Author's Note: Hi! Thanks for the awesome reviews last chapter, guys! Now, let me apologise to you. I started writing with the intentions to deliver what you guys wanted; the parents and Sherlock. However, as I started writing the chapter took a life of its own. It created its own first and decided that was the way I was going. It was awesome. Nothing is quite like being directed by the writing itself when you're writing. I'm sorry it's not what was promised though. If you still want a chapter with Sherlock and the parents then I'll do what I was supposed to do next chapter. But please read, review, and enjoy regardless!

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 Talked To The Baby

The house was quiet and empty, asides from Anthea. It was funny how the house still emanated with warmth and love even when empty. Anthea wondered if even a place as large as Musgrave Place had the same feel to it. Was it the house itself that created the feeling? Or the emotions of the people who lived in it? Nevertheless, the empty Holmes house was as warm and welcoming as ever despite the absence of its owners.

Siger, Violet, and Mycroft had gone. Today was the day they were to visit Sherrinford for the first time. Apparently they were all meeting Sherlock there, who had been visiting regularly and was going earlier today, and there was to be something of a violin recital. His little demonstration of the growth of Eurus and a nice gift for his parents.

Mycroft had been a little apprehensive of the whole thing that morning. Anthea really couldn't blame him. She could imagine how easy it would be to fear the love that his parents would feel the moment they saw Eurus and how that might lead to further loathing towards him. Anthea had tried to be supportive without bringing attention to an issue he'd insist didn't exist. She'd made him hug her and wished him to have a nice day. She never did that. She wasn't one of those women who wished their men well as they went out because she went out and worked hard too. To her, that rare have a nice day really meant "I love you, and good luck." Mycroft got that. She could tell by the solemn nod he gave her in return.

No one had asked Anthea if she wanted to go. It was a family thing. Not that she wasn't family, it was the immediate family and the family that had existed back then's thing. She wouldn't have been able to go anyway. She wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with the super genius now. Too many questions to get in order.

So Anthea stayed here, in the nice little house. She loved this place, it just made her happy. So happy and relaxed that she wanted to do something. She had settled on making those cookies that she had shown Mycroft she was good at. It would be a nice surprise to come home to if they day went well or poorly. It would be a happy treat or comfort food. Violet kept a well-stocked kitchen that was set out almost exactly as Mycroft's. This meant that Anthea was able to find everything she needed and quickly. While the cookies baked she cleaned up her mess and wiped down the kitchen further. After wiping down she put the newspapers in a neat pile – finding out that they received subscriptions to foreign papers also. She put away the books Mycroft had taken out and read in an evening. She wiped down the coffee table and dusted a bookshelf or two… or four.

By the time the cookies were done and placed on the cooling rack Anthea was feeling fatigue set in. It was ridiculous to be tired, really. She worked way harder than this at work. She'd run around foreign countries. She'd been in gunfights. Not to mention occasionally Anthea would go on a binge clean around her flat when she lived there or tackle a whole floor of the estate in one day. When you didn't have time to clean you often made a day of it when you had the time. To be tired after a tiny bit of cleaning and a tiny bit of baking just seemed stupid. As Anthea placed her hand on her slightly soft tummy she knew exactly who to blame. Another Holmes in her life giving her trouble and making her life difficult.

"You're just going to be another handful in my life, aren't you?" She spoke to the tiny baby. Anthea smirked and patted her stomach. "That's okay. I like a challenge."

Wait?

She frowned.

Did she just talk to her stomach?

Now, that was stupid.

Anthea wasn't one of those women.

Alice was never going to be one of those women.

Anthea saw pregnant women talking to their large bumps all the time and always found it strange. Why do they feel compelled to do that? They do know that they baby can't understand them, right? It has to come through as a strange echo-y muffled noise, right? They don't even know this kid yet, so why are they talking to it like it has a personality?

She had thought it was strange when Mary of all people had done it.

"Do you mind not kicking me in the kidneys?" Mary had looked down from her cup of hot chocolate to talk to her bump. Anthea frowned.

"What?" Anthea laughed, her brows still furrowed. Mary looked back up and smiled with great humour at Anthea.

"I talk to her, sometimes." She laughed. "Tell her off, more like it." She rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to teach her that Mummy isn't a punching bag but it's not going anywhere." Anthea, still frowning, had looked down at her coffee and twisted the mug around like she was Mycroft straightening his desk.

