Author's Notes:
Thanks to everyone who came along on this experimental story with me.
One last grateful THANK YOU and a big virtual hug to johnsarmylady for digging me out of the many, many holes I wrote myself into over the past 10 weeks!
Acknowledgments:
My inspiration for writing any Omegaverse story at all came from the amazing fic, "The Six Steps of Courtship," by emptycel. In the unlikely event that you haven't read that yet, do it now! It's on both Fan Fiction and AO3, same author name in both places.
The background information that I used to set up my Omegaverse is from the informative and humorous essay on AO3 by norabombay entitled "Alphas, Betas, Omegas: A Primer" subtitled "A brief primer on the concept of Alpha/Beta/Omega Universes: Also known as that trope showing up in your fandom that doesn't make sense."
Thanks to both emptycel and norabombay for the inspiration and the information!
EPILOGUE: THREE YEARS LATER
John had a mouthful of toothpaste when he happened to glance at his watch. "Hurry up, Sherlock," he called out somewhat indistinctly. "Mycroft will be here to pick us up in half an hour."
He had bent down to spit out the toothpaste when Sherlock playfully announced his presence by bumping his groin against John's bum. John straightened up and the two smiled as their eyes met in the mirror.
Time seemed to stand still for John as he admired his gorgeous bond-mate's reflection. He had to raise his eyes to do it, though. In the three years since their bonding, Sherlock had shot up six inches in height much to his unbridled glee. John had been taken aback at first, but eventually got used to having the younger Omega tower over him.
Suddenly John noticed that Sherlock's eyes had wandered downwards.
"Oi, you perv, are you checking out my arse out back there?" he asked, grinning into the mirror.
"Mmmm," Sherlock hummed in the affirmative enthusiastically. "Problem?" He eyed John's compact, muscular body with pleasure.
"Well, for one thing, we don't have time for what you're thinking," John said regretfully. "Mycroft will expect us to be ready when he gets here."
"All the more reason to drag our feet…and perhaps even jump back into bed for just a tick?" Sherlock suggested hopefully.
"Just a tick," John snorted, turning around and pulling Sherlock into his arms. "You mean like that time you promised me you were so randy it would hardly take five minutes, and we both missed all our morning classes? Only I don't particularly want your brother to catch us in bed when he gets here."
"If you're still attempting to impress Mycroft favourably, simply being on time for a ride won't do it."
"I just wish there was some way to convince him that I didn't have anything to do with the UAR sending my picture to you by mistake."
"You're fighting an uphill battle there. Despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Mycroft refuses to believe we were brought together by fate. I still have not figured out exactly what his job is, but I know that it entails being paranoid about absolutely everything. I have no doubt that he investigated everyone down to the janitors who worked at the UAR back when we met, trying to find any connection, no matter how far-fetched, between you and one of the employees."
"Yeah, well, that whole thing never made sense to me. How could I bribe someone to send you my picture when I didn't even know you existed in the first place? Not to mention that no one could have had any idea your family was ever going to contact the UAR!"
"Doesn't matter to Mycroft; he's like a dog with a bone." Sherlock tried to nuzzle John, but the Alpha slipped away.
"We really have to go," John said firmly but reluctantly. "He'll be here soon."
To Mycroft's dismay and disgust, three years hadn't dimmed any of the boys' enthusiasm for each other. He also still refused to accept that they had a soul connection through their bond. John kept hoping Mycroft would find his true bond-mate even in the face of Sherlock's horror at the very idea. It's just that he knew it would mellow Mycroft out considerably when it happened.
As for John, he figured if their bond could survive Sherlock's attempt to grow a moustache, it could survive anything.
Sherlock hadn't wanted to start uni looking like a kid, so he decided to grow a moustache. It turned out to be a terribly weedy moustache, resembling a caterpillar moulting on his upper lip. John had to fight off his amusement every time he laid eyes on the thing, but for the sake of his mate's adolescent dignity he tried to keep a straight face. However, he could not avoid Sherlock picking up his feelings via the bond. At that point, Sherlock grew extremely stubborn, figuring if he kept at it long enough, it would grow in full and lush. This led to situations where John would think about the moustache and allow himself to laugh when Sherlock was not present. Suddenly he would hear "Dammit, John!" coming from another room, or he might even get an irate text: WHAT is so funny, as if I didn't know. Eventually the moustache came off ("It just wasn't working for me," Sherlock sniffed) and it was never spoken of again. John hoped that was going to be the biggest interpersonal challenge they ever had to face.
