Author's Note: Hello everyone! First of all thanks so much for all the reviews last chapter! I absolutely adored your opinions. Secondly, since it's my birthday on Friday, I wanted to thank you all for making the last year and a half (so far) of my life really awesome. You are the reason I'm doing another uni degree with one of my majors being writing. You guys rock! Next! There are two chapters before the next show plot chapter. So this one, next one, and then Sherlock escapes from hospital. I hope you like this chapter. 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 Week After Sherlock Was Shot

What time was it?

The next morning, maybe.

Probably close to lunch time considering the text message she received earlier.

Due to circumstances I won't be able to make it to the office this morning. Therefore you may have the day off. – M.H.

She'd clutched her phone tightly in her hand and held it in her heart before falling off to sleep again.

At some point Thatch had left her too. He probably left when Jamie and James got up – Anthea could hear them downstairs. The muffled noise of happy, comfortable talking from a happy couple. It made Anthea's eyes well up. She had done that only a day or two ago hadn't she? Woken up and had a playful conversation with Mycroft? She'd even tapped his nose with her butterknife and gotten some margarine on his nose. He'd pulled a face and made a big fuss about getting it off. The only reason Anthea had known he wasn't entirely serious was the way he smirked as Anthea laughed at him.

"Honestly, why do I keep you around?"

"I'd say it's for eye candy but you don't really see people that way."

"I know where to look. I know a good coffee table when I see one, remember?"

Anthea rolled over to bury her face in Jamie's beautiful purple silken pillowcase to dry up any tears that threatened to fall. How did this happen? How did she end up in one of Jamie's spare bedrooms instead of in her own bed? It was rhetorical, of course. She knew the answer.

Sherlock.

Stupid, stubborn, brave and bold Sherlock. Getting himself in trouble again but this time big brother couldn't fix it and make him feel better. This time big brother felt out of control.

Hopefully Mycroft was visiting his brother today. Hopefully he didn't shut out his injured brother. Sherlock needed John and Mycroft, and John and Mycroft needed him. The sooner Sherlock was better and causing trouble the sooner the world would find an equilibrium again – even if it had to adjust to a few changes.

Oh, and Violet and Siger. Heavens above, Violet and Siger. They needed this like… Well, like they needed a bullet. Sherlock getting hurt to the point of almost dying and then Mycroft shutting off again. He probably would go back to avoiding his family except for the important occasions. Anthea would probably have to call as Mycroft's assistant and tell them what happened to Sherlock. That would be the worst call of her professional career. The thought of it made her want to pull the blanket over her head.

But you know what? She had to be strong. She had to. There was no one else here to be strong for everyone. John's best friend was shot, Mycroft's brother, Lestrade's friend, Molly's crush. Anthea was the closest one to an outsider who still was around enough to lend support. The first step to being strong was getting out of bed and going downstairs. In fact, something to eat might help the pit in her stomach.

Anthea washed her face in the bathroom and tried to smooth out her mattered hair before making her way downstairs. As she entered the kitchen she still had her phone clutched to her chest. Jamie was standing near the kettle it one of James' workout shirts that looked like a nighty on her. She was drinking some kind of tea having cut out most sources of caffeine when she began trying to get pregnant. There was coffee brewing, however. Either for James with extra made for Anthea or especially for Anthea. Jamie's face was full of concern as she looked Anthea up and down. She smiled sweetly at her brunette best friend and Anthea tried her best to smile back.

"Bet you're hungry." Jamie raised her dark eyebrows and tried to be playful but her tone was nothing but gentle. That wasn't a problem. Gentle was good. Anthea wanted to say something or make a joke. She couldn't, she didn't have the energy even after the long sleep. She just nodded. "Have a seat, then." Jamie patted on her small kitchen table and waited for Anthea to take a seat before she got out bread to put in the toaster. Look at her, already demonstrating good mothering skills on her usually more mature best friend. The side of Anthea's mouth pulled into a smirk. Jamie was so ready for the next step.

"When did you grow up?" She joked although very quietly. Jamie grinned to hear Anthea speak.

"I didn't," The blonde laughed as she got out the butter. Real butter, no one here was on a constant diet. "I'm just a very sweet person and you better remember it." She winked. She was joking but it was true. Jamie had always been the best at supporting people through hard times. It's like she had enough backbone and strength for ten people to share and she was willing to share. A plate of plane toast with butter on it was placed in front of Anthea with a black coffee just the way she liked it. Jamie took a deep breath of the coffee aroma, missing it dearly, before sitting down adjacent from Anthea.

