Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback last chapter! I'm so glad you all liked it. You have no idea how much I hate C.A.M. but how much fun he was to write for. Fun fact for today's chapter, it was conceptualised at the same time as 54 and they were originally going to be one chapter. I realised it would be too long, separated the ideas and changed the plot points around them up a bit. I was worried that this one wasn't going to be long enough but as I typed it out and added things here and there that weren't in the original draft it certainly ended up a decent length. I shouldn't have worried though, after all I have also posted a Mycroft POV chapter today ;). 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 She Suspected Jealousy

Anthea sat in the diner near her old flat, in the company of her old university boyfriend, Robbie, while they waited for the rest of his group of friends from university to arrive. A band the group had adored during their schooling days was touring at the moment. For old time's sake Robbie had asked everyone who lived nearby if they would like to go. Really, Anthea was slightly an outsider, they were Robbie's friends first and last. By extension, as often happens in couples, they'd been "Alice and Robbie" as if they were one person and even after they broke up Anthea had been invited to all the university parties and the like. She barely saw any of these people anymore and wasn't even sure how often any of them saw each other or if some of them had drifted apart, but it was nice to be invited along.

Robbie brushed his black hair out of his eyes as he laughed at Anthea's story. The good thing about Robbie was that Robbie had never turned bitter. When they broke up it was because Anthea knew it wouldn't last but she appreciated his friendship and Robbie had accepted this. Bless his heart, even when they tried again just months before Anthea began working for Mycroft, and that had only lasted two weeks, he'd just laughed and accepted going back to friends who only see each other about once a year. Currently he folded his arms together and lent on the fibreglass diner table.

"So what happened then?" He smiled, big grin showing all his teeth, just like always.

"Well!" Anthea heaved a sigh, exasperated at the memory. She shook her head. "I had to go all the way to bloody Scotland Yard to get them out. So I go down, and the cops know me by my face alone and automatically know who I'm there to pick up. John and Sherlock come out and they're still dripping from head to toe with the filthiest water you've ever seen and Sherlock refuses to take that stupid coat off even though it's weighing him down."

"That coat he's wearing in all the photos?" Anthea nodded.

"Yeah. So Sherlock told me not to tell his brother and I promised I wouldn't."

"But you did." Robbie bit on his thumbnail.

"Of course I did!?" Anthea grinned from ear to ear. "He was furious but decided to keep to himself anyway."

"What?" Robbie laughed, shaking his head. "Why? I'd kill my siblings if they did that." Anthea sat up perfectly straight in her chair and folded her hands together on the table, pulling her best bond villain facial expression.

"My dear, something this good must be saved for later use. You never know when leverage like this may come in handy." She dropped her portrayal of Mycroft and slouched back again. "Direct quote, that." She nodded. Robbie chuckled. He shook his head again, wiping all of his hair back off his forehead in disbelief.

"That is so cool that you knew Sherlock Holmes. You know, despite what they say." Tucking stray hair behind her ear, Anthea looked down to the table and nodded to herself.

"Yeah." She spoke quietly. "He was very weird but so cool. He was like an annoying brother." Anthea's smiled faulted as she sighed. It was beginning to feel like ages since she and Mycroft had gone for a little visit to Baker Street. It just felt wrong. Mycroft just seemed so…. Less busy without his little brother to clean up after. Boredom was beginning to seep in, even at the office, Anthea could tell. And then there was John. Last time she'd ran into John on the street the man had walked right past her. Indirect blame, she supposed.

Robbie was looking at Anthea with sympathy as if he expected her to burst into tears at any second. Anthea shook her head to clear her thoughts. Not a great time to start getting sentimental.

Sentiment, my dear.

"Enough about me." Anthea smiled at her inner thought coming out as Mycroft's voice, rather than focusing on Robbie. "What are you doing? You quit your last job didn't you? Where are you now?" Anthea leaned on the table, mirroring Robbie's body language. It really was nice to see him again. His scruffy hair, his tanned skin. Those big ebony eyes still sparkled with the same mischief Anthea's did. They'd been quite a dangerous pair. He'd put on considerable weight but he still had a lovely, cheeky face.

"Nothing as cool as you, Ali-bear." He scratched the back of his head, sort of shy. "I started my own computer repair and upgrade shop." Anthea widened her eyes and mimed a 'wow'.

"That's great!" She played up her excitement, but she really was happy for him. "That's all you really liked to do. Are you doing well?"

"I'd be doing better if you came to work for me. Set up the actual storefront and the like. Give me some of those security programs you got at your old job." Anthea leaned back in side of the booth, folding her arms across her chest.

"You can't afford me." She crinkled her nose. "I've more than doubled in price." Robbie chuckled lightly. He ruffled his hair. This was a clear cut sign of a change of thought for him.

"So, Al, are you still friends with what's her name?" He bit the inside of his lip and frowned, clenching and unclenching his hand as he tried to recall old memories. "You know the one, the blonde. The girl who w-"

Anthea's phone began to vibrate on the table. Her eyes fell onto the blackberry. Really? Now of all times? She saw this guy once in a blue moon and the universe chose now to interrupt her? She held back a sigh and faked a smile towards Robbie as she lifted up her phone. She didn't know the number.

