Author's Note: Hey guys! This chapter is a little early because I'm going to my best friend and her boyfriend's house tonight to play Minecraft all night. I'd like to thank you all very much for the wonderful feedback I've been receiving for the latest chapters. This chapter… ended up way longer than I expected but I like it all so I didn't want to cut anything. I hope you all like it. 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 Colder

Furious didn't even begin to explain how she felt right now. It might be close to how James was feeling. They were both so mad at this new turn of events and how it had been handled. If either of them had gotten even the slightest of say in the situation this would not be how it was playing out.

First of all, Mycroft had found out that Sherlock had escaped from hospital and that people were looking for him. He'd given them some information and then sent them away. He seemed not bothered in the slightest that his brother hadn't healed completely and had run off. A trouble soul with a drug problem no less. He didn't want to send a team to help, he didn't want to look in the cameras to find him, and he didn't even want Anthea to give Mrs Hudson a call.

"I'm far too busy to be concerned with his nonsense." He said as if all Sherlock was doing was running around on a case on a normal day. It had practically stunned Anthea to silence. This was never the Mycroft she had known. Not even at his iciest had he shunned his brother. Sherlock was always the exception to the rule.

Anthea knew that one day Mycroft would regret it, hopefully, should something happen to Sherlock. She couldn't let this happen without some influence from their part. What would Sherlock say should he find out his brother didn't care? It would only make it worse. As soon as she had a moment to herself Anthea shot a text off to James telling him what had happened, or what she knew anyway. James told her he'd send someone to 221B Baker Street to talk to Mrs. Hudson and if that came up empty he'd send people to John's and to Molly's.

That's when they'd found out the worst. James called Anthea while he was driving. The agent was on the way to the office to help out due to what his man had found out. Over the phone on his way James explained. Apparently it had been Mary who had shot Sherlock.

Mary.

Mary who was just as dangerous as anyone in Anthea's office.

Mary who could outsmart Anthea and take down James.

Why had they not seen her as a threat?

Why had Anthea befriended her?

She felt like an idiot. Like she'd been slapped in the face for the thousandths time in her life. Anthea was beginning to understand that she got along with sociopaths and psychopaths alone. What did that say about her? No wonder she couldn't make a lasting relationship with anyone except bubbly blondes.

Mary had been a good friend. Mary had been wonderful to John. Mary had been so accepting of Sherlock and of Mycroft the way they were. Mary got what it was like juggling multiple identities. Mary had the makings of a very dangerous person and based off their similarities Anthea was beginning to understand what this all said about her.

At the very least, when Anthea told Mycroft why James was on the way over, he thought this warranted some form of action. A call. Not even to the hospital to check up on his brother. Not even to Lestrade to do something about Mary. The call was to John to ask some questions. This was absurd.

James arrived just in time to find out the details John had shared. Apparently, apparently Mary had shot Sherlock to save his life. Mycroft didn't elaborate besides muttering something about Charles Magnussen. John wanted nothing to do with her but Sherlock, having forgiven Mary, was determined to find a way to fix the Watsons which meant leaving Mary free and forgiven. The worst part of this was that Mycroft seemed fine about it. No, not even fine. Worse than that, he didn't seem to care at all – his face that bored, blank mask made of ice.

"So what are we really going to do about Mary?" Anthea crossed her arms across her chest. She stood next to James in the Diogenes Dungeon office as Mycroft continued to nonchalantly work on his laptop.

"Sherlock wishes for her to be left alone." Mycroft muttered, entering some numbers into a program. Anthea pushed her lips together and nodded a single slow nod sardonically.

"Yeah, but what are we really going to do?" She asked. James next to her pulled out his iPhone.

"I can send a team to pick her up for interrogation. Nothing major 'cause of the baby of course." He and Anthea shared a look. Mycroft widened his eyes, weary of the two guests in his office.

"I'm going to do absolutely nothing." Mycroft answered breathlessly as he continued to not look at either of the loyal employees. "Sherlock has made his wishes absolutely clear." Anthea snorted in her throat.

