A/N: Hello, people!
I don't own Sherlock.
I have no beta.
ENJOY!
In the world of Alphas, Betas and Omegas, there is another classification that is so rare, their numbers are only in the double digits. These types, have the aura and scent of an Alpha, but are able to breed like an Omega. However, they can be impregnated by either an Alpha, a Beta or an Omega. Such people are called, Sigmas. They are so rare and prized above all Omegas, because of their Alpha tendencies and the ability to take more than one mate. Succeeding in getting a Sigma to submit and allow you to mate, bond and pup them, gives you rank and power.
Every Sigma will know what they are. An instinctive wave of adrenaline on their first 'heat' explains everything that they need to know.
Sigmas are highly sought after. Problem is, unless they decide to tell someone, no one may ever know. A Sigma needs to trust and some may never chance romance due to fear of being controlled and forced to breed.
Unfortunately for John Watson, he's a Sigma and with two Alphas like the Holmes brothers in his life, they're bound to notice irregularities.
Sherlock was staring at him.
Sherlock always stared at him.
Almost a year with the man and he'd still not gotten used to those eyes. Both a different shade of the same color. Heterochromia Iridis. And it just made Sherlock look hotter. That was so unfair!
"Is there a reason you're staring at me so much?" he finally asked.
"It makes you uncomfortable and you were twitching when I wasn't looking to you. But as soon as you had my attention, it stopped."
Shite. Sherlock noticed that, huh? It was nearing his heat time. A few days away actually. Unlike Omegas, Sigmas like John didn't have a scent of readiness when in heat. There was no true sign in aura or scent. He still smelled of Alpha. The only thing giving him away, was the persistent itch that had him constantly moving to try to relieve the feeling.
And Sherlock had noticed.
Dear God why?
"I'm experiencing some vertigo. Possibly nausea."
I was a lie. But it wasn't very detailed. Sherlock always said that only lies have detail.
Sherlock was giving him the calculating look. Assessing if he was telling the truth or not.
"You're lying."
Dammit!
John stood up and left the living room, heading for the stairs. "I'm not feeling right. I'll see you in the morning."
He heard Sherlock saying, "Not a lie but not completely truthful either."
He could hear the sofa creak as Sherlock stood. And then there were footsteps getting closer to him. Sherlock was following him!
He took the stairs three at a time. Impressive since he was really short for a male.
He managed to get through the door and have it locked by the time Sherlock caught up to him.
"John! Your habits have become highly irregular and your temperament has become questionable at best!" Sherlock called from the other side of the door.
"Sherlock, can you just accept that I'm not feeling well and leave it at that? I'm going to take a nap. Please don't linger outside my door for five hours."
"It's obvious that your health has become compromised."
"It's nice that you care in your own way, but please stop badgering me. Go experiment on some poor unsuspecting fool. Go annoy Mycroft."
There was a moment of silence as Sherlock deliberated. "Fine. But you will have to leave the room at some point."
John lightly snorted and mumbled, "Not bloody likely."
When he heard Sherlock going down the stairs and begin playing his violin, John sighed and flung himself on his bed.
He groaned as the telltale feeling rushed through him. Warmth spread down his spine. He shivered. Thirty-four years old and still had yet to spend his heat with someone else. And he couldn't afford to masterbate with Sherlock in the flat. Dammit. Life as a Sigma sucked.
He sighed into the mattress and hoped beyond all hope that it would go away. He had four days. It shouldn't be so bad.
Completely untrue in every sense.
He was hot. So very hot. Panting slightly. And he couldn't help but stare at Sherlock every time his back was turned. Considering the obviously attractive Alpha standing not even ten feet from him.
The way Sherlock moved, was like he knew what he wanted. He had the confidence in himself and his walk showed it. He was Alpha to the extreme. He was in control. He even made other Alphas cower at times. It was breathtaking to witness.
The first day into his heat and he was already drinking his tea cold. Sherlock had cocked a brow at that.
John even got in two cold showers on the first day. Sherlock had been gone for the second one, thank God.
The second day was no better. He hadn't left the flat in two days and restricted himself to his bedroom for the duration of his heat. Sherlock was too damn tempting to pass up. Those bloody cheekbones and eyes killed John. Killed his resistance.
