Author's Note: Hello once again, everyone! Thank you for your words of encouragement to me personally last chapter, it was very sweet of you all. I am really pleased that the anniversary chapter went down well, that's awesome. This chapter… Exists… I'm still a bit demotivated from before, so struggled to write this one. It's not my worst, certainly not, but it's… okay. It's fine though, because I have some good ideas coming up later. Anyway, thanks for being awesome and supportive, guys! 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 Came First
It was back. That searing, burning, all-encompassing pain that swallowed up her entire leg. It had been back all evening and it was on the verge of breaking her resolve.
The first few nights, Anthea had slept like a baby. She knew that was most likely due to the good painkillers they had her on at the time, but she didn't realise how much. Now the brunette was back to the over the counter type of pain killers, the night had turned into a horrific experience. There was no such thing as a comfortable position, nothing that took away the pain. Nothing.
Staying at James and Jamie's, she hadn't let one just how much pain she'd been in when the two of them disappeared upstairs for the evening. Anthea had just climb out of her wheelchair and onto the couch, since all the bedrooms were upstairs. She'd tried elevating her leg first, like instructed, and only found that increased the pressure around the wound itself. She tried ice to numb it, and heat to sooth it but neither of those did anything. Anthea tried the pain relief they'd told her she could safely have together and it did almost nothing. She'd been trying to sleep for four hours now, and was only met with aching, and burning, and feeling at a complete lost as to what to do.
Anthea rubbed her eyes hard as she sat in a very awkward position on the couch, the duvet covering her good leg only. She was trying to think of what to do next, but she'd run out of options. Anthea had, as long as she could remember, done everything by herself. She knew how to be resilient and self-reliant. Not to mention she was in the home of two best friends who she already felt like a burden to, and don't even get her started on the fact that she wasn't allowed back at work for another week and a few days. It shouldn't be up to Jamie to help her right now.
Even if Anthea did call up the stairs and ask for Jamie or James' help what could they do? Anthea had already done everything possible. What would they do, sit with her and keep her company in her misery? Ugh. How needy and gross. Mycroft was right – emotions were annoying and got in the way for people. It would be so much easier if Anthea could just sleep through it… but she couldn't.
But she didn't believe in that 'caring is not an advantage' garbage, not really. Sometimes it came in handy. It's what makes a mother make her child soup when their sick, it's what makes a sister pick her brother up from a bar at two in the morning, it's what makes a guy let his fiancé's best friend stay in their new house, and it's what makes assistants rush to the hospital at the drop of a hat. Sometimes caring might get in the way, but not always. Sometimes it's helped you, and Anthea needed help. But Jamie had done so much for her, she'd been so wonderful, and James had just been his stupid goofy self. She'd hate to disturb them again – Jamie had a photoshoot to do makeup at in the morning, and James was still getting used to his workload. It wasn't fair to them. She had other people…
Anthea held back a moan of pain as she leaned over to scoop her phone off of Jamie's coffee table. The phone barely rung before it was answered.
"Anthea…" The groggy voice on the other side of the phone sounded. It was quiet and muffled, like he was still lying with his face in the pillows. "I thought we'd both expressed our distaste for phone calls past two in the morning." It felt strange to her that the sound of Mycroft's annoyed tone was like a wave of relief to her. She'd never felt like that before, not with Tim, not with Robbie, and none of the guys in between. She laughed in response but it came mixed with a sob.
"Neither of us follow rules." She joked, her voice cracking. Her eyes felt heavy and she knew she might cry. Was it over the pain, or over having someone to talk to? Either way, it wasn't sensible when you were on the phone to Mycroft Holmes. She looked up to the ceiling and blinked.
"Anthea," By the authoritarian tone, Anthea knew Mycroft hadn't missed her weird sob. "Are you alright?" Anthea scrunched up her nose to try and keep her eyes clear, as she cleared her throat.
"Oh, I'm fine." She spoke clearly, slowly, and concisely. "It's just, my pain killers aren't working." She felt her eyes welling up again and had to pause as she pursed her lips. "And I'm in a lot of pain." A sob escaped once more and Anthea felt the beginning of a tear trickling down her cheek. She quickly rubbed it away, feeling ashamed even though no one was there to see it. She heard a shuffle on the other side of the phone which was most likely Mycroft sitting up.
"Alice, was that? Are you?"
"I'm sorry, I called." Anthea cut Mycroft off before he could finish his sentence and embarrass them both. "I know you like your space, and you have work tomorrow." She ran her free hand through her messy hair, trying to breathe through the threatening sobs. "There's nothing you can do and we're both independent. This was stupid. Sorry." She pulled the phone away from her ear, ready to hang up.
