Author's Note: Hi guys. I'm very happy with how last chapter went down with you guys. It seemed like the whole thing went down well – even those who didn't necessarily like certain things that happened still seemed to like the story. That's great to me, if you can disagree with the character and still like the story. That means at least something is right. I wanted to do something fun this chapter… So I made a poll and posted it on Tumblr… My aim was to take the highest voted suggestion or two and twist it into an interesting concept. I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I hope you guys like it, too. 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 She Had A Break In

Anthea awoke, startled in her bed. She sat up and looked around her black room. Something had woke her up, and not anything, something that had unsettled her enough to cause her heartrate to increase. She breathed slowly in and out to slow down her heart, partly to keep calm and partly to hear over the thumping of blood being pushed around in her ears.

Shuffle.

Crack.

Anthea inhaled sharply as she turned her ear to her bedroom door. She'd definitely heard something that time. Something that didn't go with the normal night time noises of her well cared for flat complex. She turned to look at the sleeping form next to her. Mycroft had not stirred at the noises. Then again his estate was surrounded by trees, not by streets. While Anthea was used to car horns and sirens at night, Mycroft was probably used to weird creaks and cracks of his old building and trees making shuffling noises and creaking noises.

"Mycroft." Anthea hissed as quietly as she could. The genius' face twitched and he rolled onto his side to bury half his face in his pillow, but he did not wake up. Anthea carefully touched him lightly on the arm – she didn't want to alarm him by being woken up by someone touching him. She could only imagine what possibilities would run through his head. "Mycroft." She repeated again, leaning in closer. He rolled completely onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow.

"What?" He groaned too loudly for Anthea's liking.

"There's some strange noises out in the hall. Right outside the flat."

A pause.

Mycroft pulled the duvet over his shoulders.

"It's probably Sherlock." He mumbled through the layers of fluff and comfort. Anthea frowned at the almost invisible figure buried in an attempt not to get up. He was still asleep, he clearly had no idea what he was talking about. The genius probably thought they were at his house – they usually were.

"Myc, we're at my place, not yours."

"…"

No answer.

He'd instantly fallen back asleep.

Great. Mycroft Holmes, the man who was always on alert, the man whose mind never shut off, the man who had difficulty sleeping chose tonight to fall into a deep sleep. He chose tonight when Anthea felt uncomfortable to finally sleep deeply enough not to be woken at the drop of a dime. If this turned out to be something important she was going to kill him in the morning.

Since it was her building, and the noises were coming from outside of her flat's door, Anthea thought she might as well check it out. If it were a common criminal trying to break in that would be no problem, Anthea had dealt with far worse than a clumsy burglar. If it were someone more dangerous… Images flashed into Anthea's head of passing out in an alley and waking up in a room smelling of bleach, metal, and blood. She blinked her eyes in an attempt to push away such images. She was far more capable now, and she did have Mycroft in the other room he'd get up at the noise of glass shattering or a rather loud bang. Nothing seriously bad could happen.

Hopefully.

Anthea got out of her bed, careful not to make any noise – not even so much of a squeak from a single spring in the mattress, as she stood up. She tiptoed to her bedroom door and very slowly moved it until the point right in the middle of its swing where it tended to creak. She crept though the gap by walking sideways, listening and peering. As she made her way down her hall and stepped foot into the living room an object caught her eye. Hooked on the arm of her couch was Mycroft's umbrella. Anthea bit the inside of her lip as she looked at Mycroft's beloved item. It wasn't much, but it could certainly be a convenient weapon. Anthea walked slowly over and picked up the umbrella by the handle.

Click.

Creeeaaakk.

Anthea felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up, her sense all perking up at once. That was her front door. Whoever it was, burglar or something far more malicious, they were in her flat. Her flat, or Anthea herself, was the target. Even Mycroft could be the target if the wrong person knew. The only thing that separated Anthea from this person was the bookshelf she used as a room separator to turn her large living space into two rooms.

Keeping her calm, Anthea walked around the edge of the room and against the bookshelf under she was right at the end of it. She waited around the pretend corner as she listened very carefully to what was happening on the other side of the darkened room. She could hear movement. It was faint and as precise as her own movements had been, but it was still there. Shifts in the air. She gripped the umbrella like a baseball bat, preparing to swing as she held her breath. A few more steps and she'd be able to hit the assailant.

Three…

Two…

ONE!

As a darker shadow came into view Anthea swung the umbrella as hard as she could, aiming for head level. The shadow caught the umbrella in hand, all the force of a possible hit being channelled as he moved with the flow of the energy and contorted it to its control. Anthea's wrist twisted as the umbrella was taken from her grasped and it hurt badly enough that she had to curse. The figure held the umbrella in one hand. Before it could do anything Anthea's instincts kicked in. She had to do something to at least slow this trespasser down. She slapped them across the face and then used any confusion that may have be caused to her advantage. With one hard shove with her elbow she pushed the shadow into her bookcase. The shadow's momentum and force brought the case tumbling down.

