Author's Note: Hello, and thank you for all your feedback last chapter, it is greatly appreciated. For the most part Robbie seems like a well-liked character. Cool. So this chapter, well, I've been wanting to do something like this for you guys for a while but didn't know when to fit it in. Since it's taking a while to find time to write the next Myc POV, and with help from my friend ovejalucifer, I decided to give it to you all now. I hope you like it, I don't hate it. 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 Siger Worked It Out First

It was one of those special times of year that Mycroft wished could past by completely unnoticed by anyone around him. Now that he had a girlfriend that wasn't going to happen, much to his dismay.

This particular annoying and nonsensical celebration was his birthday. Anthea already knew how he felt about making a big deal of his birthday, she had known since the first time when he purpose didn't even mention it. She still remembers being told by another government employee. Even back then Anthea had refused to let the day pass without at least some form of acknowledgement. Now that their relationship had reached new levels there was no way she was going to back down now.

Anthea had asked Mycroft what he wanted for his birthday and he had laughed and said nothing. When further prompted he admitted to silence, complete and utter silence.

"I want to sit alone and let the day pass entirely unnoticed. I don't want to see anyone, I don't want to do anything, and I don't want any gifts, cake, or party favours of any kind." After a moment of thought he added. "You can be there but Diogenes rules apply."

Anthea had told him he could have the quiet, but he couldn't let the day pass unnoticed. She'd let him sit quietly, she'd let him get away with not seeing friends or family. She would however insist on saying happy birthday to him.

Fine, then. If he was going to make it difficult and not tell his lovely girlfriend what he wanted for his birthday she'd just have to take it into her own hands. She'd let her creativity deal with the gift, she had a bit of a funny idea and he should have known better than to let her and her sense of humour do this alone. She'd also make sure he had a nice day – even if that meant leaving him alone throughout most of the day.

Anthea let herself into Mycroft's house the night before his birthday. She told security to call ahead so she wouldn't have to ring the doorbell or anything. She carried all her goods with her in plastic bags (or gift bags), which luckily gave her free hands to actually open the front door.

She found Mycroft in the living room reading a book in one language or another. As his eyes lifted from the book, shining with curiosity, and landed on Anthea's face, she offered him a warm and gentle smile. He returned the favour and Anthea's heart flipped a few times. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to Mycroft Holmes giving her a genuinely warm smile, however small and understated it might be. It was just lovely.

Anthea wandered into the kitchen and dumped all her bags onto the counter – since most of these items would be going in the fridge or cabinet. As she began to unpack to food items she heard the very familiar sound of a deep sigh of derision behind her. Footsteps followed until Mycroft was standing on the other side of the bench facing her.

"Anthea, dear, while I do wish for you to feel welcome here," He began in that tone, that smug, fed up with the world, tone of his. "I must question why you have brought enough supplies to last a weekend in a bunker." Her own dark eyes sparkling in amusement, Anthea sneered at Mycroft playfully at his comments. She pulled out the tomatoes and olives from one bag and placed them in the fridge.

"This is for your birthday celebration." She didn't even need to look at Mycroft to know he was pulling a face. "Cake,"

"Anthea-"

"Cooking supplies because I am cooking us dinner tomorrow night." As she turned away from the fridge to face the bench she was met by a cold blank stare from Mycroft. Her mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. "I practiced a few times, it'll be edible." She laughed, slightly offended. "You're so annoying sometimes." She teased, earning herself a quirked eyebrow and a quiet 'mmhmmm'. Mycroft's gaze fell onto the three various shaped gift bags, all sparkling and most likely offensive to his sensibilities.

"And those?" He drawled. Anthea placed her hand on top of one of the bags and leaned over the counter.

"These are what gifts look like, Mycroft." She whispered, talking slow. He pulled a bemused face at her that was usually reserved for Sherlock. She took that as a victory as she leaned back and laughed. "You didn't tell me what you wanted so I got creative." She hummed. Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked away.

"Oh, how fun." The man muttered under his breath. Anthea slid the long thin bag across the counter to Mycroft.

"This one is for tonight." He stared at the bag, and then at her. He was deducing her, weary of the gift. He was always weary of gifts and Anthea never knew why. Why was he so cautious? What did he expect?

