Work Text:
Two lines. Again.
Damn it.
She sighed and tossed the pregnancy test into the wastebasket. It was the third one she'd done that day and they'd all come back positive. This was the absolute worst thing that could have happened. She knew how he felt about children. He wasn't particularly fond of them. He never had been, usually making comments about diplomat's children when they were behind closed doors. The news that he would be expecting a niece or nephew in a few months time had gotten less comments, but he still didn't seem fond of the idea of there being children in his family tree. And now she had to tell him that he was to expect a child of his own? He'd hate her. He'd hate her so much for this.
Anthea went out of the loo and to her bed, thinking. She could never quite classify what she and Mycroft had. There was shagging, obviously; she wouldn't be pregnant if there wasn't. There was respect there, and admiration on both ends, in both directions. She supposed there was trust, and maybe even friendship. But there wasn't love. There wasn't a relationship between them. There was a partnership and a sexual attraction but nothing more. And now? And now there was going to need to be changes to their dynamic.
She laid down and looked at the ceiling. Because of the secrets she knew, because of her position within the hierarchy of the British government, she couldn't be fired and she couldn't simply quit. Well, she could quit, but it would involve leaving every scrap of her life behind and being shuttled out of the country, and quite frankly she was fond of London and the life she had here. No, she had to stay with the government or be eliminated. It would be best if she stayed with Mycroft, obviously, but Jennings had been trying to poach her away for ages and if she could just come up with a good reason why Mycroft would approve a transfer away from him she could move over to Jennings's office and not have to lay eyes on Mycroft again. She could figure out what to do about this situation away from him and move onto a life that had no need for Mycroft Holmes. She knew, logically, this was the best plan. This was the most efficient plan.
So why, then, did her heart feel so damn heavy?
–--
The perfect opportunity arrived a week later. Mycroft was irritated. Sherlock had done something irresponsible and reckless and ruined a rather intricate plot Mycroft had been setting up. Mycroft was looking for someone, anyone to blame, and Anthea threw herself in front of him as the perfect target. She let him get angry at her, keeping her face impassive as Sherlock watched silently. After all, part of her duties were to watch over Sherlock, monitor him during his waking hours, and even though she had seen he was going to do it she hadn't alerted Mycroft to it. Mycroft said he couldn't stand to look at her, at either of them, and to get out of his office. Sherlock left first, Anthea directly afterward. She'd hoped Sherlock would leave and go back to his flat and his wife but he waited, keeping in step with her when she brushed past.
“When are you going to tell him?” he asked.
“Tell who what?” she said, not looking at Sherlock.
“When are you going to tell my brother you're carrying his child?” Sherlock asked.
“You're delusional,” she replied.
“I have a five month pregnant wife at home. I know the signs,” he said. He quickened his pace just slightly and stepped in front of her, and she almost ran into him. She wanted to glare but she decided to give him a bored look instead. “You did this on purpose, Andrea. You knew what I was doing and you knew if you alerted Mycroft he would stop me, but you let me do what I pleased so that when Mycroft found out I'd ruined his plans you could step forward and take the blame.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said brusquely, moving around him. She hated it when Sherlock used her real name. The only people she didn't mind hearing say it were her mother, her sister and Mycroft, and considering she had minimal contact with her family it was a rare occasion when it was used. Hearing Sherlock say it felt wrong, especially compared to the way his brother said it.
“It is true, then. Either you remain working for the government or they eliminate you,” he said, moving quickly to walk beside her. “Andrea--”
“Anthea,” she snapped, looking at him. “Don't use that name. It's not my name. My name is Anthea, for now, at least.”
He appeared slightly mollified. “Anthea, you need to tell him. He has every right to know. Hiding from him does neither of you any good.”
She stopped and let her shoulders sag. “And I suppose if I don't tell him you will,” she said. “Because you can't resist lording a secret over your brother.”
