Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks for the feedback last chapter! I am REALLY surprised by how much everyone cares about Mycroft and James' relationship. Why is that? I mean, I care but James is one of my babies. Haha. Now that they've moved in together we can explore all sorts of firsts. I thought I'd start us off easy this update. I actually quite like how this turned out. It ended up a good thousand words longer than I intended but I'm sure you guys aren't going to complain. 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 They Talked About His Bad Sleeping Habits

Anthea wasn't surprised that Mycroft had managed to keep some of his less than stellar habits hidden away for the entire time she'd known him. He was him, after all, he could do whatever he wanted and look as cool as ice doing so. Anthea herself had habits he'd only see now they were living together, too. Like the fact that her socks always ended up in other drawers and never in the correct place, or that she always did nail polish in front of the most trashy television program she could find, or that she absolutely had to have the bathroom first in the morning to get ready. She had to put her make up on before her clothes, there was no way she'd get foundation or eyeshadow powder on a nice black suit jacket. No doubt the bathroom one would frustrate Mycroft. He was so used to being alone he probably had forgotten to share and when this had been Mycroft's house Anthea had let him go first. Now it was their house all bets were off.

Mycroft had little things that Anthea already knew of. You couldn't put the milk on the top shelf of the fridge. There were a few she was learning, like he always checked the locks to the doors leading outside before bed even though he had a security team, even if he'd only gotten in an hour ago and had locked the door behind him. But then there was the one that Anthea thought she already knew but didn't realise to what extent.

Anthea knew Mycroft sometimes missed sleep for work.

Anthea knew Mycroft fell asleep after her and woke up before her.

Anthea didn't realise to what extent Mycroft battled with sleep.

He fell asleep after her, yeah. He woke up before her, nothing special. She'd become accustomed to waking up and seeing the blue light from his phone shining on his face and illuminating the room but she'd just figured he always liked to keep in touch in case something happened. But in the first week of living together Anthea noticed he never once stayed asleep for an entire night. Not once.

Anthea, half awake, rolled over to feel the warmth of her boyfriend only to find it absent. Eyes shut, she stuck her hand over to his side of the bed only to feel the soft sheets. She opened her eyes and sat up. The room was abandoned asides from her. She turned on her lamp, her lamp he had owned long before she came along, and checked the time on her phone. It was four in the morning. Slightly curious as to where he could have gone Anthea tossed the duvet off her body, slinked out of bed and quietly made her way out of the room. She padded down the stairs in her search for the genius.

She found him in the kitchen. Dressing gown over his pyjamas, Mycroft was standing by the counter, looking down into the cup of tea he held against his palms as it rested on the counter. He was looking deep into the liquid as if it either held some secret he was trying to uncover from it or if it were a lost lover who had wronged him greatly.

"Mycroft?" Anthea's voice cracked as she moved to the opposite side of the counter. She placed her own hands on the back of the seats and angled her face so she might better see this haunted expression. Mycroft inhaled sharply through his nose and looked up, eyebrows quirked. He hadn't managed to get rid of that melancholy look running through his eyes. It seemed even he couldn't hide everything – not at four in the morning in your own kitchen alone. Anthea's brows twitched down, forming a small frown on her soft face. Mycroft pressed his lips together and gave Anthea a tight smile, eyes not in it. "Are you okay?" She asked. His stormy blue eyes trailed from her eyes down to her nose, then to her lips, then to her hands, and back to the cup of tea. All the while his mouth pulled in an uninterpretable line. He nodded at her, or at least tried to nod. It was a very faint movement with no effort put into it.

"Quite alright." He answered no louder than a whisper. This was not quite alright. She'd seen him looking for cheerier on days he described as dreadful. Anthea wanted to press, she wanted to know more but she also knew better than to wake the sleeping lion. She needed to try and get a little bit though, just a small poke.

"Just having some trouble sleeping?" She asked, keeping any true concern from her voice. He gave her an indiscernible shrug with those darkened eyes and a tight lipped smile.

"I simply woke up." Well that wasn't helpful. Not in the slightest. Then again, why should she be at all concerned? People woke up in the middle of the night all the time. Anthea woke up and checked social media and text messages. Tim used to get up and have a cigarette if he woke up in the middle of the night. Mycroft got up and got a cup of tea and there was nothing wrong with that, even if the usually uncaring man was looking at the cup of tea like he might never see it again.