"Alice." It was sharp and fierce – like a direct order during a stressful mission. Anthea brought the phone back to her ear. "Ali, you're no damsel. I couldn't stand you if you were a damsel." Anthea bit the inside of her lip and nodded. She realised seconds later that there was no way Mycroft would be aware of that nod.
"Alright." Her voice cracked again. She heard Mycroft take a deep breath.
"You could quite possibly go to the hospital but they wouldn't do much for you." He sounded far more awake than he did at the beginning of the conversation.
"Oh, I know." Anthea tiredly smirked to herself. She knew, otherwise she would have called a taxi ages ago and gone to the hospital. All they'd do is give her strong tablets again, and she'd find herself in the same situation when she woke up.
A pause.
"So what do I do?" She asked quietly. Silence followed, then a heavy sigh.
"Do you have access to tea and coffee without hurting yourself?" She almost nodded in response again.
"Yeah, they moved all that stuff within the reach of the stupid chair so I can look after myself while they're at work." She pushed her hair behind her ears.
"Okay. Ali. Make yourself a cup of tea, turn on the television to some nonsensical drivel, and try to find a comfortable spot. Alright?"
A pause.
"Okay."
"Don't stress yourself out, you'll only make it worse."
"I know."
"I know you know. I want you to follow the instructions." Anthea sniffed a laugh.
"Yes, sir." She mocked lightly though the pain.
"Good girl."
So that's precisely what Anthea did. She made herself a cup of black tea in the largest mug Jamie had, turned on the cable to a channel that showed nothing but old movies, and tried to get as comfortable as possible. She tried to breathe through the pain in the calming way people always tell you to, keeping her attention firmly on what was happening on the television screen to be her distraction. What seemed to be the most effective was the cup of tea. The warm liquid was soothing to her very soul, and allowed her whole body to just relax a tiny bit, taking the edge off. She might not be able to sleep through the night, but she might be able to get through without crying again.
It was a demonstration of how physically tired she was, that Anthea didn't hear any tell-tale noises before the creak of the front door opening. Anthea's posture went rigid as she waited quietly, prepared to… well, do nothing major… Maybe throw something if this was an intruder.
Lowering his umbrella, and shaking it off before folding it back up, Mycroft made his way into Jamie's living room. He had a thermos held tightly under his arm as he rested his umbrella against the wall next to the row of shoes that existed near the door. Anthea, though very relieved to see it was only Mycroft, stared at the man in confusion as he gave her an over exaggerated look of exhaustion.
"Did you just break into an agent's house?" She hissed from her position on the couch, cup of tea still held to her chest. Mycroft's face fell into a frown, clearly confused by what the issue was.
"I knew you were all here. I'm not a burglar." He scoffed. Anthea laughed as she shook her head. Oh to live in the head of a Holmes. She carefully leaned over to put her cup of tea down, trying not to wince. Mycroft quickly stepped over to take the cup out of her hands by his long fingers and place it safely on the coaster she hadn't previously been using.
"You should knock, or ring the doorbell." She said as she gave him a smile of appreciation for taking the cup.
"And wake your friends up or force you to move when you're in pain?" He quirked an eyebrow as he looked down at the woman stuck on the couch. "Now, wouldn't that be rude?" Anthea shook her head and decided to drop it. He was trying to be nice, and she should just appreciate that. Mycroft placed the thermos down on another coaster, taking the lid off for ease of access. Anthea could smell that it was some type of herbal tea – and it smelt delicious, and wonderful, and already made her feel comforted. The genius turned to look down at the couch again, arms folded against his chest as he looked up and down. He nodded right next to Anthea. "Can you safely move over without causing discomfort?" He asked in his weird neutral tone. She had to blink to catch up with the change of conversation, but Anthea nodded. Holding her leg as still as she could, she moved up the couch to make room for another person while allowing her leg to be in a resting position. Mycroft muttered something that might have been a thank you and, while looking slightly uncomfortable by the small amount of room, sat down in the freed space. Anthea's shoulder was touching his, and the man was trying his best not to look completely off put by it.
"Don't get me wrong," Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear, and turned her head to smile warming at her awkward boyfriend. "It's great to see you after not seeing you for days, but why are you here?" There was a small shift in facial expression as Mycroft crossed his legs.
"I'm here to sit with you." He answered. Anthea stared at him. After a moment the genius saw he needed to elaborate. "My father used to sit up with Sherlock or I if we couldn't sleep due to an illness or pain, and heavens knows how many times I've sat by Sherlock's hospital bed." Steel eyes began searching dark orbs. "That's what one does when they can't do anything else, no? Simply… be there." It was the pain, it had to be, because Anthea felt her eyes growing wet and heavy again. She quickly rubbed them free before it could get any further, a smile growing on her face.
