The Baker Street Dozen

by CaraWinter

John has been struggling through his heats alone, unwilling to submit to any Alpha other than Sherlock. Sherlock has been avoiding him, unwilling to see him suffer, reluctant to claim him and risk everything. But when John's heat comes early and they find themselves bonded with pups on the way, everything changes. Omegaverse, Mpreg, if you have a squick assume it's in here!

14. Mr and Mrs

"For God's sake!" the exasperated Alpha exclaimed, glaring daggers at an attendant who was currently committing the apparently inconceivable transgression of straightening the groom's suit cuffs. He jerked his hand away, only to have the tenacious Beta follow, the woman completely unphased as Sherlock growled his displeasure. "Where on earth does Mycroft get these people?"

"Stand still!" the small woman ordered pertly, pulling his tie from a hanger. He regarded her frostily as she stood on her toes, flinging the accessory around the Alpha's neck in one swift, expert motion. The next moment Sherlock was spluttering helplessly as the knot was tied and pulled tightly to his throat.

"Hell if I know," Lestrade chuckled in amusement. The grey-haired inspector lounged casually in one of the plush, white chairs standard to all the venue's dressing rooms, his long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him. He loosened his own tie even further as he watched the detective struggle and round irately on another attendant who had begun swiping at his suit with a lint-roller. "Sherlock, calm down! You're acting jumpier than a goddamn jackrabbit. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a bad case of nerves."

John fought the urge to wriggle in his chair, his military training coming in useful. He was not going to wriggle and fuss like a small child because he'd been separated from his Alpha for an hour. He sat placidly as an attendant laced his shoes for him before two of them hauled him to his feet and he finally got a look at himself in the mirror. He smiled. Their tailor was a genius. John straightened his bow tie, smoothed his sleeves, holding them out obediently for his cuffs to be fixed as another attendant fixed his kilt pin. The dress the tailor had created for him looked for all the world like a kilt suit; dark jacket with braided epaulettes, crisp white shirt collar and pleats at the back of the skirt, which was done in the blue-green Watson tartan. His chunky cabled socks reached nearly to his knees, the tartan flashes matching his kilt, his shoes polished and shiny. The waistband of the kilt hugged the lower curve of his gigantic belly, the material lightweight and stretchy and shockingly comfortable. The hidden zip in the side made it easy to remove the one-piece garment and for that, John was grateful. He inhaled nervously and clutched the attendant's arm for support as he waddled out from behind the screen and grinned at Tommy. "How do I look?"

"You look wonderful, Captain," the corporal grinned back. "Ready to go in?"

Now alone in the quiet of the anteroom, Sherlock re-adjusted his tie a seventh time. Then an eighth. He turned on his heel and began to pace. The din of the gathering outside floated in from under the door, filling the sterile space with a vague hum, accompanied by the rhythmic clicking of a pair of patent leather shoes against the tile floor. The Alpha stopped his pacing. Took a shaky breath. Exhaled in a sharp, painful burst. Returned to his previous activities. He jumped three feet at the discrete knock on the door.

"Mr Holmes? They're ready for you now."

The registrar looked sympathetically at the pale Alpha, fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot as he waited. Lestrade leaned in and whispered something intended to be comforting in his ear and was met with a withering glare, so gave up and clasped his hands with a sigh, flicking his eyes to the door before scanning the assembled guests. Molly was seated next to Mrs Hudson, chattering excitedly; Mycroft was next to his and Sherlock's mother, the woman still pale and meek but managing to keep her eyes off the floor, a beautiful necklace of diamonds and sapphires in place of the collar she was used to.

At some apparently invisible signal the pianist in the corner began to play and a hush descended on the room as the first few bars of Rachmaninov's Rhapsody on a theme by Paganini variation 18 floated into the air. The registrar nodded and the congregation stood, turning towards the double doors. As the melody crescendoed the doors swung gracefully open and John waddled through, clutching Tommy's arm for support, his face suffused with joy and a strange bashfulness. He kept his eyes fixed on his Alpha as he made his way up the aisle, his gait swaying, his massive belly threatening to unbalance him, until finally he reached Sherlock and Tommy gently took John's hand from his arm and placed it on Sherlock's. John peeped up at his Alpha through his eyelashes and let out a tentative little purr as the music faded and a happy silence descended once more.

Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that all eyes were on them - but for Sherlock, there was only John. A blush rose high on his cheeks as he gazed down at his mate, his lips slightly parted in an awe that had not been lost since the moment the doors had opened on his bride. The tension bled from his form as he clasped John's arm, his mate's joyful scent suffusing the air around them both. The Alpha's face relaxed into an honest smile, his eyes alight with something undefinable - love, joy, and respect all at once. His low, rumbling purr resonated throughout the hall, breaking the silence.

Leading his mate patiently up the stairs, the Alpha held his head high, his shoulders back, a display of dominance and assurance in face of John's bashfulness. The strange attitude pleased his instinct immensely, drawing forth the body language of pride, encouraging him to stand taller. He helped John into the specially-reinforced chair, and took his own place in the one facing it, keeping his mate's hands closed warmly in his own.

"Dearly beloved..," the registrar began. Sherlock gave John's hands a gentle squeeze, the Omega's gaze cast shyly downwards. Look at me, he willed.

John squeezed back and shyly raised his gaze to meet his Alpha's, demure and almost blushing. He felt the warmth of his love and pride pulsing through the bond and smiled back at him, eyes locked on each other, all but deaf to the registrar. John bit his lip and looked at the floor when the man asked if there were any objections to the marriage, half-expecting a posh voice to deride the doctor as an inferior mate for Sherlock, breathing an internal sigh of relief when the room remained silent.

The registrar smiled and turned to Sherlock. "And now, as is traditional, the Alpha will go first, and make his vows to his Omega. Please repeat after me. I, Sherlock Alexander Holmes, take you, John Hamish Watson, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, to love and cherish, from this day forward, until death do us part."

Holding John's gaze, Sherlock solemnly repeated each phrase as it was spoken to him. He could feel his mate's hands beginning to tremble in his own and clasped them subtly tighter. The Alpha's expression remained calm and serious, but underneath the surface he pushed waves of overwhelming love through their bond, saying more than the traditional words ever could. Giving John's hands another reassuring squeeze when he had finished, he managed the smallest of grins.

John was glad of his Alpha's tighter grip on his hands , keeping him grounded; they had been separated for nearly an hour and a half before the ceremony and he felt the distress claw at him, demanding he burrow into his Alpha's arms. He focussed on breathing, vaguely hearing the registrar ask him to make his vows. He sat up a little straighter, his legs spread wide to accommodate his massive belly, eyes shining, a soft little smile playing on his lips, and repeated his vows in a steady, clear voice. "I, John Hamish Watson, take you, Sherlock Alexander Holmes, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, to love and cherish, from this day forward, until death do us part." He shifted a little as the pups began to wriggle, roused by the intensity of their mother's emotions, smiling shyly at Sherlock as his gaze flicked to his belly, giving his mate a clue.

The registrar smiled and asked Lestrade for the rings, gesturing to Sherlock. "Sherlock, if you would place the ring on John's finger and repeat after me; With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship. With all my worldly goods I thee endow."

Sherlock moved forward in his chair, placing his feet on either side of John's so that their legs lay flush against one another. He smiled as the Omega spread his fingers shyly for him. The Alpha slowly slid the silver band onto his mate's ring finger, holding it there as he lifted his eyes to his Omega's once more, repeating the vows carefully, earnestly. "Mine," he added quietly when he had finished, the word laced with infinite tenderness.

John's breath hitched a little at the gentle way Sherlock was looking at him, his Omega fighting to come to the surface and bare his neck to his Alpha. He flexed his fingers, squeezing Sherlock's hand, managing to slip the ring onto his Alpha's finger and repeat the vows as Sherlock had. He held his mate's gaze, oblivious to everything but Sherlock looking at him with such pride and love and joy.

The registrar smiled fondly and addressed the congregation at large. "Sherlock and John have made their vows to each other and sealed their union by the giving and receiving of rings. It is my privilege and pleasure to announce that they are now husband and wife. Sherlock, you may kiss your bride."

Leaning forward carefully over John's enormous belly, Sherlock couldn't suppress a loud purr as he captured John's lips in his own, drawing the Omega to him and wrapping his arms joyfully around his mate. Where the couple's stomachs made contact, the Alpha could feel the pups kicking excitedly, stirred by their parents' shared joy. The kiss was deep and tender, suffused with incredible bliss. Sherlock purred louder as John's hands clenched needily into his suit. "I love you," he breathed as he pulled away, dipping his head once more to kiss the reply from his mate's lips before helping John to his feet.

The guests cheered and clapped as Sherlock helped John down the steps from the raised platform and the front and walked him slowly back down the aisle, confetti fluttering around them. John made it out of the room, staggering a little under the weight of his belly, clutching Sherlock and beaming stupidly, and when the doors closed behind them he looked up at his new husband, almost bursting into tears at the tender, aching happiness on his face. "I don't think I can walk any further," he breathed, pressing as close as possible, looking more than a little coy and playful. "Will you get the wheelchair for me? Please - husband?"