Mycroft snatched the bag up. Out of it he pulled an expensive and very good bottle of scotch, and a pack of cards. Without a word steel eyes fell back onto Anthea's face.

"Scotch and poker. That's the plan I have for tonight." Her voice full of warmth. "The Diogenes rules can apply, if you want." Mycroft looked down at the bottle in his hand. He turned it over to closely examine the label.

"No," He sung. "I'd rather be able to gloat when I win for the umpteenth time."

"Oh, don't be so cocky, sir."

That's how the night before the dreaded birthday past. Mycroft Holmes did not spend yet another night alone, drinking in some dark room with only silence to keep him company. He shared a drink with his assistant, he played card games with his annoying friend, and he traded jibes with a woman who enjoyed his company. Luckily that was just one person.

Anthea leaned over to her bedside table and switched off her phone alarm. Yes, her bedside table. She doubted anyone else had ever used it. She lay still with her eyes shut for the necessary few minutes until her brain woke up enough to begin functioning. Anthea lay onto her back, staring up at the immaculate ceiling, and stretched out her arms and toes, before moving onto her neck and shoulders.

Sufficiently functioning, Anthea sat up against the headboard. To her side, Mycroft was already awake. The duvet covering his lap, one knee was pulled up and a book rest upon his thigh. Anthea felt her heart swell as she tried to memorise this image. It was times like these she wished she had memory techniques like Sherlock and Mycroft did. It would be handy to recall this image whenever she was alone.

"Morning." Anthea hummed. She received a nod as he continued reading. "Happy Birthday." That got him. Mycroft closed his book and placed it on his bedside table.

"It is a birthday, yes." He nodded. "But what makes it a particularly happy one?" Anthea was tempted to hit the annoying genius with a pillow. She found it more appropriate to chuckle at him.

"Well I for one am very happy that you were born." She nodded as Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Where would I be without this occasion?" She hummed, biting her lip. "I'd probably be in a dead end job, board out of my mind, waking up next to the lawyer who I'd grown to despise like you said I would, and with Jamie not living in London because we wouldn't know James either."

"Well, yes, I can see why you might be appreciative." Mycroft mumbled like a sullen child. He actual deserved a light tap on the arm for that one.

"Come on, I'll make us some coffee and –"

Beep Beep.

Mycroft picked up his phone and checked the message. His eyebrows raised only to be replaced with a frown seconds later. Anthea leaned in closer.

"What?" She asked with trepidation.

"It was security."

"Someone's here?"

"My parents apparently." Mycroft closed his phone, agitation clear in his features, and held it to his lips, thinking in silence. "They weren't supposed to be in the country, let alone in London." Of course Mycroft was annoyed. Firstly, he hated celebrating his birthday, and his parents had come over to do so. It was lovely of them, but they had the wrong children to be appreciative of this kind gesture. Secondly, Anthea knew for a fact that Mycroft had been avoiding telling his family about his relationship. They weren't telling too many people, and his family would make a huge deal out of it. Sherlock would tease him to no end, and given how his parents reacted to the 'understanding', well Mycroft didn't want to go down that road.

"Oh." Anthea bit the inside of her cheek. "What are we going to do?" She was stuck upstairs in Mycroft's bedroom while all her clothes were in her bedroom downstairs. Worse yet, the stairs came out into the entrance hall downstairs.

"I'm going to hold them at the door for as long as possible." Mycroft instructed as he slid his legs of the bed, sitting up. "You get past me and into your room without being noticed." Anthea nodded.

Why did this feel more life threatening than any mission she'd actually been on?

Mycroft went downstairs first. Anthea counted to ten and the followed behind him, carefully and slowly. As she approached the top of the stairs she heard muffled voices. Careful not to slip on her trousers which were too long for her, or to step too hard, Anthea began down the stairs. She saw a glimpse of Mycroft being pulled out the door slightly into a hug.

"You smell nice today." Violet's voice resonated in the empty house. "Did you change detergent?" Anthea couldn't make out Mycroft's very quiet response – probably because he muttered under his breath.

"Smells almost like a woman's scent." Siger chuckled. Anthea inwardly winced as she controlled her breathing as to not make a noise.

