Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks for your feedback last chapter. Everyone seemed to approve of Anthea's choice of gift. I finished this chapter yesterday! Yay! It ended up longer than expected but that's okay because I'm very happy with this chapter. It's one of those rare occasions where I'm proud of the whole thing. It's almost exactly how I picture it. News about the next update at the end! 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 Big Romantic Gesture
Anthea came downstairs dressed in one of Mycroft's shirts and a pair of his trousers done up with her own belt. Her hair was tied in a messy pony. She carried a bag full of dirty clothes and her own handbag. She moaned as she came into the living room. Mycroft, sitting at the kitchen table didn't even turn at the noise.
"I'm out of clean clothes." Anthea announced as she walked into the kitchen. She went into the cupboards and took out a glass. "I'm taking that as a sign I should go home and do some laundry." Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her attire, a playful smirk on his lips.
"You're living in two locations again, my dear." He said as he watched Anthea turn on the tap and fill up her glass with water. "I thought we learnt how inconvenient this was." Anthea, taking a sip of water, shrugged with one shoulder.
"It'll be easier when my flat frees up next month." The brunette woman reasoned. "I'll have access to my own washer and drier again and I won't be fighting for the hot water."
"Or," Mycroft raised his eyebrows and closed the paper he was reading. "You could come home." He looked poignantly at Anthea. "Permanently." Anthea's heart and head both froze, the glass of water close to her lips. She couldn't quite comprehend the words at first, they sounded so foreign. Come home? They weren't even together. Anthea looked away and began laughing. She walked over to the sink and rinsed out her glass, placing it on the sink.
"No." She shook her head, smiling at Mycroft as if he had told a joke that mildly offended her. His brow twitched down but did not completely furrow, and he pursed his lips.
"Why not?" He asked like asking an employee to explain their mistake to him. It was a tone Anthea knew quite well from her early days as his personal assistant.
"Why?" Anthea laughed. She placed her hand on her hip. "Because we haven't reconciled, Mycroft." As she saw his almost dumbfounded expression she continued. "Just because I love you and I'm looking after you doesn't mean I'm with you. You know that." Mycroft looked down for a moment. He reached up and scratched his eyebrow with his ring finger before placing his hand down on top of the other and looking back up at Anthea.
"I presumed by asking this I was asking for a reconciliation." Finally, the genius explained his thought pattern. Anthea laughed again. For a genius he really had no clue when it came to this sort of thing.
"No." Anthea shook her head again, almost repeating her reaction before. "I'm still hurt." She stopped to bite her lip and shrug again apologetically at Mycroft. "You have a lot to do to make up to me for kicking me out and ignoring me. That phone call on Christmas was a fantastic start." She nodded. "But you were drugged and it was over the phone so you lose a few points there." Mycroft was looking at her with disdain. He looked like Anthea had told him he had to run a marathon. He rolled his silvery eyes and sighed to himself.
"Are you telling me you want some sort of romantic gesture?" He whined. Anthea crinkled up her nose. She nodded. Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked up at the roof, defeated. "My dear, romantic gestures, that phone call; those are not me." He looked at her tiredly. "And honestly, I thought you were above such trivial things." Anthea cocked her head to the side.
"Mycroft Holmes." She cooed. "My favourite book is Wuthering Heights. We saw Phantom of the Opera together. I might be tough, but does that sound like a girl entirely above romance?" He huffed in response and Anthea gathered that was his answer. "Maybe learn more about the woman you're trying to get to move in before you ask her." His eyes snapped back to her face, expression sharp.
"Please." He scoffed. "I know you better than you know yourself." Anthea felt that bright spark of playfulness.
"Prove it." She dared him.
Ding.
Anthea was sitting up in her bed in Jamie's house. It was the middle of the afternoon and she was reading comfortably in her room when her phone chimed on the bedside table. Anthea glanced over and snatched it up.
My dear, I left something on your desk. I'm in the middle of something and I have Walter running an errand for me. Would you be a doll and go get it? – M.H.
Anthea clenched her jaw. She was just getting into the book and she didn't want to put it down. It was in her job description to be on call, however, and she did not want to risk Mycroft's progress. What if he was meeting Lady Smallwood about Sherlock?
On my way. –A.
You're an angel. – M.H. x.