"And when has that ever stopped us before?" She implored. Mycroft looked up, his eyes empty of even the ice. They were just emotionless steel.

"The difference is that I cared before, Miss James. I don't feel compelled to involve myself anymore." It was James who reacted the hardest this time. He looked at Anthea, his eyes wide in shock, then turned to Mycroft holding his hands in the air.

"Whoa!" He spoke low in his register. "You'd normally give up the world for Sherlock and you don't care that he almost died twice because of this woman?" Mycroft stared straight at James with empty eyes. He said nothing and turned back to his laptop. James blinked and looked back at Anthea. "This is crazy."

"Myc," Anthea stepped closer to the desk. "This is Sherlock. This is your baby brother." He met her gaze. "I've seen you so distressed over him. I've stayed up with you just worrying about him." She cocked her head to the side. "Please don't tell me that you've even stopped loving your little brother. He almost died again today. Doesn't that hurt you just a little?" As he looked at her, Anthea felt like he was seeing right past her. Like she wasn't standing there and he could see the wall behind her.

"What good would caring do me, Miss James?" He asked her quietly and she doubted James could hear it properly. "What would I do? Fight his wishes and make him despise me more? Sit around and sulk? Lay in bed worrying about something that I can't fix?" He forced a fake smile onto his lips and shook his head very lightly. "That would all be completely useless and a waste of my time." A wave of pity crossed Anthea's features as she listened to these words. She felt sorry for Mycroft that this was the way he chose to live his life. It wasn't living. James behind her sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"If you're not going to let me help, sir, I'm going to leave." He exhaled heavily. "I do have a check-up at the hospital tomorrow," The big bear shrugged. "If you want me to stop in on Sherlock I can do that." Mycroft tore his eyes off Anthea and went back to work.

"That won't be necessary." He answered. "Miss James, please see James out."

"Yes, sir…"

James and Anthea ranted at Jamie when they got back home. They sat around the kitchen table, both wanting a drink but not out of solidarity to Jamie trying to get pregnant, and moaned. They told her the whole story, stopping to add extra details or complain about the look on Mycroft's face or how shocking was Mary's betrayal. The whole time Jamie listened quietly, biting her lip and nodding.

"What's up with you?" James held a bottle of water to his chest like it was a bottle of beer. "You love complaining about people." Jamie shut her eyes and shook her head.

"I'm just letting you two, vent." She offered meekly. James and Anthea exchanged a look.

"Nah," James put his bottle down. "You're usually up to complain about anyone." He said. "I can come home and say the new person is a jerk and you'll agree straight away." Anthea rolled her eyes and Jamie smiled bashfully. "So why not now?" Her hazel eyes flickered between Anthea and James. She scrunched up her features and shook her head.

"I just…" She played with a strand of blonde hair. "I see where Mycroft and Sherlock are coming from with Mary." Anthea looked her dead in the eyes.

"What?" James laughed in disbelief.

"Jay," Anthea leaned forward in her seat. "What are you saying?"

"Just think about it." She leaned back in hers like she was backing away in defence. "She's Sherlock's best friend's pregnant wife." Her gentle eyes looked deeply at both James and Anthea, imploring for the kindness within both of them. "If I did something. If I hurt one of James' sisters or James hurt my brother wouldn't you both ask Mycroft to drop it?" A moment passed. James scruffed up his hair. Anthea leaned back in her chair, biting her thumbnail. "Guys, I totally get where this anger comes from and I'm all on your side with this stupid no emotions thing but…" She swallowed air, her face full of dread. She leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Anthea's. "This isn't any of our problems. This is for the Watson's and the Holmes' to deal with as they please. They're not your family, Ali, and James you only know Sherlock and John through stalking them." Ah, that's what she was apprehensive to say. She knew she'd have to break Anthea just a little bit more just to get her point known. She was right too, and both James and Anthea knew it. You could tell by the way James stared at the floor and Anthea stared at the hand on top of hers. "There. Now you guys can bitch about me. I'm both of your business." She made the room laugh. That was something.