"Oh, well now you've spoilt it," Sherlock teased, his eyes sparkling bright as he stole a kiss from his mate. "If I'd known we were going to use the words 'husband' and 'wife' to one another before the dinner, I would have proudly re-informed my wife that he was so back at the altar," he brought their lips together again, "and told him how unspeakably proud I was to have him as my wife," he kissed him more deeply. "And of course," he continued, pausing for breath, "Made sure my wife knew how incredible he looked in his dress, as he struggled down the aisle under the weight of the enormous belly full of the pups I'd given him." He pulled John closer, as much as the Omega's swollen belly would allow, drawing him into a slow, tender, passionate kiss, savouring the warm feeling of John's mouth on his, the soft sounds he pulled from his mate, the near electricity of it as it truly dawned on them that they were now husband and wife. They broke apart regretfully when John's legs began to shake, the Omega's belly truly too enormous now for him to stand for any significant length of time. The Alpha kept his mate steady, pulling the wheelchair from where it had been tucked away in an alcove, ready at hand for the enormously heavy Omega. It had been nearly a full week since John had found the weight of his massive stomach too cumbersome to walk (or rather, waddle) unaided for any distance, and the gravid man seemed to be losing more mobility with each passing day.

John nearly whimpered as Sherlock told him he'd spoiled it, distress clouding his face rapidly, but his expression softened at the rest of his speech. He sank into the wheelchair gratefully, clutching his husband's hand. "Don't worry," he purred, smiling up at him adoringly, "my absolutely gorgeous husband still gets to be the first one to introduce us as a married couple to all our guests... although I will have to warn my husband that he'll be waiting quite some time for our first dance."

He took hold of the wheels of the chair and pushed, progressing in a wavy line across the atrium until he got the hang of it and exerted equal force on both wheels. He allowed Sherlock to do the difficult navigation through doorways until they reached the reception room, set out with tables adorned with pristine white tablecloths and large centrepieces of blue and white flowers accented with yellow. Off to one side there was a small raised stage, with Sherlock and John's sweetheart table, U-shaped so they could sit side-by-side and still reach food, at the back of the room, furthest from the platform. John beamed up at his husband; the room was smart and elegant, the flowers perfect.

"I'm glad we're doing things in the wrong order," he grinned knowingly. "I'm starving. And actually quite interested to see this murder mystery, although I bet you work it out in about nine and a half seconds. You can tell me all your deductions after dinner but before the photographs, so I can gaze adoringly at my husband thinking how clever he is," he smiled softly, wheeling himself into the anteroom so they could wait for the guests to be seated and enter the room together, announced as Mr and Mrs Holmes-Watson.

"I'll keep my mouth shut, then," Sherlock smiled. "It would be unfair for me to really play anyway." He took the advantage of the wait to lean in and kiss his adoring mate once more, placing both hands on the swollen belly that was now beginning to extend beyond John's knees. When they broke apart, he let his gaze drop briefly to John's swollen breasts, unfortunately (in his opinion) well-covered by the dress. "You'll have to let me know when you need to take care of these," he murmured, cupping the heavy mounds shamelessly, and smirked at the blush rising on his Omega's cheeks.

The Alpha could vaguely hear the sounds of the guests entering the reception room. Voices chatted happily, chairs shifted, and before long, the couple was notified it was time. Sherlock smiled warmly at his mate. "Shall we, my wife?" He gripped the back of John's chair, wheeling his mate from the anteroom as the toastmaster announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding to greet the new Mr and Mrs Holmes-Watson."

The room erupted with cheers, whistles and applause as the couple emerged, identical beaming smiles on their faces. Sherlock wheeled John over to the table with the cake on it, a large four-tier hexagonal design, simple, with a cascade of flowers down one side like Sherlock had suggested. John had to sit side on to the table and twist a little awkwardly to be able to grasp the knife, but Sherlock's hand on top of his own, guiding and steadying, made the job easier. He brushed Sherlock's long fingers with his thumb tenderly just as they sank the tip of the blade into the bottom tier and cut the cake, the photographer snapping away to capture the moment, before Sherlock stole another kiss from his new wife and wheeled him across to their little table. John looked up at him, smiling, reaching out for his hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze. He knew Sherlock had been dreading this moment, the speech he'd have to make; the father of the bride was conspicuous in his absence, but John had been adamant that his parents not be invited, and they had agreed the traditional best man's speech would also be dispensed with, given that the embarrassing stories about Sherlock consisted of either drugs or dead bodies. The Omega mewled softly, demanding attention from his mate, and pushed reassuring love towards him through the bond.

The guests settled back into their chairs, chattering, while the toastmaster raised his voice once again. "The groom will now make his speech, after which there will be the first half of the murder mystery play. There will then be a break while the meal is served and you will have the opportunity to question the characters, and then the second half of the play. So, ladies and gentlemen, if I could ask you once again, please give a warm round of applause for the groom."

Applause filled the room once more as Sherlock stood, the groom notably paler than the proud, flushed man who had just led his new bride back down the aisle. He cleared his throat softly, his cheeks draining of what little colour they had left as his audience quieted. All eyes gazed expectantly on the Alpha.

"I am not," he began, "incredibly fond of formal speeches. In fact, I'll confess I was suitably horrified when John informed me that in lieu of the traditional speeches, I would be expected to make one of my own. Public expressions of sentiment are not my area." He paused, regarding the now confused and uncomfortable expressions of his guests. "However," he continued, smiling at his Omega and lifting the couple's clasped hands enough for their guests to see, "Pleasing the love of my life is very much my area. And since our bonding, I have found myself eager and willing to do anything to ensure his happiness, and to keep him gazing proudly at me." He brought John's hand to his lips, and kissed it gently. "I used to think that, should I ever attend John's wedding, I might be lucky enough to find myself his best man - if his Alpha were to even allow me so close. I never, in all my imaginings, could conceive of being so lucky as to be his husband."

"My wife and I," he continued, his eyes only for John in that moment as he beamed, his heart swelling with pride at uttering the words for the first time, "Are so pleased to have you all here to celebrate with us today. We understand that very little of this holds to traditional practices, but we have never been a traditional couple. We do, however, apologize that there will be no dancing tonight. I look forward to sharing a first dance with my lovely wife, but as our thirteen pups are making their presence more obviously known with each passing day, the moment will have to wait. In all hope, the murder mystery play will more than make up for the lack of the usual activities. I will not be actively participating myself, but I wish you all the best of luck. Thank you."

More than a few of the female guests were dabbing their eyes by the end of the speech and Mycroft quickly produced his handkerchief to offer to his mother, who was grasping needily at his sleeve like a child asking for security. He placed an arm around her shoulders and brought her close against his chest while she sniffled, purring quietly to reassure her.

John beamed at his mate, eyes shining, and squeezed his hand as he sat back down. "That was perfect, love," he murmured. "I am sickeningly proud of you." The lights dimmed and the play began, but John kept gazing at his new husband and couldn't resist leaning in for a kiss. The pups started kicking, demanding their father's attention, and John chuckled as he broke the kiss. "You were right, they are demanding," he breathed softly, humming lightly as they calmed under Sherlock's hands. He turned his attention back to the play, where a man dressed as a chef was wringing his hands nervously and explaining to the audience how a famous actress staying at the hotel had been brutally stabbed with one of his knives while he was in the walk-in freezer. More characters joined him on stage; the victim's PA, the manager of the hotel, the woman's understudy for her role as Ophelia, a chambermaid and the sous-chef who found the body. John watched happily for a few minutes while they argued and accused, before shifting uncomfortably in his seat and leaning over to whisper to his mate. "I need it, Sherlock," he whispered darkly, licking his lips. "I need to be milked."

"I know you do," Sherlock hummed lowly, bringing his lips to John's ear, "I can scent it on you, growing stronger. Your body is practically desperate for it, isn't it? My warm, wet mouth on your straining breasts, suckling, relieving, drinking down all that rich, heavy milk they've filled with just for me, for our pups." He purred deeply, knowing the sound would encourage his mate to let down more. "It will be obvious if we slip away now, before the meal. Do you want that, John? Want everybody to know how much you need it, how I must be feeding from your bare breasts because you couldn't wait any longer, because you were so full?"

John blushed furiously, his mouth opening a little in his confusion and embarrassment. "I need it," he repeated stupidly, whining a little, not wanting to admit that he didn't care who knew. "Please, Sherlock, I - I need it, I'm so full..." He half-shook his head, clearing it a little. He smiled playfully - two could play at that game, he thought. "Or maybe I should go and take care of it myself? I could go up to our room right now and use the pump, sit on the bed you'll take me to later tonight and take my breasts out, hold the pumps to my plump nipples and flip the switch, watch as all that lovely milk is sucked out of me... Maybe I should do that, if you're too embarrassed to let everyone know... you could stay here, then, they might not even know I'm being milked at all... they wouldn't know how you made me so full I need to be milked three times a day..."

