Author's Note: Oh man, guys. You're all too sweet, you know that? The feedback was a great joy for me to read. Thank you! I hope I can keep this interesting for you guys. I, myself, am pretty pleased with this chapter but I hope you all like it too. 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 Sherlock Said Her Name
Anthea heard the knock at the door but ignored it. She had changed out of her pyjamas for the day but she had no intentions of leaving the couch where she was currently watching television. She hadn't slept fantastically and the only thing keeping her sane was having daytime television to waste brainwaves one. When she heard the click of the door opening followed by the soft crack of it closing again she rolled her eyes. There were only two, or rather three now, people she knew who had the skillset and guts to do something so rude. One of them had called her thirty times but would not turn up out of respect and another was nonresponding in a prison. That left only one option.
Anthea's theory was proved correct when she first saw the mop of curly brown hair pop around from the bookshelf that still acted as a room separator in her old flat. Trademark Belstaff coat on, hands shoved into the pockets, Sherlock Holmes and his big baby blue eyes searched the space. His gaze landed on her firmly and he relaxed a little in his large coat. Anthea wasn't even going to argue about the invasion of privacy. She'd had that talk before and it didn't work. She'd hit him and it didn't work.
"What are you doing here, Sherlock?" Anthea asked flatly. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and took a breath.
"After finding out you didn't go home last night I deduced that the talk with Mycroft must have gone negatively. Knowing you and how you interact with people it was easy to work out that you'd rather be alone than stay with one of your very short list of friends. Then it became where you went. Hotel? No. You wanted to think, you wanted to be by yourself and feel alone. Staff and other guests in a hotel would annoy you. A quick look at the listings revealed that your flat was up for rent meaning it was free for you to use. Then it was as simple as coming and checking my hypothesis." It was like he couldn't help himself – everything had to be a complicated deduction. Anthea knew the Holmes family and she didn't believe him for a second. She stared at him blankly.
"Or you had your homeless network follow me yesterday?" She asked. Sherlock shrugged in his coat.
"Or that…" He admitted sheepishly. "But it could have easily been the other way." Anthea rolled her eyes, smirking at the idiot genius. She knew how to talk to these Holmes, even Eurus. A Holmes child would have a hard time pulling the wool over her eyes. The idea was a little amusing, and a little frightening. Sherlock glanced at the television as voices raised on it. "What are you watching?" He asked. Anthea had to think for a second, she had honestly blanked on what she was watching. That's what happens when you're only using it for a distraction and don't actually care.
"Judge Judy." She recalled.
"Oh, I like her." Sherlock strolled around the room. He plopped himself onto the other side of the couch to Anthea with a heavy thud. Then he placed his shoes on the coffee table. "She's wrong sometimes, but I like her." Anthea sniffed a laugh again. Sherlock was such a child and yet so mature at the same time. The whole family was. Sometimes Anthea liked to wonder how Siger survived being the most grounded person in his house with these beautifully bright, eccentric, enlightened perpetual children. Skills that could be learnt? Or natural patience and understanding?
They quietly watched a segment of the show together. Not quite silent since Sherlock snorted or muttered things whenever someone was lying – and rather horribly. Anthea could tune it out, she was used to it. Mycroft did the same thing if she watched court shows at home. Anthea wasn't going to send Sherlock away – he wasn't hurting anyone being there – in fact it could be the thing keeping him sober if he was bored. Plus, being around a Holmes sibling felt a little bit more homely to her.
When the ads began Sherlock cleared his throat.
"So, Alice…" He muttered. An electric spark running through her spine, Anthea's head snapped to look at the detective. She stayed silent and frozen, like an animal observing and prepared to flea at a moment's notice. Sherlock smirked at the reaction. "Alice Clarke." He said so casually. "Orphaned only child sent to live with relatives. Went to a boarding school with none other than Jamie Thompson." He was so full of pomposity he could float away at any second. He looked as proud as a child who'd just ridden a bike for the first time. After all this time… Anthea was impressed. She leant the side of her forehead on her raised hand so it was slightly cocked, and one side of her mouth pulled into a smirk. Sherlock's glee only grew with Anthea's reaction.
"How?" She asked. Sherlock looked down to his hands and began fiddling with what looked like a receipt he had pulled out of the pocket of his coat.
"Eurus, actually." He nodded. Anthea jutted out her bottom lip, surprised to hear about anything coherent about the youngest Holmes.
"Is she talking?" Anthea asked. Mycroft would want to know that, too. Sherlock shook his head.
"Not responding traditionally, no." He said. "But she has repetitive responses to certain people, almost like mnemonic devices said out loud." He looked up at the wall but was staring right through it. "She hums songs, recites phrases or poetry. With Mummy and Daddy she describes the beach." Anthea sat up straight, intent on listening. "With you, she recites The Jabberwock." Anthea frowned, Sherlock agreed with her with a curt nod. "At first it made no sense to me either. Then I found out where it's from." As the pieces clicked together Anthea cursed under her breath.