Anthea ate in silence. Jamie waited patiently and quiet as the brunette PA slowly made her way through the breakfast. She didn't even mutter a comment. She checked her phone once and waited. When she'd finished, Jamie pushed the plate to the other side of the table. She folded her arms together on top of the table and watched Anthea with her warm hazel eyes.

"How are you, Ali?" She asked. Anthea shrugged nonchalantly. Jamie pursed her lips. "I asked Ali, not 'Thea." Anthea made a strange strangled noise. She had meant to laugh but it got mixed up with a sob. She tucked her curls behind both ears, took a deep breath in, and exhaled sharply.

"I have no idea." She rubbed at her neck, a stress filled ache already setting in. "Worried and relieved for Sherlock." She moved her hand to rub at her eyes. "Tired from the constant state of action." And then she leaned back in the chair and shrugged. "And at a loss at what to do for everything else." Jamie's silence said it all. Hazel eyes full of worry and concern, a soft mouth that usually smiled pushed together. She tried to force a smile again, and Anthea did the same thing.

"Have you heard from Mycroft?" Mycroft. No nickname. What about that made it sound kinder? Anthea opened the last text and placed her phone in front of Jamie. The blonde's brows furrowed. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. She was thinking. Thinking about Mycroft. Did she know him well enough for this to concern her too? Or was it Jamie as a big sister empathising with a big brother? Anthea sighed and waved a hand at her.

"Go ahead." She gave her best friend permission to do what she knew she was about to do.

"James!" Jamie called out. Soon enough James' head popped in through the archway into the kitchen and a puppy came running into the room and began sniffing Anthea's feet. "Hey baby, do you want to go check on Mycroft?" She asked. James hesitated. He looked between Anthea and Jamie.

"Yeah, but he'll slam the door in my face." James answered, sounding genuinely nervous about the idea.

"Well tell him you're there to talk about shortening your leave or something." Jamie shrugged. James' face was flat as he stared at his wife like that was the stupidest thing she'd ever said.

"Jay, he'll see right through that. Genius and all." His tone matched his face. Jamie scrunched up her features at her husband and shook her head.

"Yeah but he won't slam the door in your face. If he says go away or criticises you then you know he's cool."

A pause. James looked at Anthea, asking for permission. He was Mycroft's employee long before he was Anthea's friend. Anthea shrugged.

"Yeah, okay." He answer with vigour. "I'll probably be back really soon." And James disappeared through the arch again. Thatch stayed in the kitchen.

Anthea picked at her nail polish.

Jamie watched her.

Thatch left the room and came back with a soft toy in his little mouth. It was a small pink bunny only a little smaller than he was.

Anthea looked up.

Jamie raised her eyebrows.

Thatch barked for someone to play.

Jamie sighed. She leant down and took the bunny from Thatch. She dangled it around just out of reach so he jumped for it a few times, eagerly wagging his tail, before she through it through the door and he went sprinting after it. She looked at Anthea again.

"You don't need to tell me much but what's going on?" Anthea scrunched up her nose at Jamie's words. The blonde continued to make it easier. "I mean we worked out on our own that he flipped out and went all loner on you, but what are we going to do about that?" Anthea sighed. She didn't know what to say or what she wanted to even say. What were they going to do about it? She couldn't do a thing about it. For what felt like the millionth time already that morning she shook her head as the most convenient answer.

"I told him I'd give him a week to calm down." She explained that much at least. Somewhat surprisingly Jamie seemed to nod in agreement. Anthea bit a piece of her thumb nail off. "But… My flat has tenants in it." She muttered. Jamie rolled her eyes.

"Ali. I mooched off you for months. We lived together as teenagers at school. My house is yours." She stopped and her eyes narrowed in thought. "Well the house James bought is mine by marriage and so it's also yours." Anthea sniffed a laugh. "Although technically the bank still owns like a third of it, too." And at that Anthea actually managed to laugh.

"Never stop being the Watson to my Sherlock." Anthea grinned.

"Hey, you think you're smarter than me?" Jamie challenged playfully. "I have some English assignments that say otherwise."

"What about science?"

"I didn't care about velocity or how acceleration works. Why did I have to do it anyway?"

This was the hardest cup of tea Anthea had ever made in her life. And the tea itself had nothing to do with it.

As always when she got to the office, Anthea put her stuff down and went into the kitchenette to make Mycroft a cup of tea. This time she took a ridiculous amount of time to make it. She calmed her nerves and put up her walls to appear as calm and professional as possible. She used the front camera on her phone to check her hair and her face to make sure she didn't look as tired or emotionally drained as she still felt. She smoothed out her clothes and tried to get rid of any puppy hair that clung to them. It was important that she was as calm and collected as possible. It was important for her, yes, but it was very important to Mycroft. He needed stability right now and if he wanted her out of the house all he'd want to see is Anthea James his assistant and no one else.

