Mundane.
It was the perfect word to describe John Watson's beta life with his beta wife Mary. Their Alpha/Omega clients would say John led a dull and meaningless existence, but John thought it was quite lovely. They'd made a mint in the laundry business. No one else wanted to touch an Alpha/Omega pair's dirty linens but it was an absolute necessity after a nasty heat.
John, over the years, had learned to distance himself from the thought of how the stains came to be on the sheets. He whistled while he worked and painstakingly scrubbed the DNA out of the bed sheets.
His wife would strike up a good conversation and they'd prattle on for hours. It was better than anything John could have ever hoped for.
It was just his wife and him. Neither John nor his wife could bear children. John was a eunuch, castrated at an early age and Mary underwent an early menopause in her late twenties. Both were social misfits; therefore, they were perfect for one another.
The rest of the world went on and on about Omega rights and Omega power, tearing down the hierarchy system, while the betas remained stagnant and overlooked. They weren't anything special; yet they occupied nearly every tier of life. Betas served food, did laundry, delivered pups, and were PA's to the most influential Alphas. John was chosen to be a nanny and performed his duties devotedly for twenty some odd years before receiving clearance to run his business with his wife.
While the laundry was highly successful it was becoming difficult to keep business afloat with profits alone. John decided to look into nannying once more, on the side, to bring in some supplemental income. He didn't expect to receive such an immediate response.
His wife and he were folding oversized flat sheets together when he brought up his potential employer.
"Oh, Holmes! Didn't we do her sheets not too long ago... a month I believe it was?"
"His sheets." John corrected. "And yes it was one month ago. He's one month pregnant, to the day in fact."
"Aw, bless." They came together to fold the sheet in half. "So, this is his second pup?"
"Eh... sort of." John didn't want to reveal everything at once, that's not how good gossip works. "He has a baby brother."
"Oh." She said. "Mum's out of the picture?"
"Says she passed away when the boy was only a few months old."
Mary clicked her tongue. "Shame."
"Well, apparently, the boy was never weaned properly."
"Oh." Mary said with a slightly sour face. "That could be... problematic, I mean for you, love."
"He's off the teat." John chuckled.
"Oh, God." Mary laughed. "Could you imagine you in one of those prosthetic breast-feeders?"
John smiled in response and shook his head. "That's not all."
"Gets worse?"
"He marks."
"No."
"Yep, just started."
"How old is he?"
John shrugged. "Teen? Maybe late adolescence."
"You didn't ask."
"Didn't ask." John shrugged once more.
"He marks?" Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Well, Mycroft, that's the employer mind you, he says it all started when he got knocked up. The boy, Sherlock, started this crazy Alpha dominance display. Marking his territory, trying to size up his brother's mate... I'll spare you the details about what else he's done."
"Oh, do tell, now you've got me interested. N' pass me the pillow cases."
John handed over the pillow cases and his wife stuffed them into the fresh linen bag along with the sheets. "Well all I can say, is the mate's been cast out of the house."
"No! What for?"
John mulled over how much he should tell his wife. "Well they were having a row... did I mention the boy's a biter?"
"John, this boy sounds like an absolute terror!"
"Just wait til I tell you how much he's willing to pay."
"How much?"
"Guess."
"You know I'm terrible at guessing."
"Six figures." John said lifting his eyebrows; his wife's jaw went slack.
"He's paying you a hundred grand-"
"Two hundred." John paused. "Paying? Well... haven't exactly accepted."
"Yet." She said giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. "Do you know what we could do with that money? We could open another location! You know how we've been talking about getting a coin-op. We could even hire some help... John, you have to."
"Did... you not just listen to-"
"Who cares, two-hundred grand, the boy could spit fire for all I care." Mary started to whine, "John you have to. It's the chance of a lifetime." She grabbed his hands and started to sway in a little dance. "Could save up... go to the beach, Somerset... John." She said with a small pout.
"All right... I'll give it a go. Could use a bit of excitement in my life." John lied.
Mycroft Holmes didn't appear surprised when John accepted his offer the next morning.