The third day was beginning to show pain. He hadn't had a heat this bad in over a decade. In the Army, he had secretly been on suppressants. No one had suspected him at all. Perhaps twelve years of suppressants wasn't a good idea. Not that it was against the law for Sigmas to be in the Army. It was just taxing on the others who would love nothing more than to get a Sigma to submit.
He wanted to be filled! And not just by anyone, but by the delicious Alpha currently illegally trying to split an atom in the the kitchen. If the authorities found out, Sherlock would be imprisoned and John would probably be charged as guilty by association and knowledge.
God, why was everything so difficult?
The last day was by far, the most terrible of his life. He ached, his bed was soaked from sweat and he was on the verge of whining and blowing his cover. He didn't want to though. Even though he did, if that made any sense.
He very clearly wanted Sherlock, but didn't want to bring up the whole Sigma thing. Could two Alphas get together? Was that even possible? Had any ever done it before?
John was laying naked, on the floor under his bed. The floor was cold. He side was pressed up against the wall that was connected to the outside.
It was snowing. Winter was always John's time. His cycle always hit then. Ever since he was fourteen. Younger than most who hit puberty. He pressed himself closer to the freezing wall and contemplated the thought of jumping into a snow drift. His window was wide open and the wind was literally blowing snow into the room. Good thing the floor wasn't wooden.
He clutched at the leg of the bed and forcefully closed his eyes, trying to count out his last few hours. It was painful. It was terrible. He wasn't sure he'd make the next one. He shuddered in the fear of it. Of telling someone what he was. God what would they do to him?
He shivered as he curled into a ball, back still against the freezing wall.
John managed to get a cold. For some, that was a terrible thing especially at the holiday season. But not for John. It gave him an excuse for staying in his room so much. He had a fever of 103.2 which gave him the perfect excuse necessary for his prolonged illness. His body had been fighting off something and had lost.
On the 'fifth day of his illness', he encountered Sherlock who immediately placed a hand on his forehead, grabbed the thermometer and forced it on the doctor.
"You've been ill. That's why you consumed all of the vitamins of C and D and why you practically inhaled the citrus fruits in the flat. You were attempting to fight this naturally and failed."
Technically that wasn't what he'd been doing. Citrus just made the heats better for some reason, but he nodded to Sherlock's assumption. Let him think what he wanted.
Sherlock spun him around and marched him back into the bedroom.
"No wonder you're ill, it's freezing in here. What possessed you to open the window all the way?"
"I'm hot and I already took a shower."
"You will lay down and rest and I will go and purchase you some necessary medication. If your fever does not go down in the next few hours, you may have to go to the hospital. Anything over 101 isn't good, even I remembered to not delete that. No arguing. Get in the bed."
And so Sherlock took care of John for the rest of this illness period and somewhere during that time, John was positive that he fell in love with the world's only consulting detective.
January-
Seventeen cases during the month. John was called in to assist on ten of them.
February-
Twenty-four cases this time. Sherlock requested John's assistance for twenty of them.
March-
This time John was asked to help with every case. All forty of them.
April-
John's blog was expanding. Several thousand views after every entry. More people were coming to their flat with cases for them. Some were just ridiculous. Others were serious. Sherlock accepted fifty-one all in the month of April.
John's helped was procured for each one.
May-
The arguments about John's names for the cases started about around this time.
Sherlock sneered at his choice of title.
John snarked right back.
They argued over where the clients came from.
John got in the last word. That meant that he won.
June-
That was the beginning it it all.
Jim Moriarty stepped into the picture and put Sherlock through one hell of a hide and seek, clue game.
And then John was kidnapped by the creep and hooked up to some semtex. Enough to probably ruin a good twenty feet in diameter of whereever John stood.
Sherlock's face when he stepped out of the shadows in the darkened pool room could have broken John's heart. He had looked betrayed. That was, until John began repeating a bunch of bullshit and pulled his coat open to show the bombs strapped to his chest.
And then what followed could only be considered as chaos. Three Alphas - both Alphas assuming that John was also an Alpha - talking it out, even though there was a bomb and at least four snipers involved, plus John's Browning that Sherlock was wielding.
The lights were only coming from the other side of the room. John's brows furrowed as he thought about what it could mean if they made it out of this alive.
And then Moriarty 'left' and Sherlock proceeded to strip John of his clothing.
"If someone else was here, they'd get the wrong idea."
