Author's Note: Thank you for the feedback last chapter guys! It was a fun one and I'm glad you all enjoyed it. You all also caught my double meaning at the end of the chapter which was great and I was very happy about. Fun fact; I was going to do a sick chapter weeks ago but then I got sick and didn't want to write about sick people. I'm feeling much better but I'm just left with that tiredness/recovery period and my asthma might be bad for a few weeks. Not fantastically edited because yeah, tired, but I like it and I hope you do too. Read, review, and the most important is to 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 Called in Sick

The worst part about being sick on a work day is dragging yourself out of bed. As it turns out, once you're up, drugged, and out of the house, it's pretty easy to work on autopilot, do a substandard job and get through the day. It's once you get home and rest your head down on a pillow or the couch that things get difficult.

Anthea was pretty lucky – all things considered. She'd only been mildly sick on the job so far. Enough that she could power through and make it to the end of the day. The only days off she'd had were ones she was forced to take off. It was easier when she lived further away from home oddly enough and had to drive herself. Some kind of subconscious knowledge that it would only be harder the longer you waited to move. Mycroft probably had a long fancy word for it. It was probably in German too and hard to pronounce. This cold, or flu, or whatever, was different.

Monday evening was one of those nights where you just knew you'd wake up ill in the morning. Anthea was sitting in the town car when those familiar chills began. It's as if you were cold and needed to be covered to get rid of Goosebumps, but at the same time your body temperature felt perfectly normal. She'd noticed Mycroft purse his lips from behind his phone and subtly shift away as she tried to rub her neck. Then the slight tingle in the throat that could develop into either a sore throat, a cough, or both. Fantastic, she had thought, this week was going to be fun.

It wasn't just one of those weeks where it was harder to get out of bed or Anthea had to clear her throat before saying a few words to the guests in the town car. Nor was it one where the stairs at the main office felt like never ending torture. This was without a doubt the worst she'd ever felt at work. Tuesday Anthea had most definitely woken up sick. The moment she'd opened her eyes she'd immediately regretted it. Even the very faint light that managed to creep into her blackout curtains at this early hour hurt her already stinging eyes. Still, she'd crawled out of bed – after lying there for fifteen minutes contemplating absolutely nothing – made herself a coffee and drunk it. Finding her throat raw and unsatisfied she switched the kettle back on, made herself a honeyed tea and forced herself to drink that too before attempting to get ready for work.

Today, thank God, was a quiet day and was spent in the main office for the majority of the time. Of course, that allowed Anthea far too much time to lean on her desk, resting her forehead in her hands, wondering how she was going to survive answering another fifteen thousand emails before the day was over. If Mycroft had noticed Anthea's current state the only signs he had given were staying far away from her and returning from a visit to Sherlock's with a Chamomile tea for her. He'd silently placed the paper cup on the edge of her desk without so much as a shift in his pace as he walked past her desk towards his inner office. Anthea had taken the lid off to feel the steam across her face and let the scent assault the barriers on her heavy sinuses. After savouring it for a very long minute she'd taken a deep sip – feeling the liquid heat up her insides. With a deep breath and a content smile she'd put the takeaway lid back on and placed the cup down in its previous location and returned to those never ending emails. That man. He and his brother could run a very successful fraudulent business claiming to be mind readers. The science of deduction wasn't quite clear enough on how special that gift was.

As the day went on, however, Anthea continued to grow worse rather than better. Her head began to feel as if it were to explode from the pressure and the tickle in her throat was developing into a persistent cough. Still, surely it was nothing a nice long sleep couldn't fix. That's all she needed to do, go home tonight and just pass out on her bed. Screw any normal responsibilities, screw cooking dinner. Everything else came behind work and currently sleep.

The alarm on her blackberry on Wednesday morning felt as loud as a hundred car alarms going off at once. Anthea jumped in her bed and quickly switched it off before collapsing back into her pillows. Sleep was not the answer, sleep was definitely not the answer. Anthea had apparently had a very fitful sleep. She had to untangle herself from her duvet as she tried to blink her eyes into focus and gain a sense of her body. She was covered in sweat but was dreadfully cold. Her head felt heavier than it did yesterday and her chest felt tight and constricted. Placing her duvet on top of herself properly, Anthea reset her alarm for fifteen minutes time and send a text to Walter.

Hey, don't pick me up. I might be running a few minutes behind. – A.

