Author's Note: Hello everyone. Thanks for all you kind words last chapter. I love that you guys pick up on so much! This update is just a short one. With everything going on and with this being the first week of uni this year I wanted to do a simple first. It's inspired by a conversation on Tumblr. I hope you 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 Her Car Broke Down

One of Anthea's favourite things about her relationship with Mycroft was one of the habits that had remained since the days of the understanding and first spending lots of time at each other's places. Anthea and Mycroft never had to announce to one another when they were leaving the house. The strange thing about working so closely together and having a deep level of professional as well as personal trust was that they knew each other's schedules back to front. And if they didn't know where the other was they knew the most likely places they would be. If Anthea didn't know where Mycroft went she'd bet it was Baker Street or the Diogenes club. If Mycroft didn't realise Anthea was going somewhere he'd guess it was either to James and Jamie's place or she had a lunch date with another friend. In fact he'd often get the friend right.

Jamie's, or is it time for Molly already? – M.H.

Is it Carol and her daughter, or simply Carol? – M.H.

You mentioned this last week but the person was someone so unimportant I seem to have not even remembered their name. I presume then that it's someone from your previous workplace. Given that you left at the last minute and you've been active on social media I'd say it's that boring one. – M.H.

James jokingly called them psychic or in tuned with each other. To be honest yes, they could say a lot to each other without talking but that was from knowing each other and prediction, not through any powers.

That is why when Mycroft was locked away in his study with their little make-shift sign on the door that indicated he needed space and alone time Anthea didn't feel the need to interrupt him and tell him she was going out. That sign was a pact that they had made – that he could be alone and reset his brain. If he'd been listening lately he'd know she was going out today anyway, and it was Mycroft he only needed to hear it once to remember it. Anthea looked at the door like she could see through it. As if she could see Mycroft sitting on the couch, legs outstretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles, hand against his brow with his eyes shut. She saw this in her mind and she smiled lovingly at the picture. With her silent goodbye done she skipped downstairs, scooped up the keys to her old Toyota and headed out the front door.

Anthea's trusting old car was parked undercover near the garage but not within it. Filling up the two parking spots behind the garage doors were Mycroft's expensive, very pretty, very unused cars. One was far newer than the other, having been bought after her crashed the Aston Martin, and was even less used than the other. Why someone who used a driver most of the time, who didn't care much about cars had two pieces of machinery like that would have confused Anthea had she not known how frivolously extravagant Mycroft could be about things people never saw. The wallpaper in the kitchen that purposely looked like it was falling to pieces was shockingly expensive. The man liked nice things, he just didn't show off about it. Anthea's car, however, was the same one she'd had since university. It was faithful and she loved it. There were certain tricks to get the back window to wind up and get the air conditioning working but it never gave her problems to start. Why would she replace a valued and reliable friend?

She got in her car, stuck her keys in the ignition and turned. The car started as easily as it always did, meaning it took a moment but it did start perfectly fine. The gauges behind the wheel on the dashboard sprung to life and began reflecting the engine heat, the fuel tank, and miles travelled. The engine heat gauge rose higher than usual. It kept rising until it was dangerously high.

"What?" Anthea spoke to herself as she frowned and peered closer at it. The car engine started to sputter. Not the same type of spluttering a lot of old cars did when you turned them off – real unnerving noises like it was struggling to breath. She looked up to see steam rising from the hood of her car and a sharp panic hit her right in the chest. "Oh, no, no, no!" She turned off the car as quickly as possible, ripping the keys out. She undid her seatbelt, found the latch to release the hood, and pulled it. Hearing the click front the front of the car, Anthea scrambled out of the car seat and out of the car. She walked over to the hood and sticking her hands under the crack she released the latch.

With a loud grunt she pushed up the hood. Warm steam escaped the containment immediately, wafting up and hitting Anthea in the face. She closed her eyes, scrunched up her features and coughed twice. That was not normal, not even for the old scrap metal pile of a car. Once the unpleasantness had pasted and Anthea was certain she wouldn't be assaulted with more vapour she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Anthea held it over her head with one hand as the other hovered over the engine looking for the thin metal rod to hold the hood up. She found it, slotted it into place and stepped back.

Okay.

Well.

Now.

Now what she had to do was...

Was.

Was to…

Anthea pushed her hand through her hair and blew her breath through barely parted lips.

She'd been hoping something would be obviously wrong with the car. She was hoping that once the hood was up there would be something missing or askew and she'd recognise it straight away. That wasn't the case, and Anthea wasn't the greatest with cars. She'd never known much at all about cars. Computers she could do. A motherboard was no problem to her. The workings of a combustion engine baffled her. She'd always had someone else. Jamie's brother or stepfather when they were in town, Robbie's best friend in uni, lots of ex-boyfriends who thought they were awesome with cars like so many of those guys do. Then there was that she was pretty good with the old thing. She got her yearly service on time for years and any problems – beside general aging issues – had been picked up on before they could become a big deal.

This.

This was not the area of expertise for Mycroft Holmes' assistant.

"What are you doing?" Speak of the man. Mycroft, forever lurking in the shadows waiting to be summoned. The voice was far off and sounded quite annoyed. Anthea turned around in the direction of the voice. Mycroft, frown deeply creased into his brow, was walking over to Anthea from the direction of the front door. Anthea laughed breathlessly.

