Cracked Silk
Chapter 1
Warning: Major angst, Cheating, and physical violence
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just a over eager imagination
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but my answer is no."
They had been dating for a little over two years now. Sherlock had been pushing for John to marry him, as if to lay claim to the small omega, but John doesn't think he's ready for marriage.
It was his second refusal to Sherlock's proposal when Sherlock finally snapped.
"What is your deal? Do you not want to marry me because of another alpha? Is that it? You want a bigger, stronger alpha? Well too bad! I want you, and you will be mine sooner or later." Sherlock growled out, retreating to the kitchen. John stood in the living room, stunned by Sherlock's outburst. Had this been bottled up inside him all this time?
John gently composed himself and went after his alpha.
After meeting Sherlock, John had wanted no other alpha, nor did he even look at one twice. It had always been Sherlock for him, so how could Sherlock accuse him of cheating? He would never do such a thing. Ever.
The omega spotted Sherlock sitting at the table with a cut up, green amputated hand in front of him. He was texting furiously with a scowl on his face.
John silently glided into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his wanted alpha's torso over the wooden chair.
"Sherlock, we're already mated! Why would you think I would ever want another mate when I have the perfect mate already in my life? What made you think this?" John questioned silently, digging his nose into Sherlock's dark curls, taking in Sherlock's masculine scent.
Sherlock, however, ruined the moment by jumping up out of John's embrace, leaving his omega hurt and confused. He tossed out an "I'll be back whenever" before leaving the apartment.
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"What can I do for you, Shirley? The usual?" The male beta prostitute questioned before stripping all his clothes and discarding them.
Sherlock had been seeing 'Lanter' since John's first refusal. They had been having an affair ever since, which is along four to five months. He had found Lanter fascinating, and his story of how he became a prostitute interesting, but he didn't love him.
He knew what he was doing behind John's back was wrong but he honestly didn't care about that at the moment. He had been hurt by John, so he has a reason to be angry. Conclusion? He secretly packed a bag of clothing and left.
By the time he sneaked the bag into the taxi, he knew there were confused, wounded eyes burning through his back from the window upstairs. Yet he turned his back and he left without giving John his usual reassuring smile. He just didn't care at this point. So he left, bag at his side, and met Lanter at The Montcalm hotel before heading to the club.
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Excitement strummed through John's body as he exited the cab outside of the club, Shorty's, a little honky-tonk (complete with the peanut shells on the floor) that was located in the middle of London. Glancing at his watch, he waited outside for Greg to show up.
They'd do this often; they would meet up, get a beer, and get dead drunk just to forget the negative events from the day before. They both agreed to meet up, for John's sake.
John had told Greg about how Sherlock left him. He told him about how his own mate had taken a bag of clothing and turned his back on him. He had thought Sherlock had understood his reasoning, but apparently not.
"There you are!" John heard behind him, before turning to his friend.
"Greg! Finally! What's your lame excuse for your tardiness this time, huh? Traffic?" John joked, slipping on a smile despite his need to frown.
"Try getting over a heat." Greg mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. John flinched back sympathetically before quickly changing the topic of their awkward conversation.
"So, how is Mycroft doing?"
Their conversation was more one sided than a man talking to a doll. Greg eventually gave up on even trying to get John to talk. He was just stuck in his own world.
He'd think about dragging Sherlock back to their apartment, indulging in something he hadn't been able to because of their separation, and how Sherlock would make love to him. In the morning, he would wake up in the arms of the man he loved and engage in some slow, slow loving, cuddling and coffee. Can't forget the coffee.
Back to reality, John grinned and grabbed his friend's wrist before dragging him through the double doors. Once he got past the bouncer he needed to let his eyes adjust to the darkness and his lungs the cigarette smoke that filled the room. Impatience to be with Sherlock, who wouldn't let him stand still for long, and soon he was moving forward searching the small club for the bar.
Yet what he found on the bar was heart stopping for Greg, and heartbreaking for John.
There, was Sherlock.
Sherlock did not see him because he was too busy whispering in a sultry blondes' ear. Apparently, what he was saying was too low for him to hear, because he draped himself on his body as he carded his fingers through Sherlock's long curly hair.
What Sherlock was saying was being drowned out by the loud music that blasted from the speakers, but judging by the look on his face, John knew exactly what he was saying. Although he could not hear them, John knew what Sherlock was promising; he knew because Sherlocks' whispered words in that slow, deep accent drawl that was pure sex, had put that same look on his face many times just before he made love to him.
The way this guy's hand snaked its way down from his hair to that lean, muscled chest, there was no doubt that he was more than willing.
John just stood there frozen in place not believing what he was seeing. It had been a little over a week since Sherlock had left him, his own mate. He wondered if Sherlock could feel his heart breaking. HE wondered if Sherlock even ever cared about him. He wondered if Sherlock used him for power and sex.
He wondered if Sherlock even ever loved him, even a little.
Suddenly, John was not only devastated, but furious. How dare Sherlock do this to him, of all people. He had loved Sherlock. Hell, he trusted the man with his life! He even went so far as to think about having children with the vile man! Yet all he got in return was the title, 'fool'.
