Author's Note: Firstly, here's my polite thank you for all the lovely reviews last chapter. Now I can apologise for being late and thank you for your patience. As you have some idea of I was in the middle of what I called assignment-geddon. I have five HUGE assignments due within days of each other. I had it under control – we're not passed all the due dates yet and I have them all submitted – but I felt like I couldn't breathe. Something needed to give so I told myself to not even think about this fic until I had them all done. I'm done. The next thing isn't due for two and a half weeks and work has settled down too so I'm good! I expected this to be done by Sunday but I wrote 5/6ths of it this evening. Whoops. Good for not making it later I guess…. So 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 He Asked Her To See Eurus

It was the baby's fault that Anthea woke up in the middle of the night. It was never Mycroft's fault these days, it was always the baby. This night was particular egregious. It wasn't that the baby was hungry or even that the baby was against Anthea's bladder and making her need to go to the toilet. No, this kid just decided that those few hours where you didn't know whether to call them late at night or early in the morning were the perfect hours to stretch out and do its exercises. Anthea was becoming increasingly worried that the baby was already showing signs that it had inherited the Holmes nocturnal trait that haunted them. They'd joked about it before but this was getting real.

As Anthea sat up in the bed she placed a hand on her abdomen and spoke to the baby.

"Violet, Mycroft, Eurus, and Sherlock, I get." Anthea said to her little one. "They get so focused they can't sleep. Eurus' brain is like Myc's but overdrive. Sherlock and Mycroft have both seen some horrible things and Violet thought she lost a daughter in a fire, there's a lot of reasons to have nightmares. But you?" Anthea stroked the bump with her thumb. "What's your excuse? Existential dreams? An important case? General moping?" Anthea smirked. "It's the moping, isn't it?" She laughed to her bump. "Myc is ridiculous and I was not a happy teenager. You're going to be great at pretending no one understands you." She could almost picture it; a youth with dark hair and blue eyes looking wistfully off in the distance, moping silently, because they didn't get their own way.

Anthea was getting sappy, and emotional, and excited. None of those things were good for this time at night when all she really wanted to do was get some sleep. Anthea would just go get something to drink, sip it in the kitchen, and then come back to bed. That should be enough time for the baby to settle down.

Before she got out of bed, out of habit, she turned to look at Mycroft. He wasn't there. There was no surprise there. She should have known when she woke up without a warm body right next to her that he was off somewhere else. Like father like child, Anthea supposed. Anthea could leave the genius be. He never explained why he got up, just mused about things if she came and found him. She could easily pretend she either never woke up or never noticed he was absent, or just give him his peace. But she couldn't do that. Her heart tugged on her to find him. She made fun of his family's habit but she really did have concern. She didn't know if it helped him to know she cared but Anthea liked to think every time she noticed he was gone and went to just say hello it helped him go to bed just a little bit quicker or put his mind at ease. She could never forget that he let her sleep on him at Jamie's house when she was injured and needed some comfort. Imagine the discomfort that whole night was for him.

New order of activities: Find Mycroft, get cup of tea, sip it (with Mycroft or alone depending on him), and then go back to bed.

It was common to find Mycroft standing behind the kitchen bench when he couldn't sleep. His first call to action was very often a cup of tea. Like so many times before there he was, glasses on his nose, dressing gown on, leaning forward on the kitchen counter. This time he was looking at something. A few pieces of paper with a fold crease through them sat in front of him and he was looking at them carefully – absorbing them, memorising them. Anthea's feet patted softly on the floor as she approached. Mycroft looked up from above his glasses to see her.

"You okay?" She asked quietly. Mycroft made a noise in his throat and Anthea knew that was the only answer she was going to receive.

"The real question is, are you?" His voice was smooth compared to the few cracks in hers. He must have woken up some time ago. Anthea placed her hands on the back of one of the stools, smiled softly, and nodded.

"I wasn't the one who wanted to get up." Anthea teased. Mycroft's eyes drifted down to Anthea's abdomen. He sniffed, his mouth twitched, and then he looked back at the pages. Anthea cocked her head as she tried to get a better look. The top one at least looked like a drawing. "What's that?" She asked. Mycroft inhaled, looked up, and passed over the badly folded pieces of paper to Anthea.

Anthea looked at the top one. It was a beautiful building. Large, with a wonderful garden. It was a lot like this place but had a charm that came out of novels about large wealthy families. The amazing part was it was hand drawn. Anthea could see every little stroke of the pencil. She could see how the one utensil was manipulated to make shaded trees and moss covered bricks.

"It's beautiful." Anthea awed. She turned to the next page. It was of Baker Street this time and was done by the same delicate hand. The numbers on the door were crooked and you could even see Mrs Hudson's curtains.

"Sherlock gave them to me yesterday when I went to see him." Mycroft answered flatly. That explains the creases. He folded them to put in his pocket and didn't think to take care of them. Anthea turned the page. This one was of the Diogenes Club. Two dark cars were parked out the front and there was even a man smoking standing at the door. "They're Eurus' work."