She took the tea in hand, squared off her shoulder, cleared her throat, flicked her curls back, and knocked on the door. She waited three seconds and let herself in.

Mycroft looked cold as he sat at his desk typing away. He always had an air of coolness around him but this was below freezing temperatures. His mouth was drawn down, his eyes empty and so tired looking. If it wasn't for the façade of the perfect tailored suit and the pushed back hair he'd be completely visible as not handling this well. There was a fierceness about him that Anthea had forgotten could exists outside of a real confrontation. She wanted to ask if he was okay and to stroke his hair. She wanted to force a hug onto him. She wanted to find a way to heat him up…

She really wanted him to kiss her hand again.

"Good morning, sir." She chirped in the usually bouncy Anthea/Alice tone. She placed the cup of tea in its usual position on his desk.

"Good morning, Miss James." Mycroft answered almost robotically as he continued to type. Anthea folded her hands together and stood in front of his desk. She wanted to ask if he'd made it to the hospital yesterday, or if John had called him.

"I took the liberty yesterday afternoon to reschedule all meeting and appointments from the last few days."

"That is incredibly helpful. Thank you." He hummed, still working away on the computer. Not looking.

"Except for the MI6 budget meeting, Carol is handling that for both you and James."

"Understandable." Anthea swallowed. She tucked a curl behind her ear and she looked at the desk, listening to the soft clicking of the keys as Mycroft typed.

"I'm going out to collect files. I'll be taking Walter." She added as the typing continued.

"Of course. Thank you Miss James." Not even a glance.

"You're welcome, sir."

At lunch Anthea leaned back in her chair, eyes shut, headphones in and listening to Radiohead. She was soothed not to think about the man in the next room or his brother by repeatedly playing Let Down.

Don't get sentimental

It always ends in drivel.

She sniffed a laugh every time she heard that line.

She didn't even know if Mycroft walked past her at all. This was her time to forget and just look after herself.

Two days later she spent her lunch listening to music again. This time with her elbows on her desk, hands pressed against both her temples as she stared blindly at her desk.

Being strong pretending to be the perfect assistant with no emotional attachments was getting hard. Too hard. Living in limbo, getting all her clothes from a suitcase in her best friend's spare bedroom, with any news she got about Sherlock she got from John or Molly. She was starting to crack around the edges. If it wasn't for James, Jamie, and Thatch she would have cracked already. Mycroft was doing nothing but work. He was working himself to the bone and shutting himself off more and more and all she could do was watch in fear of being pushed away completely. She couldn't even ask him if he'd called his parents. Every word that came out of his mouth was work related.

She wanted to go home and sleep.

Home.

Not Jamie's house.

Not her flat.

She wanted to go home.

She'd only ever had a home a few times in her life and she was having to get used to not belonging again. On top of everything else.

If he'd just let her help him.

If he'd just stay away from his work for two seconds.

If he'd just admit that he needed help.

If he'd just stop being so frightened.

The next day James met him at the club.

He'd stayed an hour.

James wouldn't say what they'd talked about if they'd talked at all, but he didn't look very happy about whatever happened.

"Sir?" Anthea edged her way into his inner sanctum of the Diogenes Dungeon. "I need to talk to you personally if you don't mind." For the first time in a week Mycroft took his eyes off a computer or a file and the cold steel landed right on her face. Where was the sparkle of boyish humour? It was that connected to Sherlock, wasn't it? It relied on the naughty little pirate to remind the cold man that the world could be a fun place. He hesitated as he looked her up and down. Then he nodded and gestured lightly to the chair opposite his desk. With a shaky breath Anthea took the seat, folding one leg over the other and placing her hands on top of her knee.

Silence.

It was like a game of verbal chicken. Each one waited for the other to speak like daring the other to go first. But there was no beating Mycroft Holmes at this game, not when he was so shut off, so Anthea went.

"It's been a week." She said simply, knowing he'd know what that meant. His eyes fell from her face down to his desk and his brows furrowed. Anthea felt a wave of sadness hit her the moment it happened. She knew what it meant before he could confirm it. She looked up at the roof in defeat and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Miss James." He muttered quietly. Anthea continued to shake her head, barely hearing his words. She looked to the floor, licked her lips, and pushed her hair back once more.

"Yeah, whatever." She whispered mostly to herself. The darkness was encompassing her. There was no saving him. She'd waited patiently, begging him to take the life preserver and he'd outright refused it. He was drowning while she floated on a lifeboat and he wasn't going to let her help and in return that was killing her. What was she to do now? Should she have done more earlier? Her vision was going dark around the edges like the room had a thick black fog seeping in from the back. "Can you pack me some more of my clothes then? Bring it to work." He clenched his jaw and nodded.

