Author's Note: Sheesh guys, the feedback last chapter was absolutely incredible! Thank you! It seems my timing for it was just right. Anyway… This chapter. Alright, this comes from a few things, actually. It is inspired by multiple questions on Anthea's ask blog and also my own need to change the pace. I really liked writing this chapter so I really hope you guys like it! 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.

The First Gunshot Wound

The ringing of the blackberry in the middle of Saturday night shocked Anthea awake, causing her whole body to leap forward. With one eye still shut to the bright blue light that emanated from her phone screen – Anthea leaned over and picked her phone up off her bedside table. She blinked her eyes a few times in an attempt to look at the screen.

Mycroft Holmes – mobile.

Of course it was. Who else would it be? Anthea pressed the accept button. She brought the blackberry up to her ear as she closed her eyes again. She took a deep breath.

"Mmm, hello?" Anthea mumbled, her voice cracking.

"Sorry my dear, were you asleep?" Mycroft sounded just as alert as he had when she'd left him. That meant he hadn't gone to bed yet. Eyes still shut, Anthea quirked an eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of that question. He knew the answer to that, why did he choose now to follow formalities?

"A little bit. Yeah."

"Can to explain how one can be 'a little bit' asleep?" He was mocking her, at three in the morning. Anthea opened her eyes and gave a deep annoyed stare into the darkness of her room.

"Not really, at 3am, sir. Can I help you?"

"I'm calling to inform you to pack a suitcase for Monday. We are going to Thailand for an unspecified amount of time." Anthea turned on her lamp – the warm yellowed light causing her to blink once more – and sat up against her headboard.

"Undercover mission? So touristy clothes? It's warm there, yeah?"

"Yes to all." Mycroft swept her questions aside. "One of our favourite politicians got into debt with some rather unsavoury drug dealers whilst on holiday. To pay his debt he sold government documents." Anthea clicked her tongue and shook her head. Sometimes she was certain their jobs were just clean up duty for idiots with power. "I know." Mycroft must have heard her noise of disapproval. "These people obviously don't know what to do with these documents so have been trying to sell them to anyone who come their way with a little bit of money. They practically advertising on a billboard."

"So we need to get them back?" Anthea yawned at the end of her sentence.

"And most likely neutralize the threat." Mycroft answered. Anthea closed her eyes and ran a hand through her knotted hair.

"I'll be ready first thing Monday morning. But just one question, sir."

"Yes, my dear?"

"This couldn't wait until morning because?"

"I-" He hesitated. "Miss James, I do believe you are on call twenty-four seven, or have you forgotten?" His smug, holier-than-thou attitude back in place after that brief hesitation. Anthea had caught Mycroft off guard and he knew she was right. Technically he was also right.

"That's right. I'm sorry, sir." Anthea smirked.

"Yes, well…" A short pause followed.

"Goodnight, Mr. Holmes."

"Goodnight, Anthea."

Anthea almost choked on nothing Monday morning. She heard the car door click shut and she looked over to smile at Mycroft. The usually clean and extremely meticulous man had – as a part of the cover – not shaven for a few days. If Anthea were to compose a list of the most attractive things she'd ever seen she'd never expect Mycroft Holmes with stubble to be near the top of that list, but there you go. It might have something to do with the suit – his general sophistication and power – mixed with the scruff. Anthea didn't even like facial hair. Apparently she had something to examine. Mycroft glanced her way and had to do a double take – a frown deep set in his brow. His steely eyes searching hers followed by a scan of her entire body and body language – looking for an answer. His frown turned into a puzzled look as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"This, Anthea? Really?" Embarrassed, Anthea shrugged and turned back to look out her window instead of her strangely attractive and very judgemental boss.

"Trust me, I'm just as confused by it as you are, sir." She sighed. Anthea swears she heard Walter chuckle. She turned to glare daggers, not maliciously mind you, into the back of his headrest. Anthea looked at Mycroft once more – looking him up and down from his fiercely intelligent eyes to his long legs. "Are you keeping that the entire trip?" She asked, looking at his slender hands playing with his umbrella rather than looking at his face.

