Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thanks for the lovely reviews last chapter, I appreciate it so much! I have a poetry assignment that I've been working on so I just chose something easy for this update. I'll also delay the next update until a week from the posting of this chapter so I can focus on the three writing assignments I have due very soon. Thanks in advanced for understand. I hope this chapter is entertaining enough for you. 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 Was Watched

That's it.

They were watching her.

Without out a doubt now, they were watching her.

For the last week, wherever Anthea went, they were there. Every bridge she went through or across, every street corner she paused at, they were there. Well, they were always there. They were homeless after all, they didn't go many places and London being a very populated city you were bound to see a couple. What was strange was that they were watching her.

One of them even smiled at her when she gave them an odd look. Like he knew that she knew but that it didn't bother him. He just gave her a gentle closed mouth smile and wrote something down. Anthea had been on the phone to Jamie at the time and she had to ask the blonde to repeat what Anthea had just said to see if it was worth writing down. It wasn't. This was infuriating, it was uncomfortable and it was unnerving like nothing else. There was something very odd about being in the middle of watching a person and noticing someone else watching you.

When it hit the five day mark Anthea seriously considered telling Mycroft. If he knew that these people were watching her then he might do something about it. He wouldn't like it. But then the thought occurred to her that he should have already noticed and been alarmed by it, and yet he wasn't. The answer to why that was is remarkably simple of course. Homeless people had watched Mycroft for years, their eyes followed him all over London. When Anthea had first noticed this she wondered if it was the clothes they envied or the power they feared. Soon enough she found out that it was weirder than that. Sherlock. Sherlock had established a network of vagabonds and drug addicts from the moment he moved to London. He used them as a network, a way to get information. It added new meaning to the saying "word on the street". Homeless people watched Mycroft because they knew he was Sherlock's brother, and because Sherlock had told them to. If anything happened to Mycroft he wanted to know.

Ah…

So that was her answer.

Sherlock.

If these people were watching Anthea, if they had to keep a close eye on her the only answer could be Sherlock. Now Anthea could tell Mycroft and let him deal with it. The unnerving watching would stop after that but Mycroft would deal with it and never bother telling Anthea why it was happening, and she desperately wanted to know why. Why on earth were Sherlock's people watching her? And now? After all these years? After all the disinterest in her that Sherlock had shown. Anthea had to get to the bottom of this.

And that meant confirming the hypothesis before making the trip to Baker Street.

Anthea chose who she approached very carefully. The smiling man wouldn't do, he was too confidant in what he did. The young girl near Speedy's was too skittish and way too close to Sherlock's home base. The old man wasn't a good idea because he wouldn't speak to a woman so openly. The young man who sat outside various café's near Anthea's flat building would do. Anthea had seen him when she went by to talk to the real estate. The people in the area had money but not to the point where they felt comfortable handing it out. The boy wasn't making enough to get a meal every night. If he cooperated then Anthea would be more than happy to make sure he got food tonight.

The boy's eyes were on Anthea as soon as she was on the block. As soon as she got close, eyes firmly on the boy, he looked down to examine his shoes closely. He even began picking at the laces. He probably thought he had be caught out just then, not realising that Anthea and been suspicious of these people for a while now. Anthea came a stop in front of him, looking down to where he sat outside the café. His mousy brown hair blocked her view of his face as he continued to pick at his shoes.

"You work for Sherlock, don't you?" Anthea asked in a cold, flat tone.

"What?" The boy grunted, not looking up.

"Sherlock Holmes. He has you watching me."

Silence.

The boy shifted. He began using the top of his shoelace to lodge free dirt from the bottom of his shoe. Anthea took out a fifty pound note from her bag and held it out.

"Tall, wild curly hair, blue eyes." She hoped the money would help jog his memory. The boy looked up and stared at the note in front of him. He stood up as if someone were harassing him. His tired eyes flickered between Anthea and the note, fear clear in his face. Anthea nodded. Quickly his hands greedily grabbed for the note.

"Oh, yeah, him." He shoved the money into his jacket pocket with shaking hands. "Yeah, I'd been told to watch out for you." He shrugged heavily, like a teenager who never gave up enough information. Looking at his face now, looking past the lack of sleep, he had to be an actual teenager. His cheeks were too soft, and his eyes too naive. If she wasn't in work mode Anthea would have felt a great deal of pity for the kid. As of right now, she didn't have the time to feel sorry for him. Sympathy would get in the way. Anthea pursed her lips as she pretended to wait for more information, knowing it wasn't coming.