"Look, I really do appreciate you visiting, but you can't simply show up unannounced. I'm not Sherlock, I do have plans." She couldn't see his face, but Mycroft's had was tense as it held the door close by his body.

"Don't be ridiculous, Myc." Violet scolded in a tone that sounded a lot like Mycroft himself. "If you have plans we'll go visit Sherlock for a few hours. At least let us come in and I can make you some breakfast."

"I don't really have the time."

"Don't lie to me, Mycroft Holmes."

"Mummy. No. Look. I'm busy."

Anthea was just about to place her foot on the second last step as Violet squeezed her way past Mycroft. The man sighed in defeat and stepped out of the way to let his father in with the bags. Anthea froze like a nocturnal animal that had just been caught in the light of a torch. Skittish and afraid.

"There's always time for a birthday breakfast with your parents, dear." Violet almost walked straight past Anthea. She stopped a few steps away from the door that lead into the living room and looked back at the stares with those intimidatingly birth blue eyes. "Oh, hello Alice, dear." She chirped happily. Siger, having just dragged in the second bag, looked upon the frightened and frozen personal assistant in the middle of stepping down a step. He looked between the brunette with the unruly hair and his son, both of whom in pyjamas, and gained a knowing smile, chuckling under his breath. Mycroft suddenly found the floor very interesting. Violet happily came over to the stairs. Carefully Anthea came down the last few so she could be pulled into a large bear hug. "It's so nice to see you." She patted Anthea's cheek warmly as she let the girl leave the hug. Anthea laughed nervously. Seeing his wife seemingly oblivious Siger decided to speak up.

"Violet, love." He began. "Where did Alice come from?" Mycroft looked up from the floor to shoot steely daggers at his father who seemed entirely unbothered by it. Violet's brows knotted together as she blinked a few times at her husband.

"Upstairs. Why dear?"

"Father…" Mycroft growled. Siger's smile grew.

"And what is she wearing?"

"Her pyjamas. Really, what is your point, love?" A moment of cold dread passed as Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a look. The moment Violet connected the dots could be noticed by the bright shine that shone through her eyes. She gasped, posture seeming to improve tenfold, as she turned to her son. "Mycroft. She gasped. You two are together?" Anthea had never seen Mycroft look so much like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him alive as he looked right now. Violet turned to Anthea, face full of glee, clapping her hands together. "This is such good news!"

"I don't see how it's good news for you." Mycroft, the sullen teenager not the British Government, responded. Violet, still standing closer to Anthea rather than Mycroft, pulled Anthea into another hug. Anthea gently reciprocated. "And here I thought Sherlock would be the one to give me a grandchild first." Anthea completely tensed in Violet's arms.

"Mummy!" Mycroft snapped, panic in his voice. "I – No. It's not like that. No." Violet let go of the stiff assistant, leaving a hand on her arm, as she turned to her eldest son.

"I'm kidding, Mycroft, calm down." She patted Anthea's arm and then left the girl frozen on the steps as she made her way back to the door. "Come now, I'd love to make tea for my birthday boy and his girlfriend." She smiled at Siger. "How cute is that?" Mycroft turned to his father with cold eyes.

"This is your fault." He nodded. Siger chuckled and patted his son on the back.

"If I didn't tell her she would have worked it as soon as you two looked at each other." Anthea knew Siger was right.

Anthea hadn't stayed for coffee. She'd gone home to have a shower and get new clothes – using that as an excuse to be alone and let her heart rate settle down. Plus, Mycroft would most likely want a chance to have a go at his mother for embarrassing him. Violet Holmes would win any argument that arose, but it was still best to let the family do that on their own. She told the family she'd be back around lunch, and that she still insisted on cooking dinner for all of them.

Her silly little dinner for her boyfriend had turned into cooking for her boyfriend's parents – it now matter if she went wrong.

After her shower Anthea lay on her bed for half an hour. She focused on her breathing and stared at the ceiling, trying to steel herself. She sent a text to Jamie, asking her to email Anthea the recipe for the pasta dish she was going to cook. Now that it was important Anthea was actually going to follow the recipe.

