Author's Note: First of all, thanks so much for the awesome reviews I've been getting lately! It's all so exciting. Now onto business… So when I began this chapter I thought I was writing about taking Margot home, and then the writing took control of itself. Like I did last time this happened I just let it go where it wanted to go. I'd rather something flowing and real than something forced. I really hope you like it and this too lives up to expectations. This isn't what I entirely had in mind for this but it happened so naturally I am confident about 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 He Held Margot

The private room should have felt crowded and buzzing considering it was designed for peaceful time with one's premature baby. The nurse was in there with Violet and Anthea and Mycroft was outside the door on his phone – and he did not sound happy with whoever he was talking to. But Anthea was only focused on Margot in her arms as she held her up to her chest. Anthea muttered soft words of encouragement to her baby and some pleading ones.

"Come on, little on, you can do it. Please? Mummy wants to take you home. I know you can do it." She whispered. Violet was telling her to relax but she was watching with those Holmesian sharp eyes. The nurse hugged Margot's chart to her chest as she waited patiently. Every time she attempted to feed Margot the nurses told Anthea to take her time but she never felt capable of doing so. She and Mycroft were people who acted immediately and if they did wait everything was still fully in their control. Waiting for something to happen and feeling helpless felt like the walls closing in.

Anthea focused hard on her breathing this morning and now as she tried to feed Margot. That's something Mycroft had told her last night as they were going to bed. Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed and with his back to Anthea he spoke to her.

"Anxiety often manifests itself in shallow breathing." He said. Anthea frowned at the back of his head.

"Hmm?" She questioned is train of thought and why it needed to be said out loud.

"You're stressed. It effects your patience and I told you that Margot is sensitive to your emotions. Try deepening your breaths." Anthea's mouth pulled into a wry smile and she snorted.

"My child isn't eating and I don't know if it's me. Like breathing exercises will help." Anthea didn't mean it to sound so sharp but she was on edge every moment she was away from that hospital and her daughter. Mycroft turned on the bed and looked at Anthea with open, saddened eyes.

"I do it every time Sherlock gets himself into trouble." He said. Anthea's mouth fell flat. Her face melted into a soft expression. With Mycroft's love for his brother, with how much Anthea knew those situations freaked him out, then it had to work. The Ice Man always kept his cool. Except for that once… But Sherlock had been shot, he was almost dead.

"Just deepen the breaths then?" Anthea asked, as her quiet apology.

"And elongate them."

"More counting breaths?" Anthea teased, thinking of the birth and the classes. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Unfortunately." He smiled back at her but it didn't reach his eyes.

Anthea wasn't sure it was doing anything for Margot, maybe Mycroft was wrong about her feeling what Anthea was feeling, but it certainly worked on Anthea's patience. It made her feel more like herself and able to focus on Margot rather than the previous failures. It was a matter of time, she had to learn this eventually.

"The sooner we do this, the sooner you get to see your room and be home with Mummy." Anthea whispered. Okay, maybe she wasn't entirely patient, but she was doing well for her.

And then it finally happened. After using more patience than Anthea had it finally happened. Margot latched on and started sucking. It strange and extremely uncomfortable but Anthea barely noticed through her feeling of utter jubilation. Her eyes light up and she looked between Violet and the nurse with a large smile on her face. Margot had done it! The tiny thing had taught herself how to find food. The nurse pulled the chart away from her body and wrote something down.

"See, I told you it would happen eventually." She said sweetly as she wrote.

"She just needed to grow a little more." Violet said. She was holding her hands to her chest. The nurse laughed and nodded.

"Pretty much." The young woman said.

"That's my girl." Anthea said proudly of her little fighter. She started really feeling the sucking now. She could understand why some women really didn't like this. If Margot wasn't so little she might not do this. Margot was so small, though, and now she was willing to cooperate Anthea wasn't going to take it away from her. Not to mention Anthea was pretty stubborn herself and after all this hard work she wasn't going to stop immediately.

When Margot stopped eating the nurse asked Anthea if she knew how to burp her. Anthea said yes but, like a good nurse, she watched just to make sure. Violet looked offended that the nurse could even ask the mother of her grandchild such an inane question. It was sweet and so very Mycroft of her.

