Author's Note: Hello, hello, hello! Thank you for the feedback last chapter and the lovely comments regarding the Mycroft POV. As an update, I will be doing part two soon. I went to my physio therapy and they gave me even more things to do so I've just got to get used to this new pain and stuff before I can write some extra stuff. Next week some time, maybe. Now for this chapter, it's been on my list for quite some time now but I kept putting it off because I couldn't get it just right. Finally, a gag between my best friend and I inspired a bit of this and helped make it flow. So, guys, I hope you like this little chapter. Please read, review, but most of all; 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'd Talked to John Since

Anthea had been sitting in Speedy's sandwich bar and cafe for half an hour before John finally arrived. She'd been sitting quietly, all in black, at the table closest to the door, sipping her tea and reading emails. John entered, shaking the cold off of his skin, before he began walking to the counter. Anthea's eyes followed him.

"Hello, John." She spoke in a neutral tone, a small smirk on her face. John frowned and looked around the space before he noticed Anthea looking like the perfect shady government type. He rolled his eyes and muttered some curse or another – Anthea couldn't quite make it out – before turning and walking fast towards the door. Her chair scraping against the floor loudly, Anthea stood up, placing her palms firmly on the table. "John, wait." The man froze and turned to face her, grey eyes fierce with annoyance and hurt. "I just want to talk."

"I told you-" John had begun with a raised voice, pointing at the brunette woman, until eyes around the diner flashed onto him. He then stepped towards the table, placing his hands on top of the chair opposite Anthea. "I told you and your boss I want nothing to do with any of this anymore." He hiss in harsh whispers. "With Sherlock gone, I don't want to play your bloody games." Such anger hiding his hurt. Anthea's not surprised at John's anger, she never has been. After all, sometimes she's so mad at herself and Mycroft that, well, she punches someone double her size, and she knows Sherlock's alive and he wasn't even in her top five people. She resisted the urge to smile sympathetically but then remembered who she was with. This was John – the only other person who knew what it was like to tiptoe around a Holmes, who had been so sweet when she was rescued from the kidnappers. So Anthea smiled and nodded softly at the man she used to know.

"We understand that, John." The neutral tone giving away to empathy. "And we don't want to hurt you any further." John looked to the floor and scuffed his shoe against it, a sign he was listening. Anthea tilted her head and let her smile grow slightly more. "While I'm here under Mr. Holmes' orders, I'm under no obligation to share our conversation with him." John's grey eyes met Anthea as he watched her warily.

"You promise?" He asked.

"Whatever you want him to hear, he'll hear." She nodded. "Hey, why don't I tell him you died? That'll get us off your back." It was when John stifled a laugh and shook his head at her that Anthea knew he was going to sit down. He pointed back over to the counter.

"I'll just get my-"

"Coffee." Anthea nodded to the mug opposite to her tea cup. "Got it already."

"Bloody hell, I've already forgotten how weird it is to be around you lot."

You lot. As in Sherlock's close group. It was nice to be included. Anthea smiled bashfully and shrugged as she and John both sat at the table.

Silence fell as both sidekicks sipped their warm drinks. Anthea stared down into her drink while John looked out onto the street and watched all the people walking past. Anthea wondered how often he'd come to this diner and just think about his lost friend. It would be hard for him, Anthea knew that.

"First's things first. How are you?" She asked, eye John carefully.

"Yeah, fine." He shrugged her off, still watching the people walk past. "Trying to get used to a normal life." Anthea nodded into her cup. She needed to get John's trust back somehow.

She knew a way. Kind of. It might work.

"You can't tell anyone I'm telling you this, it would make it far too easy for people to find me." Anthea sighed. "But I lost my parent's once. When I was still a kid." Grey eyes shifted from the window over to the girl with the groomed curls. They were kinder, far more how she remembered them to look.

"Yeah?" John asked. She nodded.

"It's weird. Isn't it? I know we could argue a kid losing her parents is worse, but it's all about the loss and the change. Moving houses, living with new people or by yourself, everyone either tiptoeing around you or expecting you to act normal. And you want to talk about it but at the same time you don't." John nodded quietly as he placed his mug down on the slightly rickety table.

"Yeah, yeah." He sighed. "But that's shocking, Anthea. What happened?"

"Um…" Anthea frowned into her cup. "A car crash." She faked a half smile. "No one was drunk or anything. It was just dark and wet, and country roads at night." John hissed and winced in sympathy and empathy. The things he would have seen as both a doctor, and a war doctor, he'd know. Anthea nodded again. "I was actually talking to Mycroft about it about six months ago, and…" Anthea trailed off as she watch John inwardly sneer and seemingly lose interest in the conversation. "Dr. Watson?" Anthea's work tone fell back into place. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?" How much that line sounded like Mycroft, if Jamie had heard it she would have laughed. John shook his head, looking over to one of the other tables.