"I'm afraid so." He hummed.

"Damn…" Anthea mumbled as she turned back to her window with a pout and rested her head on her hand.

The streets of Phuket were so disgustingly humid you could feel the sweat dripping down your back as you took a leisurely stroll. Anthea wasn't sure why she had even bothered trying to straighten her hair this morning when the slick, thick air caused it to wave up again in no time. She wore a light, pale blue summer dress with spaghetti straps – a gun holster hidden high up her thigh. Thick rimmed sunglasses sat on her nose and her white sandals were the type that buckled up around the ankle so they would remain on if she had to run. Mycroft wore a light grey suit jacket and trousers with what Anthea presumed was a short sleeve button up shirt, otherwise she'd have no idea how he could survive in this humidity. It even cause him hair trouble, curling ever so slightly so that he let it fall onto his forehead instead of attempting to style it back like usual. Considering Sherlock's hair, Anthea should not be surprised that this weather caused Mycroft's usual straight hair to wave. Anthea would have accused Mycroft for still looking far too much like a business man if it weren't for the lack of tie and the sandals on his feet… Oh, and the beard, that too. She couldn't overlook that.

Somewhere on Bangla Road, with its obnoxious music and people shoving fliers into your face trying to convince you to see X-rated shows, was their destination. The dealers' den was one of these buildings. They had met one of the dealers at another location and were now meeting at his place of 'business' to procure the deal as far as he knew. Mycroft took a step closer to Anthea as they came onto this road. Anyone else Anthea would say it was a protective action. With Mycroft it was more likely wanting to stick close for the sake of the mission.

Once they reached the building the duo walked up to the dark wooden front door. Anthea stood next to but slightly behind Mycroft so that her left shoulder almost touched his right shoulder. Both had their neutral masks firmly in place by the time Mycroft knocked on the door in the pattern they had given to him. A short, very thin man with a fierce gaze like fire yanked the door open – extra effort needed due to the wood swelling in the weather. The man looked between the man and woman, barking something at them in Thai. Mycroft answered back calmly – the language sounding sweeter on his melodic, sophisticated tongue. The man answered and slammed the door, causing Anthea to flinch. Mycroft turned to speak to Anthea over his shoulder.

"He's verifying that we're expected." Mycroft explained in hushed tones.

"He seems absolutely charming." Anthea muttered under her breath. Mycroft sniffed a single laugh as he faced forward once more, folding his hands together in front of him. Anthea could just picture the knowing smile her comment would have just placed on his face.

The door was yanked open again and the same man barked at them once again, stepping aside. Mycroft nodded and began to walk towards the entrance so Anthea followed closely behind only to have the door slammed right behind her. She didn't flinch this time.

There was nothing on the walls of this small building. Nothing at all. All around the walls were nothing but speckled cement. It was a sight to see with all the mismatched furniture including a pink couch with a rip in the back so you could see the foam within. A group of locals and a couple of European foreigners sat around separating white powder into lines. A few of them stared at her – looking her up and down slowly, stopping in certain areas to linger. One seemed to be with disgust, another one longingly. The worst part however, was the smell. The place did not smell dirty, of the streets or of smoke, it smelt of industrial cleaner. Like bleach. Anthea crinkled her nose and took a slow calm breath through her mouth. The smell made her want to run out of the building and throw up on the streets. Mycroft turned around and gave her a probing look – seeing if she could cope with the smell. She smiled weakly and waved him off with a hand. He pursed his lips.

"Up the stairs." The small man squawked in English this time, point to a painted white door. Anthea presumed the stairwell was within that door. Mycroft gestured to the stairs. "No. You go first." The man scowled. Mycroft bit the inside of his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows. Anthea raised her sunglasses to sit on top of her head and echoed his expression.

