Author's Note: Hi everyone. Thanks for your kind words last chapter. I'm so sorry this chapter is a day late. I fell on the stairs early last week and sprained my wrist so writing is a bit hard… I lie, it really starts to hurt after some time. We also had quite some family issues involving my Nana so it hasn't been the best time for me to write at all. I hope you understand. I wanted a break from Hope this chapter so we don't have a big chunk of baby related stuff. She'll be back next chapter but we needed some normal Mythea stuff. This idea was based partly off a Tumblr suggestion but hugely thanks to the help of my friend Camila. 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 They Fought In A Meeting

Anthea sat at the kitchen bench in one of Mycroft's shirts and her own pyjama pants at a loss for what to do as she watched Mycroft, in his dressing gown, empty the fridge. Anything that did not meet specific rules and criteria were thrown straight in the bin – including any of her food. It was one of the few times she could see that Sherlock's hyperactive obsessions ran in the family. After an incident with her bathroom scales, Mycroft had been upset last night but this morning that hurt turned manic. Anthea knew it was a bad idea buying new bathroom scales but the old ones had stopped being effective a long time ago. She knew it, and Mycroft knew it. She thought he looked fine, she thought he wouldn't have a problem when faced with actual results right now. He was as lovely to look at as he ever had been. This was her first moment seeing this type of behaviour – the beginning of a new round of yo-yo dieting. It was exasperating and she felt helpless and unable to say or do a thing except watch.

Anthea closed her still sleep covered eyes as the Maltesers she had yet to open were thrown in the bin. Her half eaten camembert cheese she could see go easily – unopened chocolate was a bit too painful to see. He was so rough tossing it in the bin, too. They didn't deserve that treatment. Opening her eyes back up, Anthea watched Mycroft's back. It was full of tensions, she could see even with the bench between them. Why did he let this worry him so much? Anthea exhaled air through her lips, making a raspberry noise. She shrugged and rested her chin on her hand.

"I think you look fine." She offered weakly, shaking her head, trying to help in some way. Anyway. Mycroft's bitter laughed echoed in the fridge and bounced back out towards Anthea. He turned to her, glasses on his nose, and pointed the take out container in his hand at her like it was a ruler or pointer.

"Fine is exactly what you want to hear from your romantic partner." He sneered and turned back to the fridge. "Fine." He laughed again as he repeated the word, the take out container going into the fridge.

"When I say fine, I mean well." Anthea leaned forward. Mycroft sniffed at that. Anthea rolled her eyes. "And when I say well I mean fit and attractive, not the way you're taking well to mean." He froze in his actions for a moment but then continued. "And," Anthea tapped on the table. "You once compared me to a coffee table if you want to talk about things you don't want to hear from a romantic partner." Blue eyes met hers once more. She smirked at the memory.

"I can counter your argument with two points." Mycroft pointed his actual finger at her this time. "Firstly you were not initially attracted to my appearance, that occurring after you became attracted to my personality, so you are not a reliable judge. My second point is I compared you to an ornate coffee table." His lips pulled up into the briefest smirk. "Semantics matter, my dear."

"I always found you appealing." Anthea crinkled her nose. "Those eyes, that real smile, those hands, the way you dress…" Her eyes trailed down his body. They flickered back up to his face to see him studying her. "It took me a while to realise I thought you were beautiful." Mycroft's face softened for a few second and regarded Anthea as if she were an angel but as quickly as it appeared it disappeared.

"And yet all those lovely things you described have nothing to do with my weight." His venomous sarcastic smile returned. "Thus you remain a poor judge in this scenario." He returned to the fridge and Anthea rested her head firmly against the countertop. The man would not listen to reason or accept help. All Anthea wanted to do was calm him down and help him see what she sees all the time. The brunette assistant sat back up and leaned back in her seat.

"What are a couple of pounds, Mycroft?" She asked. "It's hardly the end of the world." She earned herself another scoff.