Anthea played it off like he wanted her to. She smiled gently at him. She reached over the counter and pushed that one untameable lock of hair out of his face and he flinched. He didn't pull away, not like he once did. He didn't scowl and complain as if he was making a fuss just to keep up appearances, he flinched. He hadn't flinched at her trying to touch him in a long time. But he let her do it. After the initial flinch he softened and let his assistant turned live in girlfriend gently stroke his hair back as a sign of affection and caring.

Did Anthea bring up the flinch? Of course not.

"I'm going back to bed, okay?" She whispered. He nodded. "See you soon?" He nodded again.

He was back in bed at four thirty.

Anthea tried to ignore it. She tried to play it off as just one of those weird things about the Holmes family but at the nights went by she couldn't ignore it anymore. The phone checking, the reading, the lying in bed awake, and the disappearing were far too common to just be a case of waking up in the middle of the night or whatever. Anthea felt like an idiot for not noticing it before she moved it. She felt oblivious to the world around her that she never questioned when he was awake. He did sleep well sometimes, she knew him did. Was it her? Was her presence in the house causing strife? Or was it really that she never paid enough attention to the man she was paid to cater to and spent her free time around.

So this time when Anthea awoke to find the bed empty she allowed herself to feel concerned and annoyed. She was annoyed at him and she was annoyed at herself but she'd never tell him that. The concern was deeper than the annoyance. She turned on the lamp, and once again got out of bed. She rubbed her arms to warm up from the cold and went in search.

As she walked past the doors in the house she found light coming out from under the study door. She stopped in front of it and hesitated. She had promised him he could have the study to himself. If Anthea went barging in during the early hours of the morning how would Mycroft feel? She should leave and go back to bed. Leave him be, he'll be fine, she thought to herself. Her concern for him won out in the end. Mycroft was right after all; sometimes caring wasn't an advantage.

She knocked lightly on the door, waited a few seconds as she always did at work, and then opened the door with a soft creaking noise. Anthea popped her head through the door. Mycroft was sitting at his desk, new acquired glasses over his closed eyes, rubbing his temples.

"Hello my love." He grumbled, eyes still shut. Taking that as her being granted entrance, Anthea came all the way through the door. She wandered up to one of the bookshelves and pretended to look through them but out of the corner of her eye she watched Mycroft, index and middle fingers against his temples. Anthea plucked a book from the shelf, one that happened to be her own book, and came to sit at the chair opposite the desk. Mycroft wasn't watching as crossed her legs, flicked it open to a random page and pretended to be interested.

"Have you got a migraine again?" Anthea asked, eyes focused on the words she wasn't really absorbing. Mycroft groan. One hand fell from his temple onto the wooden desk.

"No." He answered. Anthea, nose still in the book, eyed the man. She pursed her lips.

"You don't sleep very well, do you?" She kept her tone relaxed and disinterested like the good little mysterious assistant. Mycroft's brows furrowed.

"Not always, no." A small hint of annoyance was making its way into his tone. Anthea pulled a face to herself but chose to ignore it. She flipped a page.

"Any reason why?" She nonchalantly asked.

No answer.

She flicked another page.

"Do you have trouble turning your mind off?" She offered.

His eye twitched.

No answer.

She sighed.

"Or is it bad dreams?"

"Anthea." Mycroft growled lowly.

Anthea flicked over to another page and kept pretending to read.

"It wouldn't surprise me if overactive minds were prone to weird dreams."

"Anthea. Enough." She shrugged.

"And then there's the things we've seen. I've woken up seeing blood on my hands before. It's not nice."

"Anthea!" Mycroft opened his eyes, dropping the second hand to the table. She looked up and met the steely glance. "Stop it! You are not a psychiatrist, nor will you ever be one. There is nothing wrong." His eyes were fierce and full of feeling. "Leave. Me. Alone." Anthea, eyes wide, took a second to take in the words. She rolled her eyes in shock and annoyance and closed her book hard.

"Sorry, sir." She muttered sarcastically as she placed the book down on his desk and got to her feet. "I don't mean to intrude on your person business." It's not like she was his live in girlfriend or anything. It's not like she'd woken up without him and felt concern for him. It's not like she wanted to help him. Mycroft Holmes was a handful. A minefield and she couldn't be bothered trying to cross it right now. Let him be grumpy. Let him send her away, she was sleepy anyway.

As she walked away she heard him sigh.

