Author's Note: Hello dear readers. I hope all is well, and thanks for the lovely feedback last chapter. I'm glad the light bit of fun was appreciated. Now I have to apologise for this chapter being a day late. As I explained on Twitter and Tumblr, my family issues finally caught up with me and I needed a day. Technically I could have rushed it out, but I didn't want to rush this chapter. I wanted to take the time to get it right. I think by the title you know why. Sorry, again, I just needed to be able to breath and execute this the way I wanted to. I really hope you like it. Please read, review, but most importantly; 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 Sherlock Found Out

Anthea walked up the stairs to 221B Baker Street, manila file swinging in one of her hands. It felt great to be doing this again, to be able to bring cases to Sherlock after two years of not even seeing the youngest Holmes. It felt like the universe had corrected itself.

She didn't knock – she never knocked on Sherlock's door, just on the front door to alert Mrs. Hudson. The mysterious assistant of Mycroft Holmes walked into the small flat, and glanced around. She found Sherlock huddled up in a duvet, looking at a bunch of newspaper spread out on the coffee table. Anthea couldn't help but let a smile cross her lips. Words cannot express how much she missed this.

"Hello, Sherlock." She peeped happily. Bright blue eyes quickly flickered up from an unmoving chiselled face. As if he didn't even notice her, Sherlock's attention feel back to the papers instantaneously. He bent down, holding his blanket with one hand, and shuffled the papers into a different order with his free hand. Anthea walked into the flat, avoiding standing on anything, choosing to stand over by the crowded desks.

"What are you doing here?" The deep baritone rumbled through the flat quietly. Anthea rolled her dark eyes.

"Thanks, Sherlock." She smirked. "It's lovely to see you, too." Sherlock didn't acknowledge a single words she said. With a sigh, Anthea followed a familiar routine. She held the manila folder in the air, waving it, before she dropped it onto the desk next to her. "I come baring cases." Sherlock momentarily froze mid action, but as a second passed so did his interest. He tossed one of the papers of the coffee table and rearranged them again. The genius took a step back as if trying to take in the whole picture.

"But why are you here?" Sherlock drawled. "Mycroft likes to personally deliver these things so he can take an opportunity to spy on me. He'd only send you if he was busy or avoiding me." Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.

"He's busy." She whispered sarcastically. Sherlock scowled as he finally made eye contact with Anthea.

"Please." The detective scoffed. "Mycroft has put on five pounds since I've been back in London, he's not busy doing anything." Anthea almost felt the sting of the jibe on behalf of Mycroft. Better Sherlock say it to her than his brother, who'd take it to heart even if he pretended he didn't.

"Maybe that's why he didn't come." Anthea's tone was a little harsh as she automatically jumped to defend Mycroft. "Maybe he didn't want to put up with your attitude."

"No…" Sherlock answered, not even slightly fazed. "No, he's hiding something from me." In a flash bright blue eyes were once again on the PA's face. "And there is a high probability of you knowing precisely what that is. Given how closely you work with him and how highly he regards your ability to keep secrets, I'd say there's a ninety-five percent chance." Anthea most definitely knew what the secret was. Mycroft hadn't told Sherlock he was seeing someone. Anthea understood why, there was a persona to uphold and nonstop teasing to put off. It wasn't an insult that he hadn't told Sherlock yet, it could be both a good thing and a bad thing. Like it would be a very bad thing if the younger brother were to find out here and now. Anthea forced a chuckle as she looked to the side of the room.

"I wouldn't know where to start." She shrugged playfully. She turned back to Sherlock and bit on her lip. "Maybe he doesn't want you to suspect he's worried about you with John getting married." She stopped and cocked her head to the side. "Or maybe he knows you'll work out what happened to the coffee table when I just gave up." She'd hoped the coffee table would distract him, interest him. It apparently didn't. Sherlock took in a slow careful breath, eyes narrowing on Anthea.

"You definitely know." He waved in her general direction. "The only time you ever speak so much is when you're off duty or you're trying to hide something."

"That's not true." Anthea folded her arms across her chest. "I talk like this to rude agents and politicians all the time."

