Upon his first glance after the apartment door was opened, viewing the much shorter man with a flick of his eyes, Sherlock didn't see anything interesting in this Beta. He already considered him simple and stupid. Dull. Obviously a doctor, but not good enough at his job to have been able to save his only lead on his latest case. It involved a dangerous serial killer who had been trailing through the city for the past month. Fifteen victims so far with the body count expected to rise.
What was he to do now?
Eyeing the useless doctor with something akin to condescending annoyance, he then fired off all different questions and demanded answers. It was vital he knew everything because so many pieces were still missing to the case.
"I'm Sherlock Holmes from Scotland Yard, I'm here to take your witness report on what happened. Take me to where the victim was stabbed and go through what you did." Sherlock ordered, briefly flashing DI Lestrade's stolen badge and briskly turning around and walking away.
Sherlock stopped walking at the precise spot, identifying the large stain of blood still on the road. He crinkled his nose slightly at the acrid odour, it didn't help his nose was so sensitive. John caught up quickly and introduced himself. Sherlock had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the courteous tone in his voice. Not caring to shake the hand extended towards him, Sherlock immediately began to question him. Better to just get this over and done with after all.
As this 'Dr. John Watson' replied to each question and re-enacted to precise detail what he did, Sherlock began to deduce the man further with ease.
He was obviously a morally good person, had never had a girlfriend, lived alone… Living a boring monotonous life. Not worth Sherlock's time because he hadn't seen anything before hearing the victim's scream when se had been stabbed. He hadn't even seen anyone leaving the scene when he had rushed to the dying woman.
Boring, boring, boring.
But what Sherlock had not seen coming was when John snapped at him suddenly after a rather rude statement from the Alpha that insulted both him and his abilities as a doctor.
"I would have liked to have seen you do a better job at saving her life! Someone who had died in complete agony," John growled, his heart thumping in his chest with anger. Looking the Alpha in the eye, he growled in a threatening voice, "Do not, ever, say something like that to me again."
Sherlock frowned at John and opened his mouth to destroy the Beta with a few choice words. How dare someone of a Lower-Class talk to him like tha- what on earth?
His nostrils suddenly flared slightly as Sherlock had inhaled deeply and could smell something minutely different in the man's scent. A subtle change that only flared when his heart rate had increased and anger was clearly running rampant in the smaller man.
Interesting.
John answered all of Sherlock's short brief questions with just as brief answers, wishing the Alpha would just go away because his body was acting up. He was beginning to find it hard to focus when the Alpha's scent was so alluring and one of the best things he had ever smelt. Why was it thisAlpha? Working in the hospital had exposed him to remain to hundreds of Alpha patients over the years. Not once had any provoked a reaction from him. So what was the deal with this one?
Sherlock peered at him extremely closely as he spoke and all it did was cause John to just glare at him, confused as to what the hell was his problem. "Why are you looking at me like that?" John finally demanded, having had enough of the uncomfortable silence. It was now beginning to unnerve him more than he would like to admit.
He was not prepared for the next words to fall out of the Alpha's mouth.
"It doesn't make sense that someone who has obviously come from a farming background in Sussex has ended up in London. Self-sustained and managing to afford medical school all on your own when you clearly have no respect for Alphas. You have lived alone the entire time you have been here and have never had a partner. So, care to explain?"
John's jaw dropped open in amazement. How could this stranger know all of this?
"I-I inherited it from my grandparents. That was…amazing. How did you know all of that? I moved there when I was younger after both my parents had died," John explained. Why on earth was he telling his life story to a complete stranger? Someone who incidentally incredibly attractive and smelt wonderful.
"I observed, now how did they die?" Sherlock asked.
Raising his eyebrows in confused surprise, why would that be necessary to a murder case? "Car accident."
It was true. John had found out when he was seventeen. He had returned to the area in Manchester where he had lived only to find out his parents had been killed in a hit and run two years after he had left. It had been gut wrenching. John had left flowers on their graves before he had left to return to the cottage. He has not been visited them since.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed as the tumultuous emotions flowed over John's face. So many different muscles twitched from John's jaw all the way up to his eyebrows. Why was this suddenly so distracting? Why was it so interesting to watch him reliving what would have been an agonising part of his life?
"Were they drunk?" Sherlock asked bluntly. That was the highest statistic of cause of death in a car accident after all.
