Author's Note: Hi guys! Thank you for the kind feedback last chapter. You all seem relieved that the ice between the pair is melting. It's good to see. The voted on chapter has been selected but I was out with my friends all weekend (Doctor Who marathon again) so I didn't get a chance to plan out that chapter so it will be next time. Not to mention this chapter has been on the back burner for months not and it finally feels like the right time for it. I hope you like it! 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 Heard Him Play Piano

Mycroft wasn't supposed to be home from his week in Sweden yet. He wasn't scheduled to arrive back until early Thursday morning and certainly wasn't expected in the office until around twelve that day. Anthea had scheduled all of Thursday around that concept. So when a very, very important document landed on her desk Wednesday evening just before she was to leave, Anthea had to sit back down in her desk chair and consider what to do. She could scan every single piece of paper in this thick file and email her boss but that would take an exorbitant amount of time. She could just leave it on his desk but lunch tomorrow might be too late for it. If it were this thick and from this specific contact, it needed to be dealt with in a timely matter.

Anthea leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair as she took a deep breath. What made the most sense to her was to go leave the file on Mycroft's desk in his home office – or on his kitchen counter so he'd see it as soon as he got home. That made the most sense, of course. It was just annoying that at the end of a long day – or week – of running the office by herself she'd have to go to Mycroft's estate before heading home to her flat and passing out still dressed. Yes, she planned to do that. You just know when you're too tired to get changed. Mycroft was probably going to be just as tired as she was now when he got home but they'd both just have to suck it up like they always did, and get the job done. With a heavy sigh, Anthea snatched up the file and continued her way out of the office.

Anthea pulled up right out the front door of the estate. She frowned and tilted her head to the side as she looked over the front of the house – noticing that lights were on. Did he have people in to clean or paint or something while he was out? Surely Mycroft would have noted something like that to her, or he would have before their friendship of sorts had broken down a little. Anthea bit the nail of her little finger as she considered whether to call security to get some back up to enter the house – who knows who could be in there searching for government secrets. Then again, security had a great eye on this place and no one had seemed at all concerned when Anthea had pulled up to the gate. They had smiled, said hello, and let her in. If there had been an intruder of some sort, there were so many cameras around the exterior of the building, someone would have noticed long ago. Guessing that she was being overly cautious, Anthea switched off her car, grabbed her handbag and the file, and made her way to the house.

Huh.

Anthea stopped in the entrance hall after shutting the front door softly behind her. She could hear noises from within the house, straight through the doors to the main living space. That meant someone was indeed here. How odd. Anthea stood very still and listened to the noise – realising it was piano music. How very, very odd. Anthea bit her bottom lip as she continued to listen. A change in dynamics, as the music got louder and Anthea could now tell it was a complex piece. Was someone playing music or was this that poor abandoned piano sitting in the corner of the room?

Ah, so it was the old piano.

Anthea quietly opened the doors to indeed see the piano being played. Mycroft, himself, sat at the beautiful creature, making it sing. He played a song so shockingly complex one would be forgiven for thinking it were two pianists playing at once. Stunned by the complexity, Anthea slowly approached the piano to watch closer. She watched as the slender and always skilled hands danced over the keyboard, jumping from one side of the piano to the other, slamming down on certain keys and barely touching others. Mycroft's hands had always been a fascination for Anthea – how mesmerising they were, how swift and precise he could be with fine movements – and now she could see why. Anyone with this amount of piano training, who could play so many notes at such a pace and look so very calm, eyes shut at times, while playing, must have great strength and skill. Oh, and the emotion pouring out of the song. Through the dynamics and the accents, every note sung of passion – a dark emotional melancholy singing through. Anthea was stunned to silence, just watching and listening as the music enveloped her. Her breathing shallowed during the slower, softer moments, and increased and the song raged once more. All the while, Mycroft's face in the delicate calm masking of his, as his soul came out through the piano. To think of the way he talks of Sherlock and his violin when he was equally skilled at drawing emotion through music. The song changed key signatures a few times towards the end before the mood became lighter and less dark, the song still so wonderfully beautiful and spellbinding.

Mycroft's fingers hit hard on the final chord before coming to rest softly on top of the keys – not pressing hard enough to play any notes. Anthea let out a deep breath that she must have held as the final chord struck. Mycroft did not turn to face his assistant, only gained a minute smile as his fingers began tracing the keys of the beautiful creature that was that piano.

