Her Majesty's Secret Service Chapter 28.

John woke slowly, feeling rather sluggish. It was a familiar feeling, the exhaustion and stickiness that came with the end of every heat. Except that he wasn't supposed to have been in heat. He opened his eyes blearily and looked over at Sherlock. What he saw made him start upright and stare, suddenly awake. On Sherlock's neck, right down low near the base, was that a bond bite? Leaning in close, John inspected the bruising noting the small amount of dried blood surrounding the punctures. Oh God, what had he done?

John bolted into the bathroom and stared at his own naked torso. He was covered with bruises and scratches all over but he only had eyes for the bite on his neck. He had been marked by someone with straight, even teeth and a jaw longer but narrower than his own, and there was blood staining as well as bruising. A bond bite. Unmistakable.

# # # # #

Sherlock had slammed him down onto the bed, snarling, "Fear and stimulus is one thing, but what about other kinds of stimulus?" Then Sherlock was growling and scenting and licking his way down John's chest and back up again. "Vanilla, sweet and milky, like cream cheese and custard and ice-cream," he was murmuring softly, "spiced with cinnamon and is it cardamon? No, cloves. I'm going to eat you up, John, I'm going to lick you and bite you."

John had thrown his head back against the pillows and moaned wordlessly, his hands flailing uselessly at Sherlock's chest and shoulders before diving down and going straight for huge Alpha erection that even using both hands he could not fully encompass.

Suddenly John was shoved forcefully up the bed, impaled on Sherlock's cock with his legs wrapped around Sherlock's back and his ankles locked together. Sherlock was rutting into him, thrust frantically and then came with a deep shudder, filling John with his heat and seed.

Then John was flipped over on the bed, on knees and elbows with his arse in the air as Sherlock took him urgently from behind. Was that when he got bitten? No, it was the time after that, when he had been on his back again with Sherlock panting and gasping above him. Sherlock had bitten him as he was filling him and the pain and excitement were all blurred together. He could remember clearly the sound Sherlock had made when John had bitten him back – he had screamed and come inside John, even as his mouth was still stained with John's blood. His knot had finally inflated creating the sublime pressure inside John's body and John had come so hard he had blacked out.

# # # # #

John was jolted from his reverie by Sherlock's voice calling from the bedroom. He needed to know. If they had closed the circuit of blood and saliva between them they were bonded for life. John frantically ran his hands through his hair and scented his own sweat. Vanilla cream. No hint of Sherlock's plummy scent blending with his and oddly, no hint of his own heat spices either.

John hurried back out to the bedroom where Sherlock was still lazing in the middle of the bed, taking up most of the space, as usual. His eyes widened when he saw the marks all over John.

"Oh, John, I'm sorry I was so rough. Are you sore?" his smile was more seductive than apologetic. "Come here and let me kiss it better."

"Sherlock, do you know what this is?" John pointed to his own neck, knowing that Sherlock could not see the marks on his own body which indicated that John had been at least as rough in return.

"A bond bite, John, of course I know what one looks like."

"Right. Did you do that deliberately? Do you know what it means?" John leaned over Sherlock, "Hold still, let me scent you."

"Mmm, of course," Sherlock lay back and closed his eyes.

John scented carefully all over Sherlock scalp and down his jaw. Even close to the bite mark, which was exactly the size and shape of John's mouth, there was only Sherlock's pure Alpha scent. He couldn't help inhaling deeply of the rich plum and cherry scent.

"Delicious, isn't it?" Sherlock rumbled deep in his chest, "Want a taste? I've got some juice here…"

John straightened up quickly, "Sherlock, this is serious. Do you realize that a bond bite is an irrevocable life bond? We didn't even talk about it, it was your first time with anybody, and I was too out of my head to make it good for you!"

Sherlock smirked. It was not a smile, definitely a smirk. "I gave you four orgasms," the smirk widened, "and had six myself. Not a bad score for a beginner, I'd say. Quite frankly I don't see that you being in charge would have made it better. I like being on top, and according to your screams from last night, you liked it too."

John took several deep breaths and tried to calm down. "Maybe it was a false heat, drug induced. Our scents haven't mingled, so maybe it didn't take."

Sherlock looked up at John with a carefully blank expression, "Is that what you hope, John? That it didn't take?" He looked away to the corner of the room, "Didn't you want me to take you?"

"Of course I did! But having hormone-driven sex sparked by a drug overdose is a very different thing from making a life-long commitment!" John was pacing again, unable to constrain his emotions while sitting still. "You've only had sex once, only with me. How do you know you weren't overcome by drug effects and I just happened to be the closest Omega?"

Sherlock snorted, "Have you forgotten all those weeks of drinking bloody liquorice tea and giving up cigarettes for you? Why would I have done all that? I'll give you a clue – it wasn't just for the 'closest Omega'. This is something we've been working towards for months – why does it frighten you now that it is finally happening? Are you having second thoughts?"

