Essence
A BBC Sherlock Omegaverse Story
By
Nana
Prologue
Hello! Welcome to another AU fic! This is going to be very, very short (at least, I hope so) and very, very dark. It is also Omegaverse, so yes, essentially it's going to be explicit/ rated M. For those who are new to Omegaverse, this primer will help: archiveofourown dot org/works/403644/chapters/665489
The story is going to be alpha!Sherlock and omega!John, but as always, where my stories are concerned, there is going to be a little twist in the Johnlock dynamics; and then there's going to be somebody else coming in. Somebody very disruptive. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, so please be advised and check the tags before proceeding. I hope you will enjoy the story, and constructive reviews are appreciated. More author's notes at the end of the chapter.
Dedication: For Reapersun, who requested for more fics with top!Omega-John— definitely my kind of John as well.
And for wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up), extraordinary Beta and amazing writer. A truly elegant wordsmith who is also an inspiration.
When I'm lost in a place that I thought I knew
Give me some way that I might find you.
-Through Smoke (lyrics by Needtobreathe)
Sherlock Holmes stepped into the pool house at exactly midnight. It was already way past closing time, and he knew they would be alone.
The pool house. Yes, naturally this was where he would be.
He sauntered in, his gait slow and unhurried even as he tamped down hard on the excitement rising within him— again, a natural response, fueled by an exhilarating weeklong chase; nothing more, he told himself. It was never anything more than that. Certainly, it had nothing to do with the kind of man he was after.
He stopped beside the pool and there, enveloped in the eerie, shimmering blue-black shadows and aquamarine glow cast by the backlit water, he reached into the breast pocket of his dark coat and held aloft a small bottle of amber-colored fluid. It was but a few ounces, but it had cost the detective thousands of pounds to acquire just this much.
"I brought you a little getting-to-know-you present," he said to nobody in particular, his deep voice bounding along the walls of the hollow chamber and coming back to him in faint echoes.
He stood motionless, allowing only his pale eyes to restlessly scan the shadows surrounding him for any sign of movement.
Everything remained still, as though the place really was deserted and Sherlock had been wrong in his deductions.
Not true.
He was here.
Sherlock needed to find him and bring him in; before time ran out.
Before somebody else got to him.
"Do you know that perfumes are described in a musical metaphor as having three sets of notes?" Sherlock said conversationally. "Together they strike a harmonious balance and the scent is said to reach an accord.
"There is the top note— the scent that is perceived immediately once the perfume is applied and which provides the first impression. Then there is the middle or heart note that emerges just prior to the dissipation of the top note. It serves as the main body of the perfume. Last but not the least comes the base note, which brings depth and solidity to the scent and gives it its lasting impression. The aromatic compounds which serve as base notes are typically rich and deep and they influence the top and middle notes of a scent."
He paused, as if expecting a response from the depths of the shadows before him. None came. Everything was still. Too still. As though the silence had developed a sentience of its own; as though it were listening intently to every word that issued from Sherlock's mouth.
Someone, somewhere, was listening to him.
Unperturbed, he pressed on: "Several aromatic substances are used to make the bases of perfumes. Majority of them are synthetic, but the most prized— the really, really expensive ones— are derived from animal sources: ambergris from sperm whales and deer and civet musk, to name a few. And of course, there is omega musk— the glandular secretions of a ripe, unbonded omega male in heat."
Sherlock stared straight into the shadows ahead of him as he waved the bottle that he held in his hand. "Can you guess whose essence is bottled herein, John Watson?" he said in clear, very deliberate tones.
Apart from the gentle lapping of the water in the pool beside him, absolute silence reigned.
"You're right to think you're being pursued, John," Sherlock murmured as he slowly uncorked the bottle. "Harvesting of omega musk is nowhere near legal and carries heavy sentences here in the UK, but that hasn't stopped hunters from plying their trade to supply private collectors and perfume makers the world over. You're playing a dangerous game by remaining unregistered. No doubt you are aware of the fate that awaits an unbonded omega when he falls into the hands of these unscrupulous traders. I'm not the only one after you, but I think you already know that."
Carefully, Sherlock tipped the small bottle and watched one perfect amber droplet fall onto his wrist. Slowly, he rubbed it into his skin.
The scent was beautifully subtle, that rich undertone that was John's essence serving to beguile and intoxicate the senses. Sherlock felt his nostrils flare as he brought his wrist up to take the scent in: irresistible. If something within him could respond to it, how much more the others— the full-blooded, buck alphas?
"Do you smell that, John?" he asked into the darkness, his voice decidedly several decibels lower in depth; almost a guttural purr. "It's pure sex in a bottle. You've been careless to share one of your heats with a person who's sold you out— sold your dripping fluids to the highest bidder in the black market, in fact. With this scent alone, you're worth more than ambergris— thousands of pounds more per ounce. There are people who will kill to lay their hands on you during your next heat. Do what is right before it's too late."
Sherlock reached into the breast pocket of his coat once again and drew out a card. "Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard is willing to extend full protective custody in return for your help in catching this poacher, who also happens to be one of your former partners," he said, carefully depositing the card along with the perfume bottle on the floor in front of him. "This is Lestrade's personal number. He will be waiting for your call. You can choose to keep running, but just how far can you go before somebody catches up with you? How safe can you be, if I managed to track you down within one short week? Or, you can turn yourself in now and be safe."
With that, Sherlock carefully took a step back, then another before he forced himself to turn away and leave, knowing very well that this was not his last encounter with Dr. John H. Watson.
As always, Sherlock was right, but what he did not expect was John turning up the very next day at 221B Baker Street.
Author's Notes: The word perfume derives from the Latin per fumum, meaning "through smoke." Perfumery, or the art of perfume-making, dates back thousands of years in ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt. The aromatic sources of perfumes are derived from flowers and plants or they may be synthetic, but the really expensive ones are derived from animals. For example, a 6-lb lump of ambergris (gastrointestinal lumps of fat expelled from sperm whales) may be worth as much as 100,000 pounds. The Asian musk deer as well as the African civet were hunted for their musk sacs, prompting concerns that these species may be endangered due to poaching. Nowadays, synthetic musk (white musk) is used for most perfumes, and many countries such as the US and Australia have banned the trade of ambergris as part of a more general ban on the hunting and exploitation of sperm whales, although it is still legal in other countries such as France and Switzerland. The chapter's research on the various notes of a perfume was lifted from Wikipedia.