"Alice." It was still agitated but there was something else to Mycroft's tone. Regret perhaps. Anthea turned around, her lips pouted as she looked at him. Mycroft shook his head as he searched for whatever he wanted to say and ran his elegant fingers through his hair, pushing it back. "I don't mean to treat you like an employee." He breathed.

She said nothing.

He adjusted his glasses to better see her.

"I'm not trying to push you away." He held his hands open, palms facing the roof, unable to articulate himself completely. Anthea bit her lip. She looked over to the books and rubbed her arm.

"If you don't want to talk about it that's fine." She looked back at him with his glasses and his messy bed hair. "But I'm allowed to worry about you." He gave her one of those tight lipped smiles that barely looked like a smile but at least his eyes looked at her affectionately as he did so. Even if the smile was a lie she appreciated it.

"There is nothing to worry about, my dear." Were the words to accompany that fake smile. "I need a moment longer and then I'll be sure to return to bed."

Anthea clenched her jaw and breathed through her nose as she looked at Mycroft.

His fake smile grew larger.

Anthea shrugged and shook her head.

"Don't be too long. The bed is cold without you." Mycroft chuckled, his face becoming gentle.

"I dare not keep a lady waiting." Anthea's heart swelled as she looked him over. Gingerly she pointed to his face.

"But don't bring those to bed." She indicated to his glasses. "They make you very attractive and I know you don't like it when I get handsy."

"Oh, for the love of God." Mycroft buried his face into his hand. "Why are humans so bloody obsessed with sex?"

"Not all of us can be the smouldering cerebral types." Anthea laughed.

"Go to bed before I kill one of us." Mycroft muttered. He flicked his wrist towards the door, urging Anthea out. She left with a chuckle and a smile on her face but with concern still in the pit of her stomach.

It appeared to Anthea as if Mycroft wasn't going to tell her what made sleep such a problem to him. Not yet, anyway. It could a number of things, a stressful job and a handful of a brother, an overactive mind of a genius, the horrors he's seen or done, the horrors only a large mind could conjure up in a dream. It could even just be a simple disorder. Whatever it was Mycroft wanted to keep it to himself for now. To him, and maybe Mummy if it had been going on for a long time.

It didn't matter really. Anthea didn't need to know even though she wanted to. She'd do what she was good at and not talk about it until one day he wanted to talk about it – even just a little. Maybe tell her about a dream or – dare she say it – a fear that keeps him up at night. When the Ice Man wanted to give her a hint into what could keep him up at night she'd be ready to hear it. She'd listen silently and quietly. She'd be non-judgemental and treat it as nothing, like she would as his personal assistant, and she'd let him share whatever he felt, like the good patient friend he needed. As his girlfriend she'd forever keep an eye on him, just to make sure he was okay.

And so what if he wouldn't tell her? It wasn't her business to know. A good personal assistant doesn't need all the details to try and fix the problem or at the very least minimize the damages. That's what Anthea did. She dealt with things that Mycroft didn't have the time to deal with. She helped take some of the stress of work away. If she saw he wasn't eating she'd bring him a sandwich. If he was bogged down with work she'd delay all the unimportant meetings and deal with a few issues and people herself. She could help here. It was her job to help here.

What could the great shadowy Anthea James do to help the Ice Man? Well for that Anthea needed to go through Alice's memories of Myc. This would be a task far easier for the likes of a genius with a Mind Palace who placed all their memories away safely. Anthea had no such tool at her disposal. But she did remember one specific time that Mycroft had managed to sleep very comfortable.

Anthea recalled their break up. She remembered how distraught Mycroft had seen. He'd not been eating, and he'd been clearly sleeping far less than he even did now. She remembered him sitting at her dining table in her flat admitting it to her.

"I can't sleep." He admitted bitterly and quietly. Anthea had to strain to hear him. "Do you know how pathetic that is? I can smell your scent in my room and it stops me sleeping."

More than that she remembered the next time they'd slept in what was now known as their bed. He'd asked her begrudgingly to come close to him. He'd then wrapped his arms around her, buried his nose in her hair and fallen asleep. She had managed to put him to peace just by being near him again. But there was more to it than that. The next morning she had woken up still in his arms. He'd been still asleep when she had woken up the next day and that didn't happen much at all. His face had been gentle, and at peace.

"Good morning." She spoke quietly as she pushed some of his hair out of his face. Mycroft licked his lips as he opened the other eye and looked Anthea's face over.

"Yes…" He hummed. "I trust you managed to sleep?"