"Very well." Mycroft breathed. "I'll be a step behind you, A." He nodded to the stairs without looking at Anthea. Anthea wanted to gulp but she nodded and took a step towards door. Sure enough, as soon as her hand was on the doorknob, Mycroft's hand was reassuringly on her hip and stayed there on the ascent up the stairs. Once she reached the door at the top she could feel his breath on her neck. Anthea opened the door and they stepped into the new space – once again to hear the door slam as the small man shut it. He stood by the door, guarding it.

"Boss is coming." The man actually spoke at a normal volume this time, but it still had that defensive tone to it. Neither Mycroft nor Anthea answered. Instead they stood in the centre of the room side by side, Anthea just behind – shoulders almost touching.

This room was almost completely empty with the same bare, decorative free walls. To the far left pushed into the corner was another shabby couch, a coffee table, and a couple of throw pillows scattered on the floor surrounding the table. It was most definitely one of the strangest environments Anthea had been in – and she was involved in tracking down Moriarty's England bases. The smell of cleaning products wasn't as bad up here. It smelt more like an indescribable dirty smell. Not smoky, something else. It was Mycroft this time who didn't seem all that fond of the smell, his eyes darker than usual and his mouth pulled into a tight line. Then it hit Anthea, Sherlock's past. How many places like this has Mycroft been in? Subtly Anthea pushed on Mycroft's shoulder with her own – a soft nudge. He cleared his throat and lightly shook his head.

"Smell is a strong sense." She muttered in French, hoping the short man couldn't speak it.

"I could say the same to you." Mycroft answered in a whisper. Anthea pursed her lips and nodded. What a pair.

The door close to the coffee table opened and a middle aged Thai man with bleached blonde hair entered the room. The boss, presumably. He had something bulky in the pocket of his shorts. Was that what they were here for? He was grinning largely and very friendly. His smile dropped as soon as his almost black eyes landed on Mycroft.

"Oh, hello…" Mycroft sung under his breath – sounding faintly surprised under that neutral mask. The blonde pointed at Mycroft and said something very quickly in Thai. Mycroft responded. The boss spoke again, this time to the short man.

"Do you know who you've brought here?" Mycroft translated. "English tourists." He translated for the short angry man. "No. Idiot. This is a spy." Mycroft scoffed at this statement. "That's quite the demotion."

"Oh, great." Anthea inhaled. Mycroft began speaking to the boss in Thai and they began to have an argument. The Thai man began yellow, Mycroft kept his cool. Anthea turned around to look at the small man. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw him brandishing a gun. On pure instinct she wrapped her arms around Mycroft's chest and shoved him hard to the ground, falling with him. She heard the gunshot as they fell. As they hit the floor Mycroft hissed in pain – his face contorting. Anthea jumped to her feet, drawing her own gun as quick as lightning. She fired two shots at the short man. The first was on pure instinct and hit him in the arm, causing him to drop his gun and clutch his arm. The second shot she aimed straight for his left kneecap. The man wailed in pain and dropped to the floor. Anthea ran over to him. She picked up his gun, unloaded the magazine and threw the gun and magazine to opposite sides of the room. She turned around to aim her gun at the boss to find him armed and aiming a golden coloured gun right at her.

"Well, you weren't prepared for two English tourists, were you?" She threw the blonde a lopsided grin as she looked down the sight of her gun.

"You want to take our documents. You want to steal them." He spoke far more calmly than his incapacitated friend. Anthea shrugged playfully.

"It's hardly stealing when they belong to you in the first place. The British Government doesn't play finders keepers."

"We're owed money." The blonde said, completely ignoring Anthea's light-hearted comment. He jabbed the gun forward as he spoke.

"Easy, easy. I have the money, my purse is full of it." That was a lie. She nodded to his pocket. "Is that the item?" He frowned and gulped.

"Yes, that is it."

