Author's Note: I'm glad you guys liked last chapter. A little more serious than her injury chapter. Anyway, as far as this chapter goes… Well, I had to fight some SERIOUS writer's block to get through this one in time to post. I'm glad I forced through it though coz it got me over it. Please let me know what you think of this chapter guys, your feedback sustains me. So read, review, and of course; 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.

Her First Gala

Anthea jumped into the town car as soon as it pulled up in front of her flat block. Slamming the door, she looked over at Mr. Holmes, umbrella in one hand, phone in other, looking at her with those steely eyes. She smiled at him brightly.

"Good evening, sir." She practically sung, opening her clutch and pulling out her own blackberry.

"I believe it's customary to inform a lady how lovely she looks on an evening like this." She looked back over to see he was now focusing on his phone as he nodded once. "Because you do." Anthea rolled her eyes but her smile inched ever so slightly wider. She had gone with quite an understated dark blue cocktail dress for the evening but had definitely taken extra care with her hair and makeup compared to normal.

"I wish I could say you scrub up well, sir." Anthea looked Mycroft up and down in his tuxedo, legs crossed, face still to his phone as he quirked an eyebrow. "But you always dress your best so this is barely an improvement." He looked up from his phone with a frown threatening his brow.

"Miss James, was that supposed to be a compliment?" She shrugged in response.

"Something like that, sir."

A few weeks ago Mycroft had informed Anthea that a charity gala he unfortunately absolutely had to attend was coming up. He had not said why he had to go to this specific charity event but had told her that it would be full of the rich and powerful alike, old money and new money, and he didn't know if he could make it through another one of those events listening to them drone on and on. Since they'd sent him an extra ticket to the dinner he offered it to Anthea, suggesting that she may enjoy it and save him from talking to those people at the same time. With some scepticism and much probing about the event Anthea had accepted.

Anthea was apprehensive to say the least – she'd never been to anything remotely like it and she certainly wasn't at the point where she had enough disposable income to throw it at whatever thing she wanted in a silent auction or whatever – she was currently saving up any leftover income to get herself a decent car and to get some really nice work clothes. However, she always walked into situations owning it, and she'd been if far more dangerous situations than being stuck in a room of rich weirdoes. Surely, this would be fun.

The gala was being held in a beautiful ballroom of an above average hotel. Spectacular marbled floor with tables spread about covered in delicate white tablecloths and beautiful chandeliers, with a string quartet playing beautifully in the background. It was truly something straight out of a movie. So this was how the job worked. Your average day consisted or boring politician, a bad day was being shot at or involved in a bombing, and a good day was this. Sure this whole event was designed for snooty rich people to throw their money around, but it was for a good cause, and it was breath taking. Leaning in to her left where Mycroft currently stood at the doors Anthea whispered to him.

"Remind me again why you hate these things, sir?" He sniffed in derision.

"Wait until they start talking at you, my dear." She rolled her chocolate eyes, painted lips covering a smile.

"So, what's the game plan, sir?" She asked as they walked into the room, already making a beeline for the bar.

"A lap around the event, talking to whoever we need to, separate for half an hour re-joining before dinner, I'll make a donation, then we'll leave as soon as the first opportunity presents itself." As they arrived at the bar, Anthea turned her back on it, scoping the room and nodding in agreement with the plan. Something was missing though.

"What can I get you, sir?" The bar attendant's voice broke into Anthea's thoughts. Mr. Holmes took a deep breath.

"One scotch neat, and for you, my dear?" She flickered her eyes over to her boss, he already looked bored of the whole event and they'd just got there. Usually she'd order the same thing, but probably a better idea to keep your wits with you when out with your employer. She turned around and smiled at the bartended.

"A gin and tonic, thanks." Leaning on the bar and scotching ever so closer to Mycroft playfully, Anthea quirked an eyebrow. "You forgot about the dancefloor, sir." His face contorted into a half scowl and half confused look as he looked down on her.

"And?" He asked.

"Aren't we going to dance?" Mycroft scoffed, really scowling as his lip pulled up.

"Come now, Miss James, don't be absurd." Standing back up, Anthea rolled her eyes for the second time already this evening.

"What's the harm in one dance, sir?" She tilted her head, smiling. "You dragged me here to be your glorified email checker and lifeboat, you owe me a dance." The bar attendant returned with the two drinks in hand. Mycroft shook his head and sighed.

"One and only one, Anthea." Yes, a small victory. She took them wherever she could get them with Mycroft Holmes. As she spotted the attendant, Anthea began digging into her clutch to get out some money to pay for her drink.

"For the two drinks, that's fifteen pounds sir." Anthea's hand froze in her clutch as she choked on thin air.

"For two drinks?" She asked in disbelief, having to whisper to hide the shrillness of her voice. "Why isn't this an open bar?" Mycroft was already handing over the money as Anthea was spluttering. He picked up both drinks and handed the gin and tonic to his assistant as she began to regain control of her motor skills.

