Author's Note: First of all some people didn't receive an email about last chapter so please MAKE SURE YOU READ last chapter before this one. Speaking of which, thanks for all the feedback this chapter! It means a lot, it really does. I'm relieved most of you are excited. I mean it is about firsts. Now to explain why this chapter is on time and not late. I'm stuck at home with some of the worst asthma in my life - I can't go to work or class and I can barely sleep. So 2 out of 3 of my assignments were done in 3 days so… I had time to write this and I thought I'd post it for you guys. I really 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 She Confirmed If She Was Pregnant

Of all the times for this to happen it had to be now, didn't it? Of all the times in Anthea's life where she could have dealt with something like this or maybe even been happy about this, it couldn't be one of them. No. When everything else had come crashing down around the people she loved and while they were all trying to pick up the pieces and build something out of the remains the universe had to throw in one more wrench to make it that much harder to build something recognisable out of the ashes.

Alice Clarke was orphaned in her teenaged years. This has been thoroughly established and the unintentionally insensitive people in her life love to remind her of this fact. While Alice Clarke was never the type to search out the fairy tale of getting married and having children, in fact she often ran from relationships, she was never opposed to the idea. In fact the idea of having blood relatives again and someone to love unconditionally often lighted a spark in Anthea's slightly cold hard. That was before, though. Before Anthea had decided that Mycroft Holmes was the only man she had ever and would ever be in love with. A life with Mycroft Holmes meant absolutely no chance of children and very little chance of marriage. She'd accepted this when they began dating. Any chance at a stereotypical life of kids and maybe a husband went out the window with Tim and her normal dating life. She'd grown to accept this.

Sure, there were times when Anthea might have even said she pined for kids. She'd so desperately wanted to take Rosie home from the hospital, and Hope was the greatest little thing Anthea had ever seen. That was her biological clock ticking. That was the side of her life she'd long discarded and she had been aware of that. She had accepted that. It was not meant to be for the shadowy assistant of the iceman, particular as his girlfriend. This was never going to be good news when dating Mycroft. It was always going to flip her world upside down and lead to choices Anthea really didn't want to have to make in the first place.

And now? When the world it was flipping upside down was already smashed? When Sherlock and John were living in John's late wife's house until Baker Street was repaired, when Mycroft's parents weren't talking to him, when Eurus existed, and when Anthea no longer had a connection to her blood relatives. What was it going to do now?

See? Anthea shouldn't even be worrying about this right now! She should be calling contractors for Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. She should be offering to look after Rosie with Molly. She should be keeping an eye on the awfully quiet by his standards Mycroft. Her genius had barely spoken a word since his parents left. That hurt puppy expression followed him everywhere and he didn't even want to be in the club. He just wanted to do go home and sit quietly in his dramatic darkness. Which usually Anthea would be relieved about because it meant she could keep an eye on him without invading his space by either walking into the room occasionally or sitting with him. Now, however, she was relieved because he was so lost in his mind that there was no way he'd pick up on what was wrong with her and that felt so wrong to her. Mycroft needed help, he needed comfort, and he needed to know that this Eurus mess wasn't entirely his fault. He needed to know that it didn't matter what his parents thought, that Anthea and Sherlock loved him, and maybe even his sister did but that still remained to be seen. Instead she was sitting at the kitchen counter worrying about how their little bit of fun in the Diogenes Club has probably affected her life forever no matter what choices are made and what that'll mean for her future.

Oh and the club. That stupid, stupid club! That place with all the pompous rich old white men who stared at her to this day like she didn't belong. That day in the club, it had been made that much sweeter by the fact that it felt like a little bit of revenge against the club. Now this. It was like a curse on Anthea, that place. First she had her first kiss with Mycroft there that lead to that beloved nondisclosure agreement. Now the one and only baby she would possibly ever conceive, especially with Mycroft, the child that she wasn't supposed to have was conceived in that silent club.

Oh, enough about that place. That meant nothing at this point. She'd have plenty of time to moan and complain about that place's curse on her in the future. This wasn't about the club. This was about everyone's lives.

This year hadn't been easy on the lives of the Holmes brother's and their friends and family. At the very least it seemed that all the dramatic events had occurred and now it was time to deal with the fallout.

