. Anthea couldn't help but let a smile play on her face slightly.

"Just doing my job, sir." He hummed quietly in response, his eyebrows lifting slightly. Anthea shifts the folders she is carrying to fit under one arm and pulled out her blackberry, checking quickly for a response from the Australian Government. No response but an email already from the state of defence about the behaviour of the secretary. Anthea sighed. "The children have not stopped fighting yet, sir. One is telling teacher via email already." The pair reached the stairs. Mycroft lifted his umbrella to hold it rather than walk with it as they began ascending. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Let them work it out in the playground." He breathed. "They'll soon realise my solution – while not completely pleasing either of them – is the most plausible." They passed an agent on the stairs who smiled at them, Anthea smiled back as both she and Mycroft nodded in return.

"You mean the solution you gave them at the beginning of the meeting, sir?" She scoffed. As Anthea stepped on the next stair the heel of her shoe slid out and what felt like a minute but was only a few seconds, Anthea collapsed onto her front and slid down a few stairs. Mycroft stopped in his tracks, blinked twice, and slowly turned around to see his personal assistant flat in the middle of the staircase, the contents of her handbag spread out and the file a few steps above her. Anthea kept her eyes closed, out of embarrassment more than anything. She didn't even want to know who just saw that.

"Anthea?" She heard Mycroft's carefully controlled voice call for her. After a brief moment of silence to pull herself together Anthea groaned and rolled onto her back, pulling herself into sitting position lengthways across a step. Her ankle was killing her so she gingerly held it slightly rested on the other, her palms were red, scraped or burnt on the carpet, and one wrist felt slightly jarred. She looked up at her boss with a look that was a mixture of pain and embarrassment – not being able to save herself with a neutral face. She watched for a second as his bright blue eyes took in her face and then scanned her full length with a calm blank canvas of a face, not moving from the top step. She realised he was waiting for a response, any response, in order to fully analyse her wellbeing. Anthea took a deep breath, pushing her hair now dishevelled out of her face.

"Well that was stupid." A crack in the façade as what could possibly be described as the Mycroft Holmes version of a concerned smile flashed on his features before he descended down the stairs to kneel next to her. Placing the beloved umbrella down, he began with picking up the contents of her bag to which she then helped with, without moving anything too quickly.

"It was new, I'll let you have that." A hint of amusement in that lyrical voice. Anthea made a noise that could have been either a cry or a laugh, to be honest she didn't even know which one it was. Once the items were placed safely back in her handbag he eyed her carefully again. "Care to give me your own assessment of the damage? Besides your ego." His eyes twinkled with the small dig.

"A little shocked, hands and wrists are slightly pained but that will go away in time. It's my left ankle that's the worry." First Mr Holmes looked at the leg she was holding in the air ever so slightly, next he was positioning himself against the opposite wall to Anthea, placing her foot on his lap and removing her heel. At first Anthea tensed at the warm hands on her bare foot, unsure as to how to react, but soon relaxed into it. Mycroft gently poked and prodded in different places with his thumb until he heard Anthea hiss in pain, her face contorting as she looked away. One hand gingerly holding her foot under her Achilles tendon, the other placed on the top of her foot he seemed to hum to himself.

"Now my dear, can you move your foot for me?" Eyeing her foot carefully and biting the inside of her lip Anthea slowly and carefully moved her foot up and down.

"I can." See answered shakily. "But it hurts." Mycroft's eyes locked onto hers, the careful observation now replaced with something ever so slightly lighter.

"Well, it's only a sprain, my dear." He patted her foot with his hand as he spoke. "So you're not going to be hindrance to me for too long." Anthea scoffed at this and rolled her eyes, but she felt a tug on the corner of her mouth, trying to pull it into a smile. "The issue is, however, getting you back to the top of the stairs." Flashing chocolate eyes to the top of the stairs and then trailing down to where she currently sat, Anthea took off her other shoe and pushed further against the wall.

"If you help me up, sir, I might be able to hop to the top." Anthea mused, a determination falling onto her.

"Don't be ridiculous, Anthea, you'll only hurt yourself more. Then what use will you be?"

"I'll be fine, it's not a big deal, sir." She looked from the top of the stairs to her boss to see him giving her a poignant look. Straight mouth, cold eyes, one eyebrow raised.

"This coming from the young lady who just slid down the stairs." Anthea shook her head and sighed.