"So you've discovered my secret at last." Mycroft spoke barely above a whisper, the smile on his face could be heard in the playful tone of his voice. Anthea's face turned into an astounded grin as she shook her head.

"I always knew you could play, I didn't know you could play that well." Her voice was equally quiet and very breathy. Mycroft cocked his head to the side slightly.

"Don't tell Sherlock I still play." He quipped. Silence fell. Mycroft's hand began practicing chord structures without actually pressing down on the keys. "Sonata No.2 in B flat Minor, Op.35 - 1. Grave, Doppio Movimento" Anthea tilted her head faintly before it dawned on her that what Mycroft had just said must be the title of the piece. She put her slow recognition down to a very hard week at work, and not being lost in the music still.

"Do all the complicated pieces have equally complicated names?" She joked. Mycroft sniffed what could be a laugh.

"Some." He hummed. Anthea watched, still in shock and awe as Mycroft continued to practice chords. Why did it have to be a big secret? Why couldn't he play an instrument? Did he want Sherlock to have something of his own that badly? Or did he truly think that a logical mind like his own had no room for the arts? Either way, it was nothing to hide, it was amazing. It was stunningly beautiful and should be shared, not hidden away. Anthea rubbed her arm lightly.

"I've always wanted to hear you play." She breathed. No answer, just more practicing. To be completely honest, Anthea didn't even notice the lack of reply – too busy watching happily – until Mycroft next spoke.

"Any requests?" He asked playfully. Anthea stopped rubbing her arm and used her hand not holding the document to tuck a curl behind her ear. She had to allow herself a moment for her brain to begin functioning again.

"Can you play Moonlight Sonata?" From where she was standing, Anthea could see the quirk of the eyebrow as it raised on Mycroft's face. She chuckled lightly and smiled. "I know it's probably too clichéd and too easy for you, but I really love it." She thought about sitting in her room listening to it on her Dad's old record player. She'd had it on loop at her Uncle's house from the day her parents died to the day she was sent back to her boarding school. Neither of her parents were the type to listen to classical music, she was much more familiar with Rock and Roll while growing up, but her Dad had loved that Beethoven record. Every Sunday, she could remember hearing it, every single Sunday. "It always makes me feel like crying." A pause. "But in the good way, you know?"

Silence.

A soft sigh.

"Certainly, my dear."

Within the first bar of the haunting melody Anthea already felt her eyes welling up. This piece was more still, Mycroft's hands floated over the keys rather than dancing. A song so rudimentary for him, she could see that now, but he put effort into it. Maybe just for her, out of pity or something else, he played with the dynamics and tempo, adding a new heart and soul into the piece – adding further depth and perhaps that little bit more of sadness. Anthea had listened to the song so many times in her life – she'd stopped actually crying to it at sixteen. Today, of course, she felt a few tears actually escaped as she quickly caught them before they could travel down her cheeks. How could someone so cold and unfeeling play music so beautifully? It was so heartbreaking and wonderful to hear. Maybe this is where he channelled those emotions that he could just shrug off. Maybe this is where his concern for Sherlock went, maybe this is where his frustration at people at work went. Maybe it turned ordinary songs into the works of art they were supposed to be.

Her Dad would have liked this, he would have liked this a lot. He would have stood there, all his macho pretences still in place as he crossed his arms across his chest and watched, but he'd be smiling up a storm, and his eyes would be glittering. When the song had finished, he'd say what he'd always say when the record had finished.

"I'm not the type to appreciate music the way some people do, but when a song makes you feel something, Ali, you know it's a good song."

Her mother would roll her eyes. She'd say something about being terribly sick of the song thanks to her husband, but appreciate seeing someone play with skill none the less. She appreciated skills that took practice and this definitely took practice.

As the song ended, Anthea had to sniff and wipe her eyes once more to compose herself. She laughed at how a live performance of such a familiar song could drive her to tears. What a state she must look to Mycroft. The man in question was now closing the piano and turning around to look at his personal assistant. Soft steel blue eyes scanned her and deduced her from head to toe. Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled, still wiping her eyes – checking the palms of her hands for any mascara running.

"I bet I look like an idiot." She giggled.

"It's common for people to be moved by music." Mycroft hummed. Anthea met his gaze with her own. He looked tired and briefly her mind strayed to wondering how much the man had slept on his trip away. She had to remind herself that she wasn't supposed to care anymore and get back to the topic at hand.