It was only moderately late but Anthea was in no rush to go to bed. Jamie had gone to bed early, having felt sick for a few days now. James had attempted to go to bed with her but found himself unable to finally settle down. He made his way downstairs and instead watched the television with Anthea for hours. All the lights were off except for the kitchen light and a lamp in the upstairs hallway, the T.V. flickering different shades of bright and dim light around the room, reflecting on some surfaces. Neither of them had said anything in two hours, except for James asking Anthea is she wanted a cup of tea.

During the advertisements Anthea even forgot what they were watching. The T.V. was just something to occupy a little piece of her mind while she just thought. Thought of all the trouble going on with Sherlock and Mycroft and how she couldn't do anything to help. It was better to be up and pretending to watch a screen than staring up at a ceiling. It was no wonder to her that Mycroft would often get up at stare into a cup of tea. There was something about being on your feet or not being alone that made your thoughts feel less hopeless and useless.

Buzz.

In unison James and Anthea turned to star at the offending item breaking their beautiful silence. James looked up at Anthea, almost questioning her as to why her phone was ringing. Anthea picked it up and James turned back to face the screen.

Mycroft Holmes – mobile.

Anthea clenched her jaw. She looked up at James but he was focused on the long advertisement about some wonder mop. Anthea looked at the number again as it continued to ring.

Mycroft Holmes – mobile.

What did that even mean? What was he doing? Was this work related? Maybe something else had happened. But he wouldn't call if that was the case, he'd just deal with it silently and professionally, and pretend like he didn't care. She considered ignoring it but every instinct in her body had been trained to answer her boss right away. Her finger hovered over hang up. It would be so easy to silence this before it even started. She could deal with whatever it was after the weekend.

She pressed answer and brought the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?" She sounded more tired than she realised.

No answer.

Anthea rubbed at her brow with her free hand. She saw James take a quick glance at her.

"Mycroft?"

She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"Yes, hello." He sounded tired too. It was a miracle that he sounded like anything. Anthea closed her eyes and leaned against the armrest of the couch. She needed strength for this.

"Can I help you, sir?" She heard him clear his throat again.

"Yes, actually." He stopped, hesitating. "Would you mind coming over?" Anthea opened her eyes and sat up.

"To your house?" She asked in shock. James turned to look at her again. "At this time? Why?" Mycroft clicked his tongue.

"To… sleep."

"The night?" She frowned at James and the agent looked concerned. Mycroft exhaled sharply.

"No." He answered, sarcasm dripping. Anthea rolled her eyes. He wanted her to come over and sleep? He was obviously having trouble sleeping and he was trying to fix it. She was his solution, he recognised that he slept better with her around. Maybe he realised the benefit of emotions, maybe. "You'd have to leave in the morning, naturally. I have a busy schedule tomorrow." Anthea deflated against the couch.

Who did he think he was?

What was this? An emotional booty call? Thank you and goodbye?

No. No, no, no. There was no way she was going to belittle herself to be a toy. She would not be manipulated and brought back into her home for a couple of hours only to be tossed aside with the duvet. How dare he? The absolute nerve on that man.

And yet.

This was something when it came to him, wasn't it? Anthea had told Mycroft she'd be there when he realised he was drowning. Was this it? Had he just noticed he was having trouble treading water? Had he just asked for help? This was not being asked into the lifeboat but maybe this was him asking for a life preserver. He needed a way to survive. His brother almost died again and he found himself alone in the big empty house.

So what was more important? Her pride and her feelings? Or his pride and his feelings?

Neither of their prides did in the end. Who cared about their bruised egos? But feelings, that's what this entire thing was about.

Anthea scrunched up her features, running her hand through her messy curls.

"No." It had taken all of the breath in her body to say that.

Silence on the other end. There was still breathing.

"I'm not going back to that house unless it's for work or to stay, remember?" She explained bluntly.

"Oh."