"Hold on a moment." She hummed. Anthea pressed answer and brought the receiver up to her ear. "Hello?" She sighed.

"Hello, is this a Miss Alice Clarke?" The unknown voice asked. Anthea frowned. She could hear a wild array of background noises through the phone. Things from beeps and clicking, to things like voices and general shuffling. That at least said this was a public place with people around.

"Yes…" She spoke wearily.

"I believe you are a friend of Mycroft Holmes?" Anthea's heart felt as if it stopped beating. So someone was calling her mobile and they knew her real name as well as her connection to Mycroft. The idea filled her with a deep dread.

"… Yes…" Her tone was lower than before.

"I'm calling from St. Bartholomew's Hospital." Now her heart had dropped right into the pit of her stomach. Anthea's free hand gripped the counter, nails digging into the fibreglass and chrome. "There has been a car accident."

"Oh my God!" Anthea jumped up in her seat. Her free hand had now shot up to clutch at her neck just above her collarbone. Robbie was watching her carefully. "Is he okay?" She inhaled.

"Mr. Holmes is fine." Anthea sighed in relief. "We're required to release him into someone else's care." Anthea's heart returned to its normal position and started beating again. As long as he was okay. As long as he was breathing and fine.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." She agreed, a little shaken still. "I'll be there soon."

"Thank you, Miss. Goodbye."

Click.

Anthea hung up the phone.

"Gotta run?" Robbie asked. He watched as Anthea fumbled with her purse. She was putting her phone away and fishing for money to pay for her meal.

"Yeah." She sighed. "Sherlock's brother, actually. He's in the hospital. It sounds like he's doing fine though." Robbie's eyes it up with that mischief.

"Well, hurry, go! Check on 'the most fascinating man you've ever met'." He spoke in a breathy voice, mocking Anthea. He used her own words against her. Anthea sneered at him playfully as she tossed her money down onto the table.

"Say sorry to your friends and get me a t-shirt, okay? Even if you have to mail it to me."

"Yeah, no problem."

When you are, or were, well connected to Sherlock Holmes, Bart's hospital is ridiculously familiar. Anthea didn't even need to ask for any guidance to get to the emergency department when she knew they'd have taken Mycroft. Only once there did she need to be told where to find her boss.

Anthea found Mycroft in a private room with a nurse practitioner with him. Mycroft was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed looking a little lost and worse for wear but alive. She'd known he was fine but seeing the man actually there, looking miserable, felt as if a large weight had been lifted from Anthea's shoulders. He had a few cuts and bruises, and his poor left leg was in a walking boot. He quirked an eyebrow at Anthea who was standing in the doorframe. Anthea tilted her head against the doorframe and pouted in sympathy. Poor Mycroft. The man was so powerful, so strong and well together, to see him hurt in any way made her want to just reach out and stroke his face. Obviously she couldn't. The nurse practitioner looked over to Anthea and her display of compassion, and smiled warmly.

"You must be Alice." The dark skinned woman somewhere in her late forties or early fifties, smiled as she held her clipboard to her chest. She turned back to look at Mycroft, holding her smile. "We've been waiting for you, Alice. Haven't we, Mr. Holmes?" Mycroft hummed in response, raising his eyebrows. Anthea chuckled, thinking of him having to make small talk with this lady while in pain. She seemed so nice too, hopefully Mycroft had tried his best to be a little nicer than usual. The lady didn't seem put off by him.

"So, what has he done to himself?" Anthea asked the nurse practitioner.

"Fractured his tibia, whiplash around the neck area, bruising around his abdomen from the seatbelt. He's very lucky not to have broken any ribs." Anthea clicked her tongue, her heart aching in pity.

"Oh Mycroft, what happened?"

"Evidently, Miss Clarke, I got into a car accident. You see, that is a danger that can occur when one gets into a vehicle." He mocked. Anthea rolled her eyes. The practitioner smiled, seemingly seeing this for the playful banter it was. Perhaps it was the lack of malice in Mycroft's voice or the way Anthea's sympathetic smile didn't drop.

"You don't say." Anthea mocked him right back. Her face went serious as she searched his bleary steel eyes. "Details." Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked past Anthea to the door behind her.

"I've believe it was a drunk driver who ended up on the wrong side of the road. Mrs. Jones here informs me that he has worse injuries than me but will be fine." Anthea bit the inside of her lip, still leaning on the doorframe.

"Which car?" She asked, smile returning.

"The Aston Martin." He said in a bored tone. Anthea gasped.

"Aw, not the James Bond car we took to your parents' house." She whined. "I loved that car." Mycroft shook his head, turning to the nurse practitioner with an exasperated look.

"I told you she'd be absolutely no help. She has no clue when to close her mouth." The nurse cocked her head to the side and laughed. She somehow seemed to understand this strange dynamic at play.

"And I told you we needed her so we can get you home." Mycroft pursed his lips and half shrugged, accepting the lady's point. Anthea rolled her eyes again and shook her head. She gestured to the nurse's clipboard with a nod of her head and stepped further into the room.