"You didn't correct me." A shrug from Mycroft. Anthea scoffed, pretending to be offended. Smalls smiles were exchanged.

Once again the pair lulled into silence. It wasn't one of those awkward silences they had been experiencing a lot of lately, it was one of those comfortable ones from days since past. Those ones where no one needed to speak, it just wasn't necessary. Perhaps both parties were still lost within the melodies and harmonies of the music that had been played and heard. Such a gift. She'd always wanted to see him play, always wondered why his hands were so hypnotic. He was better than expected. A Holmes is nothing, if not a giant mystery. That was the problem though, wasn't it? It was a mystery Anthea had lost herself in. Every time she was convinced she'd solved it, another layer would be added to the puzzle. It was ridiculous, and messy, and every time it happened it either made her hate Mycroft or love him even more. The skill in that piano playing, the emotion outpoured into the music, it had caught her. She felt airy and as light as a feather. She couldn't even remember why she was at Mycroft's house in the first place.

The file.

A lightbulb went off in Anthea's head, dragging back closer to Earth. Her feet weren't back on solid ground yet, but she could see it once more. She waved the file in front of her face and held it out to Mycroft.

"I almost forgot, sir. I'd come over to leave this on your kitchen counter, but since you're here I'll just give it to you." Mycroft took one look at the thickness of the file and sneered in disdain, causing Anthea to smirk at his reaction. She'd had a similar feeling wash over her as it had landed on her desk. "Just some light reading." She scrunched up her nose. Mycroft rolled his eyes and took the file. Thumbing through a few pages, his steel eyes darted around them.

"Just what I need," He groaned. "A nice long bedtime story…" Anthea sniffed a laughed and shook her head. This was comfortable, this is what they used to be.

"Careful not to fall asleep halfway through it." Mycroft closed the file and placed it on top of his piano.

"Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your efforts in dropping it off here." That was him trying to make her feel less like a goldfish. She almost rolled her eyes at it, instead she just smiled.

"No thanks needed, sir." She nodded. "If I didn't it was just going to mean more work for us tomorrow and I'm sure you're just as tired as I am after this week."

"Mmm." Mycroft raised his eyebrows in agreement.

A pause. Anthea cleared her throat as she looked down at her feet.

"Well," She sung. "I should probably head home, now. That's where I was going and I've got a full day tomorrow."

"Oh." Another pause. "If you wish, my dear. Mind you I have been utterly rude and not offered you a cup of tea for your efforts." Anthea bit her thumbnail as she thought.

"It would be equally as rude of me to turn down your invitation to tea." She mused out loud.

"Indeed it would." Mycroft nodded. Anthea tilted her head as her chocolate eyes narrowed on her boss.

"Only if that tea comes with one more song." Just another chance to get lost in that piano music. Mycroft scoffed and rolled his eye.

"Anthea, really?" His voice was oozing of annoyance.

"When am I ever going to get this chance ever again?" She argued. "I want a show with my tea, sir."

"I'm not your personal chamber musician, Anthea."

"Just one more." Please. Steel locked onto chocolate. His eyes full of defiance, Anthea's playful and begging. Mycroft sighed.

"Fine. Tea first, then the show."

Anthea looked down at her shoes again and smiled as Mycroft got up and walked past her to the kitchen. Her eyes studied the piano. The elegant instrument didn't seem so lonely and lost in the cold environment anymore, it felt lighter and warmer. In fact, as Anthea looked around the room, the whole living room felt warmer, knowing that – at least once in a blue moon – it was filled with music so soulful it could give everything in the dark empty house some warmth. She hugged herself and sighed as she looked around the room once more before heading off to join Mycroft in the kitchen.

Author's Note: So? What do we think? Go back and play the Chopin song with it until it gets up to Beethoven and then swap over – that's how I wrote it. It adds some depth to it so I hope at least some of you do. We learnt some info about Anthea here which was fun… not fun… but good. I hope you enjoyed it :). Thank you to the guest reviewers: Guests x3, bgeiner, Anon, Corrine, Mary, Wink, and Cumberkale. Every reader and reviewer is awesome and I love you all. Voted upon chapter is next and when I post that we might talk about the next POV chapter.

P.S. My operation is Wednesday morning my time so just keep me in your thoughts, okay? Almost three years of having a bad arm, I just want this to work.