The pain immobilized his body, so he just stood there and stared while the ache slowly traveled through his entire body and settled heavily into the region that housed his breaking heart. His mind screamed to Sherlock to come to his senses, but he knew that wouldn't happen. His omega screeched for his alpha.
He thought to himself, 'I guess the song was right, when a heart breaks, it don't break even'. Just as the thought passed through his mind, the man looked up. He was close enough to see his face and even make out the color of his eyes. Blue eyes. He has stormy blue eyes. He even had blond hair, this one. Maybe Sherlock has a type after all, but the only question was did he want the real thing or a purely sexual relationship.
Suddenly everything was too much. The music was too loud, the smoke was heavy and oppressive, and the heat was suffocating and he… he just couldn't breathe. Arriving early was supposed to be a surprise for Greg, but it looked as though the surprise was on him. John had to get out of there. Now. Luckily, Sherlock had not spotted him yet and it was obvious the guy had no idea who he was, so he quickly left before piercing blue eyes spotted him and full lips started apologizing. He had to leave before a voice that just oozed sex was whispering into his ear, lying to him and convincing him to stay.
And he would stay.
John staggered out the double doors of the club with a cry of sorrow. Greg, who had stayed behind him, shocked by what he just witnessed, followed after the hurt omega.
It was when John stopped dead in his tracks when Greg got his breath back. He had been chasing John for what felt like 30 minutes.
There, fell the small, shaking omega onto the cold ground with a thud. Greg knelt down and took the blond man's quivering hand in his own, warming it up from the cool breeze. But it wasn't the lack of response that had Greg calling Mycroft, his alpha.
It was the dead stare in John's eyes. The look of nothingness. There wasn't even a name for the look. It just… Was.
"Mycroft, get here NOW!" Greg bellowed into the phone.
The alpha arrived in no time and brought a large, fluffy orange shock blanket.
It was then and only then when Greg and Mycroft witnessed the omega cry for the first time.
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Sherlock stumbled into the apartment and flopped down on the sofa. He couldn't decide if he was still drunk or hung over. He had spent the last three days with Lanter, and once he was sober enough to be bothered that it was John's name he called when he was knotting him, Lanter made him leave. He laughed at the fact that Lanter actually thought he was hurting him by leaving, but what Lanter didn't realize was that he was a Band-Aid and once he left the wound opened up, it started bleeding again, and would do so until he apologized to John for leaving, let alone cheating on him.
But he doesn't plan on letting John know about the last one.
He knew that he was the first man John had ever looked at, let alone knotted. He had courted John with their mutual love of science, accidental touches, common backgrounds, and ideology. Those things led up to bolder touches, to gentle smiles and stolen kisses. He was the first, but it seems that someone up north decided that they wanted him too. He knew that he just had to wait this out just as he had to wait for John to turn to him.
Sherlock sat up and looked at his clothing, inspecting himself. He should probably change if he plans on getting lucky with John tonight. He had been gone for a week and three days. He's surprised at John; it's been three days since he last called Sherlock.
He scurried to his and John's room. What he saw surprised him even more.
The room was nearly empty, it looked as if John cleared out all of his junk, or simply just got up and left with everything.
At the last thought, Sherlock froze.
When he examined the closet, John's side was empty.
Sherlock's mind started rambling on with different scenarios, but there was only one that truly disturbed him to the bone.
What if John simply got up and left?
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"Mycroft, if you don't answer this phone, I will swear on my mother's grave you'll be sorry." Sherlock growled out, talking to himself as he heard the machine go off for the third time.
"Sherlock, what do you want?" Mycroft said automatically.
"I want John. I know you have him." Sherlock growled at the thought of another alpha housing his omega.
"Do you want me to frank with you? I don't have John anymore. He is somewhere safe and far, far away from you. And do you know why? Because you hurt him, Sherlock. Badly. He is receiving treatment for his broken heart and the tormented state you left him in after he found you in… Embrace with a beta male. Did you know that Lanter Wilson is a male prostitute? You ruined your perfectly good relationship with a nice, attractive young omega for a slut? I thought mummy taught you better than that, Sherlock."
Sherlock was stunned.
How had John figured out? He must have gone to the same club as him… Why would John go to a club at night?
Sherlock growled at the thought of others possibly looking at his omega in such a way.
"You can't keep him from me, Mycroft. I will find him and explain – "
" – Explain what? How you cheated on him just because he said no? What will happen when he says never? Because now there is a 'never', you know? John doesn't trust easily. You know, I hear he is staying with a "very hot and very alpha male" named Sebastian. I hear they are 'bonding', as we speak. I suggest you work on that apology, because you are going to need a ground breaking one to earn John's heart and trust back."
Silence, is all Sherlock heard.
Nothingness.
Authors Note- Yay! A new multi-chaptered fic! This is my first omegaverse fic, so I hope I have everything right… Favorite, follow, and pleeeeaaase review! I have no clue as to how successful this fic may be, so I may delete it later.
Stay tuned,
Lemony