Fall out? Is that really the way a woman should think of her possibly unborn baby? Of something created out of her and Mycroft Holmes. Someone who had the potential to be the sassiest and pompous person the world has ever seen… It was horrible to have such thoughts. Fall out. Then again, on another day one of her geniuses might remind Anthea that right now it was nothing more than a collection of cells. A collection of cells carrying the DNA of both her and Mycroft, but nothing with cognition. No matter what happened in the end it was okay to think of it that way right now. In the end it might help her make a decision to think of it that way. The unfertilised eggs she lost every month carried half that genetic material.

Still… Did this specific egg carry the DNA that would give the possible outcome her nose? Or her dad's smile. Would it get Mycroft's eyes or did that specific sperm carry Violet's lighter coloured eyes? Either way unless one of them carried something recessive, the outcome would have brown hair and given their family genetics curls or waves were practically unavoidable.

Stop it.

No point.

There is no point to this.

Anthea didn't even know for sure whether this was even a thing yet. She could be right and it could be stress and then she didn't even have to worry. Then she'd feel foolish for listening to Sherlock and ignoring her boyfriend who was so clearly trying to cling to firm footing as much as she was right now. Mycroft probably felt more alone right now than he ever had before. He needed her right now.

He needed her.

And to be honest. She needed him.

If she went to sit quietly in that room with him, in the dark in front of the fire, they could silently comfort each other without a word. She could be there for him and selfishly enjoy his company.

Then she wouldn't regret whatever decisions might arise tomorrow.

At least she'd get to be there for Mycroft tonight.

Whether it was through warnings and suggestions from Sherlock, the fact that John knew Anthea, the fact that they were all going through very similar things right now, or just that John was a good doctor, it was hard to say. Regardless of what one or combination it was, John was an incredible and patient doctor. It was little wonder he managed to equal out Sherlock and be the people person of the operation. The quick to annoy soldier was nowhere to be seen in an examination room.

John was leaning one elbow on his desk, fingers against his lips, as he read the results on his computer screen. Anthea, hands firm against her knees, did her best not to read it over his shoulder. She had stopped breathing and she was sure that if she looked ahead her heart might stop too.

"Well, there it is." John leaned back in his chair. He raised his eyebrows. "You're pregnant." Anthea's whole body froze as John crossed his arms against his chest. "The woman in black in the back of the car is pregnant." He was rambling and teasing in typical John fashion but Anthea couldn't hear it. She couldn't hear anything past pregnant.

So she was.

She was pregnant.

There was a collection of cells growing inside her that had the capacity to become a little person.

A little person that was half her and half Mycroft.

One that Mycroft absolutely never wanted.

Anthea couldn't stop herself. She leaned forward, burying her face into her hands, and began weeping. Like a pathetic child, one of the most intimidating women in the world began weeping in the doctor's office uncontrollable.

She felt like her life was over.

Because of a possible baby.

If she decided not to have it to salvage the life she has then she'd never get another chance at having a child. A child that could be so wonderful. It could be sassy, it could be intelligent, it could be musical, it could kind and reserved at the same time. It could remind her of her mother. It could be a whole new standard of a Holmes.

If she decided to have it, if she took this chance to have a child then she could be ruining every chance at rebuilding her life. Images of Mycroft's disgust when he had to hold an official's baby flashed in her head. How hard it was to even get to this point with him. How frightened he was of connecting to anyone. Even just their lives. Their dangerous lives was another reason he didn't even like to keep too many photos of Sherlock or his parents around.

What would Mycroft even say when she told him? What would he do? This was so not fair to him right now too. With his life crumbling he didn't need this either. He needed emotional support to keep together, how was he supposed to make these choices with Anthea?

Anthea sobbed harder.

"Oh, no." John pulled his wheelie chair closer to Anthea. He placed his hand on her back. "Oh, 'Thea. It's okay." He rubbed her back.

"No it's not." She said through the tears. "It's shit timing, John. It's the worst." John's hand stopped moving but stayed firmly against her back.

"Yeah, okay, it's shit." He nodded. "But it is what it is." The words were strangely comforting. While she still felt like her world was escaping her and leaving her in darkness the sobs began subsiding into more manageable sniffs and quiet tears. Anthea sat back up. She shook her head and cursed with a heavy sigh.

