I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story.
Mycroft Holmes looked out over the Conservatory Garden that took up most of his estate. Having the Garden built against his office made it impossible to open the windows but he could see into some of the Garden so he was willing to make the small sacrifice. His brother had been impossible when he'd first had the Conservatory Garden constructed. He'd been a right terror and an addict to drugs, cigarettes, and chasing after dangerous criminals. His little brother was destroying himself and Mycroft had been powerless to stop him.
The solution had come to him from an odd source. Mycroft had been reading Rappaccini's Garden in between meetings and had been inspired. If Sherlock could not be persuaded to behave then he would be forced to. He'd gone to Baskerville and told the scientists his ideas and they had reacted with ecstatic excitement. It had taken them less than a year to perfect the serum. The animals they tested it on responded well and within the two years since they started they had it ready for human testing.
Sherlock had hated him when he was first dragged back to the Baskerville labs from a drug den. He was high as a kite ranting and raving about innocence and guilt. He'd screamed and begged and acted out as only Sherlock could. He'd bitten the scientists and refused to get dressed in the test subject uniform Mycroft had had specially designed for him. He fought bitterly and had to be strapped down still in his ratty torn up clothing. But in the end he had submitted to the whims of the scientists. Mycroft suspected that hatred still simmered under the surface but as long as his brother behaved he was quite fine with being hated. Sherlock's hatred was worth it to see his hard work rewarded in a healthy younger brother.
The trip from Baskerville to the Conservatory Garden was littered with countless escape attempts that nearly cost a few good men their lives. One almost successful attempt had ended with them chasing his brother to where he was in an alleyway crying over the corpse of a deceased dog. Mycroft had it autopsied and as he suspected it had died from Sherlock's toxin. His brother had come quietly after that incident and had shied away from the test subjects they released into the Conservatory Garden with him. Eventually though his brother had begun to warm up to them when he found they were in no danger from him.
Things had changed for the better and with proper protection he could interact with his brother without fear of dying. A small smirk grew on his face as he saw his younger brother sitting over one of his rarer specimens breathing the scent of it in deeply. The Grey Holmes Bee's he'd had engineered buzzed around his brother and once more he was grateful for them. They were one of the only things that could survive in the Conservatory Garden besides the test subjects of course. The flowers were too deadly to support any regular animal life. Any other bugs they had tried to use to pollinate the Conservatory Garden ended up dead the instant they were released. According to Sherlock the honey was phenomenal and it pleased him to know that there was something his brother enjoyed from all this.
The Garden had thrived as Sherlock did and it had grown well over the eight years that Sherlock had been confined there. Sherlock helped the grounds keeper Mrs. Hudson tend it as he was the only one who could, for now at least. He hadn't so much as touched an illicit substance since the beginning of the project. The only real issue his plan had shown so far was that Sherlock had been wilting as of late. Sherlock was lifeless. No insults, no threats, no glaring at the guards, no playing of his violin, and no smiling at Mrs. Hudson's maternal affections.
His brother had taken to retreating into himself spending days in his mind palace. He didn't eat or drink or even move for days at a time. He didn't reveal any so called secrets and he didn't even sulk. He might as well have been a statue if not for the way he inhaled the scent of the plants every day. Mycroft almost missed the early days when Sherlock screamed at him constantly. At least then Sherlock had still been Sherlock, but now his brother needed him to rescue him from himself again.
Mycroft had his suspicions of why Sherlock was fading. He and Mrs. Hudson were the only real visitors Sherlock had. No one else could stand to be around his little brother for very long or at all as most cases seemed to be. The doctors and the scientists running the project were cold to him and he returned their ire tenfold. The company of plants and animals was no substitute for human companionship and loath as he was to admit it Sherlock needed more than he could provide. His brother needed a companion, a friend, someone who could pull him out of the shadows he was slipping into.
Mycroft looked over the files on his desk again perusing through the data looking for someone that would click. So far he had seen only one that would withstand his brothers scathing tongue and shining personality. The only glimmer of hope he had was a recently discharged army doctor, the only issue he had that posed a problem was the psychosomatic limp. Then again the limp could prove useful, make it harder for the Doctor to get away if he ever began to feel threatened.
He turned to his assistant who sat typing on her phone seemingly dead to the world."Set up a reconnaissance team and file on DR. John H. Watson. Put it down under Project Hawthorn and alert me when the director gives the green light."
She nodded at him and continued to type on her phone, like he hadn't said a word. But for all her silence Anthea, as she chose to be called, was excellent at her job and he trusted her to do as he said promptly. Mycroft stood from his desk picking up his trusted umbrella. "I'm going to go see my brother please take care of my affairs for the duration of my absence. Oh if the director calls with the green light on Project Hawthorn begin the recruitment of John Watson immediately."
"I will see to it Sir." She said with a nod as Mycroft left the room and walked to the Conservatory Garden Preparation Room.