"In this instance it is true." Sherlock shrugged off his duvet, showing him still in his pyjamas and dressing gown at one in the afternoon, and walked up to Anthea. He studied her face carefully. Anthea quirked an eyebrow. She'd played this game with him before and she could do it again. Of course, he knew her much better now. He apparently knows some of her tells. Sherlock came uncomfortable close to her face, their noses only a centimetre or two apart.

"Is it about me?" He asked quietly and determinedly. Anthea kept her face frozen in an amused look. "No crack?" Sherlock moved to view her from another angle. "Trouble at work?" Anthea rolled her eyes. "Well, you might as well just have said no then."

"That was me tell you no." She sighed. Sherlock licked his lips.

"John? Mrs. Hudson? Molly?" Anthea pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. Walter was waiting for her out front, she had things to do. "Mycroft's personal life?" Anthea sighed as she put her phone away. Sherlock moved to view her from the other side.

"What are you doing Sherlock, I'm busy?" Anthea huffed.

"Has it got something to do with you?" Anthea's eyes flickered over to the window.

"So it does involve you?" Sherlock hummed as he stepped away. Anthea's brow instantly furrowed as her eyes followed the detective's path.

"What?" She laughed, playing it off.

"You never break eye contact like that. I've seen you stare down policemen." Anthea took a deep breath as she watched the detective carefully. Sherlock's distinctive lips pulled into a smile as he sniffed a laugh. "Yes, like that." Anthea mockingly smiled at him.

"Alright, then, Sherlock." Anthea folded her arms across her chest and followed Sherlock across the room into the kitchen. "What big secret is there? I'm involved in almost every matter in your brother's life." She cocked her head to the side. "How are you going to narrow it down?" She heard Sherlock hum to himself as he opened the freezer to check one of his experiments on one body part or another – Anthea didn't want to know. The curly haired man closed the freezer.

"You are involved in the planning of everything, yes." Sherlock nodded. "But how much of his life are you truly a part of?" Anthea licked her lips, eyebrows raised in falsified amusement, as she wanted for more. Sherlock came up close again as he looked the assistant over. "I know my parents love you, but they love everyone who has so much as a kind word to say about us." The detective shrugged. "I know you've been spending time with Mary, has it got to do with her?" So close to another secret… Anthea held her gaze. "Or perhaps Molly, since you did choose to look at your phone when I mentioned her." Anthea scoffed.

"You are tugging on so many threads right now, Sherlock, you're going to unravel the blanket before you find your thread." Sherlock's eyebrows quirked up.

"Is that agency talk for 'you're getting too close'?" He asked. Anthea shrugged as she crinkled her nose.

Footsteps up the stairs.

"You tell me, Sherlock Holmes, the great detective."

"Sherlock?" A voice – John's voice – came from the stairs.

"If I can read my brother and his trained professionals, I can read an assistant, Not- Anthea." Anthea sniffed a laugh.

"Sherlock? Mary and I had some leftovers and she thought I should bring them over." John came around the corner into the kitchen, holding a plastic bag full of containers in his hand. His eyes flickered between Anthea and Sherlock, face confused. "Oh, hello Anthea." Sherlock walked over to examine one of his other experiments. Anthea rubbed the tension out of her neck and smiled at the doctor.

"Hi John." She chirped.

"Did I-" John fidgeted on the spot. "Did I interrupt something?" He asked. Anthea cackled.

"Hardly." Anthea grinned. John visibly relaxed, and doing so felt comfortable enough to walk into the kitchen and place the food in a spot in the fridge not taken up by gross experiments.

"My brother's assistant was dropping off a case." Sherlock sighed, eyes in his microscope. "It seems Mycroft is hiding something and doesn't wish for me to discover what it is." John laughed as he folded his hands across his chest.

"Well you're not going to get his secret from his girlfriend, are you?" Time stopped and the room froze over. Anthea glared daggers at John through her panic, and Sherlock slowly looked up from his microscope. His eyes were wide as they landed on Anthea. John looked between the pair. "Was that not common knowledge?" He asked. "Mary told me."

"Of course!" Sherlock exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Anthea closed her eyes and winced.

"No, John. It wasn't." Anthea hissed through clenched teeth.