"Are they the forms I need to sign?" The nurse nodded and brought the forms over to Anthea.

"I'll be back to collect them." She smiled before leaving the room. Anthea was more than willing to hurry up and sign these forms. She needed to save Mycroft from the care of ordinary people, and the hospital from the headache that was a Holmes brother. She read the forms over for any details she needed to know that Mycroft might purposely leave out.

Hang on.

Anthea bit the inside of her lip and frowned down to the form. She read that section over again just to be sure.

"Um, sir?" She asked, looking over the forms to her boss.

"Mmm?" He had his eyes close and was rubbing his forehead.

"Why am I listed as your emergency contact?" Silver eyes blinked open. He looked over to Anthea and took a deep breath.

"Well, with Sherlock's passing I needed to update my information. The next best choice within London was you."

A pause.

"I presumed you'd have no issue with this." Anthea shook her head. For some reason her heart was beating faster against her chest now.

Stupid crush.

"No, no, sir. No problem at all."

She signed her actual signature at the bottom of the form.

Mycroft, being Mycroft and too proud, refused to aid of a wheelchair. Instead he chose to lean on Anthea and hobble along. He claimed that he'd use his umbrella as a makeshift crutch. Apparently he had done so before and Anthea wasn't going to argue with him if that's what makes him comfortable.

Once they'd gotten outside of the hospital Mycroft wanted to stop and sit on the bench outside so that he could have a cigarette. Anthea reminded him that he'd been very good lately, all things considered. He reminded her that car accidents can be fatal. She relented. Mycroft coughed on the first drag, but the relief was clear on his tired features none the less. Anthea stayed standing up, looking around absentmindedly while Mycroft sat smoking. It was starting to get cold out but Mycroft never smoked more than one cigarette at a time, this wouldn't take long. When she turned around to face Mycroft she caught him giving her a strange look. His mouth was pulling up into a slightly amused smile, eyes glittering with amusement. Anthea tilted her head to the side, questioning. Mycroft's response was to look his assistant up and down.

Ah, yes. She'd forgotten. Dressed for a rock concert, Anthea was dressed in a black shirt with a short red plaid skirt, stockings, and black boots. She wore more eyeliner than she usually liked to and her brown curls were straightened. Anthea shrugged.

"Clothes left over from uni days." She admitted.

"Who were you going to a concert with?" Mycroft asked. Of course he'd deduced it, even an average person could tell where she was going by her appearance.

"Just my university boyfriend and his friends." She waved him off. Mycroft's features slowly fell back into his neutral mask.

"Oh." He hummed. "I'm sorry, that would be the second time a member of my family ending up in hospital has ruined an evening for you with a potential life partner." His voice was cold and flat now. The work tone. Anthea frowned in confusion at her boss.

"If I viewed him that way I wouldn't have dumped him after two semesters together." Anthea answered, sounding a tad offended. She tried to lighten herself – and hopefully Mycroft – up. "Plus, he's a nice guy and I only seem to like people with an asshole gene, remember?" Not even a half smile, just a purse of the lips before Mycroft took another drag of his cigarette.

"Even so." He hummed, bright eyes examining the walking boot. "It seems that I always impede on your social interactions." What? Why would he care about that? One mention of Robbie who she rarely sees and now Mycroft's pulling away from their friendship once again? Why? His behaviour has been becoming slightly less predictable these days. Was he in some shape or form jealous of Robbie? That was a preposterous idea. Surely not. "Perhaps it was a mistake on my part listing you as my emergency contact." Oh, Anthea wasn't going to have this. She stepped forward, pointing a painted nail at is face.

"Don't you dare say that, sir." She chided, looking the man dead in the eyes. "If I had to find out second hand that something bad had happened to you, I'd never forgive either of us." Mycroft looked Anthea over carefully, deducing what he could from her body language and facial expression. "So just leave my name on that piece of paper."

A pause.

Mycroft put the cigarette out on the bench and looked out into the carpark. Anthea allowed the silence to continue for thirty seconds.

"Okay?" She asked softly.

"Okay."

Good.

Anthea ran her hands through her hair, adjusting her part to where it normally was. She scratched her nose and took a deep breath.

"I'll go bring my car around for you."

"Can you turn your music off?" Mycroft asked, sounding tired. Anthea smiled to herself.

"Turned it off on the way here, sir."

Author's Note: And there we have it? What do you think? Myc's probably still going to be in that boot next chapter. Also, I'll point out now if it's not already obvious – Robbie's not a threat. Time to thank the guest reviewers since I can't send you guys PMs. Thanks to: Liana, Rapunzel, pauline, Guest, Anon, Enomisje, Corrine, Lilli, Wink, Wheezzy8, Another Guest, and ovejalucifer. Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews this. I love all of you so much! I've been getting fan art on my Tumblr lately, guys. FANART! You're the best.

Mycroft POV Chapter is up! Yes, the 800 review special is competed and up. The First Time He Was Speechless – Mycroft's POV is available on my profile. It was fun to write so please go read my latest thank you for including me in this fan base. Thanks guys!