She quirked an eyebrow at the strangely timed kiss at the end of that text. Yet she ignored it and got out of bed. She announced, or rather complained, to Jamie where she was going, got in her car, and drove to the office.
Anthea got out her keys and went to unlock the office door only to find it unlocked already. She pressed her lips together and stopped. Strange. Maybe Walter had come to collect the item on Anthea's desk and had left the door unlocked. As Anthea pushed the door open she found that the lights were turned on as well.
As she walked into the office she dropped her arms to her side and exhaled. She didn't quite know how to react other than with slight amusement and utter annoyance at being moved out of bed and a good book for this. On her desk she could plainly see this item left for her to collect. A bouquet of long stem sunflowers sat waiting for her, a dark blue ribbon wrapped around them, and a plain white card on top. Anthea walked over and admired the beautiful yellow flowers. She picked up the card.
You are the sunshine to my eternal darkness.
M.
Anthea pressed the card against her lips and smiled as she looked down at the flowers. Using symbolism, albeit obvious symbolism, and a quote from his despised phone call. It was cute, funny, and maybe a little heart-warming in the embarrassment that it would have taken to write that card. Anthea took out her phone and sent a text.
Nice try, but it's a very small gesture x. – A.
She picked up the sunflowers to take home. They'd looked lovely in Jamie's kitchen. She switched off the lights, locked up, and went home.
"Who are those from?" Jamie asked as Anthea walked in the door.
"From Mycroft." Anthea rolled her eyes as she tried her best not to blush.
"Oooooh." Jamie pouted her lips together. "That's strange, 'cause your driver just dropped something else from Mycroft off." Anthea's expression dropped.
"What?" She asked in a low voice. Jamie grinned cheekily.
"I put it in your room." She raised her eyebrows up and down naughtily. Anthea widened her eyes dramatically. She passed the flowers to Jamie and headed up stairs.
On her bed was a small gift wrapped in black wrapping paper and a blue ribbon around it to match the bow around the flowers. Once again she spied a small white card. Taking a breath to prepare herself, Anthea walked over a pinched the card out from under the ribbon.
You're the wind at my back that keeps me strong.
M.
The phone call again? Naturally, he had a theme going here. Everything matched and was so meticulous. It screamed of Mycroft. Not to mention the secrecy. She took the gift and carefully unwrapped it. It was a beautiful copy of The Wind and The Willows with an illustrated cover that would make any little kid squeal with joy and excitement. Anthea herself threw her head back and laughed. She stroked the cover and let the warmth envelope her. She placed the book gingerly on top of the other book she had been reading and took out her phone. This time she called Mycroft's mobile. When she received no answer she sent a text.
What are you doing, Mycroft? – A.
She received a response only seconds later.
I'm at the Diogenes Office. Come talk. – M x.
Another order. She rolled her eyes, took her keys out of her handbag again and headed down the stairs. She felt a little like she was on a scavenger hunt.
"Out again?" Jamie called out.
"If I don't come back assume I've killed him." Anthea called back and shut the front door behind her. She didn't here Jamie laughing to herself.
She walked right past the Diogenes proper, ignoring all the stuff and glares from old men as her heels clicked on the floors and echoed. She made her way into the dungeons and this time did have to turn on the lights on the way day. If he were down here then the lights should have been on.
Anthea flicked a switch, bringing illumination to her cold villainous looking second office. Even from the door she could see a foreign item on her desk. She just shook her head silently. As she approached she could see what it was. It was a similar shape to the last gift, suggesting another book. Once again it was wrapped in black paper with a blue ribbon and a stark white card meticulously tucked into the ribbon. She snatched up the card and read it.
You take a scientist and turn him into a poet.
M.
Heat burst from Anthea's chest and filled her body, even spreading into her fingers and toes. That had been one of her absolute favourite parts of that phone call. She placed the card down on the desk and picked up the gift and unwrapped once more. Anthea had been right, it was a book. This time it was a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets. She chuckled silently to herself but this time Anthea held the book close to her chest. This alone is a romantic gift given the nature of the sonnets and Anthea's past. She could feel all the walls she'd built around her feelings for Mycroft tumbling. He'd made some rather large hole in the structure and she was furious at him. She had been doing so well at keeping them both under control.