"Of course." He nodded politely and so professionally. It even lacked his flamboyance. Even the Ice Man pulled dramatic faces and spoke thousands of words with a single look. "I'd also like to offer to pay for any alternate living arrangements while you wait for your flat to be available." His words made Anthea's mouth go dry and she tried to swallow nothing. She continued to shake her head.

"No." She spat a little too hard. "I don't need pity money."

"Anthea." He leaned forward a millimetre, realised what he was doing and stopped, returning to his original position. "I promised to never leave you homeless."

"I'm not." She forced a smile onto her lips. "I have friends who care about me like I care about you." She watched as he pursed his mouth, looked to the side of the room and then looked at his desk again. It was almost like for a second he could see that he was surrounded by water and letting himself drown. He looked back up with those cold icy eyes.

"I really am sorry, Anthea." He didn't sound sincere. He didn't sound like anything. He didn't even sound fake. Just… nothing. "If it was going to work with anyone it was going to be you." Anthea couldn't help herself. A bitter laugh escaped her mouth. Tears threatened to fall from where the fog filled her vision.

"We do work, Mycroft." She sniffed and smiled at the memories alone. At fighting to keep him in bed. At him engulfing her in a hug because he missed her. At reading on the couch together. "We're great together. Amazing even. I have never loved anyone the way I love you." She had to use her finger to stop any tears from falling before they could ruin her perfectly placed make up and yet she continued to smile at the memories. She couldn't even see a crack in Mycroft's mask. "We didn't stop working. You gave up. You got scared for your brother and you shut everyone out and broke any real bonds you had. So yeah, I'm sorry too, Myc. I'm sorry you gave up on us and would rather be alone than occasionally hurt." He didn't even react. She couldn't see anything passed the occasional look away and the tension in his neck that came and went. It was like she was talking to a brick wall. She was though, she was talking to all his defences. "I will always be here for you, Mycroft. When you realise you're drowning and want help, even just to reach out to your brother, I'll be here. I'll always be your friend because I think you need that one unconditional friend. But that's what you've got now. A work friend and the time a work friend puts in compared to a girlfriend or a best friend is minimal."

"I'm fine." He lied. "I don't need a friend." He scowled at the word as he was expected to. Anthea raised her eyebrows and hummed in false agreement.

"I think you do, but what do I know? I'm just your assistant." She stood up before the fog could fully encompass her. She had to get out of the room. Keeping her cool as much as possible she walked around the desk to her boss and gently laid a sweet, heartfelt kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye Mycroft Holmes. I have work to do." Without taking another look at him, lest his mask break her heart further, she headed towards the door that would take her to her cold section of the dungeon.

"Alice." There was almost feeling in it. Anthea stopped and turned around, her practiced work smile on her lips.

"Sir?" She asked. It looked like Mycroft might say something, anything. It looked like his eyes might have portrayed something close to a real feeling for the briefest of seconds. Then he dropped his head and exhaled and it was gone.

"Let's call it a day." It sounded like maybe it was a little bitter. She felt a little bitter too. Like her life had been ripped away from her. Losing Sherlock would have meant losing Mycroft. As it turns out almost losing Sherlock had meant losing Mycroft anyway and just leaving the Ice Man. In some ways that was far worse. It had meant that Alice had lost a big part of Anthea and for years she'd been far more of Anthea than she'd been Alice. Anthea nodded in return to her boss' words.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

She cried in front of Walter. He hugged her for fifteen minutes. He even stroked her hair.

Jamie dug out the good Pride and Prejudice movie and was banishing James upstairs for the evening. Apparently it was girl's night. Not once did she say a single bad thing about Mycroft.

Mycroft didn't go back to the hospital. He probably spent the whole night alone in his big empty house all alone with a fire and glass of scotch. Did he even get any sleep? Anthea doubted it.

Author's Note: Don't hate me! *cowers in corner*. The scene with Jamie ended up way longer than I intended but I liked it so I kept it all. Which is good because you guys got a nice length chapter which hopefully detracts from the hating me for what happened. I really hope you enjoyed it. Let me know! Thanks to our guest reviewers: Sophie, Polyglot, Guests x2, Christie, CoffeeRanger, Tadaa, enola, Heysoulsilvia, Wheezzy8, Yulia, , LittleSchoolgirl, and ovejalucifer. Thanks to all my reviewers – you guys are the absolute best! See you in 5 days when I will be 24… and I started this at 22... WEIRD.