Chapter One: The Bar
A/N: Evening, gents! I wasn't going to post this until after I posted all of Sherringford Manor, but soon my trip is going to be all camping for a long while, so I'm pushing forward what I have done. So there will be a few updates in the next few days, but afterwards it's going to be quiet for a bit. I'll probably be able to write still when I'm camping, but I can't be too sure. Anyways, here is the next story!
Warning: PLEASE READ. As I said in the summary, this sort of delves into omega!verse, but I don't think it quite qualifies. Sherlock is part werewolf, so I decided to give him some of the alpha traits that alpha/omegas do in those stories. PLEASE NOTE that I am not doing this for smut, though there is quite a bit of it in this story. I think I explain it alright why I did so, but if you want clarification message me/review and I will try to explain it more either by replying or another chapter or something. That said, there is smut in this story. If you read my other work, you'll see I usually skate around the subject of sex, though there is no denying it's there. This one I didn't skirt, sorry.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. You should be sad, I bet you would like what I'd do.
If you were to ask Sherlock how he got to this point, he wouldn't have been able to tell you.
He certainly hadn't wanted to go out with John and his buddies, and he certainly didn't want to drink copious amounts of alcohol. Bill Murray had quite a way with words, however, and had managed to convince the detective to go out to the bar, along with Mike Stamford. Sherlock couldn't quite remember what he had said; something about Mary, he recalled. He would do anything he possibly could to spite her.
He hadn't wanted to engage in a drinking contest with Murray, either, but John said something about experiments and here they were; Sherlock having difficulties staying on his stool after losing spectacularly, though Murray wasn't much better. Mike was giggling next to the detective, and John…that's right. John went out to answer a phone call from dear old Mary.
"I hate her," Sherlock whined at Bill. "She's always in the way. Life was good before she came around."
"I hear you, mate," Bill patted his back. "Women are like that."
"I wish he didn't need women," Sherlock groused. "Why can't I be good enough?"
"Because a man like John ne—hick—eeds intimacy," Mike was still giggling. "Are you giving him intimacy?"
"No," Sherlock frowned.
"Well, there you go," Bill said. "'Sides, he hardly needs a woman."
"What do you mean?" Bill looked sheepish, but Mike was nodding.
"John was known for a fling or two with men during med school," he said. "Wasn't hiding it or anything, though he wouldn't mention it unless you asked."
Bill looked relieved. "Good, so I didn't give out a dirty secret. There wasn't much women abroad of course, so John mostly settled for gents. Doesn't really help you, though."
"Why not?" Sherlock asked. He had to remind himself that though John might like guys, he wouldn't want Sherlock like that. Especially considering his problem.
"Well," Bill leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. The listeners leaned in eagerly as well, almost butting heads. "Like I said, it wasn't a secret that John batted for the same team. As long as the higher ups didn't hear about it, everything was fine, and quite a few men wanted to get their end in with him. Tail is tail, out in the desert. Johnny boy, however, wasn't going to just let anyone have a go. He earned quite a reputation."
"What reputation?" The others asked in unison, then shared a giggle.
"Well, they he was a…"
"On with it, man!" Sherlock ordered.
"They say he was a…size queen."
"No!" mike gasped.
"Yes," Bill was nodding. "The bigger the better. Actually, only the biggest. Most guys didn't stand a chance. I reckon that's why he only dates girls now. No one would be able to measure up."
"But he is so small!" Mike argued.
"That don't make no difference," Bill said, and they continued to bicker. Sherlock for his part was silent. Could it be true? All this time, Sherlock had been in agony, and it was for nothing? Well, maybe not nothing…
"Hey guys, what did I miss?" John was standing beside Sherlock now, a hand on his chair. All three men immediately started blushing and stammering, much to his confusion. "Alright then…Sherlock, I think we should be heading home now."
The detective nodded and stood up with minimal stumbling. The group gave a cheerful farewell, and the two headed out into the cold darkness. The flat was a welcome relief; even their booze jackets couldn't hold out against the winter air. Once inside they said quiet goodnights before heading to their respective rooms.
Sherlock had a lot to think about.