That was it. Enough of doing it his way. Anthea was going straight to the big empty house to confront the solitary genius.
Anthea pulled up at the security gate and smiled as she quickly flashed her I.D., not living here anymore meaning that was once again a requirement. She expected the security team to barely even look at it and let her in. This did not happened. She was stalled.
"We have something we're supposed to give you." The man, by the strain in his voice, was coming close to the end of his shift. He turned in his chair and dug through on of the desk drawers. Out of the drawer came a little black box with a blue bow around it and the card tucked in. Seems Mycroft had predicted her movements. Anthea looked at the guard questioning, he pulled a clueless face and held the gift out to her. Anthea took the gift, placed it on her passenger seat, and waited for the gate to open.
It did not open.
Anthea turned back to the guard.
"We were told to wait for you to open it." He explained flatly. Anthea huffed a deep and heavy breath. She pulled up her handbrake and put her car in break. Anthea picked up the box. It was long and thin again. It had a shape similar to a small book but this was a box and was lighter than a book. She took out the card and read it.
You're not supposed to throw precious diamonds into the ocean.
M.
She had a feeling this wasn't going to be a book or flowers this times. Anthea undid the bow and lifted the lid off the black box. Inside was a silver chain with five beautiful, vibrant, diamonds with the most wonderful clarity. It was simple, understated, but beautiful. Is this what Mycroft saw? Anthea gasped. She ran her fingers over the diamonds. So stunning. How wonderful this would look with some of her work clothes. How wonderful this would look even walking around in a band tee.
Okay. Now he'd done it. Now he'd managed to pull something off. This was all starting to chain together into something but infuriating and amazing.
Tearing her eyes off the necklace sadly, Anthea placed the lid back on the box and put the box in her handbag for safe keeping rather than leaving it lying around the car. She placed her hands back on the wheel and turned to security booth with an exasperated expression.
"There." She breathed. "Can I go in now?"
The gate opened.
Anthea drove up to the house and parked the car. She gathered up her handbag, necklace securely inside, and got out of the car. As soon as she looked up from the front door she closed her eyes. There was another box there. A tiny little box sitting just at the bottom of the door. Was this a dream? This had to be some kind of bizarre dream because where she came from, in the reality Anthea was used to, her Mycroft Holmes didn't do this kind of thing. Her Mycroft Holmes was cold and shut off. He flinched when you tried to embrace him unannounced, he didn't go to family celebrations, and his idea of letting you know how he felt was picking on you.
Anthea approached the box like it was a bomb – carefully and apprehensively. This little black box with a blue bow fit in her hand. The card sat underneath where it had sat so she picked that up to and opened it.
Every day I see you and I miss you.
M.
Anthea removed the bow and removed the lid. Inside was a key. Nothing else. Just a simple key. Now, Anthea had a key to this place a long time ago. Her key predates their relationship by years. The key was purely for symbolism and to be part of Mycroft's big game. This was it. This key was the end of the romantic gesture.
Anthea blinked her eyes dry, refusing to give Mycroft the satisfaction of crying, and looked up at the grey sky. This whole chain of events, it was thoughtfully planned and beautiful. This was not something that happened in real life. This existed purely in fiction. Mycroft Holmes who despised people and putting effort into tasks he'd rather not do had put this all together. He'd taken on the challenge of doing something romantic, using something he viewed as embarrassing as the basis, and ran with it. He was an old soul, and a beautiful one at that. Anthea didn't turn a scientist into a poet, she brought the poet out from the cage the scientist had locked him in.
Why couldn't he let himself be this person? Why couldn't he let himself put his heart and soul into everything and not be afraid of the pain it might cause later? Why did he have to be so afraid of getting hurt that he ran away and hid? That he locked this stuff away? If he was like this more often he would have saved them both so much extra and unnecessary pain.
At this very moment of time Anthea hated Mycroft more than she ever had. She also loved him harder than she ever thought possible. Her heart felt like it might explode with love and pride. He was so stupid and so brilliant. He was a walking oxymoron and she could murder him and hug him at the same time.
