When they arrived back at 221B, John's head ached, which was only exacerbated when he slammed the door in his rush to get inside and talk to his flat mate. However, Sherlock spun around at the sound of the door closing so suddenly, eyes wide and hands held in front of him as if warding off an attack.
John froze. "Sherlock?"
The great consulting detective melted down into his chair, hands over his face. His shoulders lifted and lowered, as he appeared to be taking slow, deep breaths. John cautiously knelt in front of him and reached up to touch Sherlock's wrists.
"Are you all right?"
Sherlock dropped his hands and looked toward the darkened fireplace. Even in the dim light of evening, John could see his friend's eyes were wet and red. "For years, I've tried to ignore your alpha status, and one elitist idiot goes and ruins everything."
Still kneeling, John rested his hand on Sherlock's knee. "Forget about him."
Sherlock almost knocked John over when he stood and walked toward the windows. "How can I? He has changed everything we ever had."
John stood, too, if only to be able to move closer. "Perhaps for the better?"
"No, John!" He shook his head. The streetlights outside backlit his black hair as he stared at the floor and chewed on his bottom lip. "No."
Like a punch to the gut—or wrench to the head—John began to understand why Sherlock had shoved him away in the bathroom that afternoon. Why their heated kisses had made Sherlock flee and not look back.
Despite a quick snog, Sherlock apparently wasn't interested in a relationship John, which made sense really. John was ordinary, whereas Sherlock Holmes was an omega so beautiful, he could probably bring about world peace if he put his mind to it. Or, just as easily, become a Helen of Troy and cause another world war.
Sherlock sighed. "Please don't love me, John."
"I understand."
Sherlock glared at him. "Oh, for God's sake, stop feeling bad for yourself. I'm trying to …" His voice softened. "I'm trying to help you."
John lifted an eyebrow. "How exactly?"
"I can't give you what you need. What you deserve. You're the kindest and most honorable alpha I've ever met, and you deserve a mate who will go into heat. A mate who will give you children and a stable life. I can't give you any of that, John, so you need to stop loving me and find someone else."
John blinked a couple times. "There is no one else."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Sherlock …" John rubbed his eyes. "Okay, wait. Do you like being with me?"
"Obviously."
"No, I mean … Did you like kissing me today?"
Sherlock licked his bottom lip as if in memory—an unconscious movement John found so sensual, he almost lunged forward to catch that tongue. "Of course."
John took a hesitant step forward. "Do you like when I touch you?"
A wrinkle appeared between Sherlock's brows as he frowned and looked at the floor.
"Hey, I'm not trying to make you sad. I just need to know if you want me."
"Of course I want you," Sherlock whispered. "I've always thought of you as my alpha."
John struggled to swallow around the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. He reached out and squeezed Sherlock's arm. "I never dared think of you as my omega. Always kind of thought of you as out of my league."
Sherlock huffed. "Honestly. Who in their right mind would ever want me?"
"I do." John smiled.
"No, you can't. I won't let you."
"It's not really your place to dictate my feelings."
"You deserve better."
John took a couple steps away and started shouting. "Stop telling me what I deserve, Sherlock! So you won't go into heat. So bloody what? Kissing you earlier was one of the hottest things I've ever done, and you weren't in heat. I don't care about Sherlock the omega, I care about Sherlock the man, you cock! The man who tries not to be a hero but is one every day. The man whose favorite stories are about us. The man who looks about ten years old when he wakes up in the morning." John smiled. "The brilliant man who's saved my life more times than I can count. That's the man I love. So it took something horrible for me to realize it. So what? All I can say is, the nine hours you were missing were the worst nine hours of my life. It wasn't the scent of your heat that made me realize how much I love you; it was the thought of losing you." He stood tall and lifted his chin. "So will you have me?"
Sherlock took a step closer. "Even if I can't give you everything you need?"
"You are everything I need. Just you."
Sherlock leaned his forehead against John's and, as if three simple words could solve any and all complications, whispered, "Come to bed."
John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock once, lightly. "All right, but no funny business."
Sherlock chuckled in question.
"I'm serious. There's something I want to talk to you about."
Sherlock groaned. "Haven't we talked enough?"
"Come on." John took Sherlock's hand and dragged him down the hallway to his bedroom. Once there, he removed Sherlock's suit coat and hung it over the back of a chair before kicking off his shoes and gesturing for Sherlock to do the same. The consulting detective lowered his eyebrows but did as bid before both men laid down in Sherlock's bed on their sides facing each other.
Sherlock reached forward and took John's hand before closing his eyes and muttering, "What now?"
"Tell me about the alphas."
Sherlock's eyes, dark in the lamplight, flew open.
"Tell me about the men who made you think a life of suppressants was your only option."
"I don't want to talk about them."
John squeezed Sherlock's hand. "I need you to. I need to understand. I never want to upset you, so I need to know how they did."
Instead of answering, Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips—hard and hungry—against John's. The tactic worked at first. John's mind went blank as he tangled his fingers in Sherlock's curls and pulled the omega ever closer. However, John's mind had a way of fighting his alpha instincts. He tugged Sherlock back by his hair … and Sherlock's mouth fell open on an obscene groan that made John tingle all the way to his toes.
"Jesus," John hissed. "God, you're so bloody beautiful, you're going to kill me."
"Hardly." Sherlock's hands tugged at the fabric of John's shirt.
"Hey, no." John sat up a bit, looming over his flat mate. "Talk to me, love. Please."
Sherlock rolled onto his back and spoke to the ceiling. "The first time I had sex with an alpha, I was sixteen, taking a summer class at university. He was my professor, and I couldn't …" He shook his head. "I suppose I was too young, because even when I invited him to share my heat, it hurt. He liked that it hurt. My discomfort got him off." He folded his hands on his chest and looked at anything but John. "Our relationship lasted three heats. Then, for two years, I avoided alphas until I met Victor. Upperclassman. But he liked me. Really. I don't know why."
"I could write you a list."
Sherlock smiled. "He taught me that sex could be … good. He wanted to bond, but I refused. Things turned badly. He pinned me down and …"
John could almost watch Sherlock sinking away, perhaps hiding in his Mind Palace.
Then, he kept talking. "I wasn't in heat, so I couldn't accommodate him properly. I was hospitalized, and Victor went away."
John had to clench his teeth to keep from leaping out of bed, calling Mycroft, and finding out exactly what had happened to Victor so that he could murder the bastard.
"There were a few others while I was university, but those men aren't the only reason I'm on suppressants, John. I can't think when I'm in heat, and it's hateful. I need to be able to think. What am I without my mind?"
John reached out and put his hand on Sherlock's chest. "You're this. Deny it all you want, but you've the biggest heart of any man I know, Sherlock Holmes."
"No. I believe that honor belongs to you, John."
He leaned down and rubbed their noses together. "I love you, and I will never hurt you."
"I don't mind if you tug my hair …"
John laughed. "Right. Well. I'll never ask you to be something you're not."
"Thank you."
"Now." John straddled Sherlock's hips and pressed a single kiss to the side of his neck. "What do you want?"
Sherlock leaned his head back: a silent entreaty for more. "I want to stop talking."