As they came out of the bathroom, someone popped into their flat without knocking.
"Woo hoo, boys, I made too much breakfast, if you'd like some. I'd hate to see it go to waste."
John and Sherlock exchanged smiles. Their landlady was such an open book.
Sherlock jumped in before John could decline, citing time constraints. "Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hudson, that's very thoughtful of you," he said quickly.
"I'll see you downstairs, then." Mrs. Hudson nodded and popped out of the flat again.
John sighed. "You only agreed to eat because you know the delay will annoy Mycroft."
"Nothing about eating annoys Mycroft, except how fat it makes him," Sherlock replied, holding his hands out in front of his flat stomach to simulate a loose belly.
John had to smile. Mycroft was not fat by any means. But Sherlock, irked by the fact that his brother would always be seven years older, two inches taller and ten IQ points higher, got back at Mycroft by hounding him mercilessly about his weight.
They pounded down the stairs to the ground floor and headed down the corridor to Mrs. Hudson's flat. As they sat down at her kitchen table, John mentioned that Mycroft might be joining them soon. Mrs. Hudson said, "Fine, but just this once, dearies. I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper." John and Sherlock grinned at the oft-repeated refrain.
"It's hard to believe you've been living here almost a year. Time goes by so fast," sighed Mrs. Hudson, as she set down plates of bacon, eggs and tomato in front of them. John had to agree as he thought back on how lucky they had been to find Mrs. Hudson.
While still at Greencoat's John had applied to University College London, which offered degrees in medicine and various sciences, because he knew that the curriculum there would suit both him and Sherlock perfectly. As soon as John was accepted, Sherlock petitioned for early admission "in order to be with my mate." Despite the fact that Omegas were generally discouraged from pursuing higher education, the Alpha-led society would never allow a bonded Omega to remain behind at secondary school while his Alpha went on to uni. Sherlock was more than qualified and was accepted without any problem. They had found inexpensive student housing near their campus and things were going exceedingly well with both their studies.
One day while Sherlock and John were strolling hand in hand down Baker Street not too far from their UCL campus, they saw a charming Victorian building with a TO LET sign in the window advertising a spacious flat for immediate occupancy.
Sherlock liked the look of the building, but John pointed out that their reasonably priced student digs had suited them just fine so far.
The younger man reminded John about violin playing at all hours and certain noisome and unsanitary experiments. "I think we could use more space. Can we not just look? You know this building is centrally located to absolutely everything, not just our UCL campus. It's even close to University College Hospital, where you've been interning."
"Yes, and because of the location, the rent here is bound to be ridiculous," said John, who hadn't quite adjusted to the fact that he didn't need to gather up the sliver ends of soap and press them together into a usable bar anymore.
"We've got the money, John. You keep saying it's my money, too…please, just a quick look?" Sherlock turned puppy-dog eyes on John, who would have been hard-pressed to refuse after that one-two punch of reason and pleading.
Brass letters reading 221B were situated above an ornate brass knocker. They knocked, and a spry, grandmotherly-looking Beta woman opened the door.
"Well, aren't you two just the most adorable things, but I'm not buying anything being sold door to door," the elderly woman said firmly.
Feeling extremely self-conscious, John said, "My name is John Watson and this is my bond-mate, Sherlock Holmes. We're not selling anything, we…"
"You're bonded? Oh my, you're so young!" she exclaimed. John knew it was because Sherlock had still looked like he was twelve on a good day, even though he was seventeen at that time.
"Yes," replied Sherlock proudly, "but John and I have been bonded for a couple of years already."
"I'm sure that must be a fascinating story," said the Beta lady, looking willing to listen to it right there on the doorstep.
"Um, well, we were wondering if we could see the flat advertised in the window," John explained. "We're not sure if we can afford it, but…"
The elderly woman took each of them by the wrist and pulled them in. "My name is Martha Hudson, and I am the landlady," she said, leading them up a flight of seventeen steps to look at the flat.
By the time their tour of the space was over, Sherlock was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Across their bond, John had felt the Omega's enthusiasm grow with every room they looked through.
"There's another bedroom upstairs. If you don't want it, I will probably let it out to someone who just needs a place to sleep—like one of those sharp businessmen who lives out in the suburbs but sometimes has to stay overnight in the City."
