Author's Note: Merry Christmas, guys! Thanks for all the wonderful feedback last chapter, I'm glad you liked it. Now, I must admit, being in the middle of the holidays this isn't my most polished chapter in the world, and I'll probably reread it in a few days and see if I can spot anything I don't like, but as far as the content of the chapter goes, I do like it. That was a run on sentence that never wanted to end. So… Have a wonderful holiday season, and 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 Was Left Behind

All missions come with an uncertainty about them. All missions have a chance of being life threatening and you can never guarantee that you'll come back with your life. James accepted that, Carol accepted that, Mycroft and Anthea accepted that. It didn't stop anyone doing what they had to do. Anthea even enjoyed some of these dangerous missions. What she had learnt she did not enjoy was being the only one left alone, knowing that no matter what happens to everyone else you'll be alive, at home, unable to help in anyway. Even when strapped to a chai, Anthea felt more empowered than she did being stuck in London.

Mycroft had contracted James, Carol, and about seven of their best agents to follow the last few leads on Sherlock and return with the detective alive. With hints of an oncoming terrorist attack, Mycroft had felt the need to leave someone competent in charge with his absence. Apparently the only person he deemed efficient to try and take his place while he was gone, was Anthea herself. Despite her arguments, Mycroft insisted that Anthea would be more help maintaining the country than traveling around with dangerous people. Truth be told, she knew he was right, but half the people she cared about were going on this to find another person she cared for. They hadn't even left and she was feeling useless.

They'd planned everything out over the course of an extremely busy week. Carol was organised, James was quietly confident, and Mycroft was adamant to find his brother. Anthea typed out all the emails, organised the files, organised the helicopters and flights. She did everything she was told but she couldn't actually be there. She'd just have to sit at her desk and wait for any contact from any of them that suggested they needed something and she'd try to get it to them as quickly as possible.

The day before Mycroft had another talk to both James and Carol, and as they left the office Anthea got a goodbye from each of them. James had hugged her so tight and lifted her off the floor until he was satisfied.

"Have fun running the country, beautiful." He flicked her on the shoulder, grinning, like the strange boy he was. "But do me a favour, yeah? Even though I know you'll do it anyway?" He'd looked so serious that it had been frightening. It was more sombre than his work face. "Go hang out with Jamie, or invite her back to yours for a few nights. Look after each other like you always have." Anthea had rolled her eyes.

"Just don't get shot, you moron." She mumbled. James' eyes brighten up again, and he chuckled giving her one more hug.

Carol didn't hug, it was work hours and she was far too professional. She did, however, neaten Anthea's hair out of habit – the way she probably did to her daughter.

"I hate to ask you," She spoke quietly, her face as harsh as ever but her mouth was soft. "Katie has a date with a boy in her year next weekend and she is really excited. Do you think you could go help her get ready? Take a photo or two to text me, and make sure her Dad doesn't embarrass her too much." Anthea break out into a warm smile.

"How about I take Jamie to do her make up?" She scrunched up her nose.

"Thanks, A."

It made Anthea think. She wandered how often they did this type of thing when they knew how high the stakes were. It gave her time to think back to the interrogation of Moriarty – how different they seemed to the people she knew. This was different again, this was a different resolve in them. It was like setting their affairs in order just in case. Anthea knew Mycroft had contingency plans and a will with multiple stipulations. She'd never seen the documents but she'd taken them to the right lawyer's office when he'd asked. She had a will too. Mycroft had given her a will kit after she'd bought her flat. It was weird to think how prepared they all were for death.

Then again, how many lives had they collectedly taken away? Walter, too.

James would go home, and have a romantic dinner with Jamie, Carol was going to watch movies with her family, and the other agents would most likely be doing similar things.

Anthea sat in the chair opposite Mycroft's desk with her legs folded, laptop balancing precariously on her knee. Both she and Mycroft were staring into their screens, trading notes, making sure they were on the exact same page for everything that was to happen for both of them during the time he would be away. Anthea had her calendar open, a word document, her emails, and a spreadsheet. She was adding, taking away, and ticking off as they went. They'd been doing this for about an hour and we're finishing off. Anthea added one final reminder in her calendar, made sure everything was saved, and closed her laptop lid.

"Now, if something goes excessively wrong –" Mycroft had begun as he turned to face Anthea, folding his hands together on the wooden surface of his desk.

"I'd say I'd find a way to get in contact with you, like you want me to, sir, but you know I'm more than capable of handling any situation." She swiped her hand in the air, cutting him off. His eyes sparkled and his mouth fell into a small smile as he regarded.

