Author's Note: Ok so I can't just go and say that last chapter was half of a whole idea for a whole chapter and then disappear on you guys again. Although it was tempting. The idea of writing Sherlock himself again was frightening. It would be a disservice to the love I have received since posting. I continue to love seeing so many familiar names and display pictures. Also, still new kudos! You guys are absolutely incredible and I'm not sure I deserve it. If you continue to want me to update once in a while when the whim takes me let me know. I'm considering putting a list together of things I never got around to so whenever I want to dip my toe back in here I can cross something off that makes sense. Am I avoiding talking about this chapter? Yes. Please read, review, and most importantly enjoy!

P.S. No strict soundtrack for this chapter. I did listen to Green Day's Father of All… album but that was psych-up music to get my fingers typing.

The First Time Sherlock Found Out About the Engagement

How 221 Baker Street came out of the bombing looking almost identical to how it previously had was thanks to the stubbornness of either Sherlock Holmes or his land lady. To all those who knew them it was more put on Sherlock but one should never underestimate an old lady's creature comforts and habits. Or so Mycroft had said as he put up with Sherlock trying to find the exact type of wallpaper before considering having it bespoke made to hurry things along.

It wasn't identical though, of course. The discarded caterpillar plush half way up the stairs and the fresh puree stain spoke to that. Mycroft turned to glance over his shoulder as he stepped around the caterpillar to warn Anthea silently of the impending danger. Anthea smiled into her phone. 221B in particular was never a tidy place to visit. A child's belonging just made it more homey and far less concerning when it used to be bags and strange items littering the way.

Mycroft hadn't even knocked on the door with the handle of his umbrella when the door to the second-floor flat was pulled open. Bright blue eyes, full of vigour, scanned the face of his brother, then looked down at the assistant always a step behind, then looked further. Sherlock's expression fell flat.

"Oh." He uttered. Mycroft tilted his head to the side, tapping his umbrella on the ground.

"Oh?" He questioned mockingly.

"You bring her," Sherlock nodded boredly at Anthea. "But not her." Anthea scoffed and laughed. Mycroft's postured tensed. He looked over at Anthea once more and raised an eyebrow. Anthea rolled her eyes and smirked. Once upon a time that might have been offensive but that was a long time ago.

Sherlock disappeared into the flat. Mycroft straightened his tie and follow his brother in.

"What a wonderful greeting for someone who has been in your life for such a long time, brother mine." Mycroft sung sarcastically. Ever the silent assistant, Anthea took the last few steps up and entered behind her boss. Sherlock closed something on his laptop and the closed the machine itself. He was dressed in his usual black suit jacket and pants. He looked clean, well, and maybe even happy despite his annoyance by the guests in his flat.

"Exactly." Sherlock replied. "All I have to do is send a vague text in Ali's direction and I can summon her out of thin air. Same goes for you. It's a far greater pleasure to see your daughter than either of you two." Sherlock stopped and frowned to himself. He looked passed his brother to Anthea. "No offence." He offered and he meant it. Anthea let out a breathless laugh.

"None taken." She meant it to. Mycroft let out a heavy breath.

"I do not think it counts as character growth to simply acknowledge your short comings, Sherlock." Mycroft's eyebrows danced as he scolded. "Some would suggest that you change your behaviour." Sherlock came over to the arm chairs. He placed his hands on the top of his chair and looked at his brother with a challenging look.

"And do you speak for experience, brother dear?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft hummed and glared darkly. Sherlock smiled. He gestured to John's chair and Mycroft took the invitation to sit down as Sherlock practically flopped into his own chair. Anthea quietly placed herself down on the couch next to Rosie's dolls.

"How is she?" Sherlock asked with a warm expression.

"Your niece?" Mycroft asked.

"Your daughter." Sherlock corrected. Mycroft scoffed, folding one knee over the other.

"Terrible, horrendous." Mycroft flicked his wrist. "The child can't even walk yet and she's a dictator." Sherlock looked at Anthea who rolled her eyes. "She seems to think simply because she knows how to summon us by name, she has a right to do so and stop us in our tracks whatever we may doing so we can cater to her every whim." Sherlock's mouth pulled into an amused smile.