John's head up flew up as the question instantly brought him out his reverie. "What? No! No they weren't drunk!" he yelled slightly. "Now you listen to me you idiot! These questions are not related to whatever investigation you are doing. Even though you obviously aren't with the police." John stared back at him with a hard expression, stepping forward and poking Sherlock in the shoulder as he spoke.
Sherlock was genuinely shocked at John's reaction and he narrowed his eyes as he studied the doctor, who was now positively seething. John was defending himself like an Alpha would and was clearly not going to back down. How intriguing. But when John had looked at him in astonishment when he had been deduced and then said that that was amazing, Sherlock had been surprised at the praise. But now it was clear that he had noticed that John obviously wanted to be left alone, it wasn't because he wasn't repelled by Sherlock, or even intimidated. He hadn't been unnecessarily rude to him or even told him to piss off yet.
He obviously wanted to separate himself from Sherlock for some other reason and Sherlock knew it was to do with his slight change in scent. Maybe it had been triggered by stress? That suggestion was instantly deleted. John was in a highly stressful job. Illogical that stress could be a contributor. Sherlock inhaled deeply again and was interested to notice that John's scent had gone back to being…normal. Dull.
Beta's scent never changed so why would this one's? He certainly was not an Omega by any standards, most likely a hormone imbalance but even that was extremely rare and had always shown as physical attributes. Not a change in scent. Hmm. It was increasingly becoming clear that this, Dr, John Watson was not as ordinary and dull as Sherlock had anticipated.
Suddenly stepping forward that only a few centimetres separated them, Sherlock inhaled deeply again and found that there was still no change.
John immediately took a step back and frowned at him, "What the hell are you doing?"
Sherlock frowned and took another step closer and inhaled again, still no change in the Beta's scent. It made no sense.
John took a few steps back so there was some distance between them. Looking Sherlock up and down he asked, "Do you go around sniffing every Beta you have interviewed like that?"
There was no anger in his voice now but rather an uncertain annoyance that Sherlock did not know what to make of the situation. But suddenly John's pager goes off making them both jump and the rising tension instantly disappear.
Checking it, John's eyes go wide slightly glancing up at Sherlock. "I'm sorry but I have to go. I've been called in. Emergency." John quickly begins to run off back to the apartment but he suddenly stops and turns back around. Regarding the Alpha with a sudden smile, John gives a small wave. "Good luck with the case, I hope you nail the bastard."
Turning away and not waiting for a reply, John ran with his blood pounding in his ears as his body ached with Sherlock's rich scent now fully embedded in his senses. He did not look back, even though his inner Omega silently begged him to. Opening the door to his apartment and running inside, John grabbed his case and then rushed to the hospital.
Sherlock watched John until he had disappeared out of his sight around a corner. He couldn't help but feel the need to find out more about this…John.
After he had solved the case though, The Work always came first.
A new thought as to where the killer could be possibly hiding rose up in his brilliant mind and Sherlock ran off down the street with a gleeful expression on his face. The game was afoot once again.
John's emergency call in lasted for a full 24 hours as a series of multiple car crashes flooded the Emergency room and their beds were reached to full capacity. Every life was miraculously saved though, but it had been exhausting work. When John finally left and began to make his way home, he had a large smile on his face. It was long days like this that made being a doctor worthwhile.
Finally walking up the stairs to the familiar door, relieved that he had taken the time to have a shower at work because then it meant he could just go straight to bed, John suddenly stopped in his tracks only to have his nostrils flare at the strong scent of Sherlock that was now all over his door.
Looking closer at the door handle, John noticed that the angle in which it was turned. Someone else had turned it but not the full way around. Taking a step back and inspecting the welcome mat, John notices the mud on it and he frowns at the size of the footprints on it, definitely not his own.
Suddenly there was a loud crash inside his flat and instantly John unlocked the door and ran inside, brandishing his spare scalpel from his bag in his hand as a weapon.
Knowing the flat better than the back of his hand, John didn't even need to pause as he flicked on the light in the lounge room and was not surprised to see Sherlock standing in the middle of the room picking himself up off the floor after having tripped over the edge of the rug in the dark. A lit torch rolled away from the detective across the floor.
Sherlock though, does look surprised to see him and John shuts the door and glares at Sherlock.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" he growled, "And how did you get into my flat?! I could have hurt you!"
Sherlock rolls his eyes and pulls himself off the floor, looking incredible bored, "Oh please. Picking locks is child's play John."