Sherlock growled quietly. "As if I would let you," he rumbled, nipping softly at John's earlobe. "You of all people should know I am more than pleased at the thought of everyone knowing of our activities, of how full I've made you." He smirked, subtly cupping his wife's breast, "I'm the exhibitionist in this relationship, or don't you remember? Your dress hides the true size of your breasts well. If I'd have had my way, you'd be much more exposed; they'd all know just by looking at you how you're straining, nearly leaking with milk just for me."

"Please," John whined, Sherlock's hands cupping him making his milk even more insistent on leaking. "I'm so close to leaking. I've got pads in my bra to catch it but I - I'm so full, Sherlock, I - oh god," he breathed hotly, "too late. I'm leaking already. I can feel it, Sherlock, I'm dripping..." He looked around the room, which was as dark as any theatre, the only lights the ones on the stage. "I can't wait any more," he mewled desperately, keeping his voice low. He reached under his lapel and tugged at the zip concealed there, just the one closest to Sherlock for the moment. "I need it, right here."

Sherlock's lips parted in surprise and desire, his pupils dilating wide; barely visible in the dark, a deep blush spread across his cheekbones, as his erection pressed uncomfortably hard against the fabric of his trousers. He cupped John's breasts in both hands, caressing them greedily as he captured his mate's lips. He pulled back when John whined into the kiss, his hand finding John's under the lapel, pushing back the fabric and the material of the bra to reveal one plump, erect nipple, leaking a steady stream of creamy milk. The Alpha bit back a moan as the milky scent overwhelmed him, John releasing markers that begged the Alpha to suck, to relieve him. Sherlock teased the nipple, rolling the plump nub between his fingers, inhaling sharply as the milk leaked more freely and John mewled. His mate's desperation getting the better of him, he dipped his head without a second thought, taking the entire nipple in his mouth and beginning to drink greedily, warm milk flooding his mouth as he immediately began to take large gulps from the overfull breast.

John gritted his teeth to stifle a moan of relief as Sherlock finally latched on. He twined his fingers in the curls at the back of his mate's head, holding him in place, cradling him, encouraging. The noise of the play covered the wet little sounds of the Alpha's suckling and John's tender crooning, the way he knew his mate liked. His voice barely audible, he murmured praises and encouragements as his Alpha suckled eagerly, feeling the wonderful lessening of pressure as his milk was drawn out. "You knew this would happen, didn't you?" John purred quietly, massaging slightly with the hand cradling Sherlock's head. "You knew I'd get so full I'd need this, be so desperate for you I'd let you nurse from me right here where anyone could see. Anybody could turn around and see you at my breast, suckling like a pup. But you knew I'd need you, need the relief, and that's why you had them set the room up like this, with everyone between us and the stage. We're too far into the shadows for the actors to see, and all our guests have their attention on the play. Clever Alpha, so thoughtful," he murmured, stroking his mate's cheek affectionately when he finally pulled off the first nipple with a wet pop.

Sherlock smirked, merely tucking John back into the bra and zipping him up as he kissed his mate deeply, allowing John to taste himself in his mouth. "You're welcome," he breathed smugly, cupping the remaining breast in his hand and squeezing it lightly so that John moaned into the kiss. "You catch on quick," he purred almost predatorially, "Let's see if we can get away with this one, too, shall we? It must feel full to bursting." He reached under John's other lapel, the one furthest from him, and unzipped the flap. The Alpha kept eye contact with his mate as he ducked his head, laving away the stream of milk that had leaked from the plump breast before circling the nipple teasingly with his tongue and latching on once more.

"That's it, love," John purred softly, his husband's mouth firm and perfect around his nipple. He stroked Sherlock's hair tenderly, bringing his free arm around his back to cradle him. "Good boy..." He smiled as Sherlock nuzzled a little closer at the praise. "That's my good boy. That's right darling, just like that... Such a good boy, nursing so well. My perfect Alpha," he sighed, instinctively beginning to rock him as he fed; being closer to his Omega state all the time brought automatic behaviour to the surface much faster. For the first time, his scent changed while Sherlock nursed him; usually there was just a ripe, milky note in his normal pregnant scent, but this time, in the dark and cradling his mate, his scent pushed out new markers. Nursing Omega. It was a scent meant for the pups, to calm them and reassure them, a scent that they instinctively knew meant safety, milk, mum. John purred quietly, unaware of the change, as Sherlock's tongue teased at his nipple while his Alpha mewled for more milk.

Sherlock's eyes widened briefly as the scent shifted, and he instinctively nuzzled his Omega's breast, sighing in contentment when he felt his Omega's body obligingly let down more milk and the creamy liquid rushed into his mouth again and again with each sip. He found himself burrowing closer into his mate, wanting more of John's warmth, his comfort. His eyelids grew heavy, and his purring grew deeper, taking on the low, throaty rumble of a father Alpha who was pleased with his mate's nurturing capabilities, who would protect his pups. His cock lost its painful hardness as his body responded more and more to the scent. This scent was for gentleness and family, not for lust. He felt like a small child, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the arms of its loving mother. Safe.

John purred and crooned, cuddling his mate closer and stroking his hair, holding him tightly, smiling down at him with adoration in his eyes. The snuffling, quiet suckling noises Sherlock was making grew slower and calmer as the new scent relaxed them both, creating their own little cocoon of love and warmth. John rubbed his mate's back, murmuring to him. "Good boy... Mmm, hungry today, aren't we? That's it darling, nearly finished." The Alpha nursed for another minute before John felt the last of his milk leave him and he swiped a thumb across Sherlock's cheekbone tenderly. "All done, sweetheart," he murmured softly, planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

Sherlock gently laved away the little mess he'd made, pressing a tender kiss to the nipple before zipping John up once again. The Alpha closed his eyes and hummed, resting his head on the pillow of John's chest, content to rest in the dark as the first act of the play finished. Except it was no longer dark. Light filtered through the Alpha's closed eyelids, which only remained closed for a moment before opening wide in realization.

Dull chatter filled the soothingly-lit room as their guests waited to be served the meal. The first act of the play had concluded sometime during the couple's intimate reverie; caught up in the haze of scents and hormones, neither Alpha nor Omega had registered when the lights went up. Everyone must have all seen it, Sherlock knew. Many of them had turned their chairs back in the direction of the bride and groom's table - but most had averted their eyes discreetly. Lestrade was very pointedly engaging Molly in conversation about his current case, a blush high on the Omega's cheeks as she dared to peep up at Sherlock and John - the colour only deepening when she made eye contact with the dark-haired Alpha. A small, embarrassed squeak escaped the pathologist, causing Mrs Hudson - seated directly across from her - to follow the young Omega's gaze up to the sweetheart table. The Beta only smiled fondly at Sherlock and John, offering them a wink before attempting to engage Sherlock's mother in conversation again. The elderly Omega's eyes, brimming with tears once more, were fixed on her son and his mate.

They were saved further explanations by the arrival of the food, the waiters swiftly bringing the first course to each table with their eyes respectfully averted from John and Sherlock.

"Oh god, is my face on fire? It has to be. I've actually burst into flames and my face is burning," John groaned to his mate, looking at the floor, mortified. "I can't believe everyone saw that..." He risked a glance upwards and saw most of the guests happily tucking in to their food, but Sherlock's mother was still gazing at them with shining eyes. "Maybe you should go talk to your mother," John murmured softly. "She looks upset. Even Mrs Hudson's having no luck cheering her up and you know how determined she can be." He clasped his hands around his glass of icy water, cooling his hands and using them to calm the scarlet blush from his face. He was surprised he didn't hiss when his hands touched his cheeks.

The colour drained from Sherlock's face as he looked at his Omega. A corner of his mouth twitched downward dangerously. "Have I really embarrassed you that much, John?" he asked, his tone even and quiet but laced with an edge of frost. The Alpha abruptly pushed his chair back and stood, not waiting for a response as he left the sweetheart table. He obediently strode over towards his mother. Beatrice Holmes immediately dropped her gaze from her son, unwilling to look the Alpha in the eye as he bent down next to her. Mycroft eyed his brother with concern, but said nothing of it.

"May I speak to you in private, Mummy?" Sherlock asked quietly. Beatrice shook her head, but came obediently when her son gently took her hand in his. He led her quietly to the anteroom without another word.

John opened his mouth to protest but his husband had swept away before he had a chance to explain. He wasn't embarrassed that they'd seen Sherlock feeding from him; it was that they'd been seen doing something so utterly intimate that they might as well have been having sex on the table. He wilted, his Alpha's obvious disappointment in him giving him an odd, clawing, shaky feeling in his chest that he didn't like. He stared at his food, tears filling his eyes, too upset to eat. Mrs Hudson saw him sitting there almost vacantly, gripping the arms of his chair, and went over to him, perching on the edge of the table. "Don't you worry, dear," she said kindly. "The play had only just finished. Nobody thinks any worse of you for seeing you and your husband so in love," she added chirpily, patting his arm reassuringly before returning to her own table.

