Author's Note: Hey guys! How are you? Thanks for the absolutely wonderful reviews last chapter. You flatter me too much. Also the link for the POV poll will be at the end. Busy week for me means I wanted to do something a little lighter for all our sakes. It should be enjoyable… I hope. 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 Had Night-time Cravings

It was the middle of the night. It was pitch black in the bedroom and all was peaceful. Even Mycroft appeared to be sleeping soundly. Anthea, on the other hand, couldn't get to sleep. Not with hunger gnawing at her stomach and her throat.

She was sleeping on her side with her back to Mycroft. He'd grown more comfortable with the fact that he slept much better with Anthea around and his elegant hand was currently resting on Anthea's hip. She wanted to roll over, hoping that moving into a different position might make her forget about the hunger, but no way did she want to disturb the sweet genius who barely got a full night's sleep. Instead she lifted her upper body up, weight on one of her elbows, and flipped over her pillows, giving them a whack with her free hand. She collapsed back into the bed. Time to try and sleep again.

Ten minutes later. Or at least it felt like then, it might have been a lot less… What felt like then minutes later and Anthea wasn't asleep and only feeling the hunger worse. She was considering going to get something to eat but she knew the kitchen was empty expect for a few night's worth of ingredients for dinner. Nothing she felt like and nothing that didn't require composition and preparation. Nope. She wasn't getting out of bed for that. She'd rather stay comfortable and warm, and keep Mycroft comfortable.

Anthea needed to try a different position. This wasn't working anymore. If she was going to stay in bed she deserved to be in a good position. She tried to slowly and carefully move as to not disturb Mycroft any more than his hand moving off her hip would. She rolled over onto her back, staring up at the pitch black ceiling as she pulled the blankets back into position. The pillows were uncomfortable again so she had to flip them once more. There that was… moderately better. Maybe enough to get some sleep now.

Five minutes later (Maybe?) and this was still not working out. Anthea really just wanted some custard, or some crisps, or both, or anything. No, she decided this wasn't her who was hungry. This wasn't her – she never craved food this badly in the middle of the night. This was the baby. The little one was hungry and demanding that its vehicle supplied it with nourishment. Stupid demanding little Holmes child. Barely alive and already telling its mother what to do. It was going to make its presence known no matter how tiny it was. Maybe it wasn't just the Holmes DNA; Anthea always got her way too. Her mum was like the wind and was a free spirited but her dad definitely knew what he wanted.

There was no available food in this house. All this talk of eating well and neither Anthea nor Mycroft had thought of stocking the food with snacks. This house was not pregnant woman friendly. Though that was to be expected of the home of Mycroft Holmes and his assistant who never ate at home and never expected children (or wanted them apparently). It wasn't fair and Anthea would have to remedy that… in the morning. She rolled back onto her side with a heavy sigh.

"What are you doing?" It was Mycroft's voice but it was thick with sleep. Groggy and muffled by his nose buried in his pillow. Anthea could just imagine the perturbed look hanging on his brow.

"Trying to get comfortable." Anthea answered in hushed tones. She heard Mycroft moan quietly.

"No, that is the behaviour." He retorted. "What is the cause?" Beautiful genius, always seeing through hidden things but never through the obvious. Anthea huffed and hit her head against the pillow.

"I'm hungry." She replied. Why play games? It was late, they were tired, and she was keeping them both up. Wait…. She had already decided it wasn't her who was hungry. "The little person is demanding food and it won't let me sleep." She corrected herself. Mycroft made another weird noise. He was thinking something. What, Anthea didn't know.

"Then put us both out of our misery and go eat something."

"We have nothing." Anthea answered immediately.

A beat.

Anthea felt Mycroft roll over onto his back.

"We have ginger nuts." He answered. "We also have bourbons." Anthea frowned into her pillow.

"It doesn't want tea biscuits, Myc. It's not us." She heard Mycroft sniff. He switched on his bedroom lamp and a dim yellow light flooded the room. It was dim enough that it did not hurt the eyes but enough that Anthea could now make out the red colour of the walls.

"And what, pray tell, does this little one want?" Mycroft was mocking her in his teasing way. She didn't know if he was seriously asking or not but she chose to answer anyway. Anthea hummed as she thought.

"Custard, and crisps, and ice cream." She answered, listing off her greatest wants. "And pickles."