Anthea's blood ran cold and the hair on the back of her neck stood on edge. Her fingers loosened and she almost dropped the drawings in disgust right then and there. The only thing that stopped her was her love for Mycroft and his adoration for his family. Anthea swallowed nothing. She took a deep breath and looked back at the drawings.

"She gave them to him at his last visit. He said they were for me." Mycroft looked at his cup of tea. He moved it so the handle was facing him. "I don't know if there were instructions from Eurus to give them to me or if she meant for Sherlock to have them and he merely wanted to share them with me." That right there was why she didn't drop them. Forcing herself back into action Anthea turned to the last page. It was the Holmes family residence. The current one, the post-Eurus one. The front garden was perfect, Siger would love to see it. So if they were all related to the family then the first one had to be Musgrave before the fire. No wonder Mycroft had been enraptured by it. What must it be like to see it so vividly again? Although he probably visited it often in his mind. No doubt half the time it was on fire.

"Does it matter?" Anthea asked, addressing Mycroft's last words. "It's nice of Sherlock to remember to show you either way."

"You're right." Mycroft sighed. That sigh meant she wasn't right. It did matter to Mycroft. Anthea looked up from the page to look at the genius. He had that tortured look he always had in the middle of the night but it looked more intimate tonight. His eyes were bordering on sorrowful. That tends to happen when a sensitive soul spends time staring at an image of a long gone home. But it was more than that, it was what it represented.

He wanted Eurus to want him to have these.

"Sherlock is the only one Eurus will talk to." Mycroft spoke towards his cup rather than at Anthea. "I doubt she wanted anyone other than him to have them." Anthea's brow furrowed. She put the drawings down gently on the counter. She ran a hand through the crease, trying to smooth it out.

"Just because she won't speak to anyone doesn't mean she doesn't think about anyone else." Anthea offered. Mycroft looked at her cynically.

"Sherlock has always been her ultimate goal." He tried to say it without emotion. He might have tricked someone less versed in Mycroftian.

"I mean, yeah." Anthea shrugged her shoulder. "But you didn't see the weird things she asked me and how she threatened Robbie." Anthea was frowning but she crinkled her nose. Her own dislike of Eurus confused with her need to be supportive of Mycroft. "I think it was a whole 'only I'm allowed to hurt my brother' thing." Mycroft almost smiled. But then he rolled his blue eyes.

"That's just who she is." He muttered. What, threatening people? And he was saying it like it was nothing? That wasn't fair, he knew she was safest in Sherrinford for a reason. Anthea was just letting her own feelings get in the way again.

Anthea knew what she had to say next. She didn't want to, she really didn't want to, but it was the right thing to do. Anthea took a second to try and smooth out the crease some more.

"You know," She inhaled. "You haven't gone to see your sister by yourself since the incident." She pursed her lips wearily.

"I am aware." Mycroft answered in his flat tone. Anthea nervously tucked a curl behind her ear.

"If you miss her you could fix that." She said. Multiple emotions flashed through Mycroft's eyes.

"She doesn't want to see me." He sneered, lip lifting.

"You don't know that." Anthea shrugged her shoulders. "And you're the one in control so if you just want to go then go." Mycroft watched Anthea. His eyes studied her. Then they studied her mouth. Then her body language. Then back to her eyes. He went to speak but his breath caught in his throat. He tried again.

"I couldn't." The genius said. Anthea bit her lip.

"You could." She pushed despite her brain asking her to stop. Mycroft looked down at the drawings in front of Anthea.

"What is the point of going if she won't talk?" Mycroft asked. "If she won't look at me or acknowledge me?" He rubbed at his forehead. "She was never pleased to see me, she never feels anything towards anyone other than Sherlock, but at least she would say something." Part of Anthea wanted to say good point and drop the subject all together. But this whole Sherrinford thing was still such a sore point for Mycroft. Even after making up with his family you could feel the self-blame that radiated off him when they spoke about it.

"It took time to open up to Sherlock, didn't it?" The part of Anthea that wasn't selfish said. "Maybe that's what you need to do too." Mycroft took a deep breath. He looked away from the drawings and stared at the counter space right in front of him. Where was he in his mind right now? He spent minutes thinking.

The baby kicked.

Mycroft looked up.

"Would you-?" He cut himself off. Anthea felt herself grow cold all over again. If before had been chilly then this was icy. He was asking her to go with him. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

"Mycroft." She exhaled heavily, emptying her lungs completely. "I-" She shook her head.

I would sooner see Magnussen again. She thought.

I would sooner sit through Moriarty's torture again.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He turned his head slightly to the side and nodded slowly. He hummed and Anthea felt a sudden pang of guilt.

"Very well." He eventually said. Anthea felt herself wince.

"Mycroft." She said.

"It's completely understandable, my love." He said. He was saying my love to make her feel better but all it did was make her feel worse.