Without looking at her bedside table, Anthea placed her phone down on it and rolled onto her stomach to bury her heavy head into her pillows. She just needed a moment for the thumping under and around her eyes to go away. Fifteen minutes of lying in bed trying to wake up, that would get rid of it. Then she'd go have a quick shower and look for whatever medicines she may have in her cupboard. She just needed fifteen minutes to close her eyes…

Anthea's face was still buried in her pillows when she next managed to blink herself awake. She still felt like a complete wreck and wasn't entirely sure how to move. The extra sleep had not helped in the slightest and had only allowed her mind a moment of piece. Her sinuses were beginning to ache from lying forward. Anthea rolled onto her back and blinked her dark eyes a few times. Light was beginning to stream in from the top of her curtains now. Frowning to herself, Anthea wondered how it could be so much lighter in such a short amount of time. She reached over blindly to check her phone and how much time before her alarm went off again.

10.45 am.

Anthea shot forward in her bed, feeling a wave of dizziness hit her as she did. When did it become 10.45? She had slept right through the alarm! But it had a snooze option and was supposed to go off again every ten minutes until dismissed. Had she turned it off in her sleep? She frowned at her phone. Had she set it in the first place? She'd definitely sent the text to Walter otherwise she'd have a million missed calls.

Oh no, work! Anthea fought the urge to lie back in her bed in exasperation, knowing that if she did so she'd never get back up. Okay, time to get up and go to work and to do any damage control necessary. Anthea pushed her duvet off of her body and instantly felt cold all over. That's okay, she'd just wear a lot of layers. She slid her legs off the side of the bed, placing them on the floor, feeling the carpet between her toes. Anthea took a few deep breaths to try and prepare to make it to the bathroom. It wouldn't be too hard, surely. She'd managed to get to work yesterday – on time, even – and survived. She couldn't really feel that much worse. As quickly as Anthea was on her feet she was sitting on the edge of the bed again. The wave of dizziness and pain that hit her head as she stood up was unbearable.

Nope.

Screw it.

Not moving.

She collapsed back into her pillows, blinking up at the ceiling. She's not moving again for a long time. Screw the western world, screw civilisation, Anthea could not get out of this bed. Out of habit Anthea covered her mouth as she coughed. Anthea positioned herself back into her pillows and pulled the duvet up to her chest. She wasn't a quitter in the slightest but she already wanted to quit today. One thing left to do then. Anthea grabbed her phone again and didn't even have to glance at her phone to dial the correct number. It only rang twice before it was answered.

"Ah, Miss James. It's so nice to hear from you today." Anthea closed her eyes against the sound of the deadly sarcasm dripping from Mycroft's tone of voice. "Here I was thinking you'd found something far more important to do with your time." She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. "I considered making an excuse as to why you weren't at the meeting this morning, instead I opted to leave your absence as a mystery. It will make the story far more interesting if I have to fire you." Ah, that's right. They had a meeting this morning. Anthea tried to groan but only cracks of it escaped through her throat.

"I'm so sorry, sir." She mumbled, keeping her eyes shut. "I forgot-"

"Oh, you forgot! Yes, that's a perfectly acceptable and professional excuse. Remind me to use that one next time I let a terrorist attack slip. 'I'm sorry, Prime Minister, I forgot.'" Anthea opened her eyes and stared at the memorised blemishes on her roof through hazy eyes. She wasn't even completely sure she was comprehending Mycroft's words. She just knew he wasn't happy.

"Mycroft," Anthea sighed. "I'm sick."

A pause.

"Yes, well, I know that." His tone was still agitated but the fierce edge was dulled.

"I tried to get up and I can't. I don't think I'll make it in today, I'm sorry."

"Here's a hint, my dear. Next time start with 'I'm bedbound' rather than 'I forgot'." Anthea shut her eyes to the sound of Mycroft's melodic voice.

"I'm sorry, sir." She mumbled.

"Nothing that can be done about." A moment of silence. "You would be here if you could, I know that." Anthea took a deep breath and coughed from the pressure.

"Do you want me to see if James can come in?" She was rewarded by a scoff.

"Anthea, please. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself for a day. Stay in bed and don't do anything stupid." Anthea smiled weakly.

"'m not making any promises." He'd rolled his eyes, she knew he would have.

"Good bye, my dear."

Click.

Anthea dropped her phone on the bed next to her and cocooned herself in her duvet. She was asleep again within five minutes.