"But," Anthea swallowed air. She didn't dare look over to James. "If you want to see me you can come to me." She turned to look at James just in time to see him look away.

"To Jamie's?" Anthea couldn't decide if that tone was fear or disgust.

"I'm not inconveniencing myself for you. You want someone to help you sleep? You waste your petrol and time getting to me. You want my help? You don't get to make demands from me. This is Alice's time and Alice doesn't owe you a single favour."

Silence.

She may have pushed it a little too far, but it needed to be said. She wanted to help him, to encourage his reaching out, but he'd hurt her. He'd kicked her out of her home and he'd shut her out. He wasn't going to use her when he'd tossed away the privilege to her company.

"I'll be there within half an hour." It was flat.

"I'll see you soon."

Click.

Anthea looked over at James who was now really watching her. She pulled a face and put her phone down.

"Don't say anything." She warned him. "I don't care if I was too soft or too harsh. Nothing." James pursed his lips and shrugged largely.

"I don't have a thing to say." He tossed the remote onto the couch next to Anthea phone. The blonde agent stood up, placed his hands on his lower back and stretched. "I'm going to go to bed." He walked around the couch and to the stairs without them saying another word to each other.

It was practically half an hour on the dot that he arrived. Anthea saw the headlights on his car through the curtains as he pulled up. He had the decency to knock – and quietly – this time. Anthea felt sick to the pit of her stomach. She didn't know if she was making the right decision. She didn't know if she wanted to see him out of work or whether she'd absolutely loath his presence. She didn't know if this would make things harder for her. She didn't know if this would just confuse her more. She didn't know if it was better for Mycroft to let him do this or to encourage him to stay on the path he'd chosen for herself. Nonetheless she found the strength to walk over to the front door and pull it open.

He was wearing one of his beautiful black coats but underneath were his pyjama pants and a white shirt. He had a suit bag thrown over his arm for in the morning. He looked exhausted, there was no better way to put it, with his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. Anthea was in a jumper of Robbie's and her favourite old flannel pants. He hated her pyjamas, she loved them. She couldn't find anything that needed to be said. She just looked at his face and felt entirely conflicted. Part of her was so mad at him for everything, and part of her wanted to find a way to make it better. She stepped to the side and gestured for him to enter. He did so silently. Anthea locked the front door and walked past Mycroft.

"Keep your voice down." She whispered without turning back to look at him. "If you wake up Thatch he'll wake everyone up."

"Understood." She heard from behind her. She began her way up the stairs, hearing the soft footfalls behind her than indicated that the emotionless genius was a few steps behind her. She led him to the door of the spare room that was currently her home and once again gestured for him to enter first so she could shut the door behind her.

He placed the suit on the doorknob of the closet and stood in the centre of the room looking around. Her suitcase lay on the floor, her every day casual clothes thrown across the floor while her work clothes hung up in said closet. She'd set her laptop up on the blanket box, the light of the charger filling the dim room with a slight greenish hue. Her perfumes, toiletries, and make up sat in the bag she'd originally brought along when she'd left the big empty house. Mycroft didn't say anything. He didn't need to, she could read it all in how he schooled his expression. It looked like a school kid's room or a uni dorm room but she didn't care right now.

"The bed isn't as big as yours." Yours. Anthea said as she leaned against the door, watching Mycroft's face. Steel eyes flickered up to her, glanced at the bed, then back to her. He pursed his lips and quirked his eyebrows in a little Mycroftian expression.

"It's not a problem. Unfortunately to admit, I have slept of floors before." He widened his eyes in an attempt to give a playful expression but the lack of heart in it made it fall flat. Anthea didn't even fake a smile, she just watched him the way he watched people.

She walked over to the bed and got into the side she'd already claimed as her favourite. Mycroft hesitated for a second, holding his ground in the middle of the room, before finally making slow steps over to the other side of the bed. Anthea, facing outwards, felt the weight of him sitting on the bed. He sat there for approximately two minutes by her count. Then he lay down, presumably on his back staring up at the ceiling. He lay like that for ten minutes by her count. That ended when he cleared his throat and sat up onto his elbow facing inwards. Anthea clenched her jaw as she could feel his breath on the back of her head.