"Well, yes." She shrugged. "But it's you. You don't do people and normal." Mycroft nodded slowly, pursing his lips.
"This is true." He hummed. "I also don't do dating, but look where we are." Anthea sniffed.
"And I don't need people." She muttered to herself. She relaxed slightly, not caring too much anymore if she was invading Mycroft's personal space. "Thank you for not following your own rules." She sighed. He didn't answer. Not out loud, anyway. It was rigid and full of awkwardness, but Mycroft picked up his hand from his own knee and placed it on top of Anthea's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Somewhere along the lines Anthea fell asleep.
It was the sunlight seeping through the curtains and hitting her face that woke Anthea up, not the murmur of voices she thought she could hear. Those curtains, and their lack of practicality, had woken her up even morning bright and early, only for Anthea to fall back asleep about ten minutes later.
As her mind began to whirr into action and begin to function the voices became clearer. Two men were talking in hushed tones. She also realised, with a faint bit of horror sending her blood cold, that her head was resting on a relatively bony leg. Last night, or this morning more like it, Anthea had fallen asleep with her head on Mycroft's lap. That's no big deal with a normal boyfriend, they key word being normal. She should probably move, but Anthea could only feel a low thumping in her thigh right now, and the comfort of another's body heat was too much.
"Yeah, no problem." Even early in the morning James sounded happy. Anthea imagined he'd be leaning on the armchair right now, half dressed for work, cup of coffee in his hands. When she heard the slurp she had the cup of coffee at least confirmed. "Carol can deal with my paperwork and I'll take the yanks around the city for a few hours. Play a good host, get me face out there." Mycroft scoffed, so James probably pulled a face or something.
"I appreciate the help." Mycroft thanked James, and Anthea could almost feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. Mycroft was supposed to be entertaining visiting members from the American agencies today. The bosses were in and were expecting an audience with the great Mycroft Holmes. He'd been dreading it, but it's not something he'd drop for anything. "Meeting people who view themselves as important while sleep deprived and with my mind otherwise occupied is not precisely the image I'd like for them to take home."
"I get you, sir." James chewed on his lip. "But, if you were so uncomfortable, why didn't you move her?"
"She cried, James." Mycroft beseeched. "I don't know what to do with tears. If this succeeded in calming her, then I'll stay put, thank you." Anthea tried her best not to smirk to herself at this. She could just imagine Mycroft's internal panic when she'd fallen asleep. The part of him that wanted to be away from people and emotions wanting to just pull away, sit somewhere else, or go home, while the part of him that seemed to be learning how to care for her not wanting to disturb her. He probably obsessed over it mentally for hours. She heard James sigh, and could imagine him scratching the back of his head the way he always did.
"My first gunshot wound wasn't pretty." James mumbled. "It just proves what a tough girl she is, trying to be a strong as she is."
"Careful, James." Mycroft hummed. Anthea felt a weight on her shoulder that she presumed was Mycroft's hand. "Don't talk Anthea up too much, she's been awake for about a minute now. We don't want her to get a big head." She sniffed a laugh, finally opening her eyes and looking up at the genius. True enough, he was in the same position he had been in last night, looking down at her with intelligent eyes sparkling with amusement. James laughed and stretched out his back.
"Well," He shrugged, now talking at normal volume. "I'm going to warn Jamie that you're here before she finds out on her own that you broke in." He through a half-hearted salute as a goodbye and wandered out of the room. As the footsteps receded away into nothing, Anthea made to move. She sat back up into the position she had been in before drifting off to sleep. She had to take a moment to herself. A moment to just look at poor awkward Mycroft, who had to sit here for hours with a woman asleep on his lap. The poor thing's nerves must be a mess. Anthea smirked.
"Thank you for helping me." She spoke sweetly. "You can go be antisocial in your dungeon or your empty house now." She threw him her lopsided grin. He rolled his steel eyes at her.
"The dungeon can wait."
Author's Note: I like James. He's an agent so he's seen a lot of stuff, but he keeps himself happy and motivated. Fun to write, too. But enough rambling from me, I hope you had some fun with the chapter. Thanks to our guest reviewers from last chapter; Corrine, Louise Pond, MinaCarlyle, Tadaa, 4Eirlys, Guests x2, EggsBenedict, Wink, Wheezzy8, Anna, Bibliophiler123, II, and Rielle. Thanks everyone, I really, really appreciate it.