John experienced Sherlock's eagerness to take the flat through the bond. "We'll take that room, too," he said recklessly, without even waiting to learn the rent. "Sherlock requires extra space for his work, and would it be all right if we bought a second refrigerator to put up there?"
Sherlock threw his arms around John. "Thank you, John; thank you," he said, his voice shaking with happiness. John hugged him back murmuring, "How can I say no to my mate?"
Mrs. Hudson was very touched by their obvious love for each other. "You know, if you should ever decide to have pups, you won't have to worry. It would be a real joy to have children about the place." Then she smiled a bit impishly. "Although to me, you seem practically like children yourselves."
"About the rent," John started awkwardly, but Mrs. Hudson named an extremely reasonable amount. It was so reasonable, in fact, that John worried she had reduced the price thinking they could not afford the going rate. He made a vow to help her with chores about the place as much as possible.
And so they had moved in to 221B Baker Street a year ago. It had proved to be ideal for them, and they were quite certain they couldn't have found a better place anywhere. John could see them living there for many years to come. And at some point, even a pup or two.
Now Sherlock's voice brought John back to the present.
"I wish Mycroft weren't insisting on coming to class with me today. It's none of his business what they teach there," he grumbled.
"I think it's your own fault, love, for complaining about the class in front of Mycroft at dinner the other night," John said gently.
John's family had never quite reconciled to the bonding so he saw very little of them now (and especially not when his father was home on leave), but John and Sherlock had dinner with the Holmes family once a week without exception. Last week Sherlock had been talking about his Criminology class at the table. Unfortunately, Mycroft happened to be present as well.
"But it wasn't the class I had the problem with," Sherlock protested, "it was the guest lecturer that week. Anderson claims to be a SOCO with the Met, but the man is such a moron, I doubt he would be able to locate a clue if it dropped out of his arse with a label marked 'evidence' attached to it."
Mrs. Hudson tutted, "Language, young man."
"Oh, sorry, Mrs. H," Sherlock apologised. "Well, anyway, today's guest lecturer is a DS, the youngest man ever to be promoted to Detective Sergeant in Yard history. I'm torn between hoping he'll be better than Anderson, or so deadly dull that he'll bore Mycroft to death." John had to laugh.
"We should let Mycroft know where we are," John realised suddenly, pulling out his mobile to send a text. When he was done, he looked thoughtfully at the phone. "You know," he said, "I really appreciate these swanky new state-of-the-art mobile phones Mycroft gave us right before we started at UCL."
"Sure," Sherlock chimed in, grinning, "a very thoughtful gesture on his part—except for his whole ulterior motive of wanting to be able to keep tabs on us, of course. It's not like we aren't aware that the phones are just bristling with listening devices and GPS locators."
"Since basically all we do is go to classes, and occasionally to the cinema or a museum, I can't even imagine why he bothered," John said with a smile.
"Maybe he thinks he'll catch you in a clandestine meeting with a UAR employee, even after all this time," Sherlock snickered. Mycroft's attempts to put together a conspiracy theory about John's unexpected appearance in Sherlock's life was a source of constant amusement to the bonded pair.
Mrs. Hudson went to answer a knock at the door and came back with the man himself. Mycroft was dressed to the nines as always, and toted an umbrella even though the weather was perfectly clear.
He tapped his watch when he saw John and Sherlock seated at the table, but sat down without demur when offered breakfast by Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock and John were subdued by Mycroft's very presence, but fortunately Mrs. Hudson was capable of filling in the dead air all by herself. Less fortunate, however, was the fact that all she wanted to talk about was the possibility of John and Sherlock getting married.
"After all, they've been bonded now for three years, Mycroft. I think that's long enough to show they're ready for marriage, don't you?"
"Not particularly," Mycroft said, sounding annoyed.
John broke in hastily, "I know you're a Beta, Mrs. Hudson, so maybe you don't understand. Being bonded, Sherlock and I are married for all practical purposes. We'd really only need to go through with a ceremony for legal reasons; say, for the sake of any pups we might have." The Omega had never stopped begging John for pups every time he went into heat, so they both knew pups were going to be in the equation someday.
"Pups!" Mrs. Hudson said. "That's another thing. Mycroft, don't you think it would be wonderful if they started having pups?"
"No, I do not," Mycroft said, looking revolted. John wondered if Mycroft was more horrified at the thought of Sherlock having pups, or of Sherlock having pups with John. Not that it mattered to him what Mycroft thought.