"Do I get to bring her home now?" Anthea asked as she lowered Margot back into her arms. The nurse laughed and again Violet didn't seem pleased by the laughter. Anthea however was fine with it.

"Not yet, sorry." She said. "If she eats again tonight then you can take her home in the morning." Violet pulled a face but said nothing as she understood it. Anthea's heart fell a little flat but only a little, after all, she was getting to take her baby home tomorrow. Anthea kissed Margot's head. The baby reached out and touched her face while she was doing it and made a small cry. Every time Margot did Anthea that felt directed at Anthea herself it made Anthea feel like she broke into pieces. No wonder Violet loved her children so much if this is how she felt for her babies.

"That's okay. Tomorrow just means your Daddy has time to mentally prepare." Anthea spoke in a light voice at Margot. Violet made a noise, probably directed at what they assumed her son's attitude to be.

The nurse excused herself and as she was leaving the room met Mycroft at the door on his way back in. Anthea, still the best personal assistant Mycroft could ask for, immediately thought of the phone call.

"Who was that? Important?" She asked. Mycroft closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and shook his head.

"It's nothing you should be concerned with right now, my dear." He said. That's not what Anthea asked.

"But was it important." She asked. Mycroft shook his head. "It didn't sound pleasant. You sounded upset."

"It's fine." Mycroft said, pulling on his cufflinks to neaten his sleeves. She really didn't believe him.

"Look, you can go to work, its fine." And she meant it, she really meant it. Work was important to her too and if he needed to put out fires she of all people understood it. It's not like his job was unimportant.

"No." Mycroft replied with some force. Violet looked up at him. "I'm here. If they can't handle me out of the office for a few days then there is something seriously wrong with the people working for this country." He wasn't looking at Anthea as he spoke, he was looking at tiny Margot in her arms. His explanation was enough for Violet to settle down back in her seat satisfied. Anthea wasn't but that's because, just like Mycroft she assumed, he priorities were split.

"Your daughter just had her first lunch." Violet said nonchalantly as she changed the subject. Her choice of words were very particular. Mycroft's eyebrows raised as he looked at his mother.

"Really?" He asked. His steel blue eyes landed on Anthea. "Should I bring the car around?" He asked without missing a beat. Okay, maybe he didn't need a moment to prepare. That caught Anthea off guard a little. Her breathe caught in her throat and she blinked once.

"Ah no, they want to keep her one more night." Anthea said. Mycroft silently mouthed an 'ah' and nodded.

"Unfortunate but understandable, and very responsible of the staff." He said. He was watching Margot again. Anthea hummed in agreeance even if it was a little saddening. She stroked Margot's head. She touched her nose and the baby made a noise again. It was cute, it was so cute that some if that sadness disappeared.

"Instead of staring," Violet's voice broke Anthea out of her trance with Margot. "Why don't you try holding her for a change?" She was talking to Mycroft apparently. The genius tensed.

"She's content in her mother's arms." He said. Violet clicked her tongue and the sighed.

"Oh, Mycroft!" She scolded him.

"What?" He hissed.

"She's not a bomb, and neither are you. Stop being so afraid that one of you is going to get hurt!" She chided. Anthea was surprised, her eyebrows shooting up. Was Violet correct? Or was this one of these situations where mother's got their children's motivations all wrong? It did sound a lot like Mycroft. Afraid to break a new being. Wow, that sounded just like him. He'd held Hope though. He'd held his siblings. What was the difference here? Margot was Anthea's and she was tiny. Was that it? Did he recognise how fragile she was and was afraid that he might break her? Or was he afraid of how fragile the ice around his heart was? It was hard to say.

"Mummy!" Mycroft whined like a teenager. To Anthea that was a sign that Violet was right.

"Myc!" Violet whined back. "You'll feel so much better after you hold her. You just need to be a grown up, push your fears aside, and hold your child." She said.

A beat.

Anthea watched as Mycroft folded his arms against his chest. That's exactly what she expected him to do.