"That's true." Her voice was quiet as she spoke. Anthea took her foot off of her boss's lap and moved to lean on the wall for support as tried to stand up. "Help me get to my, er, foot." Mr. Holmes got up, placing both of Anthea's shoes, the file, and his umbrella neatly together on the step just above them. He took Anthea's handbag, brushed himself off and then offered his assistant a hand. He pulled her up and steadied her with the hand holding her bag. Mycroft handed her the bag as she placed a hand on the wall for support, standing on one bare foot on the dirty carpeted stairs. "Thank you." She said, placing the strap on her shoulder, brushing off her own clothes the way he had done moments ago. Anthea bit her lip and contemplated how to get up the stairs. She could hobble up but knowing her boss he would not approve of putting such pressure on a fresh injury. He certainly did not approve of her hopping up and she had to admit that would be dangerous. What Anthea would do if alone would probably be sitting back down and butt crawling it up like a complete idiot but she was at work – in public – and there were far too many important figures here who she could not embarrass herself or Mr. Holmes in front of. Plus, she had worn a skirt today with tights, rather than pants. Anthea was brought out of her thoughts as she noticed Mr. Holmes step towards her.

"I've got a solution." He spoke in that crafted tone of his that sometimes drove Anthea mad. He stepped further into her personal space, she was now well and truly looking up at him. "Lock your arms around my neck." Anthea swallowed.

"Are you sure, sir?" She had already learnt Mycroft's attitude towards sentiment and emotion, and could count on one hand the number of times he'd touched someone that wasn't a necessary handshake. Anyone else offering help like this Anthea wouldn't think twice of it, but this gave her that same sense she got when disturbing his peace and quiet – it was like poking the lion. Mr. Holmes shook his head as he waved her off.

"It's necessary. Now be quick about it, the sooner the better." With a quick moment of hesitation Anthea's hands locked together behind Mycroft's neck. In one smooth movement his hands went to Anthea's waste, lifting her up close to his body and he climbed the stairs with a single grunt. Anthea found herself unsure as to where to look as she tried to comprehend just how she felt in this situation. Thankful? Impressed? Embarrassed? Surprised? She found herself unsure where to look, it felt way too intimate to look at the man directly so Anthea found herself awkwardly staring at her bare feet. Mycroft placed her down gingerly on her good foot at the top of the stairs. He walked back down to gather their things, umbrella dangled on his arm, her shoes held in the fingers of his right hand, file in the left.

"This is ridiculous." Anthea chuckled as she watched him walking back up the stairs – his eyes twinkled with some amusement. "I'm not some damsel who needs rescuing. That's not my thing."

"I wouldn't have hired you if it were your... 'thing'." He said at the top of the stairs, handing Anthea her heels. "I have no time for more damsels, Sherlock is bad enough, thank you." And yet here we are Anthea thought to herself. "Now if you wish to use me as your support once more, we shall try and get you to your desk." Anthea rolled her eyes at her embarrassment once more. She placed the arm that did not contain her shoes around her boss's shoulder as his went under her arm and they hobbled back to their office.

They made it back to the office within a decent speed, only having to stop and exchange pleasantries with very few political figures. Only one who dared ask what had happened – and luckily it was one who Anthea had made quite the friendly impression with so she had the opportunity to make light of it all. If this felt weird to Anthea, she could only imagine what it looked like. Once they got back to their small wooden office Anthea was placed at chair as she rested her foot on an empty space on her desk, dropping her shoes and her handbag next to the bin next to the wooden desk. She groaned and closed her eyes, trying to pretend that none of this happened. Mycroft chuckled softly. He placed the slightly dishevelled file on Anthea's desk.

"I'll see if we have anything to use as a provisional icepack in the freezer." He said, walking to the kitchenette. Anthea opened her eyes, staring at the white, speckled roof.

"I have an actual icepack in there." She called out. Sure enough, Mycroft returned, holding the clear bag with the blue gel filling up to his face in one hand with an eyebrow raised. Anthea held her smirk back as much as she could as she shrugged. "I'm the assistant of a minor government official, I have to be prepared for anything."