"I'll have the car take you to the address." Mycroft stood up from across the table and motioned towards the door.
"Wait... you mean, he doesn't live here?" John questioned.
"He has become quite the handful. I thought it would be in everyone's best interests if he had a dwelling to make... his own." Mycroft grimaced at the thought.
"Makes sense." John nodded. The boy was living on his own, didn't know how to take care for himself, John was there to ease the transition. This way Mycroft's mate could be brought back into the house and Mycroft wouldn't have to stress about Sherlock's aggression with a baby on the way.
Mycroft pulled out a cooler bag and opened it up. "Like I told you before, weaning has been an absolute nightmare, and it is best not to go cold turkey with a new... pupsitter?"
"Nanny's fine." John said with a reassuring smile.
"Don't let him have more than one a day, he'll never eat otherwise." Mycroft started to look apprehensive. John picked up the bottles and looked them over. "His orthodontist must hate me." He joked. John held back a laugh. "I must be going. Best wishes." He said congenially as he made his hasty retreat.
John slung the bag over his shoulder and walked down the waiting car. He grew more and more nervous. They pulled up to the flat and he was let in by an elderly woman that wasn't the housekeeper. He could hear shouting from up the stairs.
"Perhaps I should be the one-" She reached for the bag.
"No... I've got this." John thought the threat of his intrusion would be damped by the peace offering. John climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. After no reply, he let himself in. The boy was nowhere to be seen. John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when he felt someone breathing down his neck. He turned slowly and his eyes grew wide in fear, gazing up at the giant man who was looking over him with wild steel-blue eyes.
The man's brows furrowed and his eyes darted from the bag to John's face. He licked his full bottom lip. His hands were shaking. He pulled away suddenly.
John let out a sigh of relief.
"A male nanny... the last twelve were female." The man hummed and paced the floor.
"Twelve?" John asked aghast.
"Yes twelve. They never last more than two weeks."
"You're Sherlock then?" John tried to regain his composure but his knees were shaking.
"You're married... have been quite some time. Why?" Sherlock strolled over and stopped. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he rolled his neck at his shoulders. He let out a deep moan and shook his head. He stepped back and appeared to be trying to clear his thoughts.
John held his ground near the door; ready to make a quick exit if necessary. "Why what?"
Sherlock paced with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back. "If you're a eunuch beta, why would you be allowed to have a wife?" Sherlock's eyes shot open. "She's infertile."
"How-"
"It would be the only reasonable explanation, are those for me?"
"Your brother said-"
"He says a lot of things." Sherlock reached to pull the bag out of John's grip. John held the bag firmly and Sherlock stepped closer. His hold on the bag loosened as Sherlock stepped even closer. John was soon backed against the wall.
Sherlock's breath rattled in his chest. It took John a moment to realize he was purring. Sherlock had his eyes closed and his grip was loose on the bag. John pulled it away suddenly and Sherlock snapped back into reality.
"Just the one then." Sherlock held out a hand and beckoned for a bottle. "I'd prefer if you didn't watch me eat."
"Yeah, sure." John stepped away from the wall and into the kitchen. He placed the bag on the kitchen table and unzipped it. Sherlock swooped in like a hawk and grabbed four bottles in his massive hands and ran in the opposite direction. John started chasing him down, only to have Sherlock's bedroom door slammed in his face.
He tried the door and it wasn't locked, but Sherlock's body was pressed against it.
"Sherlock!" John shouted. He could hear Sherlock enjoying his spoils, suckling away, and gasping for air. "You're going to make yourself sick!" There was a growl from the other side of the door. "Don't... growl at me... young man." John wasn't sure if Sherlock was that young, he appeared to be about his age. He was expecting a rowdy teenager, not a mentally unstable adult.
John grew more angered by the second. "I'm going to remove this door from its bloody hinges if you don't open up!" The door opened suddenly and John fell in. Sherlock moaned as he lumbered to the bed and fell face first on to the mattress.
On the floor were four very empty bottles. Sherlock continued to groan.