“If it were any other secret than yes, I'd lord it over him that I knew something he didn't,” Sherlock said. He was quiet. “Molly was afraid to tell me she was with child when she found out. We hadn't planned on having children now, and she thought I would blame her because I knew she wanted children sooner rather than later. But when she told me it didn't matter. I was happy for the news.”
“But he doesn't like children at all,” she said, looking at him. “He despises children. And it's not even as though we're in an open relationship like you and Molly are.”
“The relationship between you and Mycroft is honestly one of the worst kept secrets in the entire country,” he said. “Even my parents are aware you two are intimate with each other.”
Anthea shook her head. “Wonderful,” she murmured.
“The point is, my brother may not be an emotional person, but he does care. Give him time to cool down about this. Let me attempt to catch the person he wanted caught. And then tell him the truth before you try to get yourself shuttled off to work with Jennings. Which, by the way, would be an awful mistake. He has a habit of sexually harassing his subordinates. When you break his shins like Mycroft taught you then there will be no choice left but to shuttle you back to Mycroft and then you're stuck in the same situation you were trying to escape in the first place.”
“I suppose,” she said. “But you're wrong about one thing.”
“Oh?” Sherlock asked.
“I'd knee him in the groin and then break his wrist, mostly so he wouldn't be able to touch me, and then his kneecaps so he wouldn't be able to move. That's what Mycroft instructed me to do.”
Sherlock gave her an approving grin. “I think my brother may have just rose a bit in my estimation now that I know that.” He nodded to her. “Good luck, and congratulations.”
She gave him a small grin back. “Thank you, Sherlock.” She watched Sherlock move away, heading down the hall and away from her, and then she looked back at Mycroft's office. Time. She just needed to give him time.
–--
She went to Hyde Park and walked around, a cardboard cup full of tea in her hand. Mycroft was well known for holding grudges, so she was trying to figure out how long he could potentially hold this one. It was nearly nine when she arrived at her home, carrying containers of Chinese takeaway in a bag. She stopped when she saw Mycroft sitting in her sitting room, hunched over slightly, a long thin object in his hands. So. He'd been through her waste. She should have expected that. She took the food to the kitchen and waited for him to say something.
“Were you going to tell me?” he asked.
“I'm not sure,” she said, keeping her back to him. “I was going to try and transfer to Jennings's office, figure out what to do and make a decision then.” She slowly pulled containers out of the bag she'd carried. “You don't like children, Mycroft. You've told me time and again that they're useless and there's no good reason to have them other than continuing a family name.”
“That is true,” he said slowly.
“I want to keep this child,” she said. “And I'm prepared to raise him or her on my own.”
“And if I object?” he asked.
She turned to face him. “Exactly how would you object?”
“There is a difference between children who I am in no way related to and children who I am related to,” he said, standing up. “And there is a difference between what I think of my niece or nephew and what I think of a child of my own.” He came over and handed her the pregnancy test and she could see it was brand new. She looked up at him, surprised. “I had thought you might be. I've thought that for a few weeks now. When you took the blame for Sherlock's stunt this afternoon I started to wonder why on earth you would do that, and so I decided to wait and see how you would react if you thought I went through your waste. If you are having our child then I want to be a part of that. I want to be there for that.”
“Mycroft...” she said. “We don't have a relationship. There isn't love between us. There are other things, but not that. And I want to be loved.”
“I know. You deserve that much. And while I'm not entirely sure I can give that to you, I can try,” he said. He reached over for one of her hands. “I am not a romantic person. I have shut off that part of me for so long I don't know if I'll ever truly be able to be romantic at all. But my brother was worse than I was, and I saw what Ms. Hooper did for him, and I hope that, with time, you may have the same effect on me.”
“I think I can live with that for now,” she said with a smile, grasping his hand tightly.
“Good,” he said. “I suppose now we should talk and begin to make plans, then.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” she said with a nod. This wasn't perfect, this wasn't what she expected, but perhaps, in the end, this would work out better than she had hoped for.