Author's Note: I am so, so, so very happy that you guys seemed to really like last chapter! Like I said, the fall is a huge event and I just wanted to do it justice. You guys are so great, you know that? You can pick up on almost anything that I subtly place in there. This chapter… I asked you what you were in the mood for on my Tumblr and the majority of you asked for light and fluffy. After last chapter, why not? So here is something quite light and fluffy for her. I'm not extremely happy with it after the awesomeness that was last chapter but it turned better than I was expecting at some points. So 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 Time He Called Her For No Reason

Anthea sat on the floor of her living room surrounded by photographs pulled from photo albums. She had her laptop on her lap, searching for more photos to print. The television was switched on silent on a news channel so Anthea could keep her eyes on the headlines just in case something she needed to know about happened. Her iPod was on shuffle, plugged into her stereo, playing music at a comfortable volume. Anthea herself was dressed in an oversized hooded jumper and black harem pants, her brown hair tied in a messy ponytail so that some strands well forward into her face. This was the first weekend in a very, very long time that she had felt completely like Alice the person rather than the idea of the nameless assistant. It was nice to be surrounded with photos of school, university, and even her family, and laugh at the memories while singing along to Creep by Radiohead, failing to hit the very low notes. She'd have to thank Jamie for making her do this stupid arts and crafts project – it got her back into herself when lately she'd gotten so lost in the world of the Holmes brother's and foiling the world's only consulting criminal.

Anthea jumped when her phone started vibrating in her bra. She shoved her hand down the jumper to quickly fish it out. In her career every phone call was important and out of fear that she may not hear it ring over the music, Anthea decided it was best to place her phone against her skin so she'd at least feel it vibrate. Her plan had worked too well it seems. Laughing at herself, Anthea looked down at the screen of her blackberry.

Mycroft – Home.

She quirked an eyebrow at the screen. Mycroft's home number meant it wasn't an emergency and it would matter if she just happened to miss the call. It was Sunday and she was happy being Alice today. Mycroft Holmes didn't have much to do with Alice Clarke – couldn't she just be herself and have a productive day of crafts and attempting to cook. Things normal people did. Anthea pursed her lips. Think about all those times she'd called Mycroft for silly reasons or no reason at all. They always picked up for each other – Anthea and Mycroft never miss each other's calls. And Alice Clarke only had a handful of friends, but she was very good to those few people who made the list. Would Alice answer the phone to the weird man who'd offered her a job? Anthea rolled her dark eyes and clicked answer.

"Hello?"

"Hello, my dear?" Mycroft sung. Anthea tilted her head and frowned at herself after no further response came. Hello? That's it? Why was he calling? On a Sunday?

"Sir? Is there something I can help you with?" She'd never sounded so unsure with her words.

"No, I'm purely enquiring about how your day is progressing." Anthea pulled a face in shock and shook her head. This was a normal reason for anyone else to call, but Mycroft? Mycroft was not normal. He didn't care what you were up to as long as you weren't bothering him. What was up?

"Fine, sir… thanks." She spoke high and slowly.

"You're not getting yourself in any trouble this weekend?" Trouble? Anthea's face filled with recognition before she slapped herself in the face, holding her hand where it lay against her forehead. Of course! Trouble! He's missing his brother. He's got no one to visit with Sherlock gone, his parents were away (Violet had told Anthea over the phone during the week that they were going to France for a week), and John was still blaming him and therefore not talking to him. He was absolutely alone with no one to bug him.

"I don't know, maybe. I'm just working on a personal project and trying my hand at a little cooking." A pause.

"You? Cooking?" His amusement could be heard through the phone.

"Yes!" She laughed, thinking of the disaster that had been the one time Mycroft had seen her cook. It had been shortly after her kidnapping and it had gone horribly. He'd escorted her to that diner near her old flat because she had wanted to go there, and he'd been absolutely disgusted by the place. It was a nice memory, really. "I told your mum about my issues with the oven and she'd sent me a quiche recipe she thinks I can do." She heard an actual chuckle. Apparently the concept of her cooking was just that funny that even Mycroft laughs at it.

"My dear, it seems to me that Mummy overestimates your abilities in the kitchen."

"Hey, I'd bet you good money that I can do it. I'll even bet that it will be just as nice as your mum's."

"Please, you'd just go out and buy one." Anthea scoffed as she smiled and shook her head.

"You get over here and prepare to watch me kick some quiche ass while multitasking on my stupid project." Had she just said that to her boss? Well, she was Alice today, after all.

"Come to your flat?"

"I'm not dressing up to come to yours. The place isn't diseased, Mycroft. Having decorations equals personality and warmth, not necessarily clutter." Another pause.

