Author's Note: Thanks for the awesome reviews, guys! I am really pleased it was received like it was. So you will notice this chapter is late… Something happened. My asthma is really, really bad. Like I'm on the highest dose of prednisolone I have even been on in my life and at first I had to have a nebuliser ever 3-4 hours (now its 4-5 thank goodness. I can actually go to work again and small days of uni). So not getting steady sleep and not being able to breathe has… slowed me down. Not only with this but uni and work, too… and social life. So… You know, until I can breathe again it might be weekly. I hope you understand. I also hope this chapter is as good as you guys expected because after the last chapter you all wanted 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.

Margot's First Christmas

As it turns out, having family during the holidays made them quite a busy time. Used to quiet Christmases being alone or invited to Jamie's or Mycroft's, Anthea wasn't used to the holidays as an anti-vacation vacation. Not Christmas Eve. That was something Anthea would learn for the following year. Had things been spread to Christmas Eve as well it might have been easier.

Christmas Eve was dedicated to Mycroft's frame of mind. A quiet family time before the storm. Although while Anthea was double checking that she had all her presents for people he was… doing nothing. Not a single present under the tree was from him unless Anthea had signed both their names to it. Not untypical of course, from someone who was experiencing their first Christmas tree in eons. He had helped pick out Margot's presents but Anthea had written the labels. While someone else might have been concerned, upset, or even angry, Anthea had expected no less. The tree itself was quite the gift to the family – so were the holiday plans.

Christmas morning was breakfast with what Jamie had dubbed their 'chosen' family. James, Jamie, Hope, Anthea, Mycroft, and tiny Margot. A few hours as to not bother Mycroft but really an excuse for the girls to open their presents together and so Jamie could get as many photos of both of them as possible. Margot opening presents meant Anthea propping her up while she opened them but Jamie would get the photos anyway.

"Frosty's not going to do it."

It was true.

After that there was enough time to put Margot down for a nap and pack. They were to meet Sherlock, John, and Rosie at Violet and Siger's resident in time for an early dinner and stay the night. That was going to be the real test of Mycroft's patience. Particularly with all those people crammed into that cottage.

Boxing Day morning Mycroft and Sherlock were taking their parents to see Eurus. Anthea refused to go or let her baby go to the place Mycroft had described as literal hell. He did not argue. John had apparently said he'd rather not intrude (or just didn't want to more likely) and was going to stay back with Anthea, Margot, and Rosie.

It was a lot for two days. Anthea wasn't used to it, Mycroft certainly wasn't (not since there were grandparents to visit anyway), but Margot would probably grow up entirely accustomed to it.

Breakfast was all Jamie's doing with some assistance from James. Anthea was instructed to bring something so she bought croissants along with a selection of jams from some gourmet food store Mycroft took her to specifically for the occasion. James and Jamie cooked an entire English breakfast – minus black pudding because Jamie can barely look at the stuff without wanting to throw up. It was a great morning full of laughs (even Mycroft chuckled once or twice) and if this was the entirety of Christmas Anthea would have been completely happy for herself.

But there were kids to spoil!

To say Mycroft and Anthea spoiled Margot would be a lie. They could have gotten her so much more.

If they didn't already own half the stuff they liked in all the local places.

And if they had a better idea of what a young baby wants and needs.

She got some clothes, girly and boyish because obvious, many of them outfits in their own rights. She got some teddies but not many because nothing was apparently going to replace Patches. She got toys – all approved by Mycroft to do something for her development. Given that young children learn most through play that meant pretty much anything was approved.

Look, when she was old enough to say what she wanted then they'd cut back down to just that. Right now she owned practically nothing. They'll be better when she's older and needs to learn responsibility and ownership…

…

Hope got a lot too. It kind of comes with the territory when two kid's mothers are best friends and one takes the other Christmas shopping. A lot of the clothes Margot got was because Hope was getting a matching outfit. It was either the same thing, a different colour, or a similar style or ensemble. Anthea never thought she'd be up for that type of thing but… ah, kids change you and Jamie's excitement is infectious. Who knew what Mycroft thought of it as he watched the presents being opened.

Hope's toys were obviously catered to an older girl. Despite how sure Sherlock and Mycroft were that Margot was developing at what they considered an appropriate speed; Hope was still already one year old. That meant she could handle to play with a lot more. Though to be fair James was way more excited about the toys than she was and judging by Jamie's grin that was okay.

"Thanks for coming, sir." James had cornered Mycroft to speak to him quietly towards the end of the morning.