She shoved the key into her bag and unlocked the front door with the one on her keyring. Upon entering the house she found herself staring at her coat on the banister of the stairs. The offending coat that had been on the couch recently. She frowned and ignored it, following her path into the family room to find Mycroft. He was not there but her grandmother's candelabra had found its place back on top of Mycroft's piano. It even had new candles set in it and was newly polished. Anthea's heart melted further and her heat increased. Mycroft was winning.
She looked in the kitchen and the lounge room and did not find him so she went up the stairs. In the halls upstairs her photos and art were back up on the walls – freshly dusted. If all her clothes and important belongings weren't at Jamie's, Anthea would feel like Mycroft had moved her in without her permission.
She finally found him in his study. He was sitting on the couch, legs outstretched all relaxed, reading Wuthering Heights of all things. Anthea almost laughed.
"This isn't the club." She proclaimed, eyes drilling a hole into the relaxed genius' head. He looked up from the book lazily and smile gently at Anthea.
"Hello, my love." He greeted her kindly, his words making her skin tingled.
"You're crazy, you know?" Anthea asserted. Mycroft sniffed what could have been a laugh and closed the book in his laugh.
"Crazy? No." He hummed. "Ostentatious? Perhaps." Anthea tried to fight the urge to smile but she couldn't.
"You act like it's impossible for you to show you care and then you have me running around after you finding these gifts like some kind of fairy tale wild goose chase." Her tone was angry but she was smiling like an idiot and that was making Mycroft look smug and proud of himself.
"I was told I had a lot to make up for." He answered softly, in the same sweet tone he'd been using the whole time. It was infuriating.
"I hate how much you make me love you." Anthea mocked wringing someone's neck with vigour. "No man has ever had this kind of sway over me and just when I think I can get over it you go and do something amazing."
"I know." Mycroft nodded. "Perhaps if I stopped making so many mistakes you'd learn to live with that feeling."
"Stop it." Anthea looked poignantly at him, her eyes full of heat. "Stop it. Stop being so wonderfully you. Stop being this weird genius with this amazing heart who refuses to show it to anyone." Mycroft pulled a face, crinkling his nose and tilting his head to the side.
"I don't know if I have a heart. That's going a tad too far." He disagreed with Anthea.
"See!" Anthea pointed at him. If she were close to him she'd have poked him in the chest. "You don't get to say that on the same day you do something so beautiful and insane!" Mycroft let a single chuckle escape his lips.
"Okay." He answered simply.
"Good." Anthea nodded. She caught her breath and tried to calm down but all these feelings kept bubbling right back up to the surface. She wasn't done. Anthea pointed at Mycroft again. "Because I hate it. And I hate you!" Mycroft looked at her with his beautiful grey-blue eyes.
"Are you moving back in?" He asked. Anthea shook her head. She dropped her handbag on the floor and walked towards the couch.
"Just try to get rid of me." She straddled Mycroft's lap and took hold of his face, pulling him into a deep kiss. The genius was shell-shocked for two seconds before he reciprocated the kiss, deepening it further. He stood up and adjusted their positions so that Anthea was lying on the couch and he was leaning on top of her. She ran one hand down his back and one through his hair. She wasn't going to stop this kiss. Not after today. As they kissed she began blindly searching for the buttons of his shirt. Soon she felt his musician hands on the skin of her back. Anthea broke the kiss and took a breath.
"Should we go upstairs?" She crinkled her nose as she smiled wryly at Mycroft, admiring his eyes from close up. They glittered with boyish mischief.
"No. Here is fine." He purred. She felt the clasp of her bra come undone by the touch of delicate fingers. She laughed quietly and placed a hand on Mycroft's face, cupping his cheek. She hated him so much and loved him so much more.
She kissed him again.
Author's Note: I really hope you guys enjoyed it! Do tell me what you think! I'm so pleased so please, please, please let me know. Thanks to our guest reviewers: PinkFriday28, and Christie. That's it! The rest of you had accounts! Also thanks to ovejalucifer since she told me privately. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers – you all make me so happy! See you in five days.
AND YES! I will see you in five days! But it won't be here! The next update will be our "The Abominable Bride" special and thanks to your advice I'll be posting it as a story on its own! It'll probably be two chapters but I'll probably be posting the whole thing at once. Since it's so big and I count it as part of this fanfic, it needs to have an update cycle to itself to make it as good as possible. So! See you on that in five days, and back here in ten.