Update (8/3-10/12): This chapter has been edited! I thought I had posted this revised version earlier, but I guess I never did. Thank you very much to TheLastRider for spotting confusion in the story. :)

Cassandra
in which Anthea hails from an unconventional family

"Why do you work such odd hours, Annie?"

The woman sitting at the kitchen table gave her a sharp glance. "Please refrain from calling me that while you are in London, Mia. Call me Cassandra for today," she said, accepting the teacup from her cousin.

Mia sat down in the seat across from her. "What? But I like calling you Annie." Suddenly, she grinned deviously. "Still, you haven't answered my question, dear cousin. It's only 3 AM. What could you possibly be going to work for this early in the morning? I had better hours even when I was working undercover at that traveling circus across the pond."

"My job is… unusually unorthodox."

"I figured as much, but what exactly do you do? The last time I checked in on you, you were working as an ethical hacker over in Asia. It seemed rather tedious, to me." She wrinkled her nose in thought but then laughed, "It was hilarious to see you following the rules, for once. Anyways, where are you working now?"

The target of her questioning only sighed.

"Come on; don't make me follow you to work to get some answers! I'm sure I could garner some decent information from your coworkers, if I tried."

"That won't be necessary, Mia. I doubt my coworkers would enjoy such an interruption," she responded dryly, setting the empty cup of tea down on the kitchen table.

"Wait- at least tell me what your boss is like!" Snickering, she continued, "I bet he's an absolute delight, if you're so eager to head to work at such an early hour. You're always occupied with that mobile of yours, too. Are you texting your boss?"

Her cousin turned the questions back on her, instead. "Why did you move to America?"

She blushed, scowling, "Hey! Intel gathering got a bit boring after a while, and I like my new job."

"Exactly. As for my employer… well, he's brilliant."

An immaculately dressed woman walked confidently through the nondescript lobby, easily bypassing all security with her unlabelled card. Though the elevator was only marked for eleven floors, she smoothly gained access to the twelfth with a swipe of the same passcard. Exiting the elevator, she walked down a well-lit, office-lined hallway, heels clicking on the spotless tiled floor. Approaching a particular set of offices, she once again used her passcard to unlock the door and enter. She set her coat and mobile on the arm of one of the chairs in the outer room of the office and went about the morning ritual of preparing tea. After a moment of hesitation, she selected one of the numerous and varied teacups in the overhead cabinet at random and set about making tea exactly the way she remembered her young cousin always making it.

Freshly prepared tea in one hand, she straightened her tidy outfit and approached the door leading to the largest inner office. The woman knocked on the door, holding her breath until she heard a crisp "Come in" sound from within the office. Entering, she approached the large desk covered in papers, laminates, and folders and handed the steaming teacup to the waist-coated man working behind it. "Good morning, sir," she greeted crisply.

The man trained his piercing gaze upon the woman but accepted the tea wordlessly, leaning back in his chair and bringing the rather gaudy teacup to his lips. "Now, what brings you to my office today, Miss Mia Jones? I trust you are enjoying your visit to London?"

The woman's eyes abruptly widened and then narrowed before a scowl overtook her features. "How did you know?" she demanded curiously.

He merely smiled neutrally and gestured towards the solitary chair stationed before his desk. "Please, have a seat."

She threw herself into the seat, abandoning all pretenses in favour of giving him a good glare. Mia's eyebrows rose further in surprise when the object of her glare took an unconcerned sip of the tea she had given him. "How do you know that it's not poisoned?" she asked, perplexed.

He gently set the teacup down in a bare patch on his paper-covered desk and looked up at her with oddly acute eyes. "You used the wrong teacup," he began, answering her questions in order, "you are clearly in London for visiting purposes only, and you did not come here today with the intention of making an attempt upon my life." He smiled at her again and watched bemusedly as she struggled to retain her composure.

"The teacup?" she exclaimed incredulously, "I guess my cousin wasn't exaggerating when she said you were brilliant." She narrowed her eyes again, "Still, how can you possibly know that I'm not trying to kill you? Shouldn't a man of such an important undisclosed career be more worried about assassination attempts?"

He waved a hand dispassionately, "Simply because I observe the details. I assure you that there is a plethora of indicators exposing you as an imposter but not an assassin. Coincidentally, your dear cousin is my personal assistant. She would not have allowed you to enter this building if you were planning to harm me."

"That may be true, but she wouldn't have been able to stop me anyways. She's rather incapacitated at the moment," the woman smirked, regaining a semblance of confidence.

"I think you will find that that is not quite true," the man across from her intoned back, glancing at a spot over her shoulder. At this moment, the door to the office opened and another woman swept calmly in. "Ah, Cassandra! Good morning," he greeted, giving her a small but genuine smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes," she replied, her lips curved slightly upwards in return. "Mia," she nodded towards the seated woman. To the untrained eye, the similarity in appearance between the two women was astonishing.

Mia, having turned around to confront the new arrival, was glowering. "Annie."

"Cassandra," Mr. Holmes's personal assistant corrected. The woman walked smoothly to the desk and replaced the cooling tea with another steaming teacup, this one made of fine china embellished only with a lion printed in gold. "Slipping a sedative into the morning tea only works once, dear cousin. And that one time was when we were six. The passcard you 'stole' from me has been disabled. I believe you have found that impersonating me in front of Mr. Holmes is an impossible task. Now, I will escort you out of the building." Face a study in composure, Cassandra set the stack of file folders she had been carrying on the corner of her employer's desk and moved to stand beside the open office door, one hand still balancing the unfinished cup of tea.

Casting another glance at her cousin's waist-coated employer, Mia was more amused than upset. "Why does she insist on being called Cassandra?" she asked the man, knowing that her cousin would never give her a straight answer.

When the man offered only the enigmatic comment of "She was Caroline yesterday", Mia relented, sighing, and evacuated the office under her cousin's sharp gaze. "At least little Annie's finally found an appropriately genius boss," she muttered to herself, then louder: "Good day, sir."

Cassandra lingered at the door, eying her employer warily. "Mr. Holmes, I trust that while I escort my cousin out, you will not touch the chocolate you have hidden in the hollowed-out book under your desk?"

Mycroft Holmes sighed, lowering his half-empty teacup in acknowledgment. "Of course not, my dear," he murmured as his assistant quietly shut the office door behind her.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of BBC's Sherlock or the original works by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Notes: There goes my attempt at humour.

Also, to clarify: in this story, Anthea changes names every day but still acts like Anthea (unlike in the previous chapter)... if that makes any sense at all. Miss Mia Jones is Anthea's cousin. "Annie" is simply a nickname- interpret it however you wish.

Anyways, thank you for reading! Many thanks to those who have reviewed or favourited this story as well. :)