"And doesn't she possess that power?" He asked his brother.

"Oh absolutely," Mycroft hummed with a nod. "But she could learn to spare us our dignity and not make it so glaringly obvious for all the world to see." Sherlock looked to Anthea again.

"She's doing great." Anthea assured. Sherlock hummed thoughtfully. Always an afterthought in these conversations, and quite frankly with the way they snipe at each other Anthea preferred it that way, Sherlock turned back to his older brother.

"So, this is a social visit then?" She questioned. Mycroft turned his head ever so slightly to the side, silently enquiring. Sherlock took a breath and nodded to Anthea. "If you're dropping off a case you rarely bring her unless you're off somewhere." Her again. "Or it's just her but I think you put a stop to that after we cleared her bank account." Mycroft sneered and his brother had a look of something between ashamed and proud. "The only other times she tags along is to make sure you say something you wouldn't otherwise say."

"Perhaps she wished to see you." Mycroft offered lazily. Anthea couldn't stop the light laugh that escaped her throat. She winced and smiled at the Holmes with the floppy curls.

"No offence." She echoed his words back at him.

"None taken." The sparkle in his eyes said that he meant that statement just as much as she had previously. Okay, maybe she wasn't immune to the familial sniping. Mycroft pursed his lips.

"What does it say about me that out of three siblings I am apparently the only one so thoroughly predictable?" Sherlock pushed his fingers together, creating a tent in the space, and pressed the tips of his index fingers to his mouth.

"That you're the lazy one?" He asked. Steel and sky held each other. "That, or you're the responsible big brother."

"Tell that to Mummy." Mycroft quipped, tapping the umbrella on the ground. Sherlock sniffed.

"Are we going to hold that against her forever?" Sherlock asked.

"You bet." Anthea interrupted. As much as she loved Violet there was always going to be a part of her that held hurt for how she and Siger treated Mycroft post Eurus. Mycroft's lips pulled into a bemused smile.

"Alice has started her own list." Mycroft announced. Sherlocks eyebrows raised.

"Oh!" He peeped. "Took you long enough." Anthea let the gentle mirth show on her face as her attention remained on an email.

Mycroft's deep gaze went from Anthea up the wallpapered wall. He pulled a distant but intrigued face and gestured to it lazily.

"We decided against a total duplication, then?" He asked. Sherlock glanced at the wall and hummed. Anthea locked her phone and twisted her body to look up at the wall behind her. A frame item was on the wall.

"John's sister's idea." Sherlock explained in that flat Holmes tone of voice they used when hiding something else. Anthea stood up to get a better look.

On the black and white wallpapered wall was a white multi-photo picture frame. Each photo was of Mary with someone she knew and one of her by herself.

"She says it's a good idea for Rosie to feel like her mother loved and was… is loved." Sherlock explained.

"Does John's sister think she's a psychologist?" Mycroft asked.

"I know." Sherlock moaned. "But I understand the merit." He conceded. Mycroft hummed.

There were a few of her and John together just the two of them. There was a really cute one of Mary and Sherlock where they both looked in the throes of laughter. A few photos of Mary, John, Sherlock, and Rosie. One of just Mary and Rosie on the day she was born. A wedding party photo. Some photos of people that must have been friends of Mary's.

"I am in no position to argue what is healthy and not healthy for a widow, a mother-less child, and the family third wheel." Mycroft said.

"Third-wheel?" Sherlock laughed.

There was a photo from that Christmas that Anthea missed out on of Mary and John with the Holmes family – Wiggins must have taken the photo – where Mycroft and Sherlock looked as dour as ever. There was the sweetest photo of Molly with Rosie in her arms sitting next Mary. Even Greg Lestrade had made it into it by means of a photo from the christening. The man certainly had an inviting smile. Mrs Hudson had managed to make her way into three photos by means of being the ever-present maternal figure.