"Good girl." He hummed, seeming quite truthfully proud of her. It had made Anthea look down to her shoes and smile. It was nice when he did things like that, made himself seem human, being proud of his assistant and… whatever she was to him. It's a pity he confines himself to such solitude.

"So, sir." Anthea breathed. She pushed her hair back off her shoulders as she looked back up to Mycroft. "Walter is all scheduled to pick you up at three a.m." She confirmed. Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded. "I suppose you'll be heading to bed early then, to make sure you're sharp for them." Mycroft eyes fell from Anthea's face onto the door behind her.

"That would be the responsible thing to do, yes." He hummed in that lyrical voice. Anthea nodded. Yes, of course he would. No saying goodbye just in case for Mycroft. No need to work yourself up. "Although, neither my brother nor myself tend to sleep as much as we perhaps should…" He tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, capturing Anthea's attention briefly before she looked back to his eyes.

"Oh?" She pouted slightly as he eyebrows shot up and her posture straightened. She tried to keep any hopefulness away and tried to just seem interested. She was certain she was failing.

"I'm most likely going to sit up all night, either thinking about it, or studying languages. Just in case." Anthea looked down to her own hands, holding the laptop on her knee.

"Well then," She hummed, trying to sound like she was thinking up an idea out of nowhere. "If you're just going to be up reading and studying anyway, why don't I bring over a late dinner and I'll borrow one of your books." Mycroft wet his bottom lip as he tossed the idea around in his head, looking up into nowhere. After a few seconds he nodded lightly.

"That sounds acceptable." Anthea did her best not to smile. "Say nine o'clock?" He tilted his head.

"Sounds perfect, sir." Anthea bobbed her head in a single nod, getting to her feet. As she turned her back to go back to her office she smiled to herself.

Anthea arrived at Mycroft's house that evening in a hooded jumper and a pair of jeans, her hair and makeup were still done for work and she'd just neatened it up. As she jumped out of the car she pulled the two plastic bags off her passenger seat and shut her door with her hip. She wandered up the stairs, and pressed the doorbell.

The girl was only waiting a few seconds when the door was pulled open. Mycroft had changed suits, clearly for his travels, but his sleeves were rolled up and he had no jacket on. As he looked her over, Anthea held the bags up and grinned coyly. Mycroft looked at the bags curiously. He stepped out of the way to let Anthea in. She practically bounced into the entrance hall and began her way to the kitchen.

"Grocery bags?" Mycroft asked suspiciously as they made it out of the entrance hall. "My dear, I was under the impression that you were picking up premade food, not attempting to ruin my kitchen." As she placed the bags down on Mycroft's kitchen counter, Anthea turned around and pulled a face at him for that jab.

"I'm not cooking." She defended. "But I didn't technically get us dinner, either." She bounced her eyebrows up and down. As she pulled out items from the bags she listed them off. "I got us cake, some ice cream, sorbet just in case, and a bag of M&Ms. Because really, who doesn't like those?" As Mycroft looked at the items a look of bereavement crossed his face, and before he even looked up and opened his mouth, Anthea knew what he was going to say.

"Alice, it's a lovely gesture." He began, apologies in his tone. Anthea ignored him as she placed the sorbet and ice-cream right into his freezer.

"No, Mycroft. I know, the diet." She turned back around and opened the packet of M&Ms, the scent of chocolate filling the room. "But you've worked so hard, and what are you going to be eating while away?" She titled her head to the side and looked into his eyes. "I just wanted to treat you a little." She popped an M&M into her mouth. Mycroft placed his hands on his hips, and looked over to the side of the room, clearly a little torn. He sighed as he turned back, and walked passed Anthea. He opened the cupboard and pulled out two plates.

"If you insist." He bemoaned. "I can't let that cake go to waste." Anthea felt smug as Mycroft passed her a knife to cut the cake with.

"You're going to like this one." She insisted. "I got something with coffee in it." She cut two rather large slices, both equal sizes, and – balancing them on the knife one at a time – deposited them onto the little white plates. Mycroft got out sporks – yes he has sporks – as Anthea closed the cake box and placed it in Mycroft's fridge.

"I better like it." Mycroft scoffed. He was holding the two plates now, one slightly outstretched to Anthea. "I'm not wasting these calories on something mediocre."

"Oh, only the best for you, boss."

Hours later, long after 'dinner' had been completed, language books and dictionaries were laying half open on the couch. Alongside with them was a copy of a H.P. Lovecraft book that was only open to the tenth or eleventh page. The living room was entirely abandoned. Instead, the man often accused of being the British Government, and the assistant that kept it all afloat had relocated to the dining room table. What were they doing? It could be called working… They were working on their poker faces.

Well…

They were playing poker.