"Did I fidget?" Anthea crinkled her nose.

"No…"

"Well, there's your answer."

She'd figured he'd just missed her presence. And he had, after that night he had begun his normal sleeping habits again. Except when they were close. Whenever Anthea insisted on invading his personal space, whenever he wanted to smell her hair, whenever he let down those stupid boundaries he could sleep a little easier.

What was it? Was it that having someone close elevated the stress, pressure, memories, or nightmares? Did having someone close actually prove to be an advantage? Did not being so cold and alone all the time have a positive effect on the man who pulled away from everything? Maybe if it were anyone else it would make complete sense. Anthea could see Jamie waking up with a fright and then burying her face into James' chest to sooth herself. She could see John being haunted by the memories or war and reminding himself that it was over by kissing his new wife on the top of her head while she slept. Mycroft? No. He wouldn't hear of it. He'd laugh at you and scoff at you for suggesting such a thing. Didn't you know who he was? Didn't you hear that he was supposed to be heartless?

No, telling the Ice Man that he needed to rely on his girlfriend would not go down well. He might even kick her out as a dramatic reflex at the sheer suggestion. The personal assistant would need a lot more tact if she was going to help take some of the edge off. She'd have to tip toe as to not break the ice and fall through.

"Sir, may I make an observation?" Mycroft turned to Anthea with a perplexed expression on his face. They were in bed about to turn the lights off and she had just spoken to him as his assistant. For a second he looked like he might scowl but then it turned into more off a slightly off put smirk.

"If you must, Miss James." He chuckled.

"As your personal assistant I have been thinking about this sleep issue of yours very carefully." She tucked a curl behind her ear and smirked as Mycroft's mouth finally pulled into that scowl. "I have done the research and I believe that if you do it too you'll come to the same conclusion that I have." Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"And what would that be, my dear?"

"You sleep far better when you're cuddling, sir." She stated it like any other fact. Mycroft sniffed, looking away.

"I think you'll find I'm not fond of physical affection, my dear Anthea." Anthea cocked her head to the side and smiled.

"Oh, I know, sir. But I think you like the smell of me, and I think you like my body warmth." She said nothing of having a cherished person close. Mycroft looked slightly vexed at he turned back to Anthea.

"And what of it?" He asked with his dramatic flair; a breathy voice, widened eyes, a shrug. Anthea did her best not to laugh at the genius.

"I'm suggesting a small experiment, sir." A giggle did manage to catch on to the beginning of her sentence.

"Go on." He nodded.

"For five working days we go to sleep up close. It doesn't have to be cuddling but there has to be some physical contact. If this helps you to sleep better, or maybe to get back to sleep, then that's what we'll do from now on." Mycroft took a breath. He looked down at the carpet and thought. He looked over to the wall. He took his sweet time thinking.

"Fine." He breathed. "It only makes logical sense after all." Anthea's face broke into a grin.

"Good! I'm glad." She beamed happily. "As your assistant because I helped you, and for myself too."

That night she fell asleep wrapped in his arms with his chin on the top of her head. He did wake up, she felt him shift and check his phone, she heard him disappear to get a drink of water, but he came back. He came back within minutes of disappearing, found his previous position holding Anthea and slowly went back to sleep.

She'd never tell him that she knew she was successful. She'd never even mention that he'd begun sleeping a little better from that moment on. She'd quietly enjoy the fact that she could help him with one of his silent struggles, even just a little bit. She'd also quietly love falling asleep so close to him.

Author's Note: So I had a couple of "First" Titles in mind for this one. I went with that one as Anthea kept saying to herself "he'll talk to me one day" so indeed I implied this is the first time this topic comes up between them. Whether we'll get to see the topic come up again in this fic, I don't know. If you follow my blog or Ask Anthea she mentioned ages ago that Mycroft has trouble sleeping and since then I really wanted to do a chapter on it. It's obviously not just "whoops, he's a light sleeper" because that would be stupid. I'll let you guys choose what you think it is for now. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I hope you liked it! Thanks to our guest reviewers; Reader (who only commented on James throwing out food), LittleSchoolGirl, Guests x3, Tadaa, Louise Pond, and GuessWho. All my reviewers are awesome and deserve all my appreciation.

About the Myc POV Chapter/s: People keep mentioning, and I quote "The trilogy for hurt!Mycroft". Now I could do one or two of them… But don't you guys want something a little more fun than all that angst and brokenness? Whatever you guys want.