How on earth they had managed to get a photo of Anthea and Mary together that looked so candid Anthea would never know. Anthea and Mary were both hyper aware of cameras both had a tendency to avoid them if they didn't want a photo taken. For Anthea that was most of the time. Yet here was a photo of them standing near Mary's front door both looking like the cats who caught the canary. That typical 'I-know-something-you-don't-know' look Anthea used every day in her job and Mary let slip from time to time in her second life. Anthea was a little annoyed that someone – presumably John – had managed to get a photo of her without her consent but at least he'd gotten one that felt like it summed up Anthea and Mary. Two women with names that weren't their own and quite pleased about it.

Anthea pointed to the photo with the back of her nail.

"You got me." She announced.

"Of course we did." Sherlock's voice sounded petulantly behind her like it was obvious.

"I should kill John for that." Anthea mused. She folded her arms across her chest. "The unnamed assistant doesn't consent to being in family photos."

"The unnamed assistant shouldn't have visited Mary and Rosie in hospital then." Sherlock teased. Anthea shot a look at him.

"No, I shouldn't have. Not when you and John laughed at me." She pointed at him. Mycroft's brows furrowed.

"You what?" He leaned forward, questioning his brother. Sherlock's bright blue eyes fell back to his brother before he waved him off.

"Ancient history." Sherlock dismissed. Anthea cocked her head to the side.

"They made fun of me for my biological clock ticking while dating the Ice Man." Anthea explained drolly. Brow still furrowed; Mycroft nodded in understanding.

"Like I said," Sherlock widened his eyes. "Ancient history. Look how all that turned out." He pulled his long legs up into his chair and leaned forward. "So, social visit. Why?" The detective tried to steer the conversation back onto his chosen topic.

The sound of the front door being pulled open followed by slamming echoed up the stairs and through 221B stopping further conversation. Anthea turned away from the photos to glance down the stairs. Step by heavy step John, head down, made his way up to his flat.

"Right, Sherlock!" The Doctor called up. "Rosie's all settled with Molly. We have about four hours to go see whatever terrible crime scene you just had to drag me to now…" His loud jovial voice trailed off as he made it to the still open door.

John's eyes looked grey in this lighting as they landed on Anthea. She put on her careful cat-canary smile. He looked over at Mycroft and Sherlock. Mycroft minded his own business while Sherlock offered a quiet smile of her own. Anthea suspected that Sherlock and John hadn't wanted Anthea and Mycroft to know about whatever murder, and Anthea guessed it had to be a murder, they were about to look into. It seemed that Anthea and Mycroft were of the same mind and planned to let them keep their secret for now.

"Right." John cleared his throat. "Hey Anthea." He greeted. Anthea went to reply only to be cut off by Sherlock.

"Ali." He spoke. Anthea rolled her eyes. John looked at him then at Anthea and smiled.

"Not working then?" He asked. Again, Anthea would have answered herself if Sherlock had given her the chance.

"No, they're not." He interjected. "But even if they were it hardly matters anymore, does it? Anthea, Amy, Anna, Amanda. They're all just masks for Ali." Sharp blue eyes drilled into Anthea's skull. Mycroft took in a long-suffering breath that seemed to connect somewhere deep in John's soul as John's mouth pulled into a smile.

"Anthea, Ali, whatever your name is." John shook his head as he shut the door up to the flat. "Mycroft." He offered a greeting to the eldest Holmes sibling who gave him a small nod. "Has Sherlock offered you guys tea or coffee?" He looked between the couple. Mycroft and Anthea silently exchanged a look. John grunted. "You've been here how long and he hasn't offered you anything?"

"In all fairness, Dr. Watson," Mycroft began, not looking at the doctor in question. "We haven't been here that long in the scheme of things."

"It doesn't matter." John dropped his phone and keys on the coffee table then began walking into the kitchen. "We've been working on client curtseys, haven't we Sherlock?" John scolded Sherlock for some forgotten lesson.

"They're not clients." Sherlock argued. "And I never offer Mycroft anything." At that Mycroft's mouth pulled up into something close to a smile which Sherlock reciprocated. John muttered something to himself in the kitchen as he switched on the kettle.

"Tea alright?" He asked the guests.

"Please." Anthea laughed.

"If it's no trouble, John." Mycroft sighed.