Thud!

Crash!

No doubt a couple of shelves were broken, a book or two ruined, photo frames shattered. Those noises were not friendly noises, but this was not a friendly situation.

The shadow shifted from on top of the broken bookcase and grunted as it sat up in the middle of a shelf compartment.

Anthea frowned. She knew that voice.

"Sherlock?" Anthea asked.

The light from the living room flickered on. Mycroft was standing in the doorway between the large living space and the hall to the bedrooms.

"Good evening brother mine," Mycroft hummed. "I did inform Anthea that it was you, but you see, this is what happens when you don't knock."

The damage was minimal, thank goodness. The bookshelf would need to be replaced, a less stable piece or two in the structure having come off completely, but that was okay. Only a handful of books had been damaged and nothing Anthea had sentimental value for – most of those were kept safely in her room. A couple of ornaments had been smashed and photo frames ruined but Anthea knew that would happen. Next weekend would be furniture shopping again. As for now…

"Anything broken?" Mycroft asked, arms folded across his chest. He looked exhausted as he stood there in his pyjamas staring down his nose at his little brother, his brown hair messy. Sherlock and Anthea sat on the couch. Sherlock shifted on the couch, probably checking himself for damages.

"No."

"Sprains?"

"No." Sherlock pursed his lips. "Bruises." Mycroft hummed with a small nod as steely eyes examined the younger Holmes.

"Blood?"

"I do feel liquid behind my ear." Anthea winced at the response. Mycroft came to stand above Sherlock. He titled Sherlock's head to get a better view of the side and parted the hair. Mycroft hummed again.

"No stitches needed. We only need to apply pressure."

"We?" Sherlock snipped. Mycroft ignored his little brother as his tired gaze fell onto the women on the other side of the couch.

"And you. Can you move your wrist?" Anthea, holding her wrist with her uninjured had moved it very gingerly as she tested it. She nodded. "Good. Nothing broken at all. This should be easy." He sounded dull and tired as he disappeared past the fallen bookshelf and into the kitchen. Anthea waited for a second of silence to pass.

"What the hell were you doing?" She hissed as she turned to Sherlock, still holding her aching wrist in hand.

"What did it look like? I was testing your security." He stated in that oh so annoying matter of fact tone as his brows frowned. "You're not very protected for someone with so many secrets." He then shrugged. "Though it was harder to get past your building's security than it is to get past Molly's." What? Anthea cocked her head to the side as she took in this information. He'd broken into Molly's before? What was she thinking, of course he had! Did the Holmes brothers think they could just waltz into anyone's place? Did they think they were that entitled?

"Not to mention I could have killed you." Sherlock sniffed, dry humour sparkling in his bright eyes.

"Please, I only disarmed you. If I were here to attack you rather than survey your flat then you'd be far worse off." Anthea closed her eyes and dismissed this line of conversation. She could argue that she had training but she knew what Sherlock was capable of. No doubt if this had been a serious thing they'd both be a lot worse off.

"So…" She opened her eyes. "Why, after all these years, are you testing my security?" Sherlock pouted as he stared straight ahead.

"My family is fond of you. It's in their best interest if you're safe." Anthea watched Sherlock. She waited for him to turn back to her with a bored expression or a cocky expression, anything. He kept his eyes forward. Anthea smirked.

"You mean Mycroft is fond of me?" Sherlock's lip pulled up, threatening to snarl. Anthea's smile grew larger. "You mean because Mycroft stays here sometimes?" She chuckled under her breath. "You want to make sure big brother is safe." Finally bright blue eyes fell back on Anthea's face.

"He can take care of himself." Anthea chuckled at the serious expression being presented to her. She was about to comment further when Mycroft re-entered the room. He was carrying a bag of frozen peas, and what looked like a bunch of tissues folded up neatly to make a sort of bandage. He handed Anthea the peas, which she took with a warm smile and a quite thank you. He then gave Sherlock the tissues.

"Apply that with pressure to stop the bleeding." Mycroft ordered. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I know what to do." Sherlock huffed as he followed orders.

Once again Mycroft folded his arms across his chest and stared down at two of the names on his personal list. His look over Anthea was only fleeting before he came to practically critique Sherlock's appearance. Mycroft pursed his lips and looked up to the ceiling.