Beatrice looked at the floor demurely, waiting for an order, before she remembered that she was no longer collared. She touched her throat, almost confused by the lack of the thick leather band, and hesitantly forced herself to peek upwards and meet her son's eyes. Her mouth wobbled slightly, but she didn't cry. She was stronger than that.

"Is it too much for you?" Sherlock asked soothingly, seating her in one of the small chairs that stood against the wall. The Omega shook her head, the movement almost imperceptible. The Alpha sighed; Sherlock had barely seen his mother since her rescue - preparing for the wedding had kept his days busy, and John's decreasing mobility necessitated his near-constant aid. Though neither sibling had maintained contact with their kinder parent for nearly ten years, Mycroft had reported Beatrice being much more reclusive than the already-demure, submissive woman of their memory. Withdrawal from her first Alpha had shocked her badly; forgetting her newfound status, she often required permission to eat or sleep - which the elder Holmes brother had only realized, with much dismay, after returning home from an overnight crisis management to find her kneeling quietly in the dark, her silver-white head bowed as she obediently awaited her pack leader's return.

"Mummy," Sherlock began again gently, kneeling in front of her cupping her cheek, "My mother. You never knew it could be like this."

Beatrice's grey eyes finally snapped their undivided attention to her son, widening in a moment of painful recognition. Her face crumpled immediately. A sob escaped the Omega's throat as she began to curl in on herself. Sherlock dropped his head to her shoulder, burrowing his face against her neck. "I'm so sorry," he breathed.

Beatrice whimpered and clung to her son, burying her face in his hair, grounding herself with his scent. Contentment. Pride. Safety. She sobbed weakly, years of repressing her tears making it difficult for her to cry freely, quieting as the Alpha hushed her gently and crooned reassurances.

John was still staring unseeing at his food, not a bite taken, when they emerged from the anteroom and didn't see them; his eyes were still glassy with unshed tears, his heart gripped by ice and oil, his mouth set in a firm line so he wouldn't cry. He had to grip the arms of his chair firmly to stop his hands from shaking; disappointing his Alpha so soon after their intimacy had been something of a shock to his system and he was barely clinging to his rational mind, his Omega fighting to come to the surface and kneel for his Alpha to beg his forgiveness. He vaguely registered the sound of Mycroft's voice, his pack leader taking custody of his new mother-in-law and holding her as she continued to sniffle. The scrape of a chair announced Sherlock's arrival back at their table, but John didn't dare look.

Sherlock's features had settled once again into a cold mask as he'd approached the table. After sharing such an utterly loving, intimate moment, John's mortification had been no less than a knife to the Alpha's heart. While Sherlock had been shocked at their being caught out, he was in no way embarrassed. But John had been so utterly ashamed-

Seated, the Alpha paused. Something was very off. John's knuckles were nearly white in their grip on the chair, his large plate of food - ordered especially to help him feed their growing pups - was growing cold, his silverware untouched, still wrapped neatly in a white linen napkin. And John would not look at him. He clenched his jaw briefly in another wave of hurt - only to feel the full force of John's emotion roll over him. The Alpha inhaled, trying to process, to cope. "John?" he murmured, tentatively placing a hand on his mate's back. "John," he tried again, slowly closing his eyes and brushing his nose along the Omega's scent gland, nuzzling him softly, "John, please look at me."

John whimpered and bit his lip, tears spilling from his eyes as he shied away and shook his head. He'd disappointed his Alpha, let him think he was embarrassed by what they'd done, he wasn't worthy to be touched so tenderly - but insistent fingers under his chin tilted his face up. He curled in on himself in shame as more tears ran down his face, choked and muffled keening whines escaping with them as he fought not to cry in earnest. "I'm sorry," he breathed wretchedly, utterly miserable. "I wasn't - it's not what - never embarrassed by you - it's just - private..." The Omega found himself unable to explain better than that, his throat constricted, unsure whether he wanted to bolt from the room or hurl himself at his Alpha. "I'm sorry," he repeated stupidly, his eyes searching his mate's desperately for understanding and forgiveness.

"I see," Sherlock replied quietly, "I see that now." His heart positively ached at seeing his mate so utterly ruined on their wedding day. All hard feeling dissolved away in the face of John's distress, leaving only a faint, throbbing hurt at the memory of the Omega's utter embarrassment. It was difficult to forget that look, difficult to erase John's bright red face and look of sheer mortification. Removing his pocket square, the Alpha began to wipe the tears from his mate's face. "It was simply a misunderstanding, you have nothing to be sorry for," he tried, "I cannot blame you for wanting such things to stay private." He moved his chair closer, carefully uncurling John's arms and wrapping them around himself, resting John's head on his shoulder. "Please don't cry, my wife," he murmured, pressing gentle kisses along the side of John's face, "I love you. You have nothing to be sorry for."

John sniffed miserably and buried his face in Sherlock's neck. "It was partly shock too," he murmured, clinging to his Alpha's jacket like a baby monkey, afraid if he let go he'd lose him forever. "I love you too, my husband," he breathed softly, letting out a small tentative purr at the kisses on his face. "I'm not sorry they saw, you know. Being caught was a surprise, but I'm weirdly happy they got to see how full you made me." He rubbed his cheek across Sherlock's scent gland, covering himself in his mate's scent, calming himself further until his breathing was steady again. "Come on, let's do the rounds. We can have our food heated up and brought back during the second half... might even let you feed me," he tried, half-smiling, but making no move to let go of Sherlock's lapels. "But when we do, don't - I need - I need to be connected to you. I need your touch, even if it's just on my shoulder," he breathed needily, his Omega instincts not entirely soothed.

Sherlock forced himself not to frown; he didn't want to do the rounds. John needed to rest, to eat, to stay close and safe and alone with Sherlock instead of making insipid small talk with their guests. And John definitely shouldn't have to eat re-heated food on their wedding day. "Can't...," he began, disagreeing with the suggestion but wanting to please his mate, "Can't we stay here for now? You've had a shock; it's no good for you to be moving around so. And our food is still warm. You... you can let me feed you now, and we can make the rounds when the play is finished. And I promise I won't ever let you go." He gently unclenched on of John's hands from his lapels and twined their fingers together. "Promise. Please, my wife?"

"That sounds like a much better idea," John hummed quietly, squeezing Sherlock's hand. He nuzzled further into his mate's neck, kissing his scent gland, before sitting up properly and offering his husband a tentative smile. He purred as Sherlock picked up the fork and began to feed him, needily clinging to the Alpha's free hand, moaning a little at the delicious taste. It was a large plate and the rest of the room was being served the main course by the time John was finished eating. He shifted in his chair and rubbed his belly. "Thank you, love. I've got fourteen babies in there now," he sighed theatrically. "Thirteen flesh-and-blood and one made of food. Can you eat one handed?" he added nervously, "I - I really don't want to let go of your hand. I just - I can't. Not yet. I need to hold it a little while longer."

Sherlock squeezed John's hand, eyeing his plate. He'd have to leave anything that needed cutting, but the Alpha would make do. "Of course," he murmured, kissing John chastely before picking up his fork. John's continued nervousness sat uncomfortably with him, a dull, achy twist in his stomach that made it difficult to eat, no matter how delicious the food was. He pecked half-heartedly at the meal, trying not to notice the growing look of concern on his Omega's face. "What do you need?" he finally asked lowly, knowing a question was coming, "What do you need to feel safe, assured? You're still not well, and I... I need to fix that." He looked at him desperately. "It's our wedding day," he said, as if the sentence explained everything.

"I - I just need to be close to you for a while," John breathed softly. "Can I - can I sit in your lap for the second half?" He bit his lip, feeling childish for even asking, but he knew that if he could cuddle up to his Alpha, bury his face in his mate's neck and drink in his scent, he would feel better, be able to scent his forgiveness. "I know I'm heavy, but - just for a little while?" he added, stroking Sherlock's hand hopefully with his thumb. He knew he'd need Sherlock's knot later, but simply being held in his arms and cuddled on his lap would be enough for now. "I'll be fine after being in your arms... finish your food first though, because once I'm in your lap I might refuse to leave again for some time. This might be the last chance you get at food for some time," he grinned cheekily, some colour returning to his face.

Sherlock returned the grin with a small smile of his own. "Of course," he replied without hesitation, squeezing John's hand, "Anything you need." He began to eat with a little more enthusiasm under the watchful eye of his mate, wanting John to feel happy and comfortable by the time the second act rolled around, instead of worrying about the condition of his Alpha's stomach. Knowing what he could do for his mate, the food began to taste better - he even found himself savouring a few bites as some of the knot in his gut untwisted itself. His thumb stroked gently over the back of John's hand as he worked through the plate. Soon enough, the second act was announced, and the lights dimmed once more.

"Come," said Sherlock gently, helping to heave his mate from the chair. With a small amount of huffing and grunting on both their parts, he guided John onto his lap, the Omega resting with his head tucked cozily against the Alpha's neck, John's heavy body draped across the Alpha's thighs and pressing against Sherlock's torso. The Alpha wrapped his arms warmly around his mate, gathering him close and secure, closing his eyes as he buried his nose in John's hair and inhaled the gravid scent of his wife. "I love you," he murmured tightly, pushing as much of the feeling through their bond as he could manage, letting John know he was forgiven.