Anthea unlocked her phone and went back to working. She zoned out Mycroft and Sherlock talking and the sound of the kettle and various teas being prepared. She focused on deleting anything that they really didn't need to know after giving it a cursory glance over and then filing away anything that was just an FYI so anything important could be dealt with later.

After some time passed Anthea was aware of a cup of tea being held out to her out of the corner of her eye. She locked her phone, looked up at John and smiled. She placed her phone screen down on the coffee table.

"Thanks." She accepted the cup quietly, taking it in both hands.

"Bloody hell!" John exclaimed, earning himself the wide blue eyes of both Holmes brothers. "Look at the size of that stone"

And there we have it. How long into the visit into Baker Street the ring on Anthea's finger was finally noticed. Anthea had been so sure Sherlock would have noticed it earlier. Mycroft had said Sherlock wouldn't even notice. Anthea looked over to her fiancé.

"You won." She lamented. Now who looked like the cat who ate the canary? More like the fox in the hen house, that deviously proud man who Anthea now owed a night out of his choice. Stupid bet.

Sherlock jumped out of his seat like an alerted meerkat. In preparation, Anthea had begun putting her cup of tea down on the coffee table on top of a kid's book before Sherlock began to beeline towards her.

Anthea stood up in time to have her hand snatched up in both of the consulting detective's hands. Sherlock turned Anthea's hand over in his grasp as he looked at the ring carefully no doubt taking in as much detail as he could. Cut, clarity, type of metal, signs of age, anything. His lips pulled into a tight smile and he began chuckling quietly to himself.

"Don't get too attached," He mumbled out his sarcasm, eyes still on the ring on Anthea's hand trapped in his hands. "All hearts are broken," His smile broadened as he spoke. "Sentiment is a defect on the losing side."

"What can I say?" Anthea looked over to see Mycroft turned in the armchair to observe them, detached bored expression with a hint of amusement on his features. "I lost." He cocked his head to the side. John smiled and Sherlock laughed.

"You did, brother." Sherlock nodded as he dropped Anthea's hand. "You really lost." John took advantage of Anthea's freedom and gave her a hug. Anthea reciprocated, patting him on the back.

"Congrats, 'Thea." John said as they let go of the slightly awkward hug. The Holmes handlers looking at each other with affection. "You know what Mary would be saying right now? That she told me so." Anthea sniffed and tucked a curl behind her ear.

"No, she wouldn't be." Anthea dismissed him.

"She right ruddy well would be." John grinned, folding his arms against his chest. "Knew better than the rest of us." Anthea went to argue but decided against it. What was there to say? John was right. Mary could read people and not in a Holmes way. She had a gut feeling about people similar to how James operated and more often than not she was right. And who would turn down a chance to gloat to Sherlock Holmes and John Watson? Not Mary.

Sherlock had wandered back over to the armchairs and sat himself back down looking at his older brother.

"So, which will it be?" He asked Mycroft. "Anthea Holmes or Alice Holmes?" Anthea quirked an eyebrow as she watched as Mycroft's mouth twitched into almost a half-smile for a fleeting second. He shifted his grip on his umbrella as he leaned forward.

"A conversation not yet had." His velvet voice sounded.

"Or a conversation not to be had at all." Anthea butted into the conversation about herself, frowning. John's face displayed some mild surprised. The brothers didn't even turn to acknowledge her. "Given the reason Anthea James exists in the first place." She defended. John excused himself to get back to the kitchen. Sherlock quirked and eyebrow, Mycroft smirked. The absolute insolence of all those around her spurred Antea on further. She shrugged her arms heavily. "And you know, women aren't the property of their fathers and husbands anymore. I don't have to change anything." Sherlock sniffed.

"You?" He asked bright eyes not even gracing her with their gaze. "You'll cave."

"Excuse me?" She questioned. It was Mycroft who spoke up.

"No one is doubting your level of feminism, dear." He said as he examined the state of the new carpeting. "Nor are we forgetting your… independence." At least he gave her a sideways glance and a lazy smile before going back to observing the room. "Should you have gotten married and never had children I have no doubt you would have never changed your name."