To be fair they'd started off with Guess Who, only for Anthea to discover five games in that it was extremely difficult to beat a Holmes at a game where you ask questions and make concise choices. She'd tried for a very long time to win, then she tried just to hold out for as long as possible… then she refused to play anymore. A card game would be better, and Anthea was certain she knew about eighty percent of Mycroft's tells. This worked to her advantage and they were far more… evenly matched. She still only won about half of the time. It was frustrating and hilarious at the same time.

What was not very fun, however, was when right in the middle of a game, Mycroft's phone pinged, signalling a text. Both their faces went neutral as they exchanged a look, knowing exactly what that was. It was Walter. He was out front and it was time for Mycroft to leave for an indefinite amount of time. It could be a few days, it could be a few weeks. Anthea tried to hide the wave of disappointment and sadness that washed over her as she placed her hand down on the table face down, after all, what did her cards matter anymore? Mycroft sighed to himself as he began scooping up the cards.

"No, don't." Anthea pursed her lips, placing her hand on top of the pile, fingers overlapping with Mycroft's. "You need to go. I'll deal with this." Not moving an inch from his position, Mycroft watched his assistant carefully.

"Are you sure?" He asked in a low tone.

"I'll clean this up, I'll make sure the kitchen is spotless," She forced a meek smile. "I'll leave the place exactly how I found it when I leave in the morning." Again, he made no effort to move, and Anthea just knew he was unsure about it. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, it probably just didn't seem to him the thing you do to a guest in your house. Anthea rolled her dark eyes. "I've kidnapped people off the street for you, Mycroft, friends. How is this any worse?" Still, a moment of reluctance persisted, before the man relented, pulling his hand away from the pile of playing cards. They stood up, and Anthea followed him to the entrance hall where his small bag of necessities and his suit jacket waited.

He stood at the door, pulling down his sleeves in order to then put on his jacket. Anthea stood a few paces back, rubbing her arm, looking at nothing in particular as she waited for Mycroft to be ready to go. When he'd finished, he turned to Anthea with a shrug and that so very fake, so very constructed smile on his face. He was telling her this was it. He had to leave now. As Anthea looked into his steely eyes she had no idea what to say. What do you say in these situations? It used to be 'good luck, sir' but now that wasn't good enough. It was enough in the slightest. Be safe? I'll miss you? If you get hurt then I'll be the one to kill you? For your sake I hope your brother is okay?

Anthea pulled Mycroft into a hug, wrapping her arms around him, and burying her face softly into his warm chest. As he placed his arms – as per normal it, awkwardly at first – around her, she could hear his heart beating in his chest.

"Keep James with you," Anthea spoke as the hug continued. "And bring your brother back home." She gathered that the ever so tighter squeeze she received at that moment was his agreement to her statements.

And then he had to let go of her. He had to pull away and pick up his belongings. He had to leave and neither of them knew exactly how to act. Mycroft opened the front door, but before he made to leave he turned to face Anthea once more as she tugged on the sleeve of her jumper. He wanted to say something, she could tell by the way his brain was ticking away behind his intelligent eyes. She raised her eyebrows, urging him to say whatever it was he thought might be appropriate to say. Just as quickly as the idea hit him, apparently the urge to even think about following through faded. Mycroft's face fell into a contemplative smile as he took one last long look at his assistant, probably memorising how she looked right now.

"I'll see you later, my dear." He hummed quietly. Anthea sniffed a single laugh, her own sad smile crossing her features. His choice of words were appropriate and far more eloquent then what we basically the orders she'd given him.

"See you." She spoke in a hushed tone.

And with that he left, closing the door behind him. Anthea was left standing in the entrance hall of the large, cold, very empty house all alone. Anthea could go home, if she didn't want to stay in this place by herself, but it was three in the morning and what was the point of driving back to her flat at a time like this? No, she'd quickly tidy up the books and the games, and then she'd go to sleep in her room here for the night. In the morning she'd call Jamie, to see how the blonde felt now she was going to marry into this lifestyle. See if the fiancé going away for undisclosed reasons felt worse than the boyfriend going away, and to see if she could maybe keep her company, make her feel better.

Anthea was already dialling Jamie halfway to the dining room. Jamie had picked up by the third ring.

Author's Note: Ah, there. It turned out okay, yeah? I hope you liked it. Thanks to the guest reviewers: Guests x3, Tadaa, Corrine, Wink, and Wheezzy8. All the rest were you lovely people with accounts who I get to thank personally.

Myc POV Update: As my kind of Christmas chapter, I have uploaded the second part to "The First Time He Pulled Away" in Myc's POV. If you don't already know about it, it's on my profile. Hope you enjoy it!