"Fine. I'll be half an hour."

"Going to eat beforehand just in case I mess it up?"

"Absolutely."

Click.

Anthea rolled her eyes as she tossed her phone to the side. She stood up to collect her extra photos from the printer.

Mycroft did not at all seem surprised by Anthea's appearance when she answered the door. To be fair, he'd seen her in far worse states – including being covered in her own blood. The fact that Mycroft himself was without a tie or waistcoat suggested a very relaxed appearance for him too. She wondered if he was already dress like that or had deduced something about her on the phone. Anthea took a deep breath.

"I should tell you, I have a premade base for the quiche that I got from the shops." Mycroft clicked his tongue as he handed Anthea a decent bottle of red wine.

"That loses you points already, Miss James. Not a great start." She laughed lightly.

"I've also got rules." Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "I have music playing and I'm not turning it off. I will lower the volume for you but that is it. You're also not allowed to complain about the music unless you'd like me to get out an electric keyboard and you can supply the music." Mycroft smirked at her, looking vaguely impressed.

"Oh, I understand. Alice's day off, Alice's rules." Anthea nodded. He held a hand to his chest and raised the other one. "I swear I'll behave." Accepting that response with a nod, Anthea stepped aside and allowed her boss entry into her flat.

Anthea wandered off into her kitchen to get glasses for the wine – and pour it – while Mycroft made his way into the living room half of the main room of Anthea's flat. Anthea smiled to herself as she poured the wine, imagining Mycroft's half a facial reaction at the mess that was her floor right now. She walked in and handed Mycroft a glass. Mycroft took it and nodded over to the cardboard with the photos laid out where they would later be stuck down.

"What are you doing?" He all but scoffed, disdain clear. Anthea only chuckled as she too looked at the mess. She could see a photo of her and Jamie dressed as Oberon and Titania from their school production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. There was another one of them sitting on a car, Jamie holding up her brand spanking new driver's licence.

"Jamie's gotten into a whole bunch of self-affirmation books and concepts on loving yourself or something equally weird. She's roped me into doing a photo board of all the people who have been important in your 'own personal life path'." Anthea could also see a photo of James and Carol. They were dressed in bullet proof vests and covered in dirt. Carol was handing James her bottle of fresh water, both of them looking quite serious. Mycroft hummed and nodded. He was clearly judging her, but he had the decency to do so silently. His lips were pursed as his eyes narrowed on a photo. Anthea knew which one.

"Why is the lawyer included?" Anthea knew it. The photo a selfie that Tim had taken of the pair, it was cute, and Anthea was wearing Tim's glasses.

"Because Tim was my longest boyfriend. It's everyone who was important. My uni boyfriend is in here too, but we're still on good terms." With a toe she pointed to a photo of a university aged boy pulling a silly face. The boy with the jet black hair was puffing up his cheeks and widening his eyes. "I even asked your mum for some photos." There was a great one from mother's day. Mycroft and Anthea were both reading the same article in the newspaper that sat between them. Siger had taken it without any warning. She also had one of the whole family with a ten year old Sherlock and a seventeen year old Mycroft. Neither boy looked happy to be there, and it just made the photo even cuter. Mycroft scowled and clicked his tongue in disapproval of his mother sending these to his assistant.

"That woman with the baby, that is you and your mother, correct?" Anthea nodded with a silent sigh, clutching her glass close to her chest. Her mother had baby Alice in her clutches, sitting on her lap. The woman had a very soft and content smile on her face with her warm blue eyes glittering. Mycroft took a sip of his wine as his steely eyes took in the photo, committing the image of the long gone woman to memory. "She was almost as lovely as you." Anthea tilted her head.

"Almost?" She'd laughed. Mycroft nodded. "The lack of mischief leaves such an absence. Your smile gives the impression that you're always up to something, I've grown to find it somewhat endearing." Trust Mycroft to speak so bluntly and make Anthea laugh in shock and surprise. Anthea was pretty sure that was a compliment. It was comments like that which made her crush so impossible to get over.

"Come on, sir." She nudged him. "Aren't you going to come judge my cooking skills?"

"Most definitely. I can't let you cheat any further." He pouted and gave a small nod. "A perfect example of how you're always up to something, your treachery with the store bought base."

Mycroft refused to help in the kitchen, suggesting that his 'superior' cooking skills and familiarity with the recipe would improve the final product and interfere with his judging. Really, Anthea though he just wanted to enjoy making fun of her. So instead, Mycroft sat at the counter making sly comments and laughing whenever something splashed up at Anthea's face. Apparently the way she'd placed the spinach down in the base wasn't good enough. She'd said that if he wanted to get up and help he could lay it in the pastry however he wanted.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly interrupt your genius." Anthea had scowled at the man who was smiling into his glass of wine like the smug, pompous man he was.