"But with a child?" Sherlock took over. "Having a child with the same surname as a family you could claim as you own? One who had welcomed you with mostly welcomed arms long before anything official. Alice or Anthea is going to need to be a Holmes." Sherlock smiled at his brother. "The question is, which one? Or should there even be two anymore?"

"As discussed, a conversation yet to be, brother mine." Mycroft almost sneered through his false politeness. Sherlock's smile broadened.

"Have you thought about this?" Anthea asked Mycroft. He lazily looked over to her and gave a nonchalant shrug. The shrug meant yes. "Why would we not need two anymore?" She asked. Sherlock laughed to himself.

"Because your relationship is the worst kept secret in the Commonwealth." Sherlock scoffed. It sounded awfully close to something James had only recently said.

"Sherlock." John scolded from the kitchen but there was no heat in it. Mycroft looked up to the ceiling and took a breath.

"When did you become prone to hyperbole and poetic language?" Mycroft asked his brother. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm not." Sherlock almost pouted. Steel eyes fell onto Sherlock's face once more.

"Worst kept secret is a tad dramatic." Mycroft cocked his head to the side. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"You didn't take a surprising amount of time off when your PA went into early labour?" Sherlock questioned. Mycroft hummed.

"To certain higher up officials, I'd say it's more of an open-secret." His soft voice said so casually. Anthea frowned. "Don't ask don't tell doesn't apply simply to government officials in the public spotlight." John laughed from the kitchen.

"Then don't tell them." Sherlock sounded very much the younger brother. "Just do it. One assistant. One fiancé. One family. Easy."

"It's not that easy." Anthea laughed. All three men looked at her. "There are separate people for reasons."

"Defunct reasons." Sherlock pointed out. John sighed. He shook his head and sat down at the kitchen table reading something on his phone (probably about that case).

"Not defunct, thank you." Anthea glared, defending herself. "It's for…" Sher found herself hesitating as James' arguments rang through her head. It was easy to rename an orphan for simple protection. It was another thing to protect a nameless assistant and her daughter.

"Ah." Sherlock verbalised. Both her and Mycroft were looking her up and down. "I'm sorry, Mycroft. It appears I set off her commitment issues." Mycroft tapped the umbrella.

"Once again, Sherlock. It's a conversation for us to have another time." Anthea stared daggers at Mycroft. She was daring him to keep talking about her like she wasn't there. He looked cooly back, daring her back. Daring her to see if she really wanted to keep having this conversation in front of Sherlock or save it for another time. Anthea rolled her eyes and turned away. Mycroft turned back to Sherlock. "You are one to point out how lazy I am. Do you think this will be a quick engagement?" He teased. "There will be plenty of time to iron out all the details."

"Sure." Sherlock chewed on his answer thoughtfully. "Slow to be roused but one could argue quick to action once action needs to be taken. You want to return to status quo as quickly as possible." Mycroft laughed. Something about Mycroft laughing at something Sherlock said managed to soothe some of Anthea's raised heckles. The improving relationship between the brothers was something that always warmed Anthea's soul.

"So," Sherlock's voice bounced. "Since I assume that was the reason for your visit, as it would explain her presence, is there anything else?" He stood up. "Otherwise, John and I really have some work to do." He sounded impatient and his body language was antsy. John smiled to himself. Mycroft sighed. He and Anthea exchanged a fleeting look before they stood up. Sherlock ushered them to the door before Mycroft could make a remark or Anthea could sigh. They were just at the door before the steps when John appeared around the corner.

"Ah, Sherlock!" He called out. Sherlock froze, looking over at his best friend. "Don't you have something to say to your brother and his new fiancé?" John tilted his head down and looked at Sherlock though his eyebrows.

A moment passed as Sherlock thought. He pushed his lips together and took a breath.

"Oh yes." He said quietly and awkwardly. Sherlock turned to look at Anthea. He placed his slender hands on her shoulders and held her at a distance to look into her eyes. With the gentlest expression Anthea had ever seen on his face he said "You could do better." And Anthea burst into laughter Sherlock's expression fell into a warm smile. Inelegantly he pulled her into a hug. She rubbed his back, still quietly giggling. "Congratulations." He spoke softly just for her.