"What we're going to do is we're both going to put our weapon's down. Okay?" She held her gun in one hand, up in the air, with both hands raised. The man watched her carefully. "Okay?" She asked again. The blonde copied her body language. "Now we're both going to slowly lower to the floor, put the guns down and stand back up unarmed. Okay?" Two sets of dark eyes locked on each other as they slowly and simultaneously dropped their weapons. Anthea was positive this was going to work. She took her purse off her shoulder and held it in one hand. "Show me the item." The man pulled out what looked like a small jewellery box that may hold a bracelet. "We're going to slowly approached each other and swap. Deal?"

A paused. Anthea swallowed.

"Deal." Slowly they approached each other. As they came within reach they took each other's item from the other. Just as the blonde opened Anthea's purse she placed a hand in his bleached hair and brought his head against her bare knee hard and fast, dropping his unconscious body to the ground.

"Nice try." Anthea laughed. Carefully she opened the jewellery box to reveal a white USB. Anthea smiled triumphantly to herself.

BANG!

Anthea's eyes hot up, body frozen. She watched as blood began oozing from the mouth of a rather large man in front of her and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. She snapped the box shut and whipped her head around to find the origin of the bullet. Mycroft stood on one knee, face drawn of some colour, gun in his hands.

"Always keep an eye on the doorways, my dear." He scolded. Relieved, Anthea ran for her purse and snatched it up. She placed the USB in it, zipped it up and secured it to her person by looping the strap over her head and across her body. Anthea walked back over to Mycroft as her carefully tried to stand up, groaning as he supported some of his weight on his hands. Anthea gasped when she saw why. The right side of the back of his jacket was slick and dark with blood. The origin coming from the bottom of his shoulder blade. Anthea ran to his side to help him up, not caring at this precise moment about his boundaries. Mycroft begrudging accepted his PA's help.

"Oh, yes. I forgot, blood makes you touchy and brings out maternal instincts." He mumbled sarcastically after he was back on his feet.

"Mycroft, you're shot." She reprimanded. Anthea placed the back of her hand against his forehead to check for a change in temperature. Mycroft pulled away.

"It could have been far worse." Anthea thinks that's a compliment for her actions and simultaneously frowns and smiles at the weird injured man. Anthea walked over and picked her gun back up, feeling much safer with it in her grasps.

"Okay, what next, sir?" She asked.

"We get out of here and then we call the support team." He answered flatly as he looked all around the room. It was times like this, when he scanned the room with analytical eyes, that Anthea could see Sherlock in him. "The front door looks like the simplest exit." Anthea nodded.

"Right, sir." She made her way over to the door that lead to the stairwell. She pulled on the handle.

"Anthea!" Warm fingers locked around her own and yanked her hard out of the way just in time to see strands of her chocolate hair flying in the air from where the bullet flew past. If it wasn't a frightening scene, it would have made a beautiful scene in a film, the hair just floating down to the floor. Mycroft guarded Anthea's body behind the wall. He leaned past and shot into the stairwell with speed, precision, and grace. A thud was heard and Anthea released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. Relief briefly crossed Mycroft's face before it was replaced with a fiery anger.

"An unguarded doorway!" He scoffed incredulously, shaking his head. "We know what's going to kill you one day. That is twice in less than ten minutes."

"Hey! I'm a PA, not a minor government official with a background of MI6 work. And I saved you, didn't I?" His face softened as he rolled those cool steel blue eyes.

"Try to stay away from doors." He sighed. He nodded to the open doorway and began heading towards the stairs. It was as she felt a tug on her arm did Anthea realise that she and Mycroft were still holding hands. It was clearly blood loss on his part that he had yet to let go. It would be rude to embarrass him by freeing her hand.

They had to step past the body and be careful of the blood spilt on the steps as to not slip as they made their way down the stairs as quietly as possible. It was when they reached the bottom door that Mycroft let go of Anthea's hand so she could hold her weapon correctly. They stood right against the wall. Mycroft, eyes looking heavy and tired, help a finger up to his lips, a signal for them to be as quiet as possible. Anthea nodded once and held her weapon at the ready. Standing as far back as possible, Mycroft very slowly turned the doorknob until he heard a soft click. He made eye contact with Anthea to signal his readiness.