"Indeed," He mumbled to himself. He handed Anthea the icepack and this time disappeared into his office, leaving the door open. Anthea placed the icepack at the source of pain an inwardly sighed at the relief. She had gotten the icepack in fear of headaches or migraines for either of the office's inhabitants after working at the computer for long periods of time and right now she was very pleased at her foresight. When Mycroft returned he had a bandage in his hand. "I see my first aid kit has also recently been stocked." Anthea grinned at his obtuse observation.

"Like I said, ready for anything, sir." He raised an eyebrow and shook his head ever so slightly.

"Not prepared enough, I'm afraid. A brace would have been much more preferable in this situation but a bandage will do." He perched himself on the edge of Anthea's desk close to her raised foot.

"I'll create a stairs emergency kit with one in it specifically for situations like this, sir." She joked. He took the icepack off her foot, finding no empty place on her desk handed it to her.

"Too late for that, my dear." He smirked. Anthea watched as Mycroft Holmes lifted her foot carefully and wound it tightly. Raising her hand to her face, Anthea rubbed her brow, suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Anthea, as Mycroft Holmes' personal assistant was here to help him, she catered to his every whim, within reason of course. She was supposed to help him out, he wasn't supposed to help her because she was foolish enough to fall down stairs in a building full of influential people that could make or break her. This had to be some kind of first for the both of them.

"Of all the ways I expected to hurt myself on this job, I did not see this happening." She sighed. She saw Mr. Holmes' eyes briefly flash up to examine her before returning to what his hands were doing. She could see the slight raise of his eyebrow, the slight quirk of his lip.

"Pray tell, Anthea, what did you expect to do?" Again, Anthea shrugged.

"I don't know, fighting with someone perhaps, that building that exploded a few weeks ago. Foiling an assassination attempt, jumping in the way of a bullet would be painful and I'd rather it not happen but it would have been a lot cooler than this, sir." She heard as he chuckled to himself.

"While it's nice to know you've already prepared yourself to defend a minor government official, my dear, a story that includes something across the lines of 'my PA fell face first down the stairs' is much preferable and far more amusing than 'someone made an attempt on my life'." Anthea found herself for the second time making that noise that was somewhere between laughing and crying, holding the icepack up to shield her face as Mycroft pinned up the bandage.

"You really didn't have to do this, sir." She said, lowering her foot off her desk. Mycroft made no move to answer, simply observed her again before raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together. Anthea smiled at him then turned back to her computer. Mycroft turned to walk into his private office.

"When my next meeting arrives, please send her straight through. Remind me to leave for the club by two."

Click. The office door closed.

At five in the afternoon Anthea was sitting in the back of one of Mycroft's town cars, with one high heel on her good foot, as she typed on her blackberry. She answered email after email while waiting for Mycroft to emerge from the Diogenes club in order to take him to their next scheduled appointment. She heard the click of the car door opening and the slam of it shutting but did not look up until a brown shoebox was shoved into her line of sight.

"Sir?" She asked, locking her phone in one hand and taking hold of the shoebox with the other.

"I can't have you walking around with one shoe on, it's inappropriate and humiliating, and judging by your choice in apparel I highly doubt you have any flat shoes that aren't exceptionally casual in appearance." Anthea fought the urge to roll her eyes, partly because he was right about her shoes, and partly because she just expected him to speak that way. Biting the inside of her lip, Anthea opened the box to reveal a pair of black flat Chanel Mary Janes. Inwardly Anthea didn't know whether to laugh or to gasp. Of course he would have exquisite taste, just look at how he dresses himself. One of those suits probably cost more than Anthea's rent. Although, with her current pay check Anthea could most certainly afford a much nicer place now but what was the point when she barely occupied any space these days? She settled for a slightly amused smile.

"Mr. Holmes." Anthea's breathed. She took one from the box, holding it gingerly as if it were alive, before eagerly putting it on her foot.

"If I were to get you to wear flat shoes, regardless of whether it were for your health or not, I deduced it may take some incentive." Anthea stared down at the shoe in awe.

"Well, how can I say no to these babies?" Anthea smiled at the shoe as if it could smile back. "Thank you, sir." She said quietly.

"Consider it both an appreciation of your hard work and an expression of sympathy for your humiliation."

Author's Note: Hope you liked it! Once again, while editing this chapter it seemed to gain another 500 words, not that that's a bad thing – descriptions and all that. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my guest reviewers once again: Wink, Guest, and Meep. By the way Meep, your English was almost impeccable! Please, my wonderful readers who I aim to please, feel free to review!