"Of course this is what it is!" Sherlock was still talking loudly and in excited tones, waltzing away from his experiment over to Anthea. "After the big dramatic show he makes about me having friends, of course he doesn't want me to know he's suck so low as to date his glorified secretary." Anthea's eye twitched. Sherlock tilted his head to the side and added; "It explains the weight gain."

"Sherlock." John sighed a warning for the detective to watch himself. Sherlock glanced over at John, but immediate dismissed his best friend, much more fascinated with this. Anthea felt herself dying slowly.

"Have you-?" Anthea blanched. Sherlock sniffed and waved her off. "Clearly that's a no. I mean, of course it's a no. If my brother is serious about this dating thing then no, not yet. Otherwise he would have disposed of you already." Anthea couldn't believe what she was hearing. She shook her head lightly as she ran a hand through it. This is why Mycroft didn't want Sherlock to know.

"Sherlock." John warned louder this time.

"The question is why? Maybe he's getting sentimental as he gets old, maybe feeling old and wanting to see if he still had it." John winced, Anthea scratched at her neck. "If he was being forced to settle down due to work he'd surely have chosen someone more acceptable. Far more educated and of a higher class."

"Sherlock, stop." John spoke firmly. Anthea ran a hand down her face.

"Or maybe," She snapped. "Maybe we like each other. Maybe I think he's amazing, and maybe I make him feel more comfortable about himself so he doesn't always have to tiptoe around you people." She felt out of breath when she'd finished. She felt itchy and far hotter than she'd felt ten minutes ago. Sherlock blinked as his sky blue eyes examined Anthea's face. The detective let out a single astonished laugh.

"You really do like him."

"Of course she bloody does, Sherlock." John snapped. "I can't keep telling you that a lot happened while you were gone. You aren't the centre of the universe – not even your brother's."

"Actually," Anthea interrupted quietly. She appreciated John's back up, but… "Sherlock is pretty close to the centre of Mycroft's universe." Anthea smirked. "It's the family, work, and then it's you and I." John blinked, shocked to hear himself lumped in there.

"Really?"

"Well, you're important to the family…"

That's when the two Holmes handlers noticed the absence of a Holmes in the kitchen. Anthea's head whipped around, searching the room, while John headed straight into the living room.

"Sherlock?" John called out. "Sherlock, where are you going?" Anthea's heart skipped a beat. She rushed into the family room just in time to see a tail of a coat swish through the door to the flat. John and Anthea ran to the top of the stairs.

"Thanks for the food, John." Sherlock called up the stairs as he put on his scarf. "Send my love to Mary. I have something to do."

Ah, damn it.

Anthea did not head straight back to the office like she wanted to, like every fibre in her being screamed at her to do. She did not make any efforts to intervene despite knowing exactly where Sherlock was going. She had work to do, and Anthea was more likely to be persecuted for putting her personal life before her work than she was to be in trouble for this. And really, Sherlock might have been going to work on a case. She knew she was deluding herself, but it helped her get back into the town car and go to the next destination instead of finding Mycroft. She did shoot off a quick text, just in case.

Keep an eye out for your brother. Chances are he's on his way. – A.

When Anthea stepped foot into the Diogenes Dungeon she was not surprised at the scenario she walked into. Mycroft was leaning on her desk, arms folded across his chest as he looked down his nose at his little brother who currently had his back to the door Anthea just walked through.

"And that must be the woman of the hour now." Sherlock turned to glance over his shoulder at Anthea. Anthea rolled her eyes, taking off her jacket and hanging it up on the coatrack.

"Sherlock." She sighed. "Sir."

"Look at that," Sherlock turned back to his brother. "You still try to keep professional boundaries up. Funny how you never take notice of any of my boundaries."

"Well the funny thing about your boundaries, Sherlock," Mycroft hummed. "Is every time I allow you to set some I end up finding you in a drug den or a hospital. Care to wonder why I stopped allowing them?" No answer from Sherlock as he turned to Anthea. He looked her up and down carefully.

"A bit obvious, don't you think?" He was clearly talking to his older brother. Mycroft dared not to look away from his brother as he pursed his lips.

"I don't quite catch your meaning, brother mine." Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

"Far more attractive than you and far less intelligent," Sherlock stated, turning back to Mycroft. "Really brother, if you were going to have a midlife crisis you could have focused on your weight or bought something frivolous." The ice that fell over Mycroft lowered the degrees of the room quite dramatically.