"Hmm?" Mycroft quirked an eyebrow, managing to look confused and bored at the same time.

"I know this isn't your scene," The agent explained as he rubbed his hand against the back of his head scuffing up his blond hair. "And Jay and I both have our own families to visit but…" James looked at the ground. He scrunched up his face, clicked his tongue, and shrugged. "I think Jay would way rather spend it with you guys and thanks for letting that happen for a bit."

Mycroft's expression fell into something of a curious neutral. He looked from James to Anthea, who was on the other side of the room conveniently not eavesdropping. She gave him a small polite smile to say if he was searching for an answer in her she didn't have one. Mycroft looked back at James. His steely blue eyes went up and down the agent in a careful and thorough way. Mycroft clasped his hand on James' shoulder, patted him, and walked away.

A quick nap, a nice quiet drive, and next up was the Holmes resident. Luckily due to the drive Anthea and Mycroft weren't expected to bring any food. Of course that didn't save either of them from having to help in the kitchen if asked upon.

They got there before Sherlock and John which could be seen as both a good thing and a bad thing. It meant Mycroft didn't have an audience while his parents fussed over him but also meant he'd have to sit through Sherlock's round of it and more cheery 'Merry Christmas's. The more he heard it the more dramatic his eye rolls were getting.

Margot was pretty much taken away from Anthea from the moment she got into the house. Luckily the temperamental baby was in good spirits. She loved being lavished over by her grandparents before her favourite uncle got there. She was even pleased to see the other of the two older girls in her life, making a squeal Rosie.

Presents were put off until after dinner. Violet had almost gotten them out but Mycroft had complained loudly that Margot had already opened enough for a few hours and she didn't need more bright colours and noises in her face if she was going to behave at dinner. Anthea translated it to mean that Mycroft didn't need more bright colours and noises in his face if he was going to behave at dinner. John told her they knew that without the translation. Sherlock laughed, Mycroft scowled.

Despite the ever growing storm cloud that grew over Mycroft throughout the day it was still frightfully obvious to Anthea what was his favourite part of the day. It wasn't when it was over. Dinner was done and presents were opened, sure, but noise and laughter were still around. Actually, it was even related to the presents.

Sherlock had gone out of the way to buy very educational toys for the young girls in his life. He'd gotten puzzles and books that Margot wouldn't be able to do without supervision or help for a very long time. Yet the little girl was just as awed and fascinated by all these things as she had been with all the spoils.

Sherlock had insisted on showing each girl their presents in great detail. It was while he sat with Margot in his lap showing her how to complete a very brightly coloured and simple puzzle while she held pieced and shook them or placed them down in other places that Mycroft looked most peaceful. He sat in one of the armchairs and watched. Expression soft, eyes open and calm, he watched contently as his little brother did a puzzle with his daughter. Anthea would file that memory away forever. She knew Violet was going to, too.

Christmas evening everyone was packed away into the available spaces in the house for sleeping. Naturally Mycroft's little family was put into his old bedroom. A cot, to no one's surprise, was set up by his old desk. The real question was, is the cot a purchase just in the time for Christmas or was in purchased far closer to Margot's birth? Perhaps soon they'd need to let Violet and Siger take Margot for a day or two to please them… If Anthea could bare it.

But enough of that. It was still Christmas and Anthea still had one thing to do.

Now dressed in her makeshift pyjamas, Anthea sat on Mycroft's bed with her arms folded across her chest and a small wrapped box besides her. She was giving Mycroft a poignant look while he carefully glanced over the items that had been placed on his desk by his mother to look at – or read for the most part – while they were visiting. Or just ignoring Anthea, you could say that.

"Now it's the end of the day," Anthea spoke to him anyway. "You can't get away with avoiding getting your gift now."

"I wasn't avoiding anything." Mycroft hummed, flicking through a small pamphlet type thing. "I knew what levels of sentimentality I had to put up with today. This was going to come whether I attempted to avoid it or not." Anthea crinkled her nose.

"Or you feel bad because there was nothing under the tree for me." She teased playfully. Mycroft's nose twitched. He looked over at Anthea with a rather blank expression.

"I never had a tree before. I didn't see the point." He said just as blankly. Anthea's eyebrows lifted in a confused frown like expression.

"So you did get me a gift?" She asked, still light. Mycroft frowned and nodded.