"No, it wasn't you, Anthea. It was… Mycroft." Anthea took a deep breath as she pushed some curls out of her face. Of course, he was major obstacle that needed to be fixed.

"John, he's not doing a lot better than you are." Anthea placed her hand on top of Johns. She felt him tense under it but he did not move it until she took her own hand.

"He sold out his little brother, Anthea." John looked deep into Anthea's eyes.

"He didn't have a choice…"

"Of course there's a bloody choice. Just because I don't see Harry much doesn't mean I'd ever let anything happen to her." Anthea rubbed her neck as she tried to think of the best way to fix this without saying anything.

"John, don't be so hard on him, okay? He's hard enough on himself." Anthea sighed. "Okay, I'm going to tell you a bigger secret then the one I just told you. The night it happened. I found Mycroft drinking at the club. He wouldn't stop talking about how he'd failed his little brother. How he'd promised to protect him and he failed. John, he was a wreck, I didn't know what to do with him. I just sat there with him and made sure he got through the night okay." John sat silently for a moment as he searched Anthea's eyes.

"Is that supposed to make me feel like he's less responsible?" He asked, but the anger and heat behind the words were dissipating.

"Of course not." Anthea leaned in. "Blame him all you want just." She leaned back and sighed in her chair. "Just stop flipping off the CCTV cameras." John laughed.

"I knew they were following me."

"Of course they are." Anthea raised her eyebrows. "The last thing we can do for Sherlock is make sure you don't get yourself killed." John smiled one of his famous ones, the ones that make his patience feel at ease. "So let's try this again. How are you?"

"Um, good. Yeah, good." John nodded. "I got a girlfriend." Anthea raised her eyebrows and mimed an 'oh'.

"Is she pretty?" She asked, bringing the teacup up to her mouth.

"She is." He beamed. "She's this nurse."

The next visit of the day was with someone slightly less familiar. Anthea had seen footage of her enough, but had only spoken to her a handful of times. Anthea tapped light on the morgue door as she entered the stark white lab. Molly Hooper, with her cute little sweater visible under her lab coat, and her arms elbow deep in someone's abdomen looked up with bright brown eyes.

"Oh hello, um… Ashley, right?" Anthea sniffed a laugh and raised her eyebrows.

"Last time, yeah. You can call me Anthea today." She folded her arms across her chest. "Can I come in?" Molly's hands came out of the body holding something pinkish and greyish. She placed it in the organ transportation cooler.

"Yeah, sure." She nodded. The girl was as quiet as a mouse. What did she like about Sherlock? Anthea walked into the room, her black heels echoing on the tilted floor. She peered over at the body, doing her best to show no expression on her face.

"So, anything interesting?"

"Um, no." Molly looked over her shoulder as she washed her hands thoroughly in the sink. "Pretty normal stuff. Had a heart attack in his sleep." The tap turned off as Anthea pouted at the body.

"Poor guy never knew what happened."

"Yeah, but sometimes that's kinder, don't you think?" Anthea's dark eyes flashed up to meet Molly's. Molly's were so kind and bright. For what she did, it was amazing. Anthea smiled and shrugged.

"I guess it saves people from a lot of suffering."

A pause.

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" Molly gestured to the doors Anthea had just come from. Anthea shook her head.

"Just had one." She gave Molly a lopsided smile. "I'm just here to-"

"Make sure I haven't told anyone?" The about Sherlock part remained unsaid but it didn't need to be. Anthea's brows furrowed.

"No, to see how you're doing." Molly sniffed and shook her head.

"You don't need to be nice to me like that." Her smile was quite melancholy. "I might have really liked Sherlock but I know who he is, and what his brother is like." Anthea was looking down at the girl carefully, listening to her every word. "They wouldn't waste your time just to see how I'm doing." Anthea knew the girl was smart, look who insisted on using her every case, but she was very level headed too.

"You're right." Anthea was honest, using a playful tone. "They're too self-absorbed for that, aren't they?" She scrunched up her nose. The shorter woman lightly played with her ponytail as she smiled.

"You can tell him I wouldn't tell anyone." Anthea nodded.

"Good." She pursed her lips. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Anthea took a step towards the door again but stopped and turned to face Molly again. She looked the woman up and down. She was quiet and shy, certainly not Anthea's usual type of people, but she was smart, and she understood at least a little of how this works.