"I'm sorry." His voice cracked in his use of a quiet tone. "Do you mind-?" He didn't need to finish the sentence. She knew what he was asking. She knew what position he slept best in.

"No." She answered. "Isn't that why you're here?" She moved her weight so that he could slip an arm under her and place the other one on top of her waist, holding her close to his body. She could smell him now, and feel that he'd yet to turn completely to ice. He buried his nose into her hair and took a deep breath and it almost broke her. She had to blink a few times to hold herself together.

This was nice. This was perfect. This was how they were supposed to be.

And it sucked.

It only took a few seconds for both of them to drift off to sleep.

Anthea woke up blissfully unaware of all the problems that had plagued her universe in recent times. In that sweet moment between asleep and awake it felt like all was right in the world. She was waking up in a warm bed with the arms of the man she loved wrapped around her. She was surrounded by his scent and could his warm breath on her neck. She may have even smiled contently and tried to snuggle further into the covers. This could be her home, this could have been her life not long ago.

It was when her brain acknowledge that this is not what her pillows felt like, and that these weren't Mycroft's sheets that she registered that all was not right and reality began to set in. She was not at home, she currently did not have a home. The reason she had the long arms of Mycroft Holmes wrapped around her was because he had a moment of weakness in his Ice Man routine and sought one of the only comforts her ever allowed himself. Even then, when he'd asked her over he said she had to leave right away in the morning. Like a one night stand, like a common whore. Even his assistant got asked to stay for breakfast when she stayed in the room downstairs. At least he'd come to her. That was something. It sucked for her, but maybe it was progress for him. She had promised to be here for him.

Anthea shifted in the bed so she could turn her face and glance at Mycroft's. His sharp features seemed the softest they'd been since Sherlock was shot. No scowl to tarnish his lips, no frown to make him look older, no tightness in his jaw or neck. He was simply at peace. The poor thing had no idea what he was doing. He was running himself dry, using work to escape. If only he'd let her help him from the beginning. It stung worse than the slap in the face from Charlotte. How could she possibly hate and love someone so much right now? When she hated Tim, she hated him. When she fell out of love with Robbie she still loved him but not like that. She doubted she could ever turn it off with Mycroft and that's why she hated him. Because this is where she wanted to be, she wanted to be close to him making him forget how dark and troubling the world was – being his partner in crime in everything in life. Because he'd denied them both that out of fear and hurt.

She couldn't sit here and dwell anymore. She'd secretly hoped he'd have woken up and gone already so she wouldn't have to look at his gentle face in the light of day while he slept soundly. Anthea very carefully slipped out of bed. She picked up a pair of old socks and put them on her feet, careful not to make the bed squeak. She got up, took a hairband from the dressing table and tied her messy hair into a loose pony, and left the room making sure to shut the door as silently as possible.

Jamie was already downstairs in the kitchen. She had a glass of water in front of her and she looked miserable. Her blonde hair in which she took so much pride was pushed back and tucked behind her ears. Anthea checked the time on her phone, curious. It was eight o'clock.

"What are you still doing here?" Anthea asked. Jamie had an opening shift at the salon this weekend. They opened later than usual but she was usually at the salon by now, hair looking beautiful and her make up a walking demonstration of her own skills. Jamie's big brown eyes looked miserable as she jutted out her bottom lip like a little girl pouting over a broken doll.

"I woke up, made some toast, and threw up." She sounded on the verge of crying. Anthea wanted to laugh and to sympathise at the same time. She ended up snorting and pouting in return.

"Poor thing." Anthea hummed. Jamie blinked innocently. Anthea went into the fridge and pulled herself out a banana. "Do you want one?" She asked Jamie, peering over the fridge. The shorter woman stuck up her nose. Anthea sniffed a laugh again. "No food for you, then. Sorry." She sat down at the table and began unpeeling her banana. "Are you okay now?" She asked.

