The characters are the property of BBC.

A/N: Thank you all again for the reviews, faves, and follows! As I was writing this chapter, I noticed Sherlock was becoming a bit OOC, but I didn't really know how to fix it without moving away from where I wanted this to go. I'm very sorry if you thought so too, and I shall endeavor to have him back to his arrogant deducing self by the next chapter. Also, Irene doesn't exist in this story, but that may be liable to change. I don't think it will though.

Also, this chapter was again not beta'd, so please excuse any spelling or grammatical or continuity errors.

This chapter is rated M. Criticism is always welcome, but kind suggestions are valued more.

Chapter 4

Molly had been examining the insides of a Mr. Bradley when she received her daily text from Sherlock.

Bring your suture kit to your flat.

This was the first time he hadn't texted her some bizarre fact. Why on earth would she need to bring a suture kit home?

Wait. Was he back in London?

Molly wanted to text him back but she still hadn't been given an all clear to do so. She sighed in frustration. If he was seriously injured, then hopefully he would go to the A&E. With any luck, he would not be bleeding all over her couch when she got back home.

At the end of her shift, Molly left her office and made her way to the locker rooms. Opening her own locker, she looked up into the mirror attached to the back of it and shrieked when she saw Sherlock's face over her shoulder.

She swung around and pressed herself back into the locker, a hand pressed over her heart. Sherlock watched her, the corner of his mouth curled in amusement.

"Hello, Molly," came his deep voice.

Before she could stop herself Molly ran over and hugged him, and then heard him give a slight grunt. She quickly looked up and saw him grimace. Molly felt her cheeks flare from embarrassment. 'Right, hugging is too much.' She pulled away with a stumbled apology.

Sherlock scowled at her. "Don't be ridiculous, Molly. My side hurts, that all."

Molly gave him a once-over. He was standing in a bit of a slouch, which was a far cry from his normally excellent posture. And his jaw was turning purple. "What happened?"

He grimaced again. "I met with John. He was a bit more upset than I had anticipated."

Oh, so they met before he came here. Good, good. "Er… I was talking about your side, actually."

"Again, John was more upset than I had anticipated."

Molly stared at him, nonplussed.

"He shot me."

"What?!"

"The sutures are no longer necessary. John stitched me up himself after an hour or so."

How did someone respond after a statement like that? She worked her mouth as she tried to figure out what to say.

"You look like a fish. It is not your most attractive look."

Molly's mouth snapped shut at that, more confused than before. While that sentence wasn't a compliment, it wasn't really an insult either. Or at least, it wasn't up to the level of his usual repertoire of insults. "…Are you ok?"

"Still in pain, obviously."

"No, I meant –"

"I know. I've finished everything that I set out to do. John's still in a bit of shock, but he'll come around eventually. Also, Mrs. Hudson had a bit of a fainting spell but she's alright now. And," his eyes softened slightly, "it's good to see you again, Molly." He gave her a small smile. "Thank you, again, for your help."

To Molly's disbelief, Sherlock shifted his stance a little before slightly opening his arms. He looked at her expectantly.

Sherlock wanted a hug.

Sherlock Holmes wanted physical contact. From her.

It was exceedingly odd but Molly decided to just go with it. She had missed him, with his long Belstaff, his snarky comments, his stupid coffee, and his incredibly brilliant deductions. She stepped into him again and carefully wrapped her arms around him, mindful of his injury. Molly felt his arms come around her waist. She smiled into his chest. "I missed you, Sherlock." Sherlock tightened his hold around her in reply.

Molly started to pull back only to discover that she could barely move away. Sherlock's arms had become like steel, holding her tighter and closer. Molly fidgeted a bit, trying to give him a hint to let go. Instead, Sherlock pulled her flush against him and held her there.

"Erm… Sherlock?" She tried to move around and then quickly froze. In her struggle she had brushed against the front of Sherlock's trousers and felt his hardened member.

Sherlock's voice dropped an octave. "You lied to me."

Puzzled, Molly looked up at Sherlock only to find him looking back at her, his eyes smoldering. Her mouth went dry and it took her a few seconds before she could speak. "I-I don't –"

He bent his head slightly so he could bury his nose in her hair. "I can smell it on you, Molly. It's faint, but it's there."

He leaned down further so that his mouth was by her ear. "Omega," he murmured. He gently nuzzled her earlobe before he began sucking on it.

Molly whimpered softly and clutched at his shoulders. No one had done this to her before and oh, did it feel nice. Really, pretending to be a Beta could only limit you to other Betas, and most of them would never –

Molly froze, staring unseeingly at the wall over Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock knew. No one in her professional life knew she was an Omega and now here was Sherlock –

She had been so careful though! Every current record about her said 'Beta' on it, she took the suppressant every day, she even made the suppressants in an empty lab! Everyone she had dated was a Beta – with the exception of Jim, but he had told her he was a Beta at the time – and she made sure to always be on a week-long holiday during her heats.

And now Sherlock knew and – oh, what a talented mouth he had.