"You know, Sherlock," He began with a sigh as he looked back down. He had that superior boss/big brother attitude about him right now. The one that made him stand taller, the one that made his smile seem just that bit extra smug. "The next time you wish to make an impromptu visit to a residence not inhabited by myself of Dr. Watson, perhaps ring ahead. Or the previous mentioned knocking is always a good choice." Sherlock, tissues being held to his head, turned to smirk up to Mycroft.

"What would be the fun in that?"

A pause.

Mycroft sniffed a single laugh.

"Well?" Mycroft asked, changing the weight on his feet.

"Well, what?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft turned to Anthea and gave her a look. The look he only reserved for when he was exasperated with Sherlock. He turned back to his little brother.

"Are you going to apologise to Miss James for breaking into her flat?" Sherlock's eyes widened. He looked completely offended by the idea, more offended that he might be if someone had insulted he catalogued knowledge of ash, or dirt.

"You have cameras in my flat." It was more accusatory than it was defensive.

"No I don't." How quickly Mycroft answer, it was like volleying the ball back in a swift game of tennis.

"Outside then."

"That's me, not her."

Silence fell. Steel and sky held onto each other, neither backing down. Anthea watched as the silent conversation passed between the two through nothing but a look. Sherlock looked away.

"Her lock was easy to break." That was it. That was the apology right there. Holmes' didn't apologise for their actions, they made up for them or justified them. That was fifteen – love.

"I have a camera in the hall."

"There is no security at the front. Anyone will buzz you in."

Another silent conversation.

"I'll see what I can do about hiring a night guard."

"Good." Mycroft turned to Anthea and raised his eyebrows.

"That is the closest thing you're going to get to an apology, my dear." He sounded tired. He looked very tired. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and sniffed.

"I know. I already know how to decode Holmes brothers' apologies." Both Mycroft and Sherlock looked faintly amused.

"Then you won't mind if Sherlock sleeps in the spare room tonight?" Mycroft asked, and Anthea knew he was genuinely asking, but it was so amusing how much it still sounded like an order he was giving his assistant. Not like she was ever going to say no. Not when she knew how fragile Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship could be and not when she knew how important it was to Mycroft deep down. Anthea shook her head, messy chocolate curls dancing around her face.

"Not at all."

"I have a home." Sherlock interrupted.

"Yes." Mycroft answered sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. "But you also have a destroyed bookcase to dispose of in the morning." He nodded down Anthea's hallway. "Go." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He looked like he might have at least one act of defiance in him, but as much as he looked like he wanted to argue he didn't. The detective got up and trudged towards the hallway.

"Yes, mother." He grumbled. Mycroft raised an eyebrow but took the insult in his stride. When a door slammed in the hall, Mycroft sat down next to Anthea on the couch with a heavy sigh.

"I told you it was Sherlock." Mycroft smirked to himself. Anthea crunched up her features in fake annoyance.

"You were asleep." She argued. She wasn't going to take the words of a man who wouldn't even open his eyes.

"I was." He agreed. "But I was still right."

"Whatever." Anthea huffed. "It was still an intruder." They lulled into a sleepy quietness. Anthea shifted the bag of peas on her wrist. Part of it was now going numb but there were still spots that ached. At least it was nothing important and the pain would be gone in a few days. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mycroft watching her moving the cold object. No doubt he was making sure she was doing the correct thing. Judging by how he didn't make a noise she was clearly doing a satisfactory job of looking after herself.

"Breaking in like that," Mycroft broke the gentle silence with a quiet voice. He turned to Anthea. "Its how Sherlock demonstrates he cares for someone." As if he needed to explain odd behaviour to Anthea. Anthea had seen it all by now. Her flat had been broken into, she'd been investigated, her boyfriends had been investigated, and he'd practically kidnapped Jamie once and brought her to London. It's all part of this weird and wonderful lifestyle.

"I know." Anthea hummed. "I'm fluent in weird awkward genius talk." She playfully tapped Mycroft's shoulder. "I speak three dialects; mother, detective, and ice man." Mycroft clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Poor dear," he sighed. "Whoever taught you to believe you were amusing?" Anthea crinkled her nose.

"Jamie."

"Ah." Mycroft widened his eyes. "That explains a lot." Anthea hit his arm playfully with her good hand.

"Let's go back to bed before you completely freeze over."

Author's Note: The highest voted chapter plot point was illness/injury, equal second with another was include Sherlock… Now you can probably see how I sort of had fun by trying to add the two together in a "first". I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. It's great to try and do creative things when your life is a little stressful. Cheers you up. What did you think? Did you like it? Did you find it fun? Let me know! Time to thank the guest reviewers; Guests x3, Carlene, Chulija, Tadda, Amore1993, and ovejalucifer (who caught up on reviews!). Thanks to all my lovely reviews, you make my days so much brighter. See you guys in five days for the next update!