Anthea shut the door to the oven, standing up and stretching out her spine. She walked back to the counter and set the timer on her phone. She picked up her glass and finished the last gulp of wine that was in her glass.

"Only a matter of time until you see that I can be a domestic goddess just as well as I can be the mysterious assistant." Mycroft didn't answer except for raising his eyebrows. He was staring at Anthea with an expression she'd never seen before and therefore could not decode straight away. He had a weird little smile with those eyes sparkling, head tilted. Anthea cocked her head to echo his as she looked over his face – trying to work out what on earth that expression meant. "What?" She laughed. Mycroft's smile grew ever so slightly larger.

"You have some of the raw egg mixture in your hair." He gestured to her left. Anthea picked up her phone again to use the front camera as a mirror, as any woman does. Sure enough, the mixture was in her hair and it was already starting to dry. Damn it, that meant she'd need to wash it tonight. Anthea cursed under her breath as she took her hair out and rinsed that section under the kitchen sink. Mycroft kept that weird smile as Anthea walked back over to the counter, tying her hair back up in the loose pony.

"And why, sir, did you find that so amusing?" Myc4roft turned to the side and allowed his smile to turn into a larger one as he chuckled to himself. When he turned back to face Anthea again, it was back to that small, subtle expression.

"It's simple, really. I was reminded of the girl who fell face first down the stairs and put an important USB through the wash." Anthea rubbed her forehead, a little embarrassed. "It's easy to forget that you're not infallible as an assistant or a person. I forget that Alice Clark is someone who focuses so hard on the task at hand that she sometimes trips up on her surroundings."

"Mycroft Holmes and his easy deductions…"

As the quiche came out of the oven Anthea breathed a sigh of relief. From appearance it didn't look burnt or over cooked – not even the edges of the pastry had been caught. She pulled it out of the pan and placed it on a serving tray to bring it out to her dining table. She placed it down on the table in front of Mycroft. She raised an eyebrow at her boss, nodding towards the quiche, urging him to make some judgements. Like that it wasn't burnt. Yay. Mycroft pursed his lips as he turned the tray around, observing the quiche from every angle. Again, he didn't answer verbally, he simple folded his hands together on the table, waiting for Anthea to continue. Anthea sat down before she picked up the knife.

"This is it." She mused.

"Indeed. This is the dreaded moment we have been waiting for." He hummed. As she cut it and pulled out a slice to look at it she was very pleased to see that the piece stayed together. That meant it wasn't undercooked too much either. Nice. She beamed at her judge proudly.

"Impressive so far." Mycroft nodded. So Anthea served them each a piece.

"You go first, sir. Give me your judgements and put me out of my misery." She crinkled her nose as she smiled, Mycroft rolled his silvery eyes. Hesitantly, Mycroft picked up his knife and fork. He cut the point of his slice off into an almost perfect isosceles triangle. Anthea watched as he slowly chewed on the morsel of food, taking his sweet time analysing it. At the very least, the fact that he was taking his time meant that it wasn't horrible. Her breath hitched in suspense as Mycroft finished and went for a sip of his drink.

"Well?" She probed eagerly. Mycroft considered his findings for a moment longer. Eventually he gave a small shrug as he picked up his knife and fork once more.

"Six out of ten." Anthea sat up taller in her chair, relatively pleased with that outcome. She'll happily take a six out of ten when her attempt at chicken had been around a two in her books.

"I told you I'm not always a mess in the kitchen."

"To be fair, my dear, you used a store bought base. I'd like to see you fumble around attempting to place the pastry in a pie time without it ripping." Anthea scoffed.

"What, and you could do it?" She questioned.

"Yes." As simple as that with no hesitation. Just 'Yes'.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. You're perfect."

"Mm, try not to forget that in the future."

Author's Note: What do we think? Cute and fluffy enough for you all? It was a very nice counterpoint to last chapter, I suppose. Having something depressing followed by fluff. I tried to at least have some actual development and I think it's there. Let me know what you think! Thanks to my guest reviewers; Enomisje, Guest, Wink, Corrine, Wheezzy8, ovejalucifer, and Anon. Every single review and every reader means the world to me! Thank you so much guys!

I go see one of my doctors tomorrow so hopefully we'll get good news about my arm and I can get back to special chapters and one shots soon if they decide to fix it. Fingers crossed! Until then, there is always Anthea's blog. Shameless self-plug, I know.