"It's rather a habit now, isn't it?" He asked. Anthea rolled her eyes but smiled brightly. Mycroft put down the pamphlet and walked over to his bag. He pulled out two identical jewellery boxes – unwrapped. As he sat down on the bed Anthea guided his hands to place the boxes down beside him.

"Me first." She said. "Let's get the feelings out of the way." Mycroft sniffed. His eyebrows danced up and down in amusement and agreeing with his partner.

Anthea handed over the box and waited for Mycroft to unwrap it.

To be honest she had struggled this year, way more than any other year. It was always a task getting Mycroft something but usually something fell into her lap. She usually just saw something that was so him she had to get it. This year she had to think. What do you get the man who can afford anything and gets uncomfortable at too much love and feelings? Well, Anthea attempted an idea she hoped was okay.

Mycroft took the thin black item from the box.

"Oh." He hummed sounding rather fake. "A new wallet." And that sounded sarcastically pleased. It was a sleek nice wallet with hidden fine details like the trim inside being a dark purple rather than black and the stitching was elegant. It was beautiful, dark, rich, and a little flamboyant – it was Mycroft. But…

"That's only the part I spent money on." Anthea teased. "Open it up." Mycroft's eyes held her gaze for a moment of hesitation before he opened the wallet.

Inside the window he found a piece of paper with coordinates written on it – and room for more. Mycroft took the paper from the window and held it carefully in his hand as he read each coordinate.

"Lots of people like photos in their wallets of people they love," Anthea explained. "But you have your reasons for not keeping many photos." She smiled as she stopped to watch him for a moment. "And I thought birthdates might be a bit obvious so I went with coordinates."

A beat.

"Addresses or birth locations?" Mycroft asked in a soft voice. He read over them again. "Given that there are two from the same location I'd say births."

"Yeah." Anthea nodded. The two that were the same would be Eurus and Sherlock. His parents were there, so was Varya. Margot was at the top of course. Anthea was in there. She had left room in case he wanted to add anymore of his own. Like James, or Hope, or John, or Mary.

Mycroft exhaled. His hand reached for his neck and gently rubbed on it. He then tilted his head and scratched at the corner of his eyebrow. Slowly he slipped the piece of paper back into the window of the wallet.

"Well..." He breathed. He placed the wallet down next to him. A few silent seconds passed. "Trust you to find a way to do that." He said. She had no idea what he was referring to but she smiled sweetly and satisfied nonetheless. "Now it's my turn for pointless sentimentality."

Mycroft picked up to the jewellery boxes He place them both in Anthea's hands.

"You only need to open one." He said as he let go of the boxes and of Anthea's hands. "They're quite identical. Although you might have to open both if the first one is Margot's and not yours."

Oh?

Anthea gave Mycroft a curious look which he returned just as playfully despite being eaten alive by feelings and hating it.

Alright. One of them. Anthea placed one of the boxes down in her lap so she might open the other one. Inside was a silver identity bracelet. Instead of Anthea's name – or real name – written on the bracelet there were four initials.

M.A.G.H.

Margot Audrey Grace Holmes.

Mycroft had gotten Anthea and Margot matching bracelets for Christmas. And it was Anthea who had found a way to do whatever that was, was it? This certainly felt like a heartfelt, well thought out gift.

If Anthea was more of a crier she might have cried then. She wasn't and she was feeling more herself as time from the birth passed on so instead she just had to blink a few times to keep herself together as she let out a few shaky breaths.

"Mycroft…" She said. Mycroft didn't move.

She looked up at him. Bless his poor, shielded, and locked up heart. It was always finding a way out these days and he was really beginning to let it. Anthea shook her head and wrapped her arms around Mycroft's neck, pulling him into an embrace. It started off with the normal stiffness but soon the genius settled into it, his arm finding its way onto Anthea's back.

"We're not going to be able to top this every Christmas." Anthea said with a heavy sigh trying to think of how they could beat each other's gifts.

"No, we're not." Mycroft agreed. They pulled apart from their hug but somehow their hands became intertwined. "At least you got your memorable first Christmas for Margot." He said. Anthea laughed and nodded.

"I did."

Author's Note: I was a bit unsure about this one. Chapters that start with a lot of describing and not much character action always makes me nervous. I'm well aware that character interaction is my strong suit so I worry about boring people. Let me know what you thought of it please. It makes me so happy to hear your thoughts! Thanks to guest reviewers; catmaoling100, Guest, and Guest E. Thanks to all my reviews, I really appreciate all of you. See you in a week when I can hopefully breathe better!