"Alice in Wonderland." The name dropped from her mouth with venom.
"Actually it's from Through the Looking Glass, but yes. Alice, none-the-less." Of course it was. Of course it was Alice in Wonderland that gave it away. It was the way her life worked. And the brilliant part about it was that Eurus wasn't entirely conscious. She had no way to know what she had done let alone intentionally do it. "It was a little difficult to find out the rest due to Mycroft's coverings. Luckily I have spent my entire life digging up things he buries and knowing Jamie made it easier." Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. She blew air through her lips.
"Well done." She said.
"Thank you." Sherlock nodded.
"But it's Ali." She said. Sherlock looked at her like she was speaking another language. "You're correct, my name is Alice like your name is William." She explained. "But I'm Ali, not Alice." Satisfied that this hadn't ruined his great deduction, Sherlock accepted this with great dignity… for him.
"I still won." He said argued jovially.
"After a million years." Anthea scoffed. "Why now?" He was supposed to be too disinterested to put effort into it, he was supposed to not care. No clue from Eurus should have been enough to change that. The genius shrugged, his eyes hidden behind his mop of hair as he looked at the telly screen.
"There is the possibility of the next generation of Holmes. I should like to know what genes are interacting with ours." Sherlock answered somewhere between sheepishly and annoyed. AS per usual Anthea didn't know whether to be touched or insulted. She settled on touched – it meant that her and her possible baby meant something to Sherlock. Was he excited to be an uncle again? She'd make a note to tease him about it later when she was feeling up to it. Or now. Now was good.
"Sherlock Holmes, you care." She cooed. The detective practically bristled like a bird. "You care more than Mycroft, anyway." She added with an eye roll to try and shield some of her hurt. That got Sherlock's attention enough to get him to stop fiddling with the receipt and look at Anthea again.
"Reacted badly?" He asked.
"Barely reacted." Anthea corrected Sherlock. "Wants me to make the decision all on my own." Anthea folded her arms across her chest like giving herself a supportive hug. "Can you believe that?"
"That he wants you to make the decision on your own? Oh yes." Sherlock said so calmly. He looked back at the receipt. "I've learnt that Mycroft isn't as strong as I thought he was." Anthea learnt that years before Sherlock had. She'd seen Mycroft over his hospital bed and Mycroft after the fall. "Right now he's in a world where all his decisions are bad ones. I was in that place after Mary." The detective's features scrunched up as he fought down some deep emotions. "It's not a great place to be."
"You think he's scared?" Anthea asked cynically. Sherlock eyed her.
"Don't you?" His tone was honest. Anthea took a deep breath. She let her initial snarky remarks wash past and answer as honestly.
"Yes." She nodded so gently it would be easy to miss. "I think he's afraid his life is crumbling around him." Sherlock chuckled under his breath.
"I'm pretty sure as long as he was allowed in the Diogenes Club and could afford to dress in those stupid suits that Mycroft would be pretty satisfied with life." Sherlock smiled at whatever mental image he had in his head. "And you and me." Sherlock turned more pensive. "The club, suits, you and me. That's all he really needs, everything else is just… frosting on the cake. The decisions he's avoiding are the ones that can cost him you or me." A calm hit Anthea like being hit with a soft breeze. It was like a few pieces clicking into place.
"But he doesn't want children." She tried to argue with Sherlock and the calm.
"He didn't want to be a big brother, either." Sherlock muttered to the receipt. "He didn't want piano lessons anymore and has a piano in his house. He hates going to the theatre but recalls his school acting fondly. He didn't want a relationship and now lives with a woman. He despises talking to Mummy on the phone but used to call her once a week. He's above common entertainment but can recite his favourite films word for word. He's the laziest person I know but his fencing skills border on impeccable. He's not friends with James, or John, or Greg." Anthea rolled her eyes. She hit Sherlock's arm lightly with the back of her hand.
"Your point, detective?"
"My point, Not-Anthea," Sherlock teased back before actually getting to the point. "Is almost everything Mycroft excels at he never wanted to do in the first place. Change is his biggest fear but once it's routine he's not going to be able to live without it. It's the only way he's managed to keep the weight off." Fighting off that calm wasn't working. It was setting in and Anthea was beginning to think maybe she wasn't falling anymore.
"So, what do you want me to do?" She raised a shoulder in a shrug. "Tell your brother we're having a baby and he'll get used to it whether he likes it or not?"
"Are you going to keep it?" Sherlock asked, missing Anthea's question and analysing her words. Anthea realised what she said. The truth was she was seriously thinking about it. The more she thought about this little Holmes that could be her child the more attached to the collection of cells she got. If anyone could deal with a Holmes child it was her… and imagine a mini-Mycroft raised to embrace their feelings. It could be adorable. Anthea scrunched up her nose.