"I love you too," John murmured back, happily pushing his face into his Alpha's neck, lapping submissively at his scent gland. He let his eyes slide shut and began to purr, tentatively at first, but growing louder as he felt the love pushing through the bond - not enough to disturb the guests, but enough for Sherlock to hear it. Soon he was purring steadily, a metronome of contented rumbling bracketed by soft inhales, ignoring the murder mystery entirely in favour of cuddling up to his Alpha, pawing lightly at his chest. He relaxed by degrees, pushing strong bursts of love and happiness through the bond, letting Sherlock know he felt better, and gradually grew more comfortable. His purring became mingled with grunting little snores as he fell asleep, and by the time the lights came back up he was fast asleep against his mate's shoulder, still clinging to his jacket, a blissful, peaceful smile on his face.

This time, all gazed fondly on the couple as the guests turned back to their tables to fill out their cards. Sherlock raised his eyes from John, instinctively cuddling the Omega closer when he realized they had an audience; a sleeping Omega was vulnerable, but the Alpha trusted each of their guests enough not to let out a growl of warning. "Apologies," Sherlock smiled, recovering himself, "I fear my bride requires a short interlude before we continue our little celebration. In the meantime, cake will be served and you may fill out your cards. I think in - oh, about twenty minutes or so, John should be back with us." He nuzzled his mate's temple fondly as John gave another soft snore. His mate did not need to be woken just yet.

John slept on, happily dreaming that his Alpha was feeding him delicacy after delicacy, letting him choose from a huge array. "No, I want the profiteroles," he mumbled aloud, snuffling back into Sherlock's neck, the scent of cake seeping into his dream. "Mmm, yeah, cake. Nice big slice." The scent grew stronger and he blinked awake, purring loudly as he saw the cake in front of him. He got Sherlock to shift him to cuddle into his other side and licked submissively at his Alpha's jaw until he deigned to feed the cake to John by hand. He lapped his mate's fingers clean, nibbling on them like a puppy as he was fed. He watched with interest as the guests made their guesses, Lestrade one of the few to guess correctly. The actors returned to the stage, revealing that it was the chambermaid all along; she was really the actress's younger sister and stood to inherit a vast fortune if her sibling was out of the way. John purred and butted his cheek against his husband's. "Go on then, husband... tell me how long it took you to work that one out," he breathed lasciviously, kissing his neck.

Sherlock smirked, dipping his head to return kisses of his own. "I wasn't paying all that much attention, unfortunately. My gorgeous mate was rather more captivating." He kissed away the resulting look of disappointment on his John's face, "That being said," he murmured, "Seven minutes. Only because you were so pleasantly distracting." He savoured the look of unadulterated pride and adoration on his mate's face for a moment before pressing his lips to John's ear, "Don't you want to know..?" he murmured, his grin widening as he whispered the deduction lowly into his Omega's ear.

John's eyes widened at Sherlock's explanation, his adoring expression growing stronger. "Brilliant," he breathed, gazing up at his mate, a soft light behind his eyes. He leaned in and pressed fluttering kisses along his jawline, rubbing one hand across his Alpha's chest, snuggling closer. "You are absolutely perfect," he murmured gently, tilting his face up, seeking more kisses on the lips. He purred when he got them. "And later, I am going to show you exactly how much I appreciate my genius of a husband." He kissed him again, warmly, smiling a little, fighting the urge to snuggle into his neck again and go back to sleep. He drew back and swiped a thumb across Sherlock's cheekbone affectionately. "Time for the rounds, I think," he murmured regretfully. "Although I'd much sooner stay in your lap." He struggled back into his wheelchair with Sherlock's help and allowed his mate to push him to the nearest guest table while the waiters brought out more champagne flutes and a string quartet began to play.

Lestrade smiled warmly at their approach, and Molly blushed heavily, pointedly trying not to stare at John's truly enormous midsection. "Alright there, John? Thought you were barely going to make it up the aisle," the DI complimented. Sherlock purred loudly as he pulled up a chair next to his mate, one hand possessively coming to rub the swell of the Omega's gravid belly, marking his claim in the presence of the other Alpha. "Yeah, yeah you big Alpha dog," Lestrade countered fondly, "He's yours, believe me, we all know." The groom only purred more deeply, smirking proudly at his best man. Molly's eyes widened slightly as she found herself accidentally looking where she'd not meant to; even after watching John struggle up the aisle, the other Omega hadn't realized how truly big the man was becoming. In the wheelchair, his legs spread to accommodate his huge girth, his oblong belly pushing past his thighs- her lips parted slightly in amazement at how well he had been bred.

John was conscious of Molly staring at his belly; he blushed and clung a little tighter to Sherlock's sleeve. He didn't know what to say to the pathologist, her romance with Lestrade was blossoming but it had only been six weeks since Christmas and he didn't want to upset her. He offered her a genuine smile and asked what she'd thought of the play, his smile widening when she began to describe the scientific inaccuracies of the murder. Their conversation flowed naturally from there to work, to life in general, to her growing fondness for the DI, and John was pleased to see a wholehearted smile on her face as she sneaked a glance at the man, deep in conversation with Sherlock and paying them no heed. "I'm glad you're here, Molly," John said quietly, seeking something in her eyes. A pink tinge rose on her cheeks but she met his gaze. "Me too," she replied honestly. "I'm so happy for you both, I really am. I realised after Christmas that even if - well, it wouldn't have been as good as you two. He needs someone strong and tough who can rein him in a bit, and I need someone far less complex. And Greg - he's lovely," she said fondly, her blush deepening as she stared at the floor.

Soon enough it was time for them to move on and they said farewell to the pair, and the other guests at their table, before moving to the next one. John had parked himself next to Beatrice, who was looking at John's belly with longing; he flicked his eyes to his Alpha, seeking. She was family, after all; Mycroft had been allowed to touch John's belly during the scenting after he became pack Alpha, and would be permitted to leave his scent on John in the future as well, since now the scent would reassure Sherlock of his protection and not be seen as a challenge. As the pups' grandmother, was Beatrice another acceptable exception to the nobody-touches-my-Omega rule?

Sherlock sat on John's opposite side, and Mycroft to Beatrice's right. The pack Alpha threw a curious look at his brother, wondering what the detective would do; it was required that the pack Alpha be allowed to touch any of the bonded Omegas of the pack - but when it came to touches from others, even those under his protection, the decision was at the discretion of the sire. Omega-Omega contact was usually deemed an acceptable act, especially among family, but there was no telling when an Alpha might become tetchy.

Sherlock's hand was closed firmly over his John's shoulder as he watched his mate and mother, his expression unreadable. He drew in a breath, and Mycroft found himself tense. But then the young Alpha met his mate's eyes, giving an almost imperceptible nod of assent. Purring quietly, Sherlock nuzzled at his mate's scent gland before peering over John's shoulder to monitor the proceedings.

John pressed into the contact, reaching out to grasp Sherlock's hand, needing a point of contact. "Beatrice," he murmured softly, his voice gentle, "give me your hand." He knew that expressing her own wants and opinions was still difficult for her; she would respond better to gentle commands disguised as requests at first. She snapped her gaze to his face, eyes wide, obeying meekly. John purred softly and pulled it towards him, letting it rest lightly on the topmost curve of the bump, where one of the pups had decided it needed attention. The other Omega gasped quietly and dared to press a little harder, rubbing ever so slightly. As he had with Mycroft, John found the touch was not objectionable; it wasn't like when Sherlock touched his belly, intimate and loving, but it was tolerable. The pup responded to the touch, kicking a few times before settling. John smiled at the heart-breaking joy on his mother-in-law's face, happy tears shining in her eyes. He let her touch for a few more moments before carefully taking her hand in his again and grasping it, giving it a small squeeze. She returned it weakly, barely managing to whisper "Thank you," before Mycroft decided it was time for them to say their farewells; the event had been emotionally draining enough for her already. They parted fondly and were just about to turn their attention to the rest of their guests when they heard a slurring voice from the doorway.

"Jaaaaawwwwwn. Bet you're really plizzed - pleeeeeeased - with y'rself. Married. Preg - pregnant. Po - Perfect Omega. Didn't wanna ruin it by invitationing - invicting - inv - asking me to come though, did you Johnny? Didn't wanna taint it with me an' my failed bond. Didn't wanna embarrass yourself by association. 'm I not good enough for you Johnny?" Harry pointed accusingly at him, staggering a little. Her hair was beginning to fall out of an elegant updo, her lilac cocktail dress was stained with drink; she had clearly dressed with the intention of attending the ceremony and spent the time in a bar instead. John blushed and bit his lip, whimpering and clutching his mate's sleeve a little tighter, no idea how to react.