Sherlock didn't say anything except for the same, 'Are you alright?' over and over. He then kicked the vest of bombs all the way across the room. Toward where the snipers had been, John had noticed. Hmmm.
John sighed in relief and jumped into the pool to cool himself down and to prepare.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked as he came down from his adrenaline induced high.
"Letting the water lull me. I think you should deactivate that vest instead of just leaving it there."
Sherlock stood at the edge of the pool, staring down at him. John widened his eyes a little and lightly gestured to his right.
Sherlock somehow got his point. A quick glance to his left and he was jumping into the pool while simultaneously shooting the semtex vest.
John had already dunked himself just as the blast made the water rise as it took out the room. The water wasn't enough to completely save them from the backlash of the explosion. Sherlock was somehow removed from the water by a large wave and tossed across the room. John was flattened against the side of the pool, head slamming against the wall.
When the water pulled back, letting John finally breath air once more, he choked as the water drained from the pool into the hole in the floor. The back of the room was mostly torn apart. The suddenly drained pool was covered in questionable items.
'Items' meaning body parts. Whoever was too close to the explosion was destroyed in the blast. He could count four different arms lying in the bit of remaining water in the pool.
The walls were dripping with a mix of water and blood and John rubbed his aching head. Pools were always a hazard to him.
When the cops arrived, with Lestrade on the case shockingly, both men were a little banged up from everything, but nevertheless fine.
According to the only camera that wasn't blown apart in the pool area, everything was caught before the blast. Everything but the conversation.
Enough information on four men without a license to carry. Unlike Sherlock who got his license from Mycroft. Or John, who had it as a perk from being a veteran.
Moriarty's involvement in everything and the fact Sherlock had never been wrong in any of cases, completely got him off charges of manslaughter by cause of explosion.
When they were finally home, they both realized something had changed in the last ten hours.
It wasn't big, but it was enough for both of them to notice.
July-
Things sort of went back to normal.
More cases. Sherlock's back had fully healed from hitting the wall after the explosion. John's head was better.
Idiots talked.
People walked.
And Sherlock was becoming a little more clingy than he used to be. He was also 'praise hunting', as John called it.
He even went so far as to make John some tea whenever he felt that the doctor needed it.
August-
Sherlock's dependency on John got a little deeper.
He even went so far as to say that John was his only friend. If that wasn't enough to pull on the heartstrings, John didn't know what was.
September-
Some more cases. Mycroft even had a few of his own for them to do. That meant extra money for necessities.
Sherlock wasn't too pleased when Mycroft threatened to 'knight him' for his hard work.
October-
Irene Adler, Beta, came into the picture. Sherlock showed minute interest, but not in her body which she gladly flaunted. He liked her mind. John would secretly admit to himself that he was jealous when she was around.
November-
It occurred to John, that almost an entire year had passed.
His next heat was coming up.
Dear God, would he even make it out alive?
The fear could nearly paralyze him.
December started like it did every year.
Cold and full of fearful anticipation. Heat would come at some point on the twentieth. It always did that. Not once on any other date.
John had twenty days to come up with something. Sherlock would no doubt think it strange that he got sick the same exact time this year as the year previous. That would be suspicious. So maybe there was something else he could do.
The days passed by, until it was time for John to call off work for his week long Christmas holiday. His heat would come and go during that time period. That was, if he even made it out alive for this one.
The prospect of dying from lack of sexual fulfillment didn't bother him as much as it would others. In fact, he craved sex all the time, but he just didn't have anyone he wanted.
That was a lie. He wanted Sherlock. Badly. But Sherlock didn't do relationships like that. He was strictly 'married to his work'. And John couldn't trust anyone else with his secret. Hell, his parents never knew. He didn't even tell Harry.
Sherlock had disappeared to who knows where, but John was going to use that as an chance to stockpile his room with food for the next few days.
It was on his third trip to the kitchen, that he had the wits nearly terrified out of him. Mycroft was sitting in Sherlock's prefered chair, umbrella calmly resting on his lap.
He jerked in surprise and looked around to see if Sherlock was there. He couldn't smell him, so it was just Mycroft.
"Is there something you need, Mycroft?"
The man sighed, "Sherlock has eluded the CCTV somehow. He's also refusing my calls. Did he tell you where he was going?"
"No, sorry."
The man sighed and stood.
"That is most unfortunate. Well, my apologies for interrupting you, John. Do have a good holiday."