"You realise now, Mummy, that I'm specifically not going to hold the baby now because you're telling me to." He said. Anthea laughed. She laughed from her whole body and it hurt. That was the exact response she was expecting. Margot was seeing her first Holmes family bickering. Anthea had expected it would have been Sherlock and Mycroft to bicker in front of Margot first, but this was just as perfect.

"Oh what are you, twelve years old?" Violet asked in that disappointed parents voice.

"Quiet," Mycroft held his finger to his lips. "Don't raise your voice in here." He said. He folded his arms back against his chest. "Now who's the grown up, hmm?"

"Mycroft!" Violet gave him the angry mother look. He rolled his eyes. Anthea laughed softly.

"I hope you get to see lots of this, Margot." Anthea said to the baby.

"I don't." Mycroft muttered under his breath.

Sherlock and John gave Mycroft and Anthea a gracious gift and took Violet and Siger out for dinner so Mycroft could escort only Anthea to the hospital in the evening. A year ago Anthea would have flat out thought it was John's idea – Sherlock would never do something so selfless if it impeded on him. However now she completely believed John when he texted her saying they decided on it together.

Mycroft sat across the small room as far from Anthea and Margot as possible. He watched carefully to see with his own eyes if Margot ate. It took time. Just like last time it took an eternity for Margot to do what she was supposed to do. She did get there and it felt like Margot was sucking stronger, like she got a hang of it. Mycroft and Anthea both visibly relaxed when Margot did begin eating. That meant she was growing and fighting and she would be coming home tomorrow.

Anthea looked at Mycroft inquisitively. Good? She was asking him silently. Is she doing well? Is this good progress? Is this all good?

Mycroft's face did something strange. It did that thing where it softened almost completely and he lost years off his face. The look in his eyes as he looked at Anthea was indescribable. She'd never seen anyone look at her that way before. She had seen that look before but not on Mycroft and certainly not directed at her. What was it?

Mycroft nodded. Good. His silent response.

Good.

She ate for longer this time which was, although uncomfortable, a relief. When Margot finished Anthea shifted her in her arms. She needed to fix her clothes now but it would be easier to do it without a premature newborn in her arms. The obvious thing was to put the baby back in the incubator but while they were here Anthea wanted Margot to feel loved and safe. She had all night to be alone and that was hard to think about.

"Do you mind?" Anthea asked Mycroft to hold Margot. "Just while I button up my blouse and readjust." She smiled playfully at her own expense, kind of never expecting herself to be a new mother and hear those kind of things come out of her mouth. That strange warmth that had come from Mycroft seeped away.

"Alice." He implored as if her request was one impossible to say yes to even if he wanted to. Anthea also deflated. She felt like she wanted to shield Margot from this attitude but that was ridiculous – she was just a baby. But if she felt warmth and joy then she should be able to feel negativity too. Anthea stroked her head.

"Mycroft, please." She said. He didn't move, he just silently begged the question away with the look of a sad dog on his face. Anthea wasn't having it. "I don't want her in the incubator while we're here for her to feel cared for." Anthea explained. Surely Mycroft got that, he gave her his name. Surely he cared for her. "Don't make me put her back in that box until we go." She begged but with dignity and grace. "I don't care what your reasoning is. For everything I've done for you, just for a second, please." AS she finished talking Mycroft tore his eyes away from her. He looked at the floor. In fact he studied the floor while his mouth contorted into a grimace.

Mycroft groaned as he swiftly stood up from the plastic seat. He came over and without a word outstretched his arms in anticipation for Anthea to hand over the baby. Feeling relief at the small victory Anthea handed her baby over to the man who should be the baby's father. Anthea knew better than to expect an awkward hand over, she'd seen Mycroft handle Hope with ease. It was when a baby was forced upon him and he had to accept for social reasons did he look uncomfortable. When his mind was on the comfort of the child he wasn't like that.

Margot protested at being handed over to what was essentially a stranger to her. She knew his voice but couldn't know his touch. Mycroft bounced her and very quietly hushed her. Anthea waited until she was settled before tending to her clothes, for both Margot's sake and Mycroft's sake. Anthea got herself settled as quickly as possible to fulfil her promise of it only being a second. As it turned out she could have taken her time.