"Great, now you're going to get colic." Sherlock let out a well-timed burp. John threw his hands in the air. "You know what, I'm done." He grabbed the empty bottles and retreated to the kitchen. He returned to the bedroom with the cooler bag. "Here, take it, have your fill." Sherlock wrapped his arm around the bag and curled up against it.
John left to sit in the parlour. He flipped on the telly set and sat fuming. His anger eased as time wore on. He went to check on Sherlock and found him fast asleep. John removed the bottle from his mouth and Sherlock puckered out his lips, still in suckling mode. John shook his head.
"What did they do to you?"
John thought it was ridiculous that a full grown Alpha with all his permanent teeth was still drinking from a bottle. Denying him his vice only made it worse. This was no way to wean him. John had dealt with whiney little pups before but this was very different. Sherlock needed to be treated like an adult; perhaps for the first time in his life.
Sherlock started to stir. He rubbed his face against the mattress. The whole place reeked of Alpha male. It was likely Sherlock had scented every square inch of the tiny flat. He was still feeling threatened. Hopefully he hadn't marked anything in the flat, it was difficult to get the smell out of an enclosed space, and John wasn't in the mood to do any more cleaning than he had to.
John stepped out of the room and returned to the telly. He nodded off and felt terribly guilty when he woke up three hours later. He wasn't being paid to sleep, but when he went to go check on his charge he was still napping.
John set about the flat cleaning, anything to keep busy. After five hours he started to worry Sherlock wouldn't sleep well that night and there was no doubt he wasn't eating dinner. He pushed his worry away. It wasn't all about pleasing his employer. Sherlock needed time and space.
John just about finished hoovering when Sherlock strolled out of the bedroom in a daze.
"Feeling better?" John watched as Sherlock fell on to the sofa. Sherlock turned away from him, curled up into a ball, and went right back to sleep.
John's shift ended and Sherlock was still out like a light when he left. John couldn't wait to tell Mary all about the new charge.
She roared with laughter as John told her about the milk.
"That's well bad, couldn't imagine. So he's like huge?"
"Massive, at least half a foot taller than me." John reached his hand up to show her his approximate size.
"So weird."
"I know. It was like... he hadn't eaten in weeks going by the way he was sucking down the milk."
"Probably hasn't. Poor thing." Mary started transferring the linens from the washer to the dryer. "Could you imagine? No mum or alpha influence? His omega brother sounds like a piece of work."
"Yeah... word is he isn't even bonded with his mate."
"It's probably why the boy was lashing out at em." Mary looked over the wet linens for spots. "What's the saying? No bad pups, just bad parents?" She stuffed the sheets back in the washer for another round. "Who's his mate?"
"Oh, you'll never guess."
Mary chuckled. "Who?"
"It's that Detective Inspector."
"Oh my God." Mary rolled her eyes. "Better off not bonding with him." She took a seat next to the washer. "What's he on, number five?"
"Six including this one."
Mary gagged. "Polygamist Alpha... no wonder he had Sherlock marking everywhere. The guy reeks. I can smell em, it's that bad." She snapped her fingers. "Oh, remember that one order."
"Yeah, that's helpful." John laughed.
"The one where the bloke shoved it in the drop-off bin and we had to soak the sheets overnight in bleach."
"Oh yeah... aw yuck. I don't want to know whose dirty laundry is whose."
"Yeah well, if that DI Lestrade isn't top Alpha male, I don't know who is."
"What I don't understand is Sherlock and he used to get along great!"
"Blood runs thick."
"Yeah but you'd think-"
"He's probably trying to protect his brother and his brood."
"Yeah, maybe." John shrugged.
"You never did tell me what happened between them."
"You don't want to hear about it. It's... I don't think you'd understand it. It's a male... dominance thing."
"And you do?" She jeered.
"I identify myself as male, so yes, I understand... not that I'd ever... yeah." He grimaced.
They let the topic drop and worked on until two in the morning. They could barely keep their eyes open. They both fell into bed completely exhausted but satisfied with their work.