John frowned but nodded, "You too...Mycroft. Should I tell Sherlock that you stopped by?"
"He'll know just from the scent. Good evening to you."
Mycroft swept out the door and John turned for the kitchen, confusion filling him up inside.
He barely made it four steps, when it hit him. And it hit hard. Very hard. He gasped and tripped over his own feet at the suddenness of it. The heat. The roiling heat filling him so suddenly. Racing down his spine.
He collapsed with a loud thud which he knew alerted Mycroft, who wasn't even halfway down the stairs yet.
He twitched, even as the descending footsteps halted and reversed order, coming back up the stairs.
And then the scent hit him. Mycroft. Alpha. Power.
He wanted it!
"John, are you well?"
A sort of garbled mess of words left his throat. He couldn't verbally answer. It was too hot. It was beginning to burn. It was a day early. Why had it happened now?
Mycroft actually knelt on the floor beside him. Shocking.
John's body twitched a lot more in the heat of everything. Mycroft's nearing scent was not making it any better. He wanted Mycroft of all people. Strange.
"John, please tell me you aren't having a seizure. I don't know the procedure required in order to assist you."
"S...s….s….."
He couldn't even speak, his breathing is too labored.
Another wave of heat made him gasp.
"Si...si..sig…."
And then there were footsteps. Sherlock's scent permeated the flat instantly.
"Mycroft what do you want - John! What's wrong with John?!"
And now he had two brother Alphas kneeling on the floor beside him, even as his body begged him to just get naked and jump one of them. It didn't even have the decency to choose which one.
"I...I….I….."
"We've established that it's you. What is wrong, John?"
"A...a...am...am…."
"John please, we can't help if you don't tell us what you-"
John somehow found the strength to jump Mycroft. He went from laying on his stomach to pushing the 'British Government' to the floor in the span of a second as he managed to hiss out the word, "Sigma," for both brothers to hear clearly.
"Oh," Sherlock's answer came out in a whoosh of air.
John watched in unveiled fascination as Mycroft's dark blue eyes dilated instantly at the revelation. From his position on the man, he could smell his arousal, see his pulse quicken and feel the erection suddenly forming under his arse.
John moaned, "I don't care who, but one of you needs to fuck me now!"
There was a dampness in his trousers. He had leaked right through his pants! Natural lubricant just rankled him sometimes!
Arms wrapped around his stomach and hauled him off Mycroft. He was moving away from the Alpha, by way of the other Alpha. Mycroft was off the floor and following Sherlock into his room, which was luckily on the first floor.
John was placed on the bed and suddenly, hands were flying. Clothing was being torn apart. And then his bare skin was revealed to the room.
He felt no embarrassment like he normally would. He just wanted someone's cock up his arse. It didn't matter whose it was, just that it was big, hard and that it knotted within him. Yes, that'd be lovely.
"Sigmas can take more than one at a time."
That was Mycroft.
"Are we both really going to do this?"
And that was Sherlock.
"Yes," both men chorused after a few seconds.
And John's head snapped back as one of them grabbed his cock and the other began placing kisses on his neck.
"We'll make you better, John."
"We'll take the burn away."
And John's body was lifted once again, until he was flush against Sherlock. He knew from the scent. Sherlock was just as naked as he and his own erection was pulsing hotly against John's inner thigh.
There was some sliding, producing a delicious sort of friction, before Sherlock had slowly entered him.
He momentarily was shocked that Sherlock even knew the process. Sherlock didn't do relationships. So he shouldn't have known about sex and mating. Right?
And then John was being stretched even further. From behind.
Though he knew that he was a Sigma, he still had a difficult time accepting the fact that he was able to have more than one mate or the fact that his body willingly accepted such large appendages inside it. At the same bloody time!
His breathing was labored and he moaned when both men shifted closer, completely sandwiching him between them. Hands on his waist in the front and the back, angled him properly and then they lifted him, together.
John was left gasping as the Alphas did all of the work.
Sliding. Friction. Pure, unadulterated fucking. It was marvelous. Slow. Heated. Perfection.
He wanted to say something. Anything. But he couldn't form the words. Besides, the brothers were doing spectacularly on their own. They both managed to hit that spot inside him at the same time. They kept him busy.
He keened loudly, internally begging for more.