Mycroft's gaze was transfixed on Margot's face. He was looking at her beautiful big blue eyes that, even though the colour might change, were those of an old soul. He looked at her nose up close; the bridge of her nose, the shape of the tip of her nose, memorising where it stopped on her face. He looked at her little lips and he touched her soft baby hair. His thumb caressed her cheek the way it had stroked Anthea's many times before. Anthea watched silently, not even daring to move, as Mycroft sketched their daughter out in his brain and put her somewhere in his memory palace. Up close he could see everything. He took her little hand and memorised the measurements of her finger in comparison to his finger they rested on. He did it all. Anthea could tell the moment he took her weight even if he'd seen the doctor's weigh-in. But most important to Anthea was that Mycroft was taking his time and allowing himself to feel something as he held this precious baby. It might not look like that to every with the same stoic posture and expression but it was all in those eyes; those steely blue eyes. They were shining and full of life as he examined – no – looked at Margot. If he was closed off from his heart then they'd be greyer and there would be no sign of the life they showed now.

Mycroft glanced over to Anthea to check on her progress and looked startled to find her not only finished but waiting on him. He had no idea just how much time he had just spent holding Margot and taking her in. Mycroft cleared his throat. He licked his bottom lip, bit the inside of it, and looked down at Margot's face.

"Pardon me." He said in a quiet and awkward voice. Anthea shook her head.

"Not a problem." She said with patience. He could take as long as he wanted, she wanted that for him, she wanted that for Margot, and she selfishly wanted it for herself. Mycroft looked at the baby again, his breathe caught in his throat. He looked like he was struggling to convince himself to give her up. Part of him wanted to keep holding her, part of him didn't. Was it fear like Violet thought? Fear of something breaking?

Anthea's theory was confirmed when the minute Mycroft started breathing again he tried to pass Margot to her. Anthea pouted and leaned back in her chair, rejecting her daughter in the hopes that it might make Mycroft hold her longer.

"I am fine having a break." She said, flashing a coy little smile. Mycroft's breath hitched. He titled his head and then shook it.

"No. Please." He said anxiously, his voice full of cracks and air. Hearing him speak like that, Anthea took Margot back. Mycroft, now free, stood up straight and stretched out his back. He stayed right in front of Anthea, looking down at Margot in her arms.

"Thanks, Myc." She said to him for taking her in the first place. A strangled laugh type noise escaped his mouth and he tilted his head again. Anthea eyed him suspiciously. "You don't have to be so nervous." She teased, knowing that she of all people could get away with it. "You did great. She was comfortable." The genius squinted. He scratched as his eyebrow as he hummed.

"She makes me feel like a teenager again." He muttered as he rubbed his forehead and Anthea wandered if he meant to say that out loud. Thanks to Violet she knew exactly what he was talking about. Anthea remembered Violet talking about when he lost weight as a teenager and hand a growth spurt. She had said he was all limbs, Anthea remembered that. So maybe he really was afraid of hurting the baby. She was so small and he had called her beautiful. It probably wasn't all physical either, it was probably more psychological. All hearts breath, and all that… Regardless, it was kind of cute to see him all worked out from holding their infant. Anthea chuckled softly.

"I've seen in combat and in other places," Anthea's eyebrows danced up and down. "I think you've got those long legs and arms completely under control." He quirked an eyebrow at Anthea's insinuation and she chuckled again. It made him relax a little. "Bring the chair over here." Anthea said, nodding to the chair he had been sitting in. Okay, maybe he didn't want to hold her anymore, maybe his brain had caught up with his heart, but he did like to watch her. He could do that much better right next to Anthea.

Mycroft glanced over at the chair. He picked up the plastic seat in one hand, glided it across the floor, and brought it next to Anthea. As Mycroft sat down Anthea instinctively leaned back towards him. He leaned in towards her too and watched Margot from above her shoulder.

Anthea and Mycroft were leaving for the night. Anthea had already kissed Margot goodbye. It was one of the hardest things for her to do so she took her time and made excuses to check her phone and look for her wallet just to extend the time with her daughter.