"It's a charity event, my dear. Over charging for the alcoholic beverages when half the attendants are heavy drinkers is one way to raise money." Anthea took a steady sip of her drink as she shook her head.

"I did not bring enough money with me tonight." She muttered to herself.

"Ah excellent, so you did bring some money with you. Congratulations, you're learning." She'd become so used to that sarcasm she pretended not to hear it.

Anthea and Mycroft met up again way before scheduled. It was interesting really, Anthea had always seen Mycroft as the Holmes brother who could deal with people and knew how to interact with them. As it turned out, he knew how to interact with them, it didn't mean he wanted to do it for long periods of time. She could imagine him and Sherlock as kids, dragged to some event or family gathering by their parents and doing their absolute best to blend in with the wall. After Sherlock had made astute and frank statements about half the people there and Mycroft had done the necessary networking, of course. She could never see Mycroft at any age not taking advantage of whatever situation he was forced into.

So that's how they ended up here, already sitting at their seats at one of the dinner tables, people watching quietly as they sipped on their drinks. Or that's what they would be doing, Anthea looked in her empty cup sadly, if the drinks weren't so expensive and Anthea felt bad for taking advantage of her boss' generosity. Anthea sighed, placing the glass on the table where someone in a white bar staff outfit would probably run up quickly and silently and whisk it away without her even noticing. The staff were just as silent as the staff at the Diogenes Club. Mycroft, keeping the misery off his face by keeping that mask of aloofness firmly on, observed her up and down, from her straightened dark hair to her new black heels with a bow on the front.

"You can't have it both ways." He hummed, eyes going back to the crowd on the dancefloor. "You can either go buy yourself a drink, take the money off me and get over it, or drink water for the rest of the evening." Anthea crossed her arms, pouting.

"That's not acceptable." She muttered, anger at the situation most likely heightened by her tipsy state. She sat silently taping her foot for a good minute, before a determination set across her. She picked up her chair, facing it towards the general direction of the bar. She knew what she could do.

"I'll show you my other option, sir. We play your games every day, time for mine." Curiosity getting the better of him, his eyes flickering from dull misery to a sparkling interest, Mycroft twisted in his chair to face the same direction Anthea was currently looking at. "Let's put that skill of yours to some practical use. Find me a straight single guy who will be going up to the bar soon. Not straight up to the bar, give it a minute or two for me to get there first." Pursing his mouth and raising his eyebrows Mycroft took Anthea in before finally turning his chair around and searching the crowd. Anthea's eyes searched too, but this wasn't the local bar, she couldn't pick just anyone, this required a subtly and skill that only Mycroft Holmes could bring to the party. Mycroft nodded across the room.

"See the gentleman with the dark hair across the room. He's talking to the waitress, wine glass in his hand." Anthea looked across the room and spotted him. Dark hair gelled back with so much gel it looked wet. He was being amorous with the waitress who was only trying to be polite.

"His wineglass is full." Anthea spoke quietly, watching the exchange. Mr Holmes hummed in agreement.

"Yes, but at soon as that waitress breaks free he'll down it in one mouthful and go back to the bar." Ah, that's more like it. Anthea smirked to herself as she began fixing her hair with her fingers.

"Ok, give me some info about him. What does he like?" Mr Holmes' brows furrowed ever so slightly. "Tough girls, confident girls, what?"

"He's recently come into his trust fund. He likes to lavish attention on women who he feels needs it and flash his money around." Anthea stood up and straightened her dress, and adjusted her bra.

"Needy, poor girl, got it." She nodded and walked over to the bar. She sat down at the bar and began looking at the menu with a distressed look on her face. She could see Mycroft watching her carefully from the corner of her eye. When he looked away ever so slightly she took it to mean the target was approaching. This was the moment Anthea took to do a big dramatic sigh and place the menu down on the bar with a slightly audible thud.

"What's wrong?" She turned to see the target leaning on the bar facing her, closing off an exit as if cornering prey. Ah well, let's see how he likes this.

"Oh, the drinks are just so expensive and I wanted to save my money for a donation later." She pouted and bit her lip ever so slightly. "At these prices I don't know how much I can give the charity." She still didn't know what the charity was. The guy gave her an obviously fake sympathetic smile as he looked her up and down slowly.

"Well, if it's for charity, I can get you a drink." Anthea perked up, almost jumping in her seat, doing her best eyelash flicker she had learnt from Jamie.

"Are you sure?" He chuckled and nodded, rubbing her on the arm the same way he had done to the waitress. She kept her cool. The bartender approached them expectantly. "I'll have a gin and tonic and um…" She looked at the target in the eyes, tilting her head. "And a scotch neat, thank you." The target chuckled again and handed over his money.