"Imagine if I were to say that to you." He hummed into the fridge. "If I were to say to you what are a couple of pounds?" Anthea pouted her lips and looked up at the ceiling lights.

"That's different." She lightly shook her head to herself. "I-"

"What?" Mycroft cut her off. Anthea looked back down to see she had the genius' full attention once more. "Dare tell me what, Alice." He stepped away from the fridge and closer to the counter. "Was it that it wouldn't happen to you so easily? That you aren't so lazy? Or please don't tell me you were going to follow gender roles and assume that it would be worse for you as a woman than it is for me as a man?" He laughed darkly once more. "Because we both have choice words for such stereotypes, do we not?" Anthea leaned in closer and looked Mycroft dead in the eye.

"Because I don't have a history of struggling with my weight like you and I know better than to complain about a few pounds to someone who lost more than a few to get where he is." She said what she was really thinking. The dark storm cloud above Mycroft's head dissipated slightly. His heat at the very least faded and he pouted to himself.

"Apologies…" He muttered. Anthea shook her head, telling him not to worry.

"If you want to diet, we can diet." Anthea reasoned gently. She purposely chose the word we. It felt like a safe word for him in such a time. "I just don't want you to think it's the end of the world over a few pounds." She cocked her head to the side and gave him a kind smile. "They'll go in no time. There's no need to make our poor fridge even emptier over what isn't even a dress size." She stopped as she watched Mycroft lick his lips in thought.

"I worked hard to get where I am now, Alice." He said quietly. Anthea nodded. "A few pounds… It may start as a few pounds but it can easily lead to a slippery slope one can't come back from. Please don't call them unimportant." Anthea continued nodding.

"Okay. So they're important pounds." She felt like she was talking the genius off the ledge. "So let's treat them like something important and lose them correctly. I'll make sure we eat well, and you can get back into walking again." She rested her head on her hand again and pouted. "Please stop taking it out our dairy products." Mycroft laughed. Anthea got the impression that he even surprised himself with that laugh. It was wonderful and from the gut. They shared a true smile.

The genius shut the fridge.

"I'm afraid it's too late for the full cream milk." He said. Anthea looked at the bin and sighed.

"The Maltesers were doomed from the start." She said wistfully. Mycroft chuckled and his eyes sparkled.

Another day with another long meeting. It's not that the topic of this meeting was boring, it had started of quite interesting. Porlock and a few other men from the government were discussing upgrades to the CCTV cameras and other security measures and as someone with a background in technology Anthea found it really interesting. For the first hour she found it interesting. When talks of budgeting began and how they would roll out the change she stopped caring.

Mycroft didn't care from the beginning. The man hadn't had time for anyone in a few days. He was tired and on edge. The reason why was because he had only half headed Anthea's advice on the diet and was no doubt in a sugar withdrawal. It effected his patience more than anything. If anyone so much as made a suggestion worthy of goldfish he rolled his eyes like he was the only smart person in the world. He knew better than to treat Anthea like a goldfish, even when cranky. He was just impatient with her at work.

Anthea tilted her coffee cup towards herself and peered into it as some man at the table continued talking. It was empty. She couldn't leave it like that. If she was going to survive until they freed her she needed more coffee, and a good excuse to leave the room for five seconds. The personal assistant glanced over at Mycroft's mug. It was empty also. That just made the excuse more valid. She muttered her apologies as she stood out of her seat and smoothed down her skirt. Elegantly she took both mugs and left the room into the adjacent kitchenette.

Anthea began brewing the coffee. She stressed out her back and shook away the fatigue beginning to set in on her. She didn't take sugar in her coffee, she wanted it purely for the caffeine. That's what she needed, craved, to get through this. Mycroft took some though. Maybe the sugar in his coffee would calm him down also. He needed to give himself a break if he was ever going to get through work. The brunette opened the few cupboards in the space looking for any type of snack. She found some chocolate covered biscuits. Interesting. They would help. What was one or two biscuits? It was a kind gesture and might make the rest of the meeting easier for everyone. She checked the use by date on the packet before getting out the cleanest plate she could find and empting the biscuits onto it.