It was an hour or so later than Anthea next stirred. She still felt no better. Well… The headache might have subsided but her head still felt like a tonne of bricks and if anything her throat felt way worse from the lack of liquid. Perhaps it was time to get up and make some of that honeyed tea that she really didn't like but knew would help.

She stretched out in her bed, taking time to try and pull the ache out of every muscle and joint. The comforting pain from stretching a stiff muscle was much better than the strange ache you get from being sick. She released from the full body stretch with a slightly comforted groan. That felt maybe a little better. He hand lazily began searching her sheets for her lost blackberry. She checked the time and yes, it was around an hour and a half since she'd last woken up. Anthea was so used to running on less sleep than recommended these days and today – as well as a bit yesterday – that's all she wanted to do. She had a message though. Anthea bit her lip as she opened it.

Was told to drop something off but didn't want to wake you. Check your front door when you wake up. – Walter.

Anthea's eyebrow quirked, the side of her head that didn't have the thumping headache on the eyebrow line. That's interesting. She dropped her phone and ran her fingers through her hair, only to grimace at the feeling. She'd only washed her hair a day ago but due to the night sweats of this stupid illness it already felt dirty. Oh well, might as well drag herself to the shower if she was going to have to check the front door anyway.

Peeling away from her bed and immediately missing the warmth of it, Anthea very slowly and very carefully got to her feet. She stood, hand hovering above her bedside table, for about thirty seconds before she felt comfortable to shuffle slowly out of her bedroom, onto cold floorboards of the rest of the flat, and over to the front door. When she opened the door on the floor was a little white paper bag. Leaning on the doorknob, Anthea bent her knees rather than bending over, and picked it up. On closer inspection the bag had a little pharmacy logo on the front. She smiled very faintly as her brows furrowed. How odd. Anthea made her way over to the kitchen bench and dumped out the contents haphazardly. Out fell a bottle of cold and flu tablets as well as a bottle of cough syrup. A little white note folded in half came fluttering out after the two heavy bottles. Setting the bottles upright, Anthea then unfolded the note.

Miss J,

I was told to get these for you on my way from the D.C. and drop them off. Mr. H doesn't trust in your ability to look after yourself.

Hope to see you tomorrow,

W.T.

Anthea's face cracked into a larger smile as she held the note. Here she was, an orphan who lived in a different place from her only friend close enough to be family and entirely single and somehow she had these men from work looking out for her. Whatever she'd done to garner this type of behaviour from an ex-agent and the Iceman, Anthea had no idea, but she was certainly lucky. Without thinking she stuck the note to her fridge with a magnet before dosing out the correct amount of medication.

After that was complete Anthea decided to go have a shower. Well, that would be somewhat incorrect. Lean against the cold tiles of the shower while the warm water fell on her, that would be the correct term. She did manage to clean her hair but barely. The shirt and pyjama pants closest to the top of her drawers was what was thrown on. She then grabbed her duvet, wrapped it around her body, and made her way to the living space. Anthea turned the TV on quietly and lay down back in her relocated cocoon on the couch. Hopefully now she had something to drown out the pain she could stay awake long enough to actually sleep tonight rather than now.

She was asleep in front of the TV half an hour later.

The doorbell wasn't as loud as her alarm had been in the morning, this hard merely stung her ears. It was probably the paracetamol within the cold and flu tablets kicking in, but it was very nice not to have a loud noise make you want to crack you head in half. At first when Anthea woke up she was certain the noise was from the television. She rubbed her eyes and stared blearily at the screen from her side, wondering what show she had fallen asleep during and what show it was that was on now. When the doorbell went again she slowly became aware of the fact that, no the noise was not from her almost muted television, but from her own flat. There was still some sunlight coming into her place which meant it was the afternoon in the latest.

Anthea tried to call out that she heard the door as she sat up but couldn't find the inner energy to project her voice that far. She got up, taking her cocoon of a duvet with her, and shuffled over to the faraway front door for the second time that day. She pulled it opened and leaned against the edge to balance herself as she peered at her visitor.

Looking at her like she was both contagious and slightly insane, Mycroft in his neat and tidy suit, looked her up and down with a careful calculating look. Him and his deductions. Anthea blinked to keep her eyes opened as she frowned at the presence of her boss at her flat in the middle of the afternoon. He had a brown paper bag in his possession this time. Apparently she was taking too long to comprehend the situation and come up with something to say because Mycroft shifted the weight in his feet and opened his mouth first.

