A/N: THIS IS A REQUEST FIC. A dear reader of mine asked me to write a fic of this type and somehow the idea felt appealing to me, especially set to 'Sherlock' environment'. (grins sheepishly) We'll see just what came out.

WARNINGS: MPREG. SLASH. ALPHA/OMEGA SETTING. (Hey, DO NOT stomp each other on your way out! It's not nice.) Violence. Language. (For a girl I've got a pretty filthy mouth…) Tears and pain. (Pfft, and that's supposed to be a surprise…?) (glances around) Anyone out there?

DISCLAIMER: Oh, much as I'd like to take some credit my name's still not on the golden list of those wonderful people who have given us this fantastic show AND the unforgettable characters. (pouts) I'm just… borrowing them to mess with them for a while. (smirks)

Awkay… I'm a bit nervous right now, so I'll just get to it before I change my mind. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

Baby Steps

Alone in a Storm

/ When John came back from the war, invalided and with no clue of what his future might be like – if he even had a future at all – he imagined that his life, in all sense that mattered, was over. Oh, how wrong a soul can be. It was only just beginning.

A trick of fickle fate led him to a laboratory where a strikingly good looking man with dark hair and the most amazing eyes he'd ever seen was conducting some sort of a experiment. The man's scent sent pleasant shivers absolutely everywhere in John's body, nearly made him lose his breath. That's why he knew, even before they looked at each other properly.

Definitely a Alpha. Everything about that posture, spirit and whole essence screamed so, even louder than the scent a unmated Omega caught all too easily. Wild, untamed, unashamed. In a society where most people still considered Alphas and Omegas something unnatural and disgusting this being made no attempt whatsoever to hide his true colors. John had absolutely no idea of what to make of such foolish bravery when he'd spent all his life trying to hide from what he truly was. Trying to smother the urges that were enough to drive him to the edge of insanity. Enough to send him to a war, just so that he could escape. He'd decided that he'd rather die than live as what he truly was.

Yet here John was and he knew that his run was over. Unable to take a single step away when the stranger sniffed the air subtly, so that only the doctor's keen eyes caught it, then shivered from apparent pleasure. John was hooked, from the very second those eyes locked with his. Something in them told him that he wasn't alone with the thought. John barely managed to focus while he was introduced to the enigma.

The air was thick with something John had never experienced before. It wasn't bonding, couldn't possibly be. While it scared him senseless he didn't think that he'd find the strength and will to walk away from it.

The pills he'd been swallowing since hitting his first heat were supposed to suppress John's Omega instincts. He could've as well been consuming candy. Because it most definitely wasn't his human side that agreed to move in with this Alpha he'd never even seen before. After just a glimpse into those eyes, after a single inhale of that goddamn scent, it didn't matter the slightest bit that he'd always told himself that he didn't want this. That most of the society would never, ever understand or accept. All he knew was that he wanted to – needed to – explore whatever the hell this was further.

John's brain didn't manage to pay attention to the obvious until the stranger was already leaving. "I don't even know your name." He didn't even have a name yet he was willing to share his living space with this Alpha. Willing to jump right into everything he'd been running from.

Somehow the fear and hesitation in him were pushed into the background when the stranger flashed him a cheeky grin and winked. "The name's Sherlock Holmes." The Alpha's scent lingered in the room long after the male left, taunting him.

And so John found himself standing there, all alone and without the slightest clue of what in the world just happened. A beast inside he'd already thought he'd smothered was stirring to life, very loudly. So wildly that he felt ready to yelp under the pressure. He shifted, all of a sudden finding the front of his pants uncomfortably tight, and wondered what in the world he just got himself into.

If he just made a huge mistake or the best thing in his life. /

Dr. John Watson couldn't look away from the tombstone although it was the last thing he wanted to see. He kept staring and staring, hoping and praying that the sick nightmare would finally end. That Sherlock Holmes would finally reappear after the grand conclusion of his most magnificent magic trick thus far.

Please…! A one more…

Ice cold rain kept falling while he stood there, still as a statue. Shaking right down to the core of his being with how hard he was trying to hold himself together. John actually wished that he would've been able to cry, to scream, so that at least some of the venom in his veins would've poured out. As it was he could barely breathe.

In the end John's lips opened but the words echoed only inside his head.

Stop this, right now! Stop… being…!

A tiny breath, at least, finally erupted when all of a sudden something was shielding him from the merciless rain. A umbrella. He shivered, for this one moment of bliss allowing himself to think of the impossible. But this wasn't his Alpha's scent.

Mycroft Holmes' eyes were unreadable while the man looked sternly back at him. "Come on now, John. Do you really think that he'd want you to stand here and get yourself ill?"

John's eyes narrowed viciously. Anger and hurt boiled in his veins. "He never asked me if I wanted him to jump down from that fucking building right before my eyes, did he?" His voice broke, which only succeeded in feeding his rage. He was sick and tired of this ache! "He'll never have any say over what I do ever again, Mycroft."

Mycroft sighed and for a second, just a second, there was something close to sadness in the man's eyes. It could've been a trick of his imagination, though. "I can't leave you here, either. Whatever my brother told you I do happen to have a touch of humanity in me."