Sherlock staggered slightly as John tugged at him, his face frozen in a mask of shock, discomfort, and mild horror. He inwardly cursed the fact that Mycroft had just left - his brother, out of anyone, would have known how to handle the situation neatly. The pack Alpha would have been able to escort the woman outside and dismiss her, but Sherlock was alone now, and torn. Leaving John to take care of his unruly sister would cause his mate distress, but to bring John with him would be no better. His own anxiety quickly melted into the most accessible emotion for any Alpha whose mate felt threatened - possessive anger. "You're wrong," he rumbled dangerously, yet managing to keep back an outright growl. "You know full well you were invited." He stood next to the chair and pushed John forward with him, managing to keep a little ways in front of the Omega, creating a barrier between the siblings. Hotel staff stood on either side of the doorway, waiting to intervene. Harry had obviously only made it in since she was on the guest list; Sherlock and John were in no way without enemies, and Mycroft had ensured the event's security was watertight. "You are ruining it by showing up utterly intoxicated and distressing my mate." Bringing them to a stop in front of the woman, the Alpha stood in front of his mate, keeping John's hand closed in his as he drew himself up to his full height. He towered proudly over the dishevelled Harry, his eyes flashing with undisguised hostility. "John was gracious enough to insist on having you here, and you are repaying him poorly for his trust. However, considering his inexplicable continued fondness for you, I will give you two choices," he said lowly, "Either find yourself a room to sober up and return to us when you are coherent enough to apologize, or leave. Now."

Harry glared at him, apparently weighing up her options. Her left eye slid shut as she swayed unsteadily on her feet, her high heels rather too high for her to manage. She raised a finger oratorically and opened her mouth, but apparently forgot what she wanted to say and blinked, letting her hand drop again. "Why wasn't I a bridesmaid, Johnny?" she slurred sadly, leaning heavily against the door jamb. "You know it would've - would'a got me back on the market after - after. Selfish, s'why. You don't want anyone else to be as happy as YOU." John exhaled sharply thought his nose. "You're in no fit state to be on the market," he said evenly, his Alpha's presence and protection making him bolder. "Look at you, you've just turned up five hours late and pissed. You can barely function, how do you expect to hold down a relationship? Go home, Harry. We can talk when you're ready to apologise to my Alpha for disrespecting him like this."

She stared at him, utterly shocked, for a few moments, before allowing the security guards to leave her away. The rest of the guests tactfully took that as their cue to leave, each making sure to thank the couple for inviting them and informing them how enjoyable the evening had been. The room slowly emptied, until finally the waiters were left to clear the glasses and leftover plates. John began to purr quietly, rubbing his belly, peeping shyly up at his husband through his lashes.

Sherlock looked down at him, frowning uncertainly. "Was that... was that good?" the Alpha asked tentatively, genuine concern written on his face as he searched John's eyes for reassurance. Directly, he referred to the crisis of John's sister; he'd succeeded in not attacking her, which he supposed was a point in his favour, but then again he'd never been praised for his crisis management skills. He worried about the wedding as a whole, as well. There had been decidedly less-than-good moments, interludes of pain in the otherwise pleasant celebration. He didn't want John to remember their wedding day as painful. The Omega had seemed to enjoy himself overall, but it hadn't been a perfect day. The Alpha's face fell a little more when he thought of it like that.

"It was perfect," John hummed softly, beaming up at his husband. "How could it not be? My stunning husband standing up for me like that. The whole day has been lovely... my wonderful husband declaring in front of everyone how much he loves me, making such a good speech, feeding me, curling up in my lap and nursing from me, letting me sleep on him, feeding me cake by hand, catching up with our guests and a wonderful set of deductions... I couldn't have asked for better. Just the photographs to go, and then you can take me to bed." He purred a little louder for his Alpha, nuzzling into his arm, allowing his mate to wheel him into the small room set up as a photographic studio. He gripped Sherlock's hands as he was heaved out of the chair and waddled over to the silk-draped seating, having to clutch Sherlock's arm to manage the short distance. He purred loudly as Sherlock pulled him into his lap and rubbed his nose affectionately against his mate's, smiling, as the photographer began to snap pictures.

Sherlock found the photographs came surprisingly easy; he'd dreaded the stiff, formal poses and cheesy smiles that he'd seen in wealthy clients' homes, or in those homes that were so unfortunate as to have become crime scenes. John's gentle affections led him naturally through the session. For a few long minutes, the Alpha forgot the click of the camera, his eyes only for his mate, nuzzling, kissing, gently caressing the Omega in his lap. When they were asked to look at the camera, he found his smile remained easily, the detective grinning mildly through the few more traditional poses they were asked to do, stealing playful kisses between each set that the photographer readily captured, an audible click and flash corresponding to each brush of their lips. Close-up shots were taken, too, of their hands together, and of their hands closed over John's swollen belly, wedding rings clearly visible and gleaming. By the end of the whole thing, there were plenty of outtakes - bumped noses, pinched bums, and a particularly memorable moment in which the photographer had unsuspectingly asked them to "say anything," for a particular shot, and Sherlock had retorted with something inaudible to the crew, but which had the couple doubled over in giggles for a full five minutes afterwards.

Before they knew it, it seemed, they were in the elevator on the way up to their suite. Alone in the lift, the Alpha pressed John's chair back against the wall, the detective unable to resist leaning over his mate's huge belly for kisses which quickly grew heated. Sherlock found himself moaning softly into his Omega's mouth as a polite-sounding bell announced their arrival at their floor.

John whined when the kisses stopped, opening his eyes in confusion and reaching for his Alpha - but then he realised they were on their floor. He purred quietly and let his mate wheel him to the bridal suite, gazing up at him adoringly. "I think on this occasion, pushing me across the threshold will count as carrying me," he smirked, purring loudly as Sherlock smiled back at him and wheeled him carefully into the room. He had Sherlock help him out of the wheelchair and he waddled the short distance to the bed, pressing close to his mate as he sat next to him. He smiled softly as Sherlock drew him in for another reverent kiss, clutching his Alpha's lapels and drinking in his scent. The less mobile he got, the more his Omega state wanted to take over, and he'd been fighting it all day; he wouldn't last much longer. He broke the kiss regretfully and whispered in his mate's ear. "I seem to remember the hotel promising to keep back a large bowl of strawberries for me," he murmured suggestively. "They promised that if you go to the restaurant and ask for Steven, he'll give them to you. Would you get them for me? Please?" He rubbed himself against his Alpha, biting back a smirk at his suddenly wide-eyed, lust-filled expression. He allowed his husband to press one more needy kiss to his lips before Sherlock tore himself away and went to fetch the requested treat.

As soon as he was gone, John struggled off the bed and struggled out of his dress, stripping as quickly as he could. He waddled to his suitcase, clutching the furniture for support as he went, and pulled out the special surprise he'd planned what seemed like months ago. He returned to the bed and pulled it on awkwardly, managing to fasten it properly in spite of his rising Omega mind. He sat back against the headboard, legs spread, knees pulled up to frame his belly, pleased with his handiwork. The white lace bodysuit was exquisite; delicate oval peepholes exposed his nipples, the silky ribbon holding the fabric over his belly closed tied neatly in a bow just under his breasts, the small peephole in the gusset exposing his hole as he pulled his knees up a little higher. He stopped fighting his Omega then, and began caressing his belly lovingly, praising his Alpha to the pups, milk beginning to bead on his rosy nipples once more as he waited for his husband to return.

It didn't take long at all for Sherlock to return; the Alpha hadn't bothered to test his patience with the elevator, instead all but sprinting down the stairs in his eagerness to get to the kitchens. Steven had appeared upon request, the Beta sous-chef's arms full with a truly enormous porcelain bowl, plump, red strawberries piled higher than the brim. There had to be several pints' worth, the Alpha's mind registered, Sherlock suddenly feeling incredibly hot under his suit as man handed him the treat with a knowing grin. Sherlock thanked him dazedly, deigning to take the lift back up to avoid spilling a single ripe berry. He breathed deep as he imagined him pushing one after another past John's reddened lips, the Omega groaning sensually as he rubbed his enormous girth, complaining he couldn't manage another bite even as Sherlock pressed another into his protesting mouth. The Alpha's trousers felt uncomfortably tight by the time the lift bell pinged.

All nearly went to hell as soon as he stepped through the suite door.

"John, I-" Sherlock began, his eyes catching the garments strewn across the floor before they came to rest fully on the Omega. The Alpha nearly dropped his treasure, blood pounding in his ears as he inhaled sharply. The scent of pregnant Omega nearly overwhelmed him. It was dizzyingly heady, heavy, intoxicating. Sherlock's cock throbbed painfully inside his trousers as it thickened and lengthened in response to the pheromones, and to the sight of the gorgeous, gravid, lace-clad creature in front of him. He slowly made his way over to the bed, drinking in the sight of him. Sherlock sank down on the mattress, unconsciously toeing off his shoes. John's belly seemed incredibly, impossibly bigger, and Christ, he was leaking- The Alpha moaned, eyes dark, hands still obediently clutching the bowl of strawberries.