Sherlock buried his face in the space between John's left shoulder and his clavicle. His curls lightly brushed the side of John's head. He was purely Sherlock and the scent was driving him mad.
Mycroft has somehow managed to hold his own. His scent also drove the doctor wild.
Each Alpha had claimed a shoulder of their own to lavish with attention. John's head fell forward onto Sherlock's own shoulder and he moaned at the unbridled pleasure that quickly filled him.
They both stabbed him. Over and over again. Their combined thickness was heaven, or hell depending on which one would prefer. John just knew that it was the best sex he'd ever had. And it was only the first night. He had three to four more days to go. He shivered in anticipation.
John's body tightened suddenly and he was pulled down roughly. The jarring motion was just enough and in that moment, he experienced the most mind shattering climax of his life, soaking Sherlock's chest with his essence.
The brothers both groaned in unison and John felt the swelling and instinctually spread his legs wider, wrapping them around Sherlock's waist.
They'd knotted at the same time, filling John with that which he had denied himself of for so long.
"Thank you," the Sigma growled, hoarsely.
A simultaneous pinching pain on either side of the neck, informed him that he had just been given the mating mark, by both Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Dear Lord, it was surreal. It pretty much ensured a bonding. Especially since John was attached to Sherlock and to a lesser extent, Mycroft.
The three went from kneeling to laying on their sides, John being situated comfortably between them.
The brothers began speaking, but John didn't have enough in him to muster up the strength to join in on the conversation.
"I seem to have deleted Sigma pregnancies. What will happen?"
"It is possible for both our seed to take effect, conceiving separate children that will distinctively smell of us when born. Almost like a woman with Dizygotic twins. They will not share the same amniotic sac or placenta and obviously not the same umbilical cord."
"Interesting."
"I'm more interested in the fact that John managed to go thirty-five years without bonding or even mating. Sigmas have the worst heats imaginable and the longer they go without coupling, the worse they get. It's impressive that he managed twelve years in the army under suppressants."
"Twelve years?!"
John's vision was suddenly full of Sherlock's shocked face. His shocked, angelic face.
"John that's an equivalent of drug abuse. That's worse than my five years of cocaine addiction. Why did you do that to yourself?"
John groaned a little, but managed to mutter, "Sigmas are rare….. We're worth a lot of money….. In the past...Sigmas had been used as breeding machines in hopes of birthday more Sigmas….. People want the glory and rank bestowed upon those who 'tame' a Sigma….. Rarely does a Sigma ever tell anyone what they are these days….. If you hadn't been here for this, I wouldn't have made this heat….. It wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow….. I'd even gone so far as to start my Will, in case I didn't make it….. I don't want to be a slave."
"John," Sherlock said… softly?
"Well, I do understand your reluctance to admit your status. It is admirable that you managed for so long. A sigma at your age would have passed years ago without a bonding or a proper heat cycle or from not bearing any children," Mycroft intoned quietly.
The look that came over Sherlock's face. "John." He looked heartbroken.
"I wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure how you'd handle it?" John mumbled into the bed.
"Not well, certainly. I'd be devastated if you died, John."
"Even though caring isn't an advantage?" John asked, peeking up from the bedding.
Sherlock flushed, 'That's Mycroft's wording, not mine."
"Even though it's sentimental?" John amended, quirking his only visible brow.
"I've found that sentiment is good when you are involved."
John chuckled weakly and sighed. "How sweet," he cooed.
Mycroft cleared his throat then, drawing both of their attentions.
"I'm sure you understand that we will have register this union. Luckily, you have been mated, John. No one can legally bother you about heats or mating or your status and I'm sure I can bend some facts of your past to explain why you lied on your papers about being an Alpha."
John's stomach flipped and then settled evenly. Everything would be kay. "Thank you, Mycroft."
"Yes well, I find myself actually liking you, John. You've also had a lasting positive impression on Sherlock and I find myself not having to worry so often."
Sherlock scoffed, "Just don't be insufferable about it. Now, how long will the pregnancy be?"
"Sigmas only last a trimester. A little long if there is more than one child."
"To think, we'll have children. never thought it would happen and now here we are."
John rolled his eyes. It had only seemed that way because both were so demanding and specific.
He groaned when both Alphas sighed as their erections tapered off. The first round was over and the second was fast approaching them. John could feel the heat liking at his spine.
"Again," he growled, pulling himself up.
A/N: Done!
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