Two years ago this would have been a fantastic development. There was a time when Molly would dream that he would come and declare his undying love and they would live happily ever after. But a long and consistent pattern of fake compliments to give him access to something and then rude dismissals right after had disillusioned her to that hope. Besides, Molly couldn't recall if he hadn't even shown interest in anyone, ever.

That brought her to another point. If you had asked her then, Molly would have said Sherlock was asexual. Or else gay; while he didn't give any indication of it himself, his relationship with John spoke volumes.

Sherlock moved from her ear down to her neck and began drawing patterns on it with his tongue. Molly's breath caught in her throat and she unconsciously moved her head over, giving him more access. He growled in approval, which finally broke Molly out of her haze. She tried shoving him back even though she knew it was futile. Alpha males were incredibly strong, especially when pitted against an Omega.

At that moment she remembered his side injury. She brought her hands to his sides and began pushing at different parts of his torso, looking for the tender spot. All she had to do was find it and press it…

Once she had pushed against every part of his upper body with no success, Molly finally managed to get a hold of herself and pushed her head over, effectively blocking Sherlock and his tongue. Put out, he gave her enough room to take a small step back but kept his arms around her. She looked up at him and whispered, "I thought you said you were in pain."

He smirked. "I am in pain. My jaw's been bothering me for a while now."

"But you said your side hurt."

"I lied." His smirk grew.

Molly narrowed her eyes. "John didn't shoot you?"

"He tried. Normally he's an excellent marksman but I anticipated when and where he would shoot and stepped out of the way, missing the bullet entirely. His wall, however, was not as fortunate."

Molly stared up at him, trying to process what she just heard. "The – The suture kit –"

"Lied about that too. It was more of a contingency plan anyway."

Molly shuddered and leaned back, trying to get out of his embrace. His arms didn't budge. "Let go of me," she mumbled.

He pulled her closer instead. "No." Sherlock began grounding against Molly, letting her feel how hard he was.

Molly closed her eyes as she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle a moan. She could feel herself getting wet. "Sh-Sherlock, th-this can't… I-I-I… we shouldn't be –" Molly broke off as she felt one of his hands grab her at her arse and try to pull her even closer. This time she couldn't hold back her moan. "W-wait… don't…"

"Why?" he asked huskily. He gently nudged her face with his own. "Look at me, Molly," he commanded.

Molly slowly opened her eyes and blinked up at him. She almost staggered back when she saw the look in Sherlock's eyes. It was the same look she had seen on so many other Alphas when they went after Omegas. It was because of that look that she had decided to pretend to be a Beta.

She wanted an Alpha who was committed to her, who wanted to bond with her. Sherlock was beautiful and brilliant and a walking wet dream, but that was all. Molly had resigned herself to this when she decided it was time to drop her romantic feelings for him. He was temperamental, arrogant, and dismissed people he didn't consider important as if they were fruit flies. Sherlock also loved his work, she knew, and he would have probably thought a bond mate would only be a nuisance.

Then again, she had also believed he wasn't interested in the fairer sex, but look at him now.

Look at her now, for that matter. Her dad had told her to be with someone who would bond with her, and she had followed that bit of advice as best as she could. Following this path with Sherlock would be doing the exact opposite.

She needed to tell Sherlock that she wanted a bond mate and not a meaningless shag, except her mouth refused to cooperate with her. All it seemed capable of doing at the moment was gasping as Sherlock continued to move against her.

He let out a soft groan. "I can smell how wet you are. I want to taste you." Molly's eyes widened and she let out another whimper. "You want this, Molly. Tell me you want this so I can taste you. Tell me you want me to eat you."

Molly shuddered again. Her mind and her body were warring with each other, wanting to either push him away or pull him closer. She wanted her hands to pound against his chest but her fingers decided to wrap themselves in his coat lapels. She wanted her legs to run away but her feet stayed firmly planted where they were.

Sherlock leaned in to her, his mouth a hairbreadth away from hers. "I want to knot you. I want to feel your heat wrapped around my cock. Wouldn't you like that, Molly?"

Molly moaned loudly. 'Oh God, yesyesyes that would be so lovely.'

He hadn't moved away from her. "Tell me, Molly."

'I want this. I want him.' Molly opened her mouth and was about to answer when Sherlock turned his head to the door. He turned back around a moment later and his lustful stare was quickly replaced with an irritated frown.

In a low murmur, he told her, "I'll call you a cab to Baker Street. Don't keep me waiting" With that he turned around and made his way to a side window, opening it and throwing his legs over. He looked back at her one more time and gave her an intense glance before jumping out.

Baffled, Molly wondered about Sherlock's abrupt departure when she heard the clicking sound of heels coming from the hallway and going towards the locker room. Molly ran over to her locker and was yanking her lab coat off when the door opened and a few hospital workers came in. Molly nodded and smiled to them in greeting, waiting for them to go to their lockers, all thankfully in another isle, before leaning against her own.

Molly needed to think, but first she needed a shower and a change of knickers.