"I don't want to look at her in person again." Anthea explained herself. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"I understand. Of course you feel that way." He waved his hand lazily. "No doubt Doctor Watson feels the same way you do." Anthea looked longingly at empathetically at Mycroft. "It was selfish of me to even think of asking you." He hummed as calmly and soothingly as he could manage.

Anthea looked down at her hands on the stool. She hung her head and grunted. She wanted to end it now and go to bed happy with that response but she got the feeling that if she didn't go with him that Mycroft would never go to see his sister without the family again. He didn't want to but he so needed to see her without their precious Sherlock there. They had to begin rebuilding their relationship too, and not the one that had developed since Mycroft had found out she was alive and became her handler. They needed to be brother and sister again. The way he and Sherlock were brothers and the way Sherlock and Eurus were brother and sister.

Was there a way to blame this wave of empathy on the baby? It had to be the baby's fault and its stupid connection to this stupid family. It was the one who wanted the family to be whole again, not Anthea. She would be fine to pretend there wasn't a fifth member of that family.

"I'll go with you." Anthea huffed, looking back up at Mycroft.

"Ali, dear," Mycroft cocked his head to the side. "You don't have to do this. You feelings are justified." She knew that. But so were his and it was his family.

"I know I don't have to." She whispered. "But I want to." Anthea licked her lips. "So when you are ready to go see your sister I want to come with you for support." She crinkled her nose and added "Like any good assistant would." Mycroft's various levels of melancholy mixed with steely walls evaporated and he was left with the gentlest expression on his face. He looked so lovely when he managed to look so human. So when he smiled Anthea knew it was his genuine, heartbeat skipping, tingling sensation giving smile.

"Thank you, Alice." He said soulfully. Anthea shrugged her shoulder.

"Just being a good assistant." She smiled back at him. Mycroft sniffed a stifled laugh and looked back at the drawings. Anthea patted the back of the stool. "I did come down for tea but I'm tired now." She sighed. "I think I'll just grab a bottle of water and go back to bed."

"Okay, dear." Mycroft spoke softly.

Anthea walked around the counter into the kitchen. She opened the empty fridge and took out one of the four water bottles in the door of the fridge and closed it. She cracked the bottle open and took a quick sip before screwing the lid back on tightly. She stroked Mycroft's arm before walking away.

"Anthea." Mycroft called out suddenly, sounding like it was important. Anthea stopped and turned on her heels. She looked at Mycroft with eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"I don't tell you this often, mostly because I hired you in spite of this quality," Mycroft smirked playfully for a fleeting second before his face fell serious again. "But you have a great kindness for those you care about." Anthea laughed. She placed her hand on her bump and stroked it again.

"It's worse right now because of the hormones." She joked. Mycroft tried to smile but it was one of those fake smiles and only lasted half a second. He wasn't done.

"I am not that dissimilar to my sister." He mused. Anthea chewed on her lip and moved her head from side to side.

"In some ways." She agreed.

"Does it ever concern you, are you ever frightened by the possibility that-" Mycroft cut himself off with a sharp exhale. He looked down at the empty space on the counter in front of him. Anthea frowned.

"That what?" She asked. Mycroft cleared his throat. He shook his head and then wave his hand, dismissing whatever it was he was going to say.

"It doesn't matter." He replied, sounding distant.

"What?" Anthea asked again. Of course it mattered. Mycroft wouldn't bring it up if it wasn't at least important to him.

"Nothing." He gave her a feigned smile. His walls were back up in place. "The wandering mind tends to fall into fantasies." Not only did the smile not reach his eyes but they had that haunted look again.

"Mycroft." Anthea took a step forward. Mycroft held his hand up, palm facing Anthea in a stop signal.

"It isn't important, my dear." He said once more and slowly. "Go back to bed. I can't see myself being too far behind you." Anthea clenched her teeth, eyes narrowing. She didn't want to drop it. He was opening up a little bit tonight and that was good. She knew better than to push him though, and she was tired. So tired. The baby had so rudely woken her up like the Holmes it was. She sighed.

"Another time?" She asked.

"Should it ever matter, then yes." He said. Anthea didn't like that answer. "Go look after yourself." He nodded in the direction of the stairs. "You've been burdened enough for one night by multiple parties." Anthea would have laughed had she not been so suspicious.

"Alright." She answered only because she was tired and did need to go get some sleep. "I love you." She said, just to remind him.

"You've demonstrated as much here tonight." Mycroft's eyes at least lost some of their sorrow. "And I don't need to tell you that it's reciprocated." Anthea felt her heart increase in size at that.

"It would have taken less words than that." She teased.

"Do shut up and go to bed."

Author's Note: I thought this chapter was going to be 1500 words long. I was wrong but I didn't even noticed until I finished and checked the word count… What did you think? Was it okay? I think I very much like it so I hope you guys do. Thanks to our guest reviewers; Guests x2, Georgina, Christie, and catsdrwholock. Thanks to all of you – you're so awesome to me. I will see you in five days!