"Is that it?" She lightly shook her head. The boy nodded. "Why? What does he want to know?" He gave that infuriatingly teenaged shrug again.

"I dunno... He just told us to watch you, that's all." Anthea quirked an eyebrow. The boy widened his eyes as if questioning her questioning.

"What have you been told to watch for?" The boy shrugged again. Teenagers. It was times like this that made Anthea very glad she never met teenaged Sherlock or Mycroft. They would have been the worst for so many reasons. She opened her purse and took out one hundred pounds. Greedy hands went to take it straight away but Anthea pulled her own hands close to her chest. She smirked and shook her head.

"Uh-uh." She hummed. "That fifty is your deposit." She nodded to his jacket pocket. "This is to be delivered upon satisfactory services." The fear had returned back to the boy's face. He looked at Anthea with fear and hesitation. Anthea softened her features, looked at him as earnestly as she could, and nodded. The boy looked down at his feet once more. He kicked the ground and grunted, debating what to do. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up in a similar manner to the way James and Tim both did when they were unsure or anxious.

"Yeah." The boy closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, fine." He turned back to Anthea with a heavy sigh. "He told us to listen out for stuff you said or did."

"Like what?"

"I dunno…" Anthea quirked an eyebrow and the boy rolled his eyes.

"Like who you hung out with, who you spoke on the phone with, things you did, weird stuff, normal stuff. Just stuff." Anthea frowned to herself as she slowly handed over the money. The boy snatched it once more and stuffed it into his jacket.

"Sherlock's known me in years and has never cared about anything I do. Why is he investigating me now?"

"I dunno." The boy shrugged.

Anthea stared at the boy.

Yes, helpful. Very helpful.

She rolled her eyes.

At the very least she had confirmed that it was Sherlock. She didn't get anything else but now she could go to Baker Street and he couldn't deny it. Anthea could move on now… After she asked the boy a few more questions.

"How old are you?" She asked. The kid looked back to his shoes.

"Seventeen." He mumbled. Anthea bit her bottom lip.

"Not drugs?"

"No!" The boy frowned deeply. He hesitated, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "I ran away from home." Anthea sighed, shaking her head. She opened her wallet and pulled out the twenty pound note she had left in there. She held it out to the boy. He looked at her again and she nodded again.

"Ration all that out, okay?" Anthea sighed. "Eat something warm for as long as you can on that."

"Thanks."

Anthea hadn't even stepped up the final step to 221B Baker Street when the front door was pulled open. Sherlock's expression which had been vibrant turned dull and dropped as soon as he saw Anthea.

"Oh, it's you." He muttered in a tone equally as dull as his new expression. He walked back to his couch and lay down, leaving the door open for Anthea to enter.

"Expecting someone?" Anthea asked as she stepped in. The flat looked odd without John's stuff around. The fact that Sherlock had removed his chair completely instead of leaving it for a guest was weird. Very Holmsian, but weird none the less.

"No…" Sherlock's deep voice was muffled by the couch cushions. "Well yes," He rolled over to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "But no one of importance."

"A client?" Anthea asked, clasping her hands together.

"No."

"John?" She asked, stepping closer.

"No." Sherlock frowned up at the ceiling. He sat up on one arm and faced Anthea, face still contorted into a frown. "Why are you here exactly?" Anthea cocked her head to the side and crinkled her nose as she smiled slyly at the detective. She moved a few papers out of the way and sat on the corner of the coffee table.

"You have people watching me." She answered.

"Oh." Sherlock flopped back down onto the couch, staring at the ceiling once more.

"I don't like it." Anthea continued. Sherlock pouted up at the ceiling.

"Neither do I," He shook his head. "But you learn to live with it." Clearly a jab at his brother's team. Anthea took a breath. She tucked a curl behind her ear.

"Are you going to stop them?"

"No." Sherlock spat out with laughter in his toned but his face remained flat.

"Oh, come on Sherlock!" Anthea exclaimed, dropping her hands heavily onto her lap. "What could you possibly be learning from this?"

