PROLOGUE

Mycroft Holmes had never considered himself an overly emotional man. He prided himself on his detached persona and his ability to keep sentiment at bay. With his minor position in the British government, he could simply not afford to have his sympathies divided when it came to difficult decisions. Tactical advantage lays with the man who can over come his personal fears and efficiently complete the mission. Mycroft Holmes was this sort of man. However, despite the eldest Holmes' conviction to eliminate all forms of sentiment, he did have one weakness, one fatal flaw in his own personal inner design, his younger brother Sherlock. Mycroft was skilled at the art of deception. Over the years, he concealed his true feelings from the great Sherlock Holmes, not that the younger man would actually believe him even if he downright confessed his brotherly love. They were family, they were brothers, and despite what ever petty feud they were currently enthralled in, that never changed, until the day it did.

"Mr. Holmes?" the voice of his receptionist filtered through his office.

Pressing the button to respond, he answered, "What is it?" His voice remained stoic, yet commanding all at once.

"Dr. Stapleton is on line one sir."

Not bothering to acknowledge his receptionist further in his haste to pick up the land line, he addressed the geneticist with a hasty greeting. "What news have you got for me Dr. Stapleton?"

"The project is a success Mr. Holmes. Although, further testing is required to evaluate the viability of the specimen. And of course there is also the matter of memory imprinting to worry about now, but the probability for reintegration is very high."

Mycroft shifted in his seat, straightening slightly at the doctor's words. "How long until you and your team are finished?

"Under normal circumstances, I would recommend at least several more months of testing before even releasing it to you Mr. Holmes. However, I know that will be quite impossible for you. I'll put all available men on the project immediately."

"Thank you Dr. Stapleton. I will arrive next Thursday, to evaluate the project and give my final approval."

"Very well Mr. Holmes."

"Good day," Mycroft ended the call, leaning back against his chair. He let his mind drift to the very near future.

Mycroft could feel every shift in the elevator as it made its crawling decent. He leaned on his umbrella, favoring his weight on the left side. Anxiety was beginning to build up inside him, but he kept his outward appearance calm. He glanced over at his assistant Anthea, she was for once, not permanently attached to her mobile. Mycroft raised an eyebrow in a silent inquiry. She simply shrugged and gave him a small reassuring smile. He understood perfectly and he gave her nod in thanks. Anthea was there for him today, for support, and possibly uncontrollable curiosity for what was waiting for when they arrived at Dr. Stapleton's lab.

After what seemed like hours, the metal doors slid open. Their guide led them down a similar hallway as the one they had first arrived through. The decor of Baskerville was inherently lacking, not that it bothered Mycroft in any way. It was simply an errant observation. "Through here Mr. Holmes." Their guide had positioned himself in front of one of the many doors, motioning behind him. Mycroft slid his security card and waited for access approval. He wasn't left standing outside for more than a few seconds, but he found himself sighing in aggravation. It unsettled him slightly that he was losing control over something so trivial. He sneaked a look over at Anthea to make sure his uncharacteristic action had gone unobserved. Deducing that she neither noticed nor cared, he focused all his attention on willing the doors before him to open. He was not left wanting. The security pad confirmed his authorization, his nameless guide, pushed the doors wide to allow the two of them into the lab.

"Dr. Stapleton," Mycroft called out to the female doctor currently bent over a microscope. "I believe you were excepting me." He gave her a cordial smile.

Dr. Stapleton left her station to greet them, her hand outstretched in welcome. "It's good to see you again Mr. Holmes." He took her hand merely out of formality. He was a gentleman after all. He waited for the doctor to greet his assistant as well before he spoke. "Dr. Stapleton, I rather hate to be rude, but I am a very busy man. So if we could possibly hurry this along that would be fantastic."

"Oh, yes, of course," Stapleton, brushed some of her short, blonde hair behind her ear. A nervous habit he concluded. She gestured to follow her. "I think you will be quite satisfied with the results Mr. Holmes. He is a perfect replication of the original host." She led them into a side room. An observation window lined an entire wall. Mycroft approached the glass and examined the man on the other side. The resemblance was uncanny, as it should with a process such as this.

Mycroft cleared his throat which had suddenly thicken with raw emotion. "Physically yes, it is a perfect replication, but what about his mind."

"Mr. Holmes, when I say that he is a perfect replication, I mean in every way. For all intents and purposes, that man in there is Sherlock Holmes."

*Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock and am not gaining anything from this story, other than the enjoyment of writing it.*