"I should ask you that." Jamie retorted. Anthea stopped peeling to meet Jamie's look. "I saw the x=car out the front." Anthea ran her tongue over her teeth and shook her head, a wave of embarrassment hitting her hard – almost knocking her off her own lifeboat.

"I don't want to talk about it." Anthea returned to finish peeling her banana. Jamie rubbed her own arm and shrugged.

"I don't, Ali. It means he had an actual human reaction to yesterday, yeah? It's a good sign a-"

"Look," Anthea held her hand out in a stop signal. "Jay, I really don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay…"

When Mycroft came downstairs he was fully dressed to no surprised to the three other people sitting and standing around the kitchen. His face wearing that practice sullen look so well. Thatch yapped happily and pounded towards Mycroft's feet as soon as he saw him. He leaned back onto his back legs and placed his two front paws on Mycroft's leg. There might have been almost a hint of a smirk on the genius' face.

"Yes, hello to you too." He muttered quietly to the little dog. James hid his smile behind his coffee mug, Jamie wore hers proudly, while Anthea could only watch Thatch or stare into her coffee. She knew as soon as he was done with Thatch that Mycroft's eyes were on her.

"Hey Mycroft." Jamie greeted.

"Good morning." He replied politely. James nodded to him, ever the perfect agent. "Anthea." Anthea pulled her eyes away from her coffee to look up at her boss and smile. He attempted to smile back but failed.

"Hi." She tried to sound as casual as possible. "I hope you slept well."

"I did." He nodded once. "Thank you." She sniffed as she turned back to her coffee, bringing it up to her face.

"No problem." She answered quickly as she took a sip. James was busying himself with his phone. Jamie was outright watching them. The girl leaned back in her chair and cheerfully smiled up at Mycroft.

"Uh, Mycroft, would you like some breakfast?" She peeped like a joyful bird on a sunny day. Anthea on the other hand felt like she was about to be caught in a downpour. "Toast or something?" And the rain began to pour. Anthea hummed and shook her head as she put down her coffee and quickly tried to swallow her mouthful of lukewarm liquid.

"Mycroft told me last night that he's extremely busy this morning." She winced at her own tone. "He should probably get going. Right, Mycroft?" She raised her eyebrows and turned to look at him. She could feel Jamie's confusion emanating from her side. Something in Mycroft's expression dropped. He studied Anthea's mouth, her eyes, the way she held her brows, the tightness in her neck. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, quite right." He nodded as he spoke in a deflated tone. "Thank you for your offer." All of Jamie's brightness disappeared again.

"Anytime." She meant it.

James coughed.

Anthea stared at her coffee.

Jamie looked lost.

Mycroft cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

"James, there has been a change of plans." His usual holier-than-thou tone was back as he straightened his shirtsleeves. "As it so happens I am going to the hospital this morning if you would like a lift to your appointment?" It was like a fire had been light under the room. James and Jamie looked at each other brightly and Anthea sat up in her chair. It felt like her raincloud had let up.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." James spoke rapidly as he placed down his coffee. "I'm ready to go now if you want?"

"Absolutely." James quickly moved to give Jamie a kiss, which turned into a real kiss followed by a kiss on the top of her head. He grabbed his wallet and smiled broadly at Mycroft, gesturing the way out the room to the front door. Mycroft began to follow James. For some unknown reason Anthea felt compelled to speak.

"Say hi to Sherlock for me." As Mycroft turned to look and examine his assistants face he would be able to tell that the subtle smile on her face was real this time and there was something in her eyes. There was almost a crack of that smile again. Almost.

"I will."

Author's Note: There we have it! Such a long chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! It was fun to write. Thanks to our guest reviewers; CoffeeRanger, Allnightprose, B, Guest, Heysoulsilvia, anonymous, and LittleSchoolgirl! Thank you to everyone! Please review the chapter and let me know what you think! See you all in five days!