After she'd calmed down, had the recipe, and looked presentable, Anthea went back to the house.

"Hey, I'm back." Anthea called out as she entered the living room. She found two members of the Holmes family where she left them. Mycroft and Violet were sitting at the kitchen bench, a cup of tea and a tray of biscuits in front of them. Siger had stated earlier than he planned to check up on Sherlock. No doubt Mycroft told his father precisely where to find the youngest member of the family.

"Hello, Ali, dear." Mycroft called out. Before Anthea could even respond Violet cooed in adoration of the pair, her face looking at Mycroft like he was a little boy. The man in question scowled. Anthea smiled and wandered into the kitchen, facing both.

"Listen, Alice." Violet leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Anthea's. "I want to apologise dear, if I scared you before." She patted Anthea's hand as she spoke in gentle tones. "When one has given up hope of their boys ever finding someone to care about." She glared at Mycroft at that line. Clearly they'd had a conversation already. "It's very exciting to see, particularly when they've made an excellent choice." Anthea felt a tingle at the back of her neck, but her whole being fill with warmth also as she smiled bashfully and waved Violet off.

"No, it's okay. I was spooked but not scared. I'm fine." She shook her head, her curls dancing. "I though Mycroft might run for the hills, though."

"It wouldn't matter." Mycroft mumbled bitterly into his cup. "Wherever I go, Mummy would find me." Violet clicked her tongue and shook her head at her son.

"I'll let you get away with that only because it's your birthday, young man." Violet tutted, and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

Anthea took a breath and let a moment of silence pass before she pushed the two remaining glittering bags towards Mycroft.

"Do you want to open your presents now?" She asked in a soft tone. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

"Anthea."

"No, there's nothing serious. You didn't want anything so I got together with a few people and got you nothing." She threw Mycroft a lopsided grin as Mycroft looked at her with a tired expression. Violet, holding her cup of tea, watched silently. She knew better than to interrupt.

"A few people?" He asked in a dead neutral tone.

"I'll explain as you go." Mycroft sighed and pulled the bags towards him. Firstly he pulled out a snow globe. Yes, a snow globe. Within it was snowman in the stereotypical top hat and scarf with a big grin. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. "That's from Jamie." Anthea chuckled. Mycroft placed the item down as the other eyebrow raised to meet the first.

"Frosty the snowman?" Anthea giggled and nodded. Violet seemed to be smiling. Next Mycroft pulled out a bronzed cat ornament that fit in the palm of his hand.

"That's from James and Carol." Anthea's grin grew. "Because you have a Bond villain lair."

"And all villains need a cat to stroke menacingly?"

"Oh you bet." Finally out of this bag came a simple iPhone phone case. "John would like to remind you that he has a phone and so do you." Mycroft made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a sniff.

"So far that is the most practical gift." The last bag only had one thing in it. Out of it he pulled a little handmade sign. It was a replica of the Diogenes Club plaque with string attached like an open or closed sing for a restaurant. As he held it in his hand, Mycroft ran his thumb over it, feeling the paint over the thick cardboard. "Is this yours?" He asked.

"And the scotch, but yeah." Anthea nodded. "I had Carol's daughter help me." She explained. Mycroft looked up from the sign to meet Anthea's gaze. "It's a personalised Do-Not-Disturb sign. So if you ever want Diogenes rules to apply but don't want me to go away either, just put that on the door of your office or whatever." The room was silent as the side of Mycroft's mouth pulled into a small smile.

"Clever…" He hummed lightly. That meant thank you. That meant he appreciated her weird humour. That meant a lot to Anthea. Violet sighed happily as she placed down her cup.

"I'm sorry," She sighed. "I never thought I'd see the day where both of my sons had friends and loved ones." Mycroft placed the sign down and got to his feet.

"This is the worst birthday ever." He mumbled sullenly as he walked out of the room.

Author's Note: Voila! What do you think? Was it alright? I hope it lived up to the idea in your head for this story. I like it, but that's me :P. Thanks to our guest reviewers; Corrine, DD, Louise Pond, Shadow Reviewer, Guest, and ovejalucifer. Thanks for being awesome to everyone who reads this, and thanks for being extra awesome to all the reviewers. See you next chapter.