"Pickles?" There was humour in Mycroft's voice, he was laughing. "Are you trying to be stereotypical?" Anthea rolled onto her other side so she could stare up at the genius' face.

"No, I'm serious." She crinkled her nose playfully as she could see Mycroft staring down his own nose at her. "I wish I was kidding but I would love that tart taste right about now." Mycroft looked down at Anthea. He stared at her for a good minute or two, distrust in his silvery eyes. He was debating something in his head and using Anthea as the visual stimuli. Then he groaned loudly like a teenager being told to do their chores. He dramatically flicked the duvet off his body and swivelled his legs off the bed.

"What are you doing?" Anthea asked, leaning on her elbow. Mycroft stood up and took his phone off his bedside table.

"I'm going to call security." He sighed in that over-the-top fashion. "Security or not, they work for me, one can make a trip to a convenience store." He muttered. "I make no guarantees on them being able to acquire pickles." Was that a joke? Anthea sniffed a laugh and buried herself back into the bed, cocooning herself in the blankets.

"Call me when the food gets here." She called out after Mycroft. He barked a sarcastic laugh and turned around just as he reached the doorframe.

"Hang on." He shook his head. "Why am I doing this? Why aren't you doing this" Their eyes held together, one pair accusingly and one pair playing innocent.

"Because you love me." Anthea answered. Mycroft merely continued to glare at her, so she continued. "And because you are partly responsible for the little creature threatening to eat me alive." Mycroft's eyebrows bounced up and down, amused by the images she conjured up with her words. "Mostly because you love me, and I love it, and it's hungry." Steel eyes rolled again. Once more the genius continued his way out the door to contact security.

Anthea was confused when her mobile phone began ringing, the vibrations causing it to dance in circles on her bedside table. Who would be calling at this hour? If this was a work emergency before she could get her food she was going to be so mad. She would be ready to kick whoever it was to kingdom come. She kind of hoped it was the CIA. She loathed most CIA agents. She peered over at the screen.

The main house.

Home? It was the landline downstairs? What on earth? Anthea picked up her mobile in bewilderment and answered it.

"Hello?" She asked with some hesitation.

"Your delivery is here, Your Majesty." The velvet smooth voice of Mycroft Holmes rang down the phone. Relief and annoyance washed over Anthea at the same time like twin waves.

"Why are you calling my phone?" Anthea asked in breathy annoyance.

"You told me to call you." Mycroft stated like a fact.

"I didn't mean like this."

"Oh, please." Mycroft scoffed. "There is no way I am yelling across this large house. And do you know what time it is? I'm not traversing the stairs more times than necessary. I rather think this is more convenient." Anthea looked up at the ceiling and shook her head.

"Weirdo." She muttered into the phone.

"Just hurry up."

Click.

Anthea hung up. She knew Mycroft well enough to know those would be his last words.

As Anthea sat up with her feet off the bed she considered taking the duvet downstairs with her. What changed her mind was knowing she'd have to bring the heavy thing back upstairs. So regrettably she left the warmth of the bed and searched for the warmest, biggest jumper she had. Putting it on, she went off on her way to the kitchen in search of that custard.

When she got to the kitchen she saw Mycroft taking two bowls out of the cupboard followed by fetching two spoons. He'd already emptied the contents of the plastic shopping bag and displayed them on the counter in a straight line in height order. Custard, ice cream, pickles, and crisps. Everything she had asked for. Her eyes must have lit up as when Mycroft spotted her the straight line that was his mouth pulled into a smirk. Anthea approached the bench.

"They even got the pickles at this time." She pouted her lips to show how impressed she was and nodded. Mycroft's eyes glittered with boyish mischief.

"Never underestimate those who work for me, my love." He said. Anthea laughed. She picked up the crisps.

"Considering I work for you, I never do underestimate myself." She replied with a joke as she read the label to see what brand and flavour they were.

"So what would you like?" Mycroft asked. Anthea looked up. The genius was leaning elegantly against the counter with a spoon in hand, waiting for her order. Even in his pyjamas and glasses hanging off his nose, Mycroft looked as smooth and debonair as ever. She wondered if he thought the same of her in her black jumper that was Robbie's and her trousers with holes in them. Then there was the fact that this strange loner of a genius had done this just for her. He'd gotten his staff to find these things and was serving it just for her. Well, maybe not just for her, yet it could possibly still be just for her. For so long she cursed falling in love with such a frightened child in the body of a determined loner. Look what happens when you get through the cracks in the ice to be someone he can't live without. It was like being one of the only people in the world… It was her job to do things for him but he did this for her.