"Alice." Mycroft hummed Anthea's real name. She was in the middle of texting Jamie so she took her time to send it and then put her attention onto Mycroft. He was standing right next to the incubator, resting his hand casually on the edge of it. "What happened here tonight, it would be kind of you not to mention it to my parents?" His safety nets were back in place and he was sounding like himself again and confident and yet there was just that small hint of something else there. Anthea raised her eyebrows, lips slightly parted, in quiet intrigue. Her phone was still in her hands and she held it close to her chest. Mycroft pulled a face. "Particularly Mummy." He added in a mutter.

"Sure." Anthea replied. She pushed her hair out of her face.

"Thank you." Mycroft sighed.

"But," Anthea wasn't finished. "Why?" She asked. Mycroft's lip curled up and he looked across the room.

"You heard Mummy today." He exclaimed. "I don't want them to make a fuss over something so simple." The funny thing was it wouldn't be such a big deal if Mycroft hadn't turned it into one. Still, she got what he meant. He liked to operate in silence and shadows, and he never minded if true recognition never came his was. It was how he did business and it was what he did with Margot's name. It was even what he did all those times he's paid for Sherlock's rent without being asked and without a thank you.

"Of course." Anthea tried to give Mycroft an understanding smile like it really was more about his parents than him. "But they're around for a few more days, they'll think the next time is the first."

"Well then," Mycroft straightened his tie. "I'll be able to tell them that they're acting like that is the first time I've held my daughter when it's happened before." Did he even realise he said his daughter there? Anthea laughed at his words and rolled her eyes.

"That does sound like you; arrogant and sly." She crinkled her nose at him and he smiled smugly at her.

"That's both of us, my dear." He purred back to her. Anthea ignored how the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

"I know." She nodded. "That's why I'm going to let you do it." Mycroft pulled back and looked her up and down.

"Since when does my assistant let me do anything?" He chided teasingly. Anthea cracked up laughing.

"Remember when I said I was your John?" Anthea referred to a conversation from such a long time ago. "John lets Sherlock get away with Sherlock like behaviour. That's what I've been doing since the moment you hired me." Mycroft scoffed.

"Well you fail miserably quite often, then, my dear. Are you sure you're as good as you think you are?" He quizzed her. Anthea shrugged.

"I did my best with a used Holmes. With this brand new one I can mould good behaviour in right from the start." She said. Mycroft laughed.

"You don't think Mummy tried? You don't think my Grandmother tried with my mother and Rudy? And Rudy with Varya? Varya isn't even intelligent and she was a handful." He asked rhetorically, talking down to Anthea like trying to intimidate someone in one of their warehouses or whatever. Anthea just smiled back up to him. "There is something that you always forget about your dear daughter, Miss Clarke," Mycroft tapped on the incubator. "And that is that she is in equal parts a Holmes and a Vernet." Anthea scoffed in mock hurt which fell into soft laughter.

"Don't talk about my daughter like that." Anthea whispered.

"Never mind her, Margot." Mycroft turned his head towards the incubator but kept his gleaming steel eyes on Anthea. "It's not rude to point out how idiotic people are, nor do you have to put up with them. We're better than that."

"Stop it!" Anthea tapped him on the arm. "We have to go, they'll come to kick us out soon. Behave or I will tell your parents."

"You're lying, but we'll stop nonetheless." Mycroft replied in that smug tone of his, actually smiling at whatever victory he thought he had.

It was only on the way through the ward doors did Anthea realise what had happened during that little playful conversation. Mycroft had spoken to Margot. He held her today which was something important and a big step but he spoke to her. Mycroft spoke to a baby like she could understand him. He spoke to his daughter.

Author's Note: I had fun letting this chapter write itself and I hope you had fun reading it! There were a lot of guesses about how this was going to go down so I hope you're all at least somewhat pleased. Let me know! Thanks to last chapter's guest reviewers; Guest, Enola. B, and AbleFoxAlpha. Thanks to all of you! You're all so awesome and I will see you all again in five days!