She took the plate of biscuits and the coffees back into the meeting room. She nodded and smiled to the men who looked up from the current speaker to see what she was doing or smirk at her. They were probably just as bored as she was. Anthea put the biscuits down in the middle of the table but directly in her and Mycroft's line of sight. She put the coffee mugs down, sat down, and picked up her phone. Mycroft's steel eyes buried into the poor little innocent biscuits like they were murderers. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead.

"Miss, James." He spoke with such exasperation. "What are those?" He lazily flicked his hand so his palm was facing the roof and he pointed at the plate. Anthea's brow furrowed and she worked to keep her nose from crinkling.

"They're biscuits for the table, sir." She answers. Mycroft was not amused by her answer, his face unchanging. "We could all use a little energy." Mycroft's licked his lips and pursed them. He tilted his head so he was more directly talking to Anthea.

"We talked about this, Miss James." He chided her. Most of the men around the table were watching with apprehension and maybe a tint of fear. Except for Porlock. He knew what this was about and looked bored by it.

"They're just biscuits, sir." She muttered back quietly. "Don't eat them." The tension from the other people in the room rose. Porlock almost smiled behind his file.

"It's not about the biscuits, Miss James. It's about your direct disobedience." He tapped on the table with his index finger like pointing at the facts. Anthea licked her lips and cocked her head. Direct disobedience? What disobedience?

"Is this about last night?" She asked. Mycroft's eyes flashed with a cold eat. Anthea perked up in her seat. "It is." She breathed. "No one forced you to eat any of that ice cream. And if you want some, so what?" She muttered, trying to keep her voice down so that not everyone could hear it. "You've been doing great."

"I'd be doing far better if it weren't for you now, wouldn't I?" Mycroft hissed back equally quiet. It didn't go unnoticed by the table however. Anthea let the words was over her. She rubbed her neck and looked up at the roof. It reminded her so much of when he kicked her out of their house. And he'd been so sweet to her lately. She nodded and pulled her chair closer to the table.

"Sorry, sir." She said, folding her hands under the table. "I didn't realise I was a burden to you." She said. Mycroft clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

"Don't twist my words, Anthea." He said.

"I'm not, sir." She said. "I already apologised to you, sir." The other people looked between them. Porlock put down his file and sighed. Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Stop it." He muttered. Anthea blinked innocently at him.

"I have. I'm following your directions a stated now, sir." She said.

"You're being impossible." Mycroft whispered.

"Actually I'm just agreeing. You're the one who's picking a fight." Anthea whispered back.

"I'm not trying to pick a fight. I'm trying to dissolve it." He replied. Anthea raised an eyebrow.

"How? By arguing with me every time I apologise? I'm sorry sir, that doesn't make sense to me." They held each other's gaze. Porlock cleared his throat.

"As much as I love watching Mycroft show some insecurities and demonstrate that he's human," Porlock said as he pulled on his suit jacket. "It would be much appreciated if this domestic could stay at home and we can use this time to successfully complete what we set out to do here today." His words caused a few hushed words around the table.

"Sorry, gentlemen." Anthea said directly to Porlock with a smile. She picked up the plate of biscuits and offered them out around the table. "Biscuit?" Mycroft watched her pass around the biscuits with a look of disdain on his face. He watched carefully as Porlock was the second to last to take one and Anthea took the last one. Mycroft took a deep breath in and folded his hands together on the table.

"Thus ends the entertainment portion of this morning's meeting." His trademark sarcasm falling right out of his mouth with practiced ease, the stone mask firmly back in place. "Shall we proceed with discussing manufacturers?"

Anthea was left to herself in the office for most of the afternoon. After lunch Mycroft went off to the club to no doubt sulk in silence. If it helped his state of mind then Anthea had no problem with it. It also meant she could work without making a mistake like, God forbid, accidentally putting too much sugar in his tea. She wasn't angry about what had transpired earlier that day in the meeting, she was a little stung by it, but she wasn't mad. It was just another one of those couples fights, this one had just happened in a time when they probably shouldn't be having a couple fight. Still, it was nice to get away from the man while he was no doubt thinking about and probably seething on it.