Ignoring thoughts of attractiveness and love for the meanwhile, Anthea turned pack to what her little one wanted more than anything right now; food. She chewed on the side of her cheek as she thought. What did she want? That extra thick vanilla custard looked particularly enticing.

"I'm thinking the custard." She said. Mycroft nodded approvingly. He picked up the custard and twisted off the lid. As he poured it into the bowls, apparently the genius with the sweet tooth couldn't resist it either, Anthea felt a little dissatisfied. She absolutely wanted that custard but it felt like it wasn't enough. "And the pickles." She added, leaning over the counter and scooping up the jar of pickles. She used the free spoon to pop the lid. Mycroft was looking at her like an alien species. "Not together." She laughed. "I just want pickles too." The tall slender man looked exasperated as he passed over one of the bowls of custard.

"Like I care what you choose to do with your food." He said.

Mycroft picked up his own bowl and in such smooth actions scooped out a spoonful of custard and ate it. Anthea did the same. The custard was delightful on her tongue. It was worth the wait. Amazing even. And yet, it wasn't enough. The tiny baby demanded something different. A little deflated, Anthea put the spoon in the bowl. She used her thumb and index finger to fish out a pickle from the fresh jar. She could see Mycroft eyeing her as she took a bite from the end of the pickle. Equally nice, equally as satisfying. The unique flavour was closer to hitting the spot but still just missing. It was like a kiss that didn't quite have the right chemistry.

Hmm…

Anthea's eyes darted between the pickle in her hand and the bowl of custard on the counter. She caught sight of Mycroft looking at her like he knew what she was thinking. He was silently begging for her not to attempt it. But it only made sense! If both flavours were almost perfect, then the two together should be it.

Anthea dipped the pickle into the custard and ate it.

Mycroft choked.

It was. It was perfect. Anthea's brain knew the combination should have been disgusting but this was exactly what the little one was demanding. Tart and sweet at the same time, like Holmes geniuses themselves. Wonderful, amazing. She needed more. Anthea dipped the pickle again.

"Dear God, what is wrong with you?" Mycroft spoke. He heaved in a breath as he recovered from his choking moment. There was something growing inside of her – that was what was wrong with Anthea. If Mycroft was more secure about the baby thing Anthea would have made that joke. Anthea pulled a face and took another bite. Mycroft scowled.

"It's amazing, okay?" Anthea said defensively. Mycroft looked a little off colour.

"It ruins two perfectly good items of food." He retorted. Just for that Anthea did it again. Mycroft closed his eyes until the chewing passed. Anthea laughed lightly as he opened his eyes once more.

"Myc if it's bothering you, you can go back to bed." She smiled warmly at him. "You got us our food, I'm happy." She was getting used to this plural thing. It made Mycroft flinch visibly – it was a good thing Anthea didn't make that joke. Mycroft looked down at his custard. He looked back up with his mask in place and Anthea was certain he was about to go upstairs.

"Would you like ice cream with your food abomination?" He asked. The wave of relief returned on its own this time.

"Please." Anthea nodded. She watched as Mycroft opened the chocolate ice cream. As he put a scoop in her bowl she spoke again. "I really don't mind, being alone after a little help. I can do it."

"And let you make a mess of my kitchen?" Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and put the lid back on the ice cream. "I don't think so." He turned around and put the ice cream container in the freezer before returning to his plain vanilla custard.

Anthea hadn't been only talking about tonight in the kitchen… She might not have been talking about the kitchen at all. There was a fifty percent chance that Mycroft knew that. She appreciated his company either way.

Author's Note: Did you like it? I think you would have liked it. I think I know you guys and I think you would like it… Let me know your thoughts and feelings. Thanks to our guests; Christie, Hazel, Marie, Helen, Guests x2, and B. Thanks to all of you! See you all in five days.

Next Myc POV: There were three options that kept coming up so the poll consists of those three options. FFN doesn't like links so it's just modified. Get rid of dot and add an actual dot and you should be fine. strawpolldotcom/3fdzs81