"I never took you for one of those women." Anthea quirked one eyebrow.

"Me neither." Mary agreed. Anthea looked back up at the blonde ex-assassin. She was smiling so fondly. "They look crazy." Of course Mary agreed with her! Mary almost always had the same opinion as Anthea. So Anthea wasn't being cold and unfeeling about it.

"So what changed?" Anthea asked. Mary pursed her lips. She shook her head in uncertainty and shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe it was the problems with John and talking to the baby meant I was talking to a bit of him." She offered, fishing for ideas. "Or maybe it's just something pregnant women do to build a connection. Like how we talk to animals."

"Animals have been born. They're not foetuses." Anthea teased. Mary sniffed a laugh, always appreciating Anthea or Mycroft's sass.

"Make fun of me all you want," She held her hands up in surrender. "I deserve it." She lowered her hands and pointed a finger at Anthea. "But when you do it one day I'll be there to mock you." Anthea sniffed.

"You'll be waiting a long time." Anthea spoke into her coffee mug. "Chances of a child right now? Zero. Chances of me talking my uterus? Zero." Mary placed her hand on the top of her rather large bump.

"For that we'll both laugh at her. Won't we, darling?" She looked back up at Anthea with a mocking smile. Anthea rolled her eyes.

At least Mary had admitted it was weird. At least Mary was aware that she looked crazy. Anthea had just done it without thinking and probably looked like she thought it was normal.

"Are you driving me crazy?" She spoke to her baby again. She flinched when she realised she did. This was so unlike her, but it had been unlike Mary, too. At least Jamie had been up front about it.

Jamie's serving of spaghetti was double the size of Anthea and James'. She inhaled the scent, breaking out in a contented smile. Anthea, who was living with James and Jamie at the time, made eye contact with James. The two laughed.

"You're hungry, hot stuff." James pointed out as the laughter died down.

"Yeah, I'm not really nauseous today so I'm taking advantage of it." Jamie explained. She looked down at her abdomen which was similar to how Anthea's was now. "You're letting me eat today, huh?" She teased lovingly. James laughed again, smiling loud a proud papa into his pasta. Anthea rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Oh shut up, Ali." Jamie lightly hit Anthea's arm with the back of her hand. "Yeah I'm one of them. I was always going to be one of them. It's you who's the weird one, not me." Only Jamie could say such words and still sound so friendly. Anthea crinkled her nose at her best friend.

"I thought you'd have a bump to talk into at least. You're talking to a thing this big." She indicated the baby's small size with her thumb and her index finger.

"I do it too." James announced, wiping some sauce from his face with a paper napkin. "Say goodnight to Jamie and the baby at the same time. Tell them I love them."

"Well duh, you do." Anthea said. There was a reason everyone called him a puppy dog.

"I think it just means we already love the kid." Jamie said with an air of superiority. "It means we're going to be awesome parents because it's only just a thing but we already love it enough to want to talk to it." Anthea's cool exterior melted a little at that. That sounded just like James and Jamie and it sounded so sweet. Maybe they had a point.

"Yeah, okay." Anthea shrugged to her best friend. "I'll forgive you for your crazy behaviour because everything you do out of love is a little crazy." Jamie looked content with this answer. She nodded and turned back to her food. She was about to eat when James added something.

"I think you're both crazy." He said. Jamie lowered her fork and Anthea quirked an eyebrow. The tall man gave a goofy smile. "It's sexy." Anthea scoffed.

"Don't flirt with both of us while I'm trying to eat, babe." Jamie told James off. "You'll make my nausea come back and I'll hate you forever." Then they kissed.

Jamie owned it the way no one else could. It was like it was a part of her that had always existed and like the rest of her you either accepted it or you could get lost. They always had that in common, she and Anthea, and that was surely why they got along so well. Mary fell into that category too.

Mary had said it was about building a connection.

Jamie said it was an act of love.

Anthea could see how they were both correct. Mary, as someone as skilled at shutting off as Mycroft, wasn't so quick to love everything but was incredible at making first contacts and lasting impressions. Building connections would lead to that deep love people like her were capable. Jamie had a fierce and strong heart. She loved with body and soul and would give a piece of it to anyone who asked. She'd take it away too, unless you deserved it, then she'd give you more. Hope owned most of Jamie's heart from the moment she became even a possibility. With the mouth on Jamie it only made sense that she'd want to talk to someone she loved so deeply.