"Judging by your damp hair you've at least managed to drag yourself to a shower today, that is good. I've heard however that it is not such a good idea to sleep in wet clothes as your long hair has no doubt made the back of your t-shirt." Anthea's dark eyes blinked at the tall man. She was too dazed to focus completely on his babble. That sounded like it was one of his attempts to be nice. It sounded full of facts and with no bitterness – that was an attempt at being civil and friendly. Okay, that's something.

"Sir-" Anthea's voice cracked and she had to clear her throat in order to attempt to speak again. "Why are you here? Is something wrong?" She frowned, rubbing her eyes. Mycroft's brows furrowed for a split second before a fake smile appeared on his lips and he shook his head.

"I told you my dear, I am quite capable of looking after myself." He nodded. "I am more concerned about your ability to look after yourself. Such as the wet hair issue I have already mentioned." Oh, concern. She had definitely heard the word concern in there. That was… well… different. Slightly taken aback Anthea looked around the hallway as if looking for something wrong.

"Oh, well." A pause as she frowned. "Thank you, sir." He waved her off with a small look of disdain and a flick of the wrist. A moment passed before Anthea remembered the bag in his hand and the fact that Mycroft was probably waiting for an invitation in. "Ah, sorry." She mumbled and almost lost her footing as she jumped out of the way of the door. "You have something, come in." He sidestepped past Anthea as if to avoid germs as he politely smiled and entered her flat. Without waiting for further instruction Mycroft made his way straight into Anthea's kitchen. He bent down and began searching her cupboards. For what she wasn't entirely sure.

"I presume I was correct in assuming you haven't eaten today." He called out in an almost singsong voice. Anthea looked between the living space and the kitchen, a little confused.

"No I haven't. Just been sleeping." Mycroft emerged from the cupboard with one of Anthea's bowls. He nodded towards her bedroom door.

"Well then, go put something dry on and we'll rectify that." Without stopping to consider what exactly was going on and how she'd ended up in this parallel dimension Anthea acted on autopilot as she had at work. She nodded and went to change into a dry shirt.

Anthea had emerged from her bedroom to a lovely warm aroma filling her flat. The smell was enough alone to make her feel at home and cared for and just a tiny bit better. Her body acted on its own, making its way over to her dining table where there was a bowl waiting. Mycroft was standing in the archway between Anthea's makeshift dining room and the kitchen. Anthea sat down in front of the place setting. She stuck a spoon into the liquid and investigated it. She turned around and stared at the steel faced man in her doorway.

"Is that chicken noodle soup?" She asked in disbelief, turning back to the bowl of soup. A very small, very faint, natural smile came onto Mycroft's usually serious face.

"My mother, despite being a genius, does believe in the idea of comfort foods and general feel good ideas." She looked over in time to see him shrug. "While I don't fall for such nonsense I am unfortunately a creature of great habit. Having grown up in a household where soup is indeed served to ill people I feel obligated to pay it forward if you will." Anthea chuckled at Mycroft's choice of words.

"You didn't make this?" She laughed and Mycroft scoffed.

"God, no. This is from a restaurant, my dear. Far beyond our capabilities." Anthea smiled as she placed her hands against the edge of the bowl and felt the warmth against her hands.

"Thank you, sir." She muttered. A silence followed by Mycroft clearing his throat.

"Yes, well, I need to ensure your health is improved. We can't have you forgetting about important events again now, can we?" Anthea didn't even attempt to answer the rhetoric question with her own witty comment as she took a spoonful of the soup. It even tasted of home. Like the home she remembers as a child, or Jamie's house, or Mycroft and Sherlock's childhood house. It was perfect. "I best be off. Work to attend to and the like." Anthea frowned at the bowl.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." She muttered, looking over her shoulder to see Mycroft already making his way to her front door. "You don't- I mean, you can't stay." There was a stop in his steps as Mycroft hesitated.

"Absolutely not." His face was neutral. "Plenty to do and only me to do it."

"Yeah, of course." Anthea turned back to her food. "Thanks again, sir."

"I-" He stopped. "I hope to see you tomorrow, Miss James."

"I'll be there."

Click.

The front door closed.

Author's Note: What do you think? Hmm? Now I need to go lie down before I collapse. Thank you to the guest reviewers I can't thank personally; Corrine, Redbeard, Enola, Wheezzy8, Wink, toolazytologin, and ovejalucifer. I love every single reviewer, you are all so awesome.

Thanks for the fun over at the blog too. That thing is awesome :).