"I don't know." She exhaled. "I'm thinking about it." She pushed her hair out of her face. "But Mycroft's not going to accept being forced into fatherhood. It's not like your parents having a baby." Sherlock pouted. He moved his head from side to side.
"Maybe not, but I do think you're underestimating how important routine and habit are to him. He'll be searching for a compromise to keep you and avoid being responsible for ruining a life at the same time." Sherlock made Anthea laugh again. She rolled her eyes.
"I don't think ruining a life is why he doesn't want to be a father."
"Really?" Sherlock questioned her again, bright eyes staring at her. It gave Anthea a moment to pause. She didn't think it was the big reason. She knew there was a lot of fear but she had never really thought he was worried for the sake of a child. He just hated kids. Then again, she knew a lot of people who claimed to hate kids but were amazing parents. Carol was the big example. She had a scowl for most screaming children but she was fantastic with Katie, and she doted on Anthea like a mother would. Maybe he was a little afraid to ruin a life, the way Sherlock used to accuse him of ruining his and the way his parents now blamed him for Eurus.
"I can't wait around for him to make a choice, Sherlock." Anthea sighed. "There's only a finite amount of time I have to make this choice."
"So do what he says and make the choice on your own." Sherlock stated like it was obvious. "Do what you want to do and Mycroft will adapt. That's how I run my life."
"Okay…" Anthea nodded slowly. She fell quiet as she pondered her choices. All her thoughts kept coming back to keeping the kid. Keeping it with Mycroft, keeping it without Mycroft, keeping it and Mycroft just being Mummy's weird friend. This was her only chance to have a kid like this, or a kid at all. Should it be wasted when she really did want one? Just the one life had thrown at her.
"I always say he was a rubbish big brother," Sherlock was speaking reflectively. He didn't really seem to be talking to Anthea directly but she knew she was supposed to hear the words. "But all siblings have trouble and he was bloody brilliant. He spent days looking for my friend, he let me rename our dog and never said a word about it. He let me sleep in his bed when I had nightmares that I now know were caused by our sister. I think he could do this if he wanted to." Anthea leaned over and stroked Sherlock gently on the arm.
"I like this new Sherlock." She hummed gingerly. "Thoughtful and caring. It's nice." She leaned back on the couch again and folded her arms once more. "It took you long enough to get here, but I like it." Sherlock scowled to himself but uttered no words in disagreement.
"Don't tell Mycroft any of that." He mumbled to Anthea. "His ego is large enough already. He doesn't need me to inflate it." Anthea crinkled up her nose at the humour and adorableness.
"Agreed." She snickered. Suddenly Sherlock onto his feet, his coat swishing as he did.
"Now, I don't know about you but I am extremely bored and astoundingly hungry." He announced. The detective fiddled with his coat. He fixed his collar, shoved the receipt paper away in one pocket, and pulled his phone out of another pocket. "What do you say we go get some chips?" Anthea hadn't planned on leaving that flat at all today, not for a second, but looking at Sherlock now she was having a change of heart. His energy was renowned for being infectious and she would have to leave for food anyway. Then there was years of working for and being with Mycroft that trained her not to leave Sherlock alone if he was claiming to be bored.
"Yeah, okay." Anthea agreed. She pulled herself off the couch to stand next to Sherlock. She picked up the television remote and switched it off. Renting the place furnished was a brilliant idea. As she did this Sherlock typed away on his phone.
"If I'm correct, and I'm always correct, Molly has the day off today. We can stop at her place and pick her up if you want." He said while finishing whatever he was typing and pressing enter.
"Okay, but I don't want to tell her about... the possible baby yet." Anthea didn't want to tell anyone about it, not until she was absolutely certain. Then, when her mind was made up Jamie would have to be the first to know. Jamie would never forgive Anthea if a whole list of people found out about her niece or nephew before she did. Sherlock shoved his phone in his pocket. He nodded silently, looking at Anthea carefully. "And I don't want you to tell Mycroft you're talking to me or taking me for food either." She added.
"No problem." Sherlock said. Anthea pursed her lips.
"So what did you just say to him in that text message then?" She asked. Sherlock smirked, hands shoved into his pockets.
"I told him I found you. That's all." He answered wryly. "I'd let you read it but I deleted it." Anthea rolled her eyes. See, she understood how Holmes' work. She could stand a pretty good chance at raising one if she wanted to.
"Sure." She sung sarcastically. "Let's just go get Molly so I can eat, thanks."
"After you." Sherlock gestured to the door. Anthea rolled her eyes again but accepted the offer. She walked past the detective. She heard his footsteps just behind her as she walked to the door.
Author's Note: So, how was it? I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope it helped ease some of your worries. Thanks to our guest reviewers; Guests x3, Madalina, B, Jrose, A Fir Tree, Hazel, Christie, Tadaa, Bunnyrabbit100, Enola, and Guesswho. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. A lot of you have been around for a very long time at this point and some of you are quite new, and I appreciate every single one of you. See you in five days (Thursday) with a new chapter!