John shrugged, his eyes once again on the stone. He didn't have it in him to fight. Besides, if he'd unleashed all the bitterness there was swirling inside him…

And so they stood, two soldiers at the ruins of a lost battle. Or well, only one of them thought that the war was already over. Only one of them grieved. (Only one of them knew the truth.)

John never realized that with the umbrella the moisture on his cheeks couldn't possibly be the rain anymore.

When John finally made his way back home, hours and hours later, he did two things. He destroyed a great deal of Sherlock's research equipment, in a bout of childish and ridiculous wrath imagining that it might make a difference. Then he dashed into the bathroom and threw up, over and over again. He didn't think that he'd ever stop feeling sick.

After Sherlock's death John didn't expect to hit another heat anytime soon, possibly ever. But when he'd been throwing up for five days without any other obvious signs of a stomach flue he began to ponder the chance of a impossibility. He dismissed the thought quickly.

He was allowed to feel sick after the suicide of his mate, he decided.

That was until he woke up, disoriented and dizzy, to find Dr. Sarah Sawyer staring back at him.

John frowned, only the fact that everything was spinning madly keeping him from attempting to sit up. "What happened?" His voice was absolutely pathetic.

Sarah's jaw tightened. "You crashed on your way out of a surgery." She held up three fingers. Or so he assumed. "How many?"

John licked his lips, hesitating for a second before taking his chance. "Three…?" Good, talking was becoming easier. He didn't sound pass out drunk anymore.

Nodding with a infuriatingly unreadable expression Sarah made some notes, then focused on him once more. There was a frown on her face. "John, I need you to be perfectly honest with me now. When's the last time you slept properly?"

John twitched with discomfort, needing to look away. "You know the answer to that one", he murmured, struggling to keep himself from sounding overly hostile. Nightmares of Sherlock smashing to the pavement kept John awake every single night.

Sarah exhaled a heavy sigh. He heard her write down before the ten seconds of pause it took her to collect herself. "What about eating?"

John was beginning to feel like a child who was being scolded over bad manners. He squirmed, wishing that he would've found the strength to get up and walk away. "I… ate something this morning." A flatout lie and he didn't even know why he bothered, for he was almost sure that Sarah was already on to him. Nausea and general dislike towards even the thought of stuffing anything into his mouth caused him to skip far more meals than would've been healthy.

Sarah gave him a flat, clearly annoyed look. "Don't try that with me. You've always been a horrible liar." She sighed and ran a slightly unsteady hand through her disheveled hair. "Look, John… It's been six weeks…"

A flare shot through John and his eyes narrowed when the pain became too much to bear. A wince revealed tightly gritted teeth. "Six weeks, three days and if I'd know what time it is I'd be able to tell you the hours. I know precisely how long it's been." In an instant he regretted his harsh tone and gave her an apologetic look. In that moment of sheer agony it took long to remember that Sherlock's decision wasn't her fault. "I'm sorry."

She gave him a slight smile. "Actually, I was prepared for much worse." She then inhaled, looking directly to his eyes. "The thing is… You need to start to take care of yourself. There's two you need to think about, now."

It took a prolonged eternity before her words crashed to John's consciousness. When they finally did he gasped, feeling like someone had just smacked all breath out of him, and trembled. Instinctively his hand rose to his stomach. "It's…! I can't be…" Not now!

Sarah's eyes widened. "Oh, John…! I'm so sorry! I thought you knew…"

John couldn't even hear her. Couldn't focus on anything but the news that'd just been rammed to his brain. His hand trembled while he pressed tighter, tried even though he knew that there was no way he'd be able to feel the life in there yet.

He was pregnant.

His mate just abandoned him.

He was pregnant.

This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of his life.

He was pregnant.

Sherlock would never know, would never get to see their child.

That gloomy thought hit him like a sledgehammer. He didn't burst into tears. Instead he did something far more heartbreaking.

He emitted a agonized, mourn filled wail that most likely carried through most of the hospital.

Far away and all too familiar with the distance a lone figure stood in a elevator that was fast on its way down. Fingers drumming, the whole being sizzling with a nearly uncontrollable storm. Sherlock Holmes' eyes were fire and venom.

Of course he knew exactly what he was missing out on. He'd known that John was pregnant a week before his fateful decision – his mate's scent changed, as did something deep within Sherlock. That's what pushed him to this painful path.

If dying was what it took to keep his mate and child safe then that's what he'd do. He could only hope and pray that John would understand. That he hadn't lost everything, after all. That one day he'd get the chance to go back and explain to his family.

That thought, that hope, was the only thing linking him to whatever little sanity he still had left.

Sherlock's eyes flashed when the elevator gave a small 'bing'. He had exactly two seconds to prepare himself before the doors opened. He took a deep breath, summoning a mental image of John's face, then tightened his hold on the gun that'd been ready since the faked fall.

It was time to take the first step on his journey back home.

TBC, OR NOT?

A/N: Oh, those two. They're in for a tough ride. (winces) We'll see just how this all turns out.

But, now… I'm giving to choice into your hands, folks. Should this story live and flourish, or be buried and never spoken of again? PLEASE, leave a note and let me know! First chapters are always nerve wrecking so I'd love to hear from you guys. (gives puppy's eyes)

Thank you so much for reading thus far! Who knows, maybe I'll be seeing you again one day. (glances hopefully)

Take care!