So where was Anthea in this? Anthea who thought this was a stupid idea?

Anthea who avoided connecting with people she shouldn't and Alice who was never very good at making friends. How were her connections made? Robbie made the first move, Mycroft approached her, and Tim smiled first. Even Jamie initiated the friendship. James just started turning up and chatting to her at the office and that meant Carol was sometimes dragged around. John asked her out, and she had to talk to Molly about work. Alice and Anthea owned a small mysterious smile. They listened. She wasn't going to talk to the baby to make a connection, she'd rather listen and observe it. She'd seen it in the ultrasound, and that was a connection made. She would connect again when the baby grew and the bump was visible. She could already predict what the first movements would do to her. Connections came to her, she didn't make them. It wasn't that.

So that left Jamie's theory. An act of love. A mother showing her love for her unborn child. Did Anthea love this tiny thing growing inside of her? God, yes. From the moment she saw it was a real thing she really truly loved it. Even thinking about it tugged at her heart and that was no mean feat. Is that why she spoke to it? Love? That would be a little weird.

Says the woman who talks to her parent's graves and speaks to her mum about once a week. Anthea thought to herself.

She sniffed and smiled a little bitterly.

At least the baby was alive. Anthea talked to dead people. Did Jamie ever make fun of her for that? Even Mycroft let her do so.

So was it so crazy that she found herself talking to her unborn child? Maybe not. Maybe it was finally some real family to talk to again. Someone who might be a bit like her mum or a bit like her dad, in other words a bit like herself. Someone who'd roll their eyes at the same things whenever Mycroft said something or Jamie did something.

"Is that it?" Anthea did not look down, but she spoke to her child. "Is it because we're family? Am I so desperate for family that I'll talk to you? I don't even know when you develop ears and if it's happened yet." Anthea laughed and shook her head. "You and your father will both think I'm crazy, won't you?"

Connection. Love. Family. It's all the same really, isn't it? Anthea sighed.

"Maybe it's not a bad reason." Anthea stroked her abdomen. "But I don't plan to do this in front of others. This is just between you and me." Her stomach rumbled. Anthea laughed. "You don't care, do you little one?" She smiled. "You're just out for sweets. Typical Holmes." She'd reward the unborn child for listening to the ramblings of her crazy mother by having one cookie. They might as well establish a good working relationship now.

How's it going? Answer when you can. – A.

Fine. Recital is done. We're giving Mummy and Father some time alone with her before we go back in. – M.H.

You're having a cigarette, aren't you? – A.

No. – M.H.

I'm sorry. I'll try again. You and Sherlock are both having a cigarette, aren't you? – A.

I'm on my second. He's still on his first. I suspect he's humouring me. – M.H.

I knew you bought cigarettes on the way to your parents! – A.

Congratulations. Do you want a medal? – M.H.

No, it's just nice to feel smug about something. – A.

Why? What did you do? – M.H.

Did you burn the house down trying to bake? – M.H.

I've had one family home burn down. I swear to God, Anthea, if you destroyed another I'm going to have to go into deep therapy. – M.H.

The house is fine! I'm good at the cookies. – A.

Once. I never saw a repeat experiment under the same conditions. – M.H.

Shut up. No. I talked to my baby today. – A.

So? – M.H.

So? It's insane! I hate how women do that. – A.

Mummy did it. If a certified genius did it, my dear, then there is nothing wrong with a woman of only above average intelligence doing it. – M.H.

Thanks? – A.

You're welcome. – M.H.

Put out that third cigarette. It's only your sister. – A.

I'm going to ignore you and go back to making small talk with my brother. – M.H.

Love you. – A.

Obviously. – M.H. xx.

Mycroft didn't think it was crazy. In fact, Mycroft seemed to think it was normal. Maybe the baby wouldn't think she was crazy either.

Still, this would remain between her and her little one for as long as possible.

No one else needed to know about their little talks.

Author's Note: Well? Despite it not being what you wanted, was it alright? I really hope so. I had so much fun writing it. Do let me know if you want the promised chapter. Also, I have no special plans for chapter 200. It doesn't line up with anything the way 100 did so if you want to make suggestions I'm all ears. I might not do it, but I'd love some inspiration. Thanks to last chapter's guest reviewers; Sophie, Singing Ferret, Guests x2, B, and Madalina. Thanks to all of you. Let me know what you thought of this runaway chapter. I'll see you again in five days.