John looked up when he heard the moan and purred loudly to greet his mate. His eyes dropped to the bowl when he caught the scent of the strawberries and he licked his lips, smiled, gave a soft moan of want. His hands never stopped moving over his belly, rubbing loving circles into the flesh he could still reach. His purring grew louder as Sherlock gingerly moved towards him, constricted by his very tight trousers and desire not to spill any of the fruit, and as soon as he could he nuzzled his Alpha, purring as loudly as possible, rubbing his cheek against his neck. His head was pleasantly swimming, his Alpha's pheromones thick in the air, surrounding him wonderfully; he began peppering kisses along his mate's neck and jaw, whimpering submissively to ask for the strawberries. He had fought his Omega for so long that he had dropped into it deeply, barely capable of forming anything so evolved as speech. The small beads of milk on his nipples grew larger, quivering and ready to drip, his mate's proximity boosting his production to please the Alpha. John mewed quietly and butted his face against his mate again, rubbing and purring, begging without words.

Sherlock purred loudly in return, John's Omega easing him into his more pure Alpha state. His eyes flicked down to his Omega's engorged breasts, to the pearly drops of milk poised to drip from his mate's plump nipples. His eyes gleamed lustfully as he picked up the first strawberry, bringing it not to John's mouth but to one large teat, dragging it slowly over the Omega's nipple to coat it with breast milk. He smirked at the needy sound it drew from the Omega before pressing the treat to his mate's lips. His free hand reached over to grope one of John's breasts, massaging the tissue gently in his hand, encouraging it to swell further with milk, to grow just for him.

John parted his lips with a soft moan, eagerly taking the offered morsel, his lips brushing sensually against his mate's fingers. He hummed in approval and opened his mouth expectantly for the next, arching to push his chest forward as Sherlock's rhythmic squeezing boosted his production, the fabric of his bodysuit visibly stretching to accommodate his enlarged breasts. He squealed with delight as Sherlock fed him the next milk-soaked berry and wriggled towards him, trying to get into his arms.

John's enormous belly nearly upset the entire bowl of strawberries; the Alpha had just enough of himself left to quickly place the treat out of range of John's incredible girth. He wrapped an arm around his mate, pulling him closer, so that John was pressed to his side, John's belly across his lap. He licked his lips as he drew his gaze over his Omega's body, John's hands still rubbing sensuously over his gravid, oblong middle, John's breasts, overfull and straining, squeezed hopelessly against one another as the Omega pressed himself close. He continued to feed his mate, each strawberry plucked from the bowl held under the now-steady stream of warm milk flowing from the Omega's breasts before pressing lasciviously to John's lips, which grew redder as berry after ripe berry passed them lustfully, long, drawn-out kisses sometimes punctuating the pauses between the treats.

John purred and mewled, utterly beyond rational speech but thoroughly enjoying the strawberries. The attention from his mate and their closeness soon made him wet and open, ready to be taken by his Alpha; his purring grew softer and more sensual as he rubbed himself against his mate to show him. He lapped at Sherlock's scent gland, seeking kisses, humming when he recognised the taste of the strawberries and his own milk on his Alpha's lips. The scent of his slick curled around him in sweet, thick tendrils, a siren call for his mate, as he continued to nibble at the offered berries, licking his Alpha's fingers clean after each one.

The Alpha purred deeply, pupils dilating until there was only a sliver of grey-blue colour left in his lust-darkened eyes. His fingers dipped between John's legs as he leaned in for another deep kiss; he moaned at the noise it drew from the Omega, his mate's body eagerly releasing another small wave of slick as the Alpha traced his entrance, the opening in the gusset easily allowing him to press inside. Sherlock found himself becoming aware that he was wearing far too many clothes. He whined in the back of his throat as he withdrew, his instinctive mind struggling to figure out how to remove his tie. He fumblingly succeeded, only to find himself crashing his lips against his mate's once more, needing the contact as much as air, his entire body filling with an unbearable heat. He straddled the Omega as best he could, leaning precariously over John's gravid belly to kiss and touch him more between hastily removing his jacket, then his cummerbund, then nearly tearing off his dress shirt as the buttons wouldn't undo fast enough. The Alpha was panting heavily as several buttons went flying, beginning to rub his clothed cock over the Omega's lace-clad belly, groaning as he undulated his hips to gain some sort of friction against his throbbing member. Somehow he managed to get the rest off, finally, gloriously exposed to his mate as he rutted against John's belly- but it wasn't enough. He needed more. With a grunt, he pulled away and rolled off his mate, propping himself up against the headboard. His impressive member jutted out proudly from between his open legs, the tip leaking a steady, glistening stream of pre-come. The Alpha gripped his mate's hips, emitting a low, needy growl as he nipped at a spot on John's neck in wordless command. As soon as his heavy mate lifted his hips, Sherlock was pulling him down onto his huge cock, moaning in gratification as he was sheathed in John's tight, slick heat. He began to move his hips, reaching around to splay his hands over John's belly before cupping his breasts. The Alpha squeezed, sending twin jets of creamy milk spurting from John's strained nipples and onto his enormous, bulging belly, soaking the lace bodysuit.

John pressed back against his Alpha, whining in relief, turning his head to suck needily at Sherlock's scent gland. He cupped his belly as they began to rock together, moaning softly as his mate kept milking him, squeezing his walls around the enormous cock filling him, straining his neck to press desperate kisses to Sherlock's lips, licking approvingly at the taste of strawberries. He whimpered, nuzzled his mate's face, trying to ask for more of the fruit. He had already eaten a good third of the bowl, but wanted more; the corset front of the bodysuit was straining, so he gently took his Alpha's hands from his breasts and pressed them to the silky bow fastening, tugging gently at the loose ends. Once the ribbon was removed, he would be able to push the fabric to the sides, allowing his belly to swell further with food without ripping the lace. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but only breathy whines and needy moans escaped. He was obviously utterly lost to his Omega, completely trusting his Alpha to care for him and protect him while he was so vulnerable. His scent grew sweeter, containing notes full of promise and submission, encouraging the Alpha to knot - John's Omega still remembered the disappointment and coldness Sherlock had shown him after he'd been caught nursing.

Sherlock's eyes widened lustfully as he realized the opportunity presented to him. He tugged at the silk, the ribbon loosening easily. The Alpha gave a growl of triumph as the lacing pulled wider against the bulge of his Omega's swollen belly, a swathe of bare skin becoming visible under the criss-cross of silk. The fabric began to part further as the Alpha's impatient fingers pulled the ribbon from its fastenings, opening the body suit more and more as his hands moved down the Omega's belly, exposing the taut skin greedily. As the last of the fastening was released, the lace pinged to the sides. Sherlock's breath hitched as his mate's massive girth was revealed fully in front of him, the swell glistening ripely with a thin sheen of sweat. He cupped it's full weight in his hands as the Omega nuzzled him needily. Returning his mate's whine with a kiss, he found himself reaching towards the bowl of strawberries. Thrusting and rocking with his gravid mate on his lap, feeling the beginnings of a knot swelling at the base of his cock, he pressed more of the red fruit to his mate's lips.

John purred, eagerly accepting more berries, pressing one of his hands on top of Sherlock's on his bump. He lapped the red juice from his Alpha's fingers, purring louder as he was fed more and more, moaning at the slowly swelling knot, whimpering as his mate's huge cock rubbed over his prostate. The closer he got to orgasm the closer he pressed to his mate, needing the reassurance and comfort to assuage his earlier doubts and distress. If he'd been capable of speech, he'd have begged his Alpha for assurances, forgiveness, vows that his earlier embarrassment was forgotten, but he was too far into his Omega even to try. Instead he whined, pressed against his mate, nuzzled, lapped at his jaw, eyes wide, desperate and seeking. He accepted more strawberries, clenching around his mate, beginning to pant with want as his belly started to swell from the amount of food he'd eaten. The bowl was nearly finished as he began clenching needily around his Alpha's cock, whimpering, begging wordlessly for his knot as he returned to licking submissively at his mate's jaw.

Sherlock moaned lowly as his knot swelled, the base of his cock filling and engorging further as he watched John's belly expanding in front of him. He nipped his mate lightly in reproach for his attentions, but without malice; he still remembered his hurt. His eyes remained steadily on John as the Omega recoiled in shock, utter heartbreak written clearly on his mate's features. The Alpha gripped his John's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. There was no question that John needed to know the full consequences of his transgression. When they knotted, all would be completely forgiven, but at that moment Sherlock pushed all of his feelings, all of his memory of the incident through the bond, from the pure love during nursing to the sharp, shattering pain of witnessing John's shame. He watched his Omega's face wordlessly throughout it all, suddenly purring lowly when he had finished. He held another strawberry to John's lips, closed his hand over his mate's and guided it over John's big, round belly. This, the actions said quietly, is how you make it better. This is how I forgive you. He purred, nuzzled, and kissed, rocking harder, seeking more of his mate's affections once again as his knot began to tease and open John's entrance.