"Brother dear," Mycroft whispered venomously. "I'd watch your step if I we're you."

"You call me stupid again, Sherlock," Anthea stepped forward. "And see how quickly I can cut off your body part source at Bart's." She cocked her head to the side and smiled dangerously. "You're not the only one with friends at that hospital." The detective didn't seem phased in the slightest. He ignored Anthea and focused on his brother.

"You could both do a lot better." Sherlock noted to his brother. Mycroft pursed his lips. "She could get a man far more attractive than you, and with enough searching you could find someone up to Mummy's intelligence at the very least." Mycroft took a deep breath through his nose, and nodded.

"That is a possibility, yes." He hummed calmly.

"And the chances of you being able to maintain a relationship are slim to none."

"I'm well aware, thank you."

"And choosing the one person outside the family you can stand could ultimately leave you entirely friendless should this fail, and we've established that's likely."

"You aren't saying anything I haven't already thought of, Sherlock. What is your point?"

A pause.

Sherlock fixed up his coat, and shifted on the cement floor.

"Don't screw it up." He stated firmly. The side of Mycroft's mouth pulled upwards.

"I shall try."

"Don't try, Mycroft." The younger brother scoffed. "You're supposed to be able to do anything. Prove it." Mycroft sat up straight and squared his shoulders.

"Fine." He smirked.

"Goldfish aren't just for looking at, Mycroft. You have to feed them sometimes." Sherlock levelled. Mycroft rolled his steel eyes and sighed.

"She's not a goldfish, Sherlock-"

"Ah, good. You're learning." The detective looked behind him to glance at Anthea once more. "I should go." He hummed. The tall slender detective once again danced to the door, pulling it open. As he stepped out he turned to both Anthea and Mycroft once more. "But honestly, you both could do better." And the door closed just like that, leaving Anthea and Mycroft once again alone in the Diogenes Dungeon.

Anthea looked down to the floor and shuffled her weight from foot to foot. She tucked a curl behind her ears as she gained the courage to look up and meet Mycroft. His gaze was on her, but it was entirely unreadable. She didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or a bad sign.

"Sorry, John blurted it out while Sherlock was trying to get it out of me." She breathed. She bit her lip and tried her best to convey her apologies. Mycroft ran his tongue over his front teeth.

"And John knew because you told Mary?" He was following the trail backwards.

"Jamie told Mary… and Molly." Anthea winced. Mycroft 'ahh'ed as he nodded.

"Of course she did." There was malice in his voice. At who, Anthea wasn't entirely sure.

A pause.

"Is this an issue?" Anthea asked.

"No." Mycroft answered flatly.

"Are you mad?" She tried again. Mycroft inspected his shoes.

"No. Not at you, which is what you were truly asking." His melodic voice rang through the room. "This was inevitable. I was waiting for the penny to drop, so to speak." He quirked his eyebrows and gave Anthea a smile. It was one of his fake smiles, but it was a smile for her sake. She relaxed faintly. Anthea gestured with a thumb over her shoulder to the door.

"So what did he want?" She smiled.

"To interrogate me." Mycroft answered. He stepped forward off the desk, coming closer to Anthea. "And clearly to tell me not to screw it up." Anthea scrunched up her nose, smiling cheekily as she stepped forward.

"Does that mean in some weird way I have little brother's approval." Mycroft's eyes drifted briefly to the door as an exhausted expression crossed his face.

"That was some form of approval, yes." Anthea laughed at the fatigued in Mycroft's voice that always came when talking of his brother.

"Well you better not mess up, then." Anthea whispered. Mycroft picked up her right hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

"I don't plan to." He whispered back with a naughty smile. "Now I believe you have work to do, my dear." Anthea rolled her eyes, smirking. Mycroft Holmes' list of priorities were always obvious.

"Yes, sir."

Author's Note: So! What did we think? I know a lot of you have been waiting for this chapter, so I hope it was up to your expectations. I had fun with it, because it's always fun writing for Sherlock and John. I can't wait to hear your opinions on this one! Time to thank the guest reviewers. Thanks to: Anna, Nana, Guest, Wink, and Louise Pond. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Let me know what you thought of this chapter.