"Well," Something akin to enjoyment returned to Sherlock's voice, his blue eyes glistening. "I've learnt that you never associate with family members and given that my brother hired you that probably means you have no family to associate with. I've learnt that you're quite dedicated to a small network of friends, that most people call you by an 'A' name which goes with my earlier theory of your name. I've learnt that you'll eat whatever you want by yourself but with my brother around you try to eat healthily as some sort of support. I've learnt that you keep cash on you at all times, and there is usually a novel in your bag. I've learnt that your flat isn't under a real identity, and that your ex-boyfriend, the only serious relationship you've ever had, is a lawyer who does not like my brother and I would like his number."

Sherlock lay on the couch looking smug. Anthea stared at him unimpressed by anything from his long, fast, spiel.

"That's what you've learnt in the past week?" Sherlock scrunched up his face.

"Well…" He hummed. "That and a few other details that aren't important. Shoe size, measurements, and the like."

"Why now, Sherlock?"

No response.

"You've never even tried to find out my name and now you're having me watched? We've known each other for years."

Sherlock sat up, got to his feet, and wandered into the kitchen. Anthea watched him as he checked on various experiments.

"Why am I suddenly so interesting to you?"

"You're not interesting." Sherlock laughed as he poked around in a Tupperware container. "John is more interesting than you."

A beat.

Anthea's face perked up.

"Is this about John?" She asked, standing up. She walked into the kitchen. "Is this because John's married now? You're bothering the other people in your life?" Sherlock's expression barely changed. Anthea chewed on her bottom lip. "No? A little bit but not completely?" Sherlock picked up the mail and flickered through it, slamming each boring bill down back on the kitchen table. "What else has changed recently?"

Ooooh.

"This is because I moved in with your brother."

Sherlock sneered and scoffed.

"It is!" Anthea laughed. "You're only interested in me now because you want to make sure I'm not playing a game with brother dear."

"I don't care what my brother does." She hissed. "And if you were taking advantage of him it would serve him right."

"You say that," Anthea hummed. "But the only time you've ever put any effort into knowing anything about me was once I moved in with him." Sherlock dropped all the mail and walked back into the living room. "I'm not going to hurt your brother," Anthea followed a few steps behind the detective. "If anything he'll end up hurting me."

"He hasn't already?" She muttered, looking at her with cold blue eyes. Anthea shrugged, he was right, Sherlock nodded. He sat down at his desk. It was cute, it really was. These brothers and how hard they tried to pretend they didn't care about each other and then doing things like this. It was times like this that reminded a person that they did have hearts, and big ones at that. They had their parents' hearts.

Anthea leaned the side of Sherlock's desk, folding her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath as she thought about what she was going to do now. Blue eyes were watching her. Obviously saying she was safe wasn't going to do anything for Sherlock. Maybe she could give a few things.

"You're right," Anthea nodded. Sherlock moved to lean back in his chair to get a better look at the brunette woman. "I was orphaned as a teenager. You've met Jamie, she's the closest thing I have to real family. Her, a few work friends, and your brother anyway." She expected Sherlock to pull a face but he didn't. "I studied communications and technologies at uni, and then wandered through life not really knowing what I wanted to do until your brother turned up. Since then I've made a life completely around work." She looked down at her feet and smirked to herself. "My friends are work friends, my boyfriend is my boss, and even my friends I don't work with are friends I made because my boss made me watch over his brother."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sherlock asked carefully and quietly. Anthea smiled at him.

"Because we're surrounded by mysterious people; you, me, Mycroft, John. We don't know nurses and accountants. We're just making sure the people around us have chosen good guys. Well," Anthea stood up so she could pat Sherlock on the shoulder. "They have." Sherlock placed his fingers firmly together and stared off into nothing, pursing his lips. Anthea had seen Mycroft do that multiple times. It meant he was thinking about it but wasn't going to say anything. "Can I have my privacy back now?"

"Maybe."

Author's Note: How was that? Alright I hope. I hope Sherlock was okay. This was not the initial chapter planned for this update, but then I looked at my calendar and saw all those assignments coming up and went "Yeah, let's put off that chapter that will require lots of work for a little bit". Something's gotta give and I refuse to ever fail anything :P. Thanks to our lovely guest reviewers; Sophie, B, Guests x2, Guesswho, Wheezzy8, ShiraBrie13, and Eva's dreaming. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers – I love you all so very much. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and I'll see in you exactly a week with the next chapter!