"Not my usual drink, but sure." Anthea giggled and twirled her hair around her finger as they waited for the drinks, the target talking about something useless. His father's company, perhaps? Who cares? The drinks arrived and Anthea jumped out of her seat, taking both glasses.

"So, where would you like to go sit?" He asked, placing his hand on the small of Anthea's back. She frowned at him, taking a step away.

"Hey sorry, I've got to get back to my friend, thanks." She walked away, not even looking at the look of disbelief on the guy's face, too busy looking at the half impressed one on Mycroft, that Holmes' mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"You are absolutely unbelievable and extremely underhanded, Anthea." He said with a laugh.

"Isn't that why you hired me?" She said as she handed him his scotch and sat back down in her chair.

"Oh, absolutely."

Dinner was what she was warned it was going to be; mediocre food at just above room temperatures. A fate that meets most caterers when making the same meal for hundreds of people at the same time. There wasn't even a second option, just a single set menu. The food itself was therefore an absolute let down but all was not lost, for Anthea had the best tableside entertainment one could have at a party full of rich and power people with secrets. She had an on edge Mycroft Holmes after a few drinks and that was a memory she was going to store away forever.

The people at their table weren't shocking. They could have done better, they could have done worse. At the table of eight there was Anthea, Mycroft, an elderly couple with the lady wearing the most diamond covered necklace Anthea had ever seen, Someone from some important company and his wife, A woman in her late forties, and her early twenties daughter. Not the worst people to be sat with but with no politician or head of some form of agency at the table there was no one Anthea knew nor would talk about anything she cared about. Still, she did her best at playing the well-behaved plus one and nodded politely and added quips and light questions here and there. While the dinner plates were being taken away the man from whatever company was in the middle of talking about whatever promotion he had gotten. Anthea was too light headed to complete pay attention but she nodded along, Mycroft was looking at his pocket watch, glass held in his hand.

"And that's how I got the promotion in front of Henderson who I went to university with." The man bellowed proudly, Anthea, the lady's daughter, and the elderly couple all did an array of polite laughs and nods. Mycroft and the late forties lady both paid the man no attention with varying levels of disdain. "I'm pretty happy about it and the wife's pretty happy with the pay rise." He nudged his wife in the arm with his elbow as he chortled loudly. "Nothing pleases her more than spending my money." Mycroft pretended to be busying himself looking at his glass.

"I'm afraid the only thing that would please his wife would be if he dropped dead right now and she got his life insurance." Mycroft muttered almost silently. Anthea, who was in the middle of sipping her drink, laughed and began choking on the liquid halfway down her throat. She placed the glass down and clutched the edge of the table, trying to recover and breathe again. The rest of the table, having not heard Mr. Holmes' little comment, looked at her with worry, Mycroft feigned a light concern.

"Are you quite alright?" The elderly encrusted in jewels asked. Anthea waved her off and got out her last few coughs.

"No, sorry, I'm perfectly fine thank you." She gasped. "I just," Another deep breath. "That went down the wrong way." Looking down at her glass, she held it up to the table. "Will you look at that? My glass is empty. Mr. Holmes would you like to come with me to get another drink?" His blue eyes ever so calm as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all, he gestured to the glass in his hand.

"I'm fine, thank you, Miss James." Anthea stood up, placing her hand on Mycroft's chair.

"No, sir, I owe you a drink, it would only be polite to help a lady carry them back." Looking from Anthea to the table Mr Holmes raised his eyebrows, put on the fake mocking smile of his, placed his glass down, got up with umbrella in hand and followed Anthea to the bar. As soon as the attendant was there Anthea ordered two scotches without a second thought. She needed to recover. "What was that, sir?" She asked in disbelief.

"I was merely making an observation, my dear." Anthea huffed, pulling a random note out of her bag and tossing it at the bartending.

"You're going to get me into trouble. You're just as bad as your brother." She sighed. Mycroft scoffed.

"No, Sherlock would have said it loud enough for the whole room to hear." He said, tilting his head with a minor shrug. Anthea picked up the scotches now in front of them and handed on to her boss.

"Yeah, you'd rather just make me look like an idiot."

"Well, almost everyone is." She rolled her eyes. Holmes', honestly. Tucking her hair back behind her ear and getting her cool back the pair returned to the table. Thankfully the conversation seemed to have moved on. The lady in her late forties seemed to be talking about what sounded like a relatively recent divorce and how hard being single was.

"I bet there are plenty of single men here who would like you." The business man's wife suggested in a pleasant tone. Anthea nodded in agreement.

"That's what I keep telling her." Her daughter said. "But she won't have any of it." Anthea could have sworn she heard a single laugh from under Mycroft's breath. The lady sighed, patting her daughter's hand.

"I don't know, darling, I don't think any of these men are my type." She spoke wistfully, looking across at the other tables. Anthea waved her off.