As for Sherlock, he found Mycroft's reaction annoying enough to make him want to start a family right there on Mrs. Hudson's kitchen table. John picked up the thought and had to struggle not to laugh.
"So, Mycroft, is today something special, that you're going to class with Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson finally asked, filling in the the awkward silence that followed Mycroft's pronouncement.
"I simply wanted to see it for myself," Mycroft said blandly.
Sherlock snorted. "As though you couldn't shut down the entire Criminology program if you put your mind to it."
"Nonsense, how could I possibly do that? I hold a purely minor position in the …." His mouth snapped shut when he realised that both John and Sherlock were chanting the words along with him.
Mycroft had not been best pleased with Sherlock's eclectic class choices such as Criminology, Botany, Chemistry, Biology and Latin, and his displeasure was shared by the senior lecturers at University College London. But Sherlock defended his choices brilliantly before a committee of stuffed shirts, and because his curriculum covered all the graduation requirements in one way or another, the College reluctantly allowed him to set his own course of study—pending his bond-mate's approval, naturally. John was disgusted by the fact that he was required to approve Sherlock's class schedule every semester, because someone of Sherlock's intellect did not need the likes of John to allow him to do anything. But the prevailing theory was that Omegas shouldn't be attending uni at all, since they would only end up having pups and their education would be wasted. Any bonded Omega needed the consent of his or her mate, and unbonded Omegas had to obtain authorisation from a parent or guardian. And even then, Omegas at uni were looked at askance. But John was incredibly proud of Sherlock's choices and completely ignored the judgemental looks he got from the administration every time he signed off on one of his mate's unique schedules.
"Tell me, Sherlock," Mycroft said. "What is the topic of today's lecture?"
Sherlock had a feeling Mycroft knew damn well already, but he answered readily enough.
"We're having a detective come talk about running murder investigations. I hope he knows what he's about, because I've really been looking forward to this."
"A detective? What is his name? I might know him; I know quite a few detectives."
"Well, you know the Yard's Detective Chief Superintendent and the Police Commissioner, I'm sure," Sherlock said sarcastically. "However, this will be naught but a humble Detective Sergeant. His name is Lestrade—Gabriel or Gavin or something."
"I do not believe I have ever met him," Mycroft admitted.
"Well, obviously you're about to," Sherlock replied grumpily.
Looking completely unimpressed at the thought of a mere D.S., Mycroft said, "We really must be moving along if we are to make it to your class on time. And John, if you wish for a ride…"
"Sherlock and I left our stuff upstairs. Give us a minute to get it," said John.
Mycroft heaved a put-upon sigh. "Do hurry. I shall await you in the car."
The boys ran up to 221B and grabbed their backpacks. Sherlock followed John back down the staircase, and when they reached the ground floor he said, "For the record, John, as far as I'm concerned you have the finest arse in the British Isles."
"That's because you can't easily see your own," John assured him.
Sherlock looked at John seriously and John felt a slight tremor travel down the bond. "John," said the Omega, "what do you think? Maybe we should get married. I know I don't tell you this nearly enough, but you are, after all, the only man I will ever love. Everyone would know I belonged to you if I were called Sherlock Holmes-Watson."
John wondered how he had ever lived a day without Sherlock before. "Of course we'll get married if that's what you want, whenever you want. I'm looking forward to being called John Holmes-Watson, myself."
They kissed happily and only pulled apart because they could hear a car horn honking impatiently through the closed street door.
"Mycroft," Sherlock groaned.
John said, "Mycroft is so wrong about fate. Maybe he'll find that out for himself one of these days."
They walked out to the car hand in hand, Sherlock musing about the luck, or fate, or whatever it was that had helped him find his place in the world so young. That place was next to John; and just as it should be, John's was next to him. Always.
End Notes:
So, this story is now done. You know what that means, right? Yes, indeed; it means that I can now binge-watch all six episodes of "Wolf Hall," which I faithfully recorded every week but didn't have the time to watch because I was too busy working on "Bite Me." The only shows I watched this entire past ten weeks were "Supernatural" and "Elementary."
Oh, and another thing I can do now is get back to the sequel(s) to "John on Solid Ground." I'm very excited to start working on that again. Since I thought "Bite Me" would be three chapters long at the most, I had no idea was going to be away from Mountainverse for so long.