With a hard shove he pushed the door open. After half a second bullets flung into the hallway, flying past them as they pressed hard against the wall, breathing shallowly as to not make a sound. They waited in silence as two voices began to converse in Thai. The English pair listened and waited. Eventually they heard soft footsteps approaching. As soon as a head appeared in the doorway Mycroft took the man in a hold and shoved him against the opposite wall. Anthea jumped into the doorway and once again aimed for the man in her sight's kneecap. He fell like a tonne of bricks. With a quick look around the room to make sure it was clear, Anthea walked over and knocked the man out with the butt of her gun. Now out of immediate danger she looked around the room with more scrutiny.

"That's it? Two guys downstairs?" She asked in disbelief. She searched every possible nook and cranny of the space. The white powder had been abandoned on the coffee table.

"The women and tourist would… have fled upon… the first gunshot." Mycroft's voice sounded breathy and laboured. Anthea turned to face the stairs. Mycroft hand an arm above his head against the doorframe and was resting his head against the white frame to hold himself up. His colour seemed paler than before and there was sweat on his brow.

"Myc!" Anthea inhaled sharply. Keeping her calm as best as possible she walked over to her boss. "Sit down." Anthea gingerly placed a hand on each bicep and softly eased Mycroft to sit on the first step – just below the other unconscious man. The one that had been Mycroft's doing. She pulled out her phone and began composing a text to send to multiple numbers. "I'm getting the support team and medical help to come here right now." She answered before Mycroft could ask or question her choice. The man closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

"You did very well, Anthea." He complimented quietly. Anthea smiled into her phone as she typed.

"Except for doors." She added.

"Except for doors." He echoed. "The move to get the plans… I saw that." Ah, that was what a Mycroft compliment sounded like.

"I learnt from watching the best." Anthea laughed. She rubbed Mycroft's arm gently. He frowned and she was certain he was going to ask her to stop.

He didn't.

"Miss James, why are you pouting at me?" Mycroft spoke across from Anthea on the private jet, scowling at her own expression.

"You shaved." Anthea stated. Mycroft raised his eyesores, widen his eyes, and mimed an 'oh', mocking his assistant.

"Congratulations, you can see." Anthea rolled her eyes as Mycroft's own eyes sparkled as he smiled smugly. "Back to the office when we land, I can't have that on my face."

"Of course not, sir." Anthea agreed. She picked up her large handbag and pulled out a novel she had brought to read on the plane flights. She opened to the last page she was on but there was something to do before she started reading… Anthea lowered her book. "How are you feeling, sir?" Mycroft pursed his lips and waved her off.

"Absolutely fine." Lier. "Which has a lot to do with your fast reflexes, my dear. You made good choices this mission. About eighty percent of the time, anyhow." He quirked an eyebrow and gave Anthea a very sly half smile.

"I've got your back and you stop me from making stupid mistakes. The perfect team." Anthea beamed. "Like John and Sherlock."

"I believe Alice and Mycroft have a far better record that John and Sherlock. We get into far less trouble."

"Not out of lack of opportunities." Anthea laughed. Mycroft's face pulled into a scowl as he turned to look out the window to his side.

"I really do despise legwork."

Author's Note: What do you think? I personally felt we were due for another legwork type chapter. I had great fun coming up with this one and I really can't wait to hear what all you lovely readers think of it. Your reviews always excite me and put a smile on my face. Okay, guest thanking time! Thanks to; Corrine, Lizzy B, Redbeard, Guest, Wheezzy8, Wink, and the lovely ovejalucifer. Some thanks should also go to the people over at Anthea's blog as, like I said, multiple questions for Anthea and suggestions to me all inspired this one chapter. Thank you to everyone who reads this and enjoys it, thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and thank you to everyone who just stops by. I love writing for this fic.