"This was never going to be good, but damn it." Anthea crunched her hand into a fist, feeling her nails dig into the palm of her hand. "Why now? Why with all this Eurus mess?"

"I thought you wanted a baby at some point?" John asked gently, trying to raise Anthea up out of the dark. Anthea's lip twitched.

"Yeah, I did." Anthea scoffed. "But Mycroft? You and Sherlock were right to laugh." John scowled.

"No we weren't. We were being jerks." He said.

"No, you were right." Anthea unclenched her fists and ran her hands through her hair, practically pulling on it. "You were jerks but you were right."

"Mary disagreed."

"Mary was my friend."

"Mary was honest." Anthea gave John an inquiring look. He held up a hand in defence.

"Maybe not all the time, but she was when it counted." He said. "When it came to the people who mattered. She was honest about that." John looked deep into Anthea's eyes. Anthea searched them finding nothing but kindness and truth. She looked down and shook her head again. As if disagreeing would make the problem go away.

"What am I supposed to do?" She whispered, talking more to herself than to John. "What am I go to do?" John sat silently for a few minutes to let Anthea breath. After what he probably thought was an awkward amount of time the Doctor cleared his throat.

"There are options." He said. Anthea laughed bitterly. Were any of the options the right option? Would any of them leave her happy and satisfied with life? Would she ever really be content again? "I want you to remember that there's more options than the obvious two." John continued. "There are open and closed adoptions. Sherlock thinks that might be easier for someone with a psychological profile like yours." Anthea laughed again. She wiped her eyes dry.

"So I see what Sherlock thinks." She said.

"No. I didn't say that." John said firmly. "He was talking about all the options in detail. He's just worried for the two of you, or three depending on what happens." Anthea laughed again. "Yeah, I know, I'd laugh too but he's fantastic with Rosie and I think he's realised a thing or two about Mycroft since Sherrinford." This time Anthea actually smirked a little and honestly rather than laughing bitterly.

"You mean realised he doesn't hate him?" Anthea said sarcastically. John smiled to see the sense of humour return. He rolled his eyes and nodded.

"That, and he doesn't want him dead." John added. Anthea barked a single honest laugh. "But honestly, any decision you guys make; Sherlock and I are will be there, okay? Sherlock thinks we're all family so we might as well act like it." Anthea sniffed. She licked her lips and rubbed her nose.

"I don't know what we're going to do. I don't even know what I want to do." She said breathlessly. "I've never felt this unsure about a decision in my life." She said.

"There's no rush yet." John said. "Take your time, talk to Mycroft about it, spend time really thinking about it. When you're ready call and we'll make the right referrals and appointments. Okay?" Anthea nodded.

She looked down at her knees and nodded silently again.

Her mind went blank.

She had no idea how to even begin thinking about this.

Then she thought of Mycroft.

Then she thought of Sherlock finding time to talk to John about it between times with his parents.

Anthea looked back up.

"Have you see Violet and Siger?" She asked John, her voice cracking on Siger's name. The doctor's mouth pulled into a tight line and he nodded.

"They're still upset with Mycroft today if that's what you're asking. Breakfast wasn't fun for Sherlock." He said. Anthea took a breath. That was a shame. She had hoped maybe they'd calmed down a little bit.

"Did Sherlock explain they can't go to Sherrinford until lock down in finished?" She asked, finding solace and a certain level of numbness being able to focus on another issue. John nodded.

"James sent over some of her files so they can see pictures of her and read some stuff about her." Good old James. Good, dependable James. Another little light of peace settled on Anthea.

"He's a good source to go through until they want to talk to Mycroft again." Anthea explained to John. "Tell Sherlock he can give his parent's James' number." John pulled a face as he looked at his computer screen.

"I don't think Sherlock will do that." He closed Anthea's file as he talked. "I think the sooner they have to talk to Mycroft the better in Sherlock's mind."

"Good little brother." Anthea said both teasingly and honestly. John scoffed and nodded with a dry smirk on his face.

"It'll all work out." He said. He sounded so sure.

Author's Note: Was it okay? I hope you enjoyed it. It's an average sized chapter because I wanted her to tell Mycroft next chapter. Thanks to our guest reviewers: Guest, Guesswho, Carrie, Madalina, B, Hazel, and Christie. Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews. I love you all. Next chapter should take a week. Really big assignment and stuff. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter in the meanwhile.