"Hey," Anthea stepped forwards, shoe clicking. "I actually wouldn't mind a black coffee before I head back to work."

"Yeah?" Molly watched carefully.

"Yeah." Anthea stepped forward again. "You see, I'm trying this new thing where I try and makes friends with people who aren't crazy." She got a genuine giggle from Molly after that comment, and it made Anthea feel brighter.

"I know what that's like." She playfully rolled her eyes.

"Well then, let's go complain about all the crazy people in our lives before we get back to our crazy jobs."

Anthea flopped into the seat across from Mycroft with a heavy huff. He was at the café they often frequented near the office. Mycroft looked up from his phone, quirked an eyebrow, and watched his assistant as she sat sloppily in the seat. Catching him doing so, Anthea rolled her eyes and sat up properly.

"Hello, sir." She smiled. Mycroft's other eyebrow rose to meet the raised one before his attention fell back onto the document in front of him without an answer. Anthea took the quiet to close her eyes and run her hand through her hair.

"Cup of tea?" Anthea blinked her eyes open. She saw Mycroft nod to the pot of tea on the table. Anthea grimaced and waved her hands.

"Ugh, no thanks. All I've been doing today is drinking hot caffeinated drinks with people." The side of Mycroft's mouth twitched upwards as he watched Anthea.

"Anything to report?" He asked. Having garnered his full attention, Mycroft shifted in his seating to allow for better posture. Anthea shrugged as she stole on of Mycroft's biscuits and took a bite.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade said to say hi," Anthea began once she'd finished chewing. "Mrs. Hudson would like for you to visit sometime." Mycroft pulled a face and visibly pulled back.

"Why on earth would she want that?" The distaste in his tone matching his face perfectly. Anthea grinned at this, and shook her head.

"I don't know, I really don't know." She laughed. Mycroft scowled.

"What else?"

"Well," Anthea leaned on the table, one hand placed flat on top of her other one. "I spoke to John today." Mycroft pouted and nodded.

"That's quite impressive, my dear."

"And," Anthea held up a finger to hold Mycroft back. She hadn't got to the best bit. "He's not going to flip off the cameras anymore." Mycroft's lips pulled into a real smile, eyes glittering with mischief.

"You have been busy." Anthea held her hands out to her side and shrugged.

"What can I say? I'm that good." This time she earned herself a roll of those steel eyes, but they were still glittering of light and humour.

"Anything else?"

"Well, I acted surprised when he told me he has a girlfriend." Mycroft's smile dropped into his neutral mask.

"What did he say about her?" He asked in his purely professional voice. Anthea bit her bottom lip.

"He thinks she's a nurse." Mycroft nodded as he suddenly became busy looking into his cup of tea. "Should we send her a warning?" Anthea asked. Mycroft looked back up and lightly shook his head.

"She knows who I am, and she knows who John is. If she is as smart as everyone thinks she is, she'll connect the dots herself."

A pause.

"You don't think she's going to be dangerous for John?" Mycroft scoffed.

"Please, John attracts danger wherever he goes. He'll be fine. He's better off finding out on his own." Anthea nodded.

Silence fell.

"Oh!" Anthea shot up. "And I might be making friends with Molly Hooper." The expression Anthea received from Mycroft could only be described as bewilderment.

"May I ask why?" Anthea sniffed a laugh.

"I told you, I need more nice people in my life." She shrugged. "She seems really nice. Like an actually good person." She widened her eyes. "I don't think many of them exist anymore.

"That is indeed a rare find." Mycroft hummed as he brought the teacup up to his mouth to sip it.

"Do you think we should capture her? Find out what makes a nice person?" She joked.

"What, find the 'kind' gene, or combination of genes, and splice them into everyone else?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"That, or clone her. Just get rid of mean people." Anthea rested her elbow on the table and placed her chin on her hand, staring lazily over at her boss as he just watched her with a quizzical expression.

"But my dear, we'd be the first to go." He argued lightly.

A pause.

"Maybe we can leave a few well-meaning jerks around."

"That's far more like it."

Author's Note: What did you think? Turn out okay? I tried to come up with this chapter so many times, but it never felt right. It needed to be done, and I think this was about the closest to what I wanted that I was going to get…. If that horrible, horrible sentence made any sense. Thanks to the following guest reviewers since I can't thank you personally; Corrine, Guests x2, Cumberkale, Wink, A mythea shipper, and my dear ovejalucifer. Thanks everyone. I hope this is still enjoyable for you all :).