John bit his lip and whimpered, dropping his eyes and shying away from Sherlock's kisses, feeling unworthy to be petted or fed more delicious treats. Tears stung his eyes as he followed his Alpha's lead and pushed his feelings and memories from the earlier incident through the bond; complete tenderness and love as he suckled, shock and distress when he realised their guests had intruded on the private moment between them, aching heartbreak when he realised he'd disappointed and upset his mate. He had never been an exhibitionist, had been raised by very prim and proper parents and had always been taught that anything much beyond kissing should be kept for the privacy of the bedroom. He had enjoyed the risqué element of sex in the bathroom at Scotland Yard, but there was almost zero chance of their being discovered; he hadn't minded allowing Sherlock to display him to Mycroft naked in their home, but that was different. They had been having an intimate, tender moment that should have been private and loving, and their guests had all seen them. When he had complained about his burning face, he'd been melodramatic, hoping to skate over the awkward moment, but it had backfired hideously. His instinct demanded that he find somewhere dark, quiet and warm to cry; he adored Sherlock so much, had disappointed and hurt him so sharply, and in his sensitive, vulnerable state, he really couldn't bear it. The instinct to obey his Alpha was stronger, though, so he parted his lips and took the offered strawberry, biting back his hitching little sobs as best he could.

Sherlock frowned at his mate's distress; John may as well have been sobbing loudly and squirming away for all the Alpha felt through their bond. He had meant for the revelation to be cathartic, to show his mate more honestly the depth of the feelings he had held back earlier in favour of enjoying their wedding. The Alpha had not planned for them to be caught, but it was little bother to him when they were. They had been sharing such an intimate, loving moment - there was no shame in others knowing of their closeness. Everyone who saw would have immediately recognized the strength of their bond, and the knowledge had made the Alpha proud. John was a superior mate, the most perfect wife, the only Omega to ever catch his attention. In more primitive times, it would have been thought natural and common for such a couple to experience their love wherever they wished, no matter who was watching. Modern social conventions did not bind him nearly as much as they bound his mate; this he was just beginning to realize. He struggled to provide reassurance, to form words to assuage his mate's despair. "No," he managed lowly, nuzzling insistently at John's face, "Nonononono." He closed his eyes, pushing his understanding and adoration back through the bond. I forgive you. Please understand. "No," he repeated, kissing his mate's lips, his eyelids, his nose, nuzzling and lapping gently at his scent gland, suckling so as to leave a mark over the small patch of skin. He squeezed John's hand, guiding it over the Omega's enormous belly proudly, making sure his mate watched as they caressed their pups together. "No," he announced proudly as the babies kicked, pressing an infinitely tender kiss to the Omega's bond bite.

John latched on to the attentions and forgiveness as if he was drowning and they were the only thing keeping him afloat, whining loudly and lapping at his mate's jaw, sobbing in relief at the forgiveness, like a toddler suddenly overwhelmed with everything. The day had been long and stressful, a rollercoaster of emotions, and it would take at least a day for John to emerge from his Omega after this; he'd been spending longer and longer periods in his Omega lately, an inbuilt mechanism to stop his conscious mind from driving him mad with frustration and boredom as he became immobile. He snuggled back against his Alpha, clenching needily, encouraging his knot, wanting the connection and final proof of forgiveness. He mewled softly as the pups began to wriggle more, stimulated by the rush of shared emotions, the taut skin of his belly quivering with their movements, and suddenly - he gasped, and pressed his Alpha's hand to a spot on the topmost curve of his belly, where he could feel the little outline of a tiny foot. He purred, rocking as best he could with his mate, his plump nipples dripping milk again as his breasts filled. A tiny, hopeful smile appeared on his face as he gazed up at his mate adoringly, questioning; I'm forgiven? You love me? No hurt?

"No," Sherlock breathed, his eyes shining with love as he captured his mate's lips in an adoring kiss. The word no longer intimated No, don't be sad, but No, I am no longer hurt. The same reassurances were present in the Alpha's tone and actions. I love you most of all, no matter what you have done. You are mine, and I will always love you. You are forgiven. He pushed the feeling through their bond, and gasped as he felt the pup kick again, its tiny foot so strong against his hand. The Alpha let out a deep laugh of pure joy. "Mine," he said clearly, thrusting upwards, his knot breaching the Omega's entrance.
John squealed happily when he was knotted, coming untouched and pressing back against his Alpha as closely as possible. He beamed at him, lapping at his jaw with a low purr. He pushed his feelings through the bond; better, safe, mate. He nuzzled into Sherlock's shoulder, a tiny content smile on his face, quickly falling fast asleep.

He remained asleep as Sherlock shifted their position so they were spooning, lying on the bed, groaning softly and trying to say his husband's name. He slept until morning, dreaming of his mate and their pups, the power of speech slowly returning to him as he slept. Shortly before morning, he managed to huff "husband" without waking himself.

Sherlock smiled at the word. The Alpha was already awake, curled protectively around his mate's gravid form as John slept on. "Wife," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to John's temple. His hands explored the swell of John's belly, rubbing gentle circles over the skin he could still reach. The Omega's breasts were beginning to leak, twin beads of milk beading on his mate's exposed nipples. The Alpha purred deeply at the sight, watching with hungry eyes as the droplets quivered for a moment, before rolling downward to wet the lace bodysuit. John's breasts were still engorged from the night before and the Alpha's constant contact; Sherlock began to massage them gently to encourage more production, licking his lips greedily as they filled further. His cock already half-erect at the sight, he held off on the pleasure of closing his lips around his mate's plump nipples in favour of stroking himself to hardness. He wanted to see his mate's face when he woke up so full, his breasts swinging heavily as the Alpha thrust into him. He smiled when he found his mate's entrance already slick and ready for him, and pressed his enormous member inside.

John mewed softly as he was filled but did not wake. He gave a contented little hum as Sherlock began to thrust, gripping the sheets a little tighter, his body rocking with the motions, his breasts rippling in time as his Alpha fucked him. He made a confused but approving noise as he began to wake, beginning to push back into the thrusts. His face registered his steady rise through sleep to waking, pleasant confusion as the huge cock inside him registered, a fluttering of his eyelashes, and sudden wide-eyed delight as he realised his Alpha was taking him. He beamed, purred, covered as much of Sherlock's face as he could reach in tiny kisses, moaned, arched, pushed his chest forward. "Full," he breathed, "please." He mewled happily as his mate growled and began massaging his breasts in earnest, milking him, spraying jets of creamy milk across the bedspread. "Mmm, yes, better," he sighed, spreading his legs as best he could to give him better access. "Ohhh, god, yes... I love it when my husband milks me and fucks me like this..."

Sherlock smiled and nipped his earlobe playfully. "I couldn't resist - my wife simply looked incredible this morning, so gravid with my pups, his breasts so swollen and large just for me, and then of course, this," he hummed, thumbing over the lace of the bodysuit as he pressed a kiss to the hollow of his mate's jaw. "And I know how much he needs it in the mornings." He milked John just enough to ensure the Omega's comfort; as delicious as the sight of his mate's milk soaking the sheets was, he wanted the pleasure of drinking from John's full breasts himself. He hooked John's leg over his arm to get a better angle, and began to stroke his mate's belly. His fingers trailed lower, soon closing over John's cock, stroking the Omega's member in time with his harder thrusts.

John giggled playfully and clenched around him, still in his Omega but much more coherent. "You like it? Got it for you. Know you like being able to see my rosy nipples dripping with milk for you, know you like having access to my tight wet hole all the time... Mmm, yes... oh, my Alpha, feels so good, oh..." He writhed decadently, grinning wickedly at the sensation of the massive hard cock impaling him. His breathing grew louder, giving little keening whines, starting to mewl for his mate to come inside him, take his pleasure. He twisted his head to lick Sherlock's jaw and nuzzle him, utterly submissive and Omega, totally contented and eager for his Alpha's pleasure, shuddering as his attentions brought him to his own.

"Perfect Omega," Sherlock purred as he stroked his mate through his orgasm, feeling just on the cusp of his own. He was still in his Alpha, as well, John's obvious desire and need to pleasure him satisfying him immensely. His Omega was built for this, his instinct supplied, to carry his pups and writhe on his cock, to be ready and willing for Sherlock to take whenever he wished. He panted and growled lowly, thrusting harder, one hand still fisting his mate's oversensitive cock, drawing moans and cries from the Omega. With a long groan, he buried himself deep inside his mate, spilling hotly as John's slick, tight walls continued to clench and undulate around him.

John mewled loudly and pushed his cheek against Sherlock's jaw, smiling as he covered himself in his Alpha's scent, purring at the praise, clenching hard around his mate's gigantic cock as he came again. He panted as they came down from their high together, nuzzling against each other. He wriggled as his Alpha withdrew, struggling to get out of the bodysuit; he was sweaty and hot, wanting nothing but cool sheets against his skin and maybe a cleansing shower. He whined at Sherlock, pawing at the straps, too Omega to be able to undress himself. He pressed closer and tried to kiss his Alpha's jaw when he took the hint and undressed him, rather hindering the process, but redeemed himself by letting Sherlock curl up against him and nurse from his naked breasts, stroking his hair as he drank his fill, nursing tenderly in the safe privacy of their suite.