"Car problems." She said apologetically. As he approached it became more clear that Mycroft needed that alone time. He wore the weight of the world today, looking exhausted and fed up. Still, with no plans to leave the house he dressed to impress in a three piece suit.

"I know." He scoffed as he reached Anthea. "I could hear it from the window." He rolled those liquid steel orbs. "What are you doing to your car to make it do that?" Anthea held her hands out to the side, shrugging in a defeatist manner.

"I turned it. I don't know." She buffeted, unsure and annoyed. She unlocked her phone and began searching through her contacts. Mycroft looked from the car, arms crossed tight against his chest, to Anthea's phone. He pursed his lips.

"Now what are you doing?" He asked, bordering on demanding like a teenager.

"I'm going to call Jamie's brother." Anthea replied coolly – too used to those tones to react, knowing there was no ill will behind them. "He can talk me through it." Mycroft laughed in his throat.

"Oh, please." He disparaged. "Don't bother a professional yet. This sounds like a coolant issue." Anthea stopped looking through her phone, mildly surprised at the latest sentence to come out of Mycroft's mouth. Without moving she eyed him carefully. The genius widened his eyes and cocked his head.

"What?" He asked. "Are you surprised that I know something?" When he put it like that… Anthea locked her phone, the side of her mouth pulling up.

"No." She laughed. "But…" She pursed her lips and inhaled through her nose. "Cars?" Mycroft clicked his tongue.

"I own one, don't I?" He retorted.

Mycroft shrugged off his grey-blue jacket and tossed it at Anthea who caught it on reflex alone. He walked towards the open hood of the car as his slender skilled hands undid his sleeves and rolled them up just past his elbows. Firstly, hands on his hips, the man looked over the car with his critical eye. He touched part of the inner workings lightly with the back of his hand to check to see if it was hot. Satisfied – or not – that it wasn't hot Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and his lips pulled down in annoyance as he reached in and began unscrewing something. He looked into a container and quickly turned back to Anthea with an exasperated expression. Whatever he had peered into was empty.

"Coolant?" Anthea asked.

"Mmhmm." Mycroft hummed in a strained manner as he placed the lid on top of something so it wouldn't disappear. He nodded to the garage where his cars were located. On that action alone Anthea knew what he wanted. She pressed a button on the remote that hung on her keys and one of the garage doors jolted to life and opened. Mycroft sauntered passed Anthea into the garage. He opened one of the steel lockers, took out a bottle, and shut it again. As he exited Anthea hit the button again, closing the garage behind him. Mycroft jiggled the bottle at eyelevel as he passed Anthea on the way to the car. The lid was taken off and the contents poured into the open compartment inside the car. The lid balancing on another piece of the car was placed back on.

With a flick of his head again, Mycroft gestured for Anthea to approach. She understood. He was done, and he wasn't going to be the one to close the lid. Anthea hung Mycroft's jacket on the exposed half of his arm like it was a towel rack. She closed the car hood with a reassuring thunk letting her know the latch would be firmly in place. Mycroft held the empty bottle in his hand rigidly. He wanted to go throw it out and wash his hands.

"Turn the engine on, let the fluids circulate for a moment." He said. Anthea nodded as she listened intently. She wouldn't tell him but she was surprised and impressed by this side of him. Of course he'd know this sort of thing – it was day to day practical knowledge. Mycroft Holmes hated gaps in knowledge. "You'll have to keep an eye on that. If the fluid empties quickly then there's a leak or issue with the hosing."

"And then I'll have to book it in to be fixed." Anthea nodded with a sigh. Mycroft smirked at her, raising one eyebrow.

"I was going to say you'll have to destroy it and buy a new car." His eyes glittered naughtily. Anthea didn't know whether to sigh or to laugh. She settled on hitting him on his arm lightly.

"I love this old thing." She dismissed his suggestion.

"Sentiment." Mycroft chided in a singsong voice. It was Anthea's turn to quirk an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm just emotionally attached to it and that's no reason to keep it. I guess I should trade you in for a newer model while I'm at it." She grinned at him, scrunching up her nose. Mycroft rolled his eyes so dramatically it was a wonder they didn't roll out of his head.

"There you go, thinking you're funny again…" He sighed, shaking his head. Anthea chuckled to herself again. She knew in his mood that Mycroft was not prepared to be accosted with a big hug or a real romantic kiss. She settled on kissing the genius on the cheek.

"Thank you, Mycroft." She said. "I love you." Mycroft pulled a face. With his free hand he sweetly stroked her arm – it was probably all he could manage right now.

"Get a new car."

I saw the Phantom of the Opera musical. – E.

You hadn't seen it before? There's a couple of films. – A.

It's a tad dramatic don't you think? – E.

Are you sure you've read the book? – A.

You are alluding to a valid point. – E.

I imagine that my parents lap this type of nonsense up. Last I saw them they we're very whimsical. Tragic love triangle has their names written all over it. – E.

That's cute. – A.

Is it? – E.

Author's Note: So how was it? I was certain this was going to be one of those really short chapters that barely hits 1500 but I got past 2000 so I am still horrible at guessing how long a chapter will be. Thanks to our guest reviewers; Madalina, and B! That was it this week. The rest had accounts. Thanks so much to all of you who are reading this. Let me know what you think. See you in five days! Although it may take six if I don't have enough time… Check in five regardless! Bye!