Much to Anthea's surprise, Mycroft entered the office. She had not expected to see him until he got home later. He entered, holding a hand behind his back. Anthea pouted her lips, watching him curiously.

"Hello, sir." She hummed as she watched. Mycroft didn't go over to the coatrack and take off his coat as was the normal routine. Hand still behind his back, he walked into the office and leisurely made his way up to Anthea's desk. She kept her eyes on his face as he approached, mildly concerned but very much intrigued. Mycroft pulled his hand away from behind his back and held it out to reveal a single long stemmed white rose. A tiny note was tied to it with a piece of twine.

Anthea gasped lightly, bouncing in her seat. With both hands she gently took the rose away from Mycroft. She held it to her nose and smelt the fragrance, letting the beauty wash over her. Mycroft watched her with glittering silver eyes. Anthea took a moment to admire the rose and look at every single perfect petal. It was so elegant and lovely. Finally she brought her attention to the tiny note that looked a bit like a toe tag.

For my only light. – M.

The hairs on the back of Anthea's neck stood up. There he goes, trying again, proving how thoughtful he could be when he wasn't being self-serving. Anthea met his eyes and smiled playfully.

"Mr. Holmes." She spoke the name affectionately.

"I think it has been firmly established that I can't do a thing without you." He spoke like presenting information in front of a board of his peers judging him. Anthea's smile grew to show her teeth.

"I know." She said.

"And I believe I reacted strongly this morning." He said.

"I know." Anthea repeated.

"You must take my word for it when I say I didn't mean to react so strongly towards a plate of biscuits." This was it, this was his apology. This was a far as he was going to go. Anthea loved him for it.

"I'm used to it." Anthea crinkled her nose. Mycroft quirked his eyebrow as he watched this very familiar facial expression.

"I do, however, wish you'd stayed completely professional and not behaved in a way befitting my partner." He hummed, looking at his hands. "The same can be said about me, of course, but you are my assistant." Anthea put the rose down gently across the front of her desk. She stood up and walked around her desk to face Mycroft without anything between that.

"I am sorry for that." She said. "But I'll never apologise for worrying about you. I'll worry about you as your assistant, as your girlfriend. I even worried about you as your ex and that's saying something." A laugh caught the ends of her words as she spoke. Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked away. She was apprehensive at first, but Anthea touched Mycroft's cheek and gently moved his face so he was facing her again. "You should let me help you more. I know your routines, I know your food habits, I know your history," Her thumb caressed his cheek. "And I know if you just let me help it would be so much easier for you. It doesn't have to be stressful. Not with me here." Mycroft took Anthea's hand off his face. He held it in his own hand and kissed her hand bellow the knuckles.

"Maybe." He said, looking down at her hand, memorising it. He let it go and it fell to Anthea's side.

"Maybe?" She asked. Mycroft looked up to the roof coyly.

"If I let you help that would be admitting you were correct." He hummed. Anthea barked a laugh. She stroked his arm.

"And the great Mycroft Holmes can't have that, can he?" She joked, earning herself a smirk from Mycroft.

"Of course not." He said. "If that were the case I'd owe you at least one other flower." Anthea looked at her beautiful white rose and felt the warmth. The warmth from the love in the flower, and from the levity of this conversation.

"Get me another orchid for the next one." Anthea teased. Mycroft scoffed.

"My, hasn't someone developed expensive taste?"

"It comes from living with you."

Author's Note: Let me know what you thought! Your reviews keep me going and inspired, and feeling happy no matter what. Also, no Eurus update, I know. We'll get further information on all that in the next chapter. Thanks to our guest reviewers; MH, enola, and Georgina. Thanks to everyone. And just a heads up! I'll be aiming for the usual 5 days thing but if my wrist/hand doesn't get any better and my family still needs my attention then I'll be 6 days again. Sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.