"Well that's not true," She said, leaning forward.

"Yes it is." Mycroft spoke quietly in a singsong voice next to her. Anthea ignored him, frowning slightly.

"What's your type?" She asked.

"You." Anthea blinked at the quiet voice next to her. "None of the men are her type because she likes brunettes with a bust." Anthea cracked up laughing. She couldn't help herself as she covered her eyes with her hand.

"Did you say something?" The lady asked. Mycroft's eyebrow's peaked as he feigned a look of confusion.

"Hmmm?"

"Did you say something?" He tilted his head and shook it.

"I'm afraid not." The confusion in his voice way too perfect.

"Then why is your date laughing?" His mocking smile fell back onto his face.

"Something I said at the bar." His voice oozing of that ego. "I'm afraid she's a little slow on the uptake." Sighing as she recovered, Anthea shook her head. If there was a dessert coming she'd have to move her chair.

"Come on, sir." She sighed, nudging him on the arm with her hand. "I think I've earned my dance by now." She watched as he looked at her, face cool, before nodding and placing his glance down.

"Might as well rip the band aid off sooner rather than later." He agreed standing up and holding his hand out for Anthea. Looking around the table, expecting someone else to notice the out of the ordinary here, she looked back at the hand and hesitate. She placed her hand in his and stood up, a small honest smile pulling on her painted lips.

They made their way over to the dance floor where the beautiful sounds of the string quarter were now louder and much more vivid – much more beautiful. Finding a spot on the floor, she very carefully placed her hand on his shoulder, keeping the distance she felt he would want. He placed his hand on the small of her back and gently pulled her in closer. She was suddenly aware that this was the closest they've ever been to each other when neither of them were injured. She turned her head to look at the side, well aware of his breath and not knowing how she would react if they caught each other's eyes. The music was slow and graceful, perfect for people at this time of the evening. He lead like he always did and she followed without any disasters, just like she was trained to do. Now it truly felt like something out of a movie. Who lives this type of thing, and how did she stumble into it? A world of explosions, of high stakes politics, of detective games, of secret agents, and of charity events. She re-adjusted her hand on his shoulder, absent-mindedly stepping closer into the warmth as she focused on the music.

"The music is beautiful." She sighed.

"Haydn's chamber music." Anthea could hear Mycroft's voice vibrate in his chest. "He did some quite unique compositions for his time." Anthea laughed lightly, wonder why she was not surprised he knew that. She'd once spied a violin case at Sherlock's, it probably had something to do with that, or the piano at Mycroft's. She closed her eyes and focused on the music's ebbs and flows. The piece ended with the quartet all holding their last note, stretching it out, and the sea of people parted as they did. Mycroft released his hold on Anthea and the girl took a step back, looking at the floor as she tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly embarrassed. She'd never been embarrassed in front of Mycroft before, how absurd was this? Faking her own confident smile, she looked up to meet his gaze.

"Thank you for that."

Having found a quick and clean exit, it was not long before the town car was being pulled up outside Anthea's flat to drop her off home.

"There now, isn't this a much more effective way of getting home?" Mycroft mocked. She half glared at him as she shook her head. She wasn't going to let him have that so she wasn't going to dignify it with a response. She looked up at her building, smiling to herself.

"That was fun, sir. Thank you for dragging me along."

"Thank you for accompanying me." He responded flatly. She opened the car door and was about to step up when a thought hit her. She turned back to Mycroft.

"I never did find out what charity tonight was for." She mused. Mr. Holmes' face dropped slightly, his hand raising to rub the bridge of his nose. She waited for a response, knowing it was coming. Once his hand was placed back on top of the other one on his lap he responded.

"Rehabilitation centres." Ah, of course. Anthea's hand went to her mouth, covering the light smile on her face. She cocked her head and just observed Mycroft. Nice try, Iceman. He grimaced at her expression.

"Stop giving me that look, Anthea."

"Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are?" She honestly asked. Mycroft's attention was suddenly drawn to his pocket watch.

"Yes," he hummed. "But not in terms of my character, which I suspect is what you mean." Anthea sniffed a response that could have been a single laugh as she watched Mycroft busying himself with winding his watch up.

"Goodnight sir, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, my dear."

Author's Note: I think it turned out fine, and also my useless classical music knowledge came in handy! Haha. Again, I'd like to thank the guest reviewers: Corrine, Wheezzy88, and Wink. You three are regular reviewers and its always nice to see your names. Please let me know what you thought, guys! I love to hear it, particularly when you pick up on certain things.

P.S.: I was listening to all sorts of Haydn songs so none in particular, just go listen to his stuff. String quartet in C major op. 76 no. 3 "Emperor" is the one I listened to the most for this, but if you have any classical musical training or knowledge, String quartet in E flat major op. 33 no. 2 "The Joke" is actually quite funny.