"Thanks." She replied full of earnest appreciation and love. She patted his back before being let go. Sherlock cleared his throat. He adjusted his suit jacket, undoing and redoing up a button as he turned to face his elder brother.

"You know my feelings on the subject." Sherlock uttered like a scientist talking to their paper's co-author about some findings.

"I do." Mycroft nodded. The look John gave Anthea suggested that he, like her, had no idea what these feelings were. To be fair, it was unlikely any of them, however close they may be, would truly understand how these siblings communicated and what it meant.

"I won't bore us with repetition, then." Sherlock dismissed. "But if you ever need to hear it, kindly or unkindly, you know where to find me." Mycroft's eyebrow quirk and he sniffed. He pushed his lips together to stop from smirking again.

"Noted." He replied in his quiet whisper. Anthea raised an eyebrow at John. John huffed, rolling his eyes and shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Congratulations, Mycroft." John said, being the most straightforward person in the room, sounding done with all the Holmsian attitudes in the room. Mycroft gave him a passing look and an equally quick smile.

"Yes, thank you, John." He hummed. This time Anthea rolled her eyes at John.

"Do try to stay out of trouble. Or rather, when you do find yourselves in trouble, make it something Detective Lestrade can handle and don't escalate it to my level."

"We try not to."

Once in the car, Anthea tried to get back to work but her thoughts kept slipping away from her. She had the edge of her phone pressed to her lips as she looked out the window. That conversation had been strangely similar to the one Anthea had with James. Although Jamie had been more on James to shut up than John had been but appealing to James is easier – in theory – than appealing to a Holmes.

Anthea turned to look at Mycroft. He had his legs folded, phone in hand, reading something of his own. Anthea knew if she watched for long enough, he'd notice and sure enough grey-blue eyes lifted from the screen and watched her back. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking her to voice her thoughts.

"Did I tell you that James called Margot's parentage the worst kept secret in the government?" She asked quietly.

"Did he?" Mycroft hummed, amusement glittering through his expression that you'd only catch if you knew him. Anthea crinkled up her nose and nodded. "Slightly less dramatic than Sherlock. Though, that is to be expected." Mycroft turned to look out the window. "James' feet are more planted in reality." Anthea breathed a quiet chuckle.

"He said it's not simple to protect me and Margot anymore."

"No, it's not."

"For two people so different to see the same problems, though…" She voiced. Mycroft's eyes narrowed as he looked out the window.

"I think you'd find that James and Sherlock have more in common than it appears on the surface, my love." Mycroft spoke thoughtfully. As he looked at Anthea she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Asides from loving you?" She asked. Mycroft let himself smile.

"I didn't say they have much in common." He sneered playfully before turning back to the window. "But there are plenty of reasons why they'd come to similar conclusions."

"Conclusions you've been considering too?" Anthea asked.

"I have." He answered with a curt nod.

"Conclusions I should be considering?" She questioned further. Mycroft took a breath. Without turning away from the window, he placed his hand palm up in the seat between them. Anthea place her hand in his and he closed his fingers around her hand. "When you're ready to, yes." Anthea watched their hands in quiet. She gently squeezed his hand.

"And what decision should I come up with?" She asked.

"Oh, my dear." Mycroft turned to look at her again. "I haven't reached a firm decision of my own yet. It's merely a concept up for consideration."

A pause.

Anthea took a deep breath.

"No Miss James, maybe no Miss Clarke." Anthea thought out loud. "Just Mrs. Holmes." She could tell Mycroft was schooling his expression to keep it blank.

"An interesting concept, no?"

Anthea squeezed his hand.

Author's Note: Not terrible? Please tell me it wasn't terrible. That was intimidating as hell. I was going to sit on it for another day or two but I wanted to get it away from my brain. Let me know what you thought! The return of James and Jamie went well. People said some great things about James' code switching which was awesome… But again, they're not canon characters let alone main characters.

Let me know if you have anything I never did that you'd like me to add to my list. I am on Tumblr and … X… so you can always come check what I'm up to there and see if I'm hiding under a rock or not.

Anyway, Fire and Blood is one of my favourite books and House of the Dragon aired an important episode this week so I've got a bunch of feelings to go sit in.