John sank down into the chair in the corner, "What will happen when you get bored with me, or curious about what it would be like with other people? You're younger and better-looking than I am, smarter, a genius with your whole life in front of you. What happens when you get tired of being with an old army Captain? You'll come to hate the restraint I am on you…" John stopped abruptly and turned very pale. "Oh God, I should have been stronger, I should never have bonded you."

It was Sherlock's turn for pallor. "You should never have bonded me? That's not what you said last night," he scowled darkly, "Does this happen to you often? Do you fake-bond with all your Alphas?" There was palpable scorn in his voice now.

"No! I never let anyone actually bite me before. Does it bother you about what happened in the army? Do you really want to know what I did there? Yes, I had sex with a whole unit of Alphas, every heat for four years all twelve of them took their turns with me whether I wanted it or not. I had sex, plenty of hot sex – and not once had the emotional connection we have had, even before we slept together. I always knew I was waiting for my…" he shrugged rather self-consciously, "my 'mysterious Alpha' who would be mine only and I would be his. Nothing like the group fucking of the army. An exclusive pair-bond. It was a silly, juvenile dream. It doesn't really happen like that, I know better now."

"I see," Sherlock had an odd little smile on his face now, as he glanced over John taking in his compressed lips, his trembling hands, "Sentiment. You wish for someone to live with, to work with, someone you would kill for and who would be devoted only to you, be with only you forever after – and you think now that this 'juvenile dream' can never happen?"

John felt tears pricking behind his eyes, "If you and I did something stupid in the heat of the moment, then you get bored of me and leave me… no, it can never happen."

"Ah!" Sherlock lit up with a sudden revelation, "You are insecure about my lack of sexual experience! You are worried that I will get bored with you and go looking for excitement elsewhere!"

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out," said John bitterly.

"Oh John," Sherlock pulled his head down until they were touching foreheads. "You have killed for me and I would die to keep you safe. You are my blogger, my sniper, my flatmate, my everything – I'd be lost without you." Sherlock bared his teeth suddenly, "And if this bond bite doesn't take, next heat I will just bite you again because you are mine."

"Yours," breathed John, "and you are my mysterious Alpha," he snorted a laugh, "Very mysterious and more than a bit mad, but you know I wouldn't have you any other way."

Sherlock sniffed and pretended to be offended, "I'm not mad. I'm a high functioning sociopath, John, and don't you forget it."

"Sure, whatever you want to call it. Let's go home."

# # # # #

John insisted on stopping for breakfast before they caught the train back to London. Breakfast was included, after all, no point wasting a perfectly good vegetarian full English. John was shovelling in eggs and toast, and poking his fork at what looked like a breakfast sausage but obviously wasn't, when Sherlock wandered back from the bar with his morning coffee.

"So they didn't have it put down, then – the dog," he said.

John shrugged and spoke with his mouth full, "Obviously. Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it."

Sherlock nodded wisely, "I see."

John smiled up at him, "No you don't."

Sherlock looked down at him fondly, "No, I don't. Sentiment?"

John nodded, "Sentiment. You're going to have to get used to it, you know. Now that you're in a 'relationship' you're going to have to get used to fetching me cups of tea, bringing me flowers and chocolates when I'm in a bad mood and massaging my feet after I've had a hard day at the surgery. Not to mention painting the upstairs bedroom for a nursery and puppy-proofing the flat for our litter." John placed his hand low on his abdomen and raised one eyebrow at Sherlock significantly.

Sherlock's look of suppressed panic leaked from his eyes until it firmly occupied his whole face. He panted as if he had been running, but finally managed, "I thought you said you had a contraceptive implant?"

John rolled his eyes and burped with satisfaction, pushing away his plate and reaching for his coffee. "Of course I do. What kind of shit doctor do you think I am?"

Sherlock flopped down on the bench next to John, almost moaning his relief.

"I was just yanking your chain. Figured I owed you one for what you did to me in the lab."

"Ah." Sherlock buried his nose in his own coffee cup. "I had to. It was an experiment. It was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions – well, literally." Sherlock sniggered slightly.

John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, "I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death. I already have PTSD, and if I have nightmares I'm going to make sure I kick you in the nuts. Besides," added John, sipping his scalding coffee tentatively, "You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it wrong."

Sherlock scowled at the innocuous sugar packets sitting on the table, "A bit. It won't happen again."

"It had better not. You know what else? Next time I think you're making a mistake or getting over-confident in your powers, I'm going to whisper in your ear 'it's in the sugar' just to remind you that even geniuses aren't infallible."

Sherlock winced, "Thanks for that."

# # # # #

Sherlock and John carried their bags down through the breakfast area where Lestrade was lazing with his coffee and a newspaper. Sherlock suddenly turned and looked sharply at John, nodding at what he saw. He dropped his bag and casually turned the collar of his coat down, checking the position of his shirt in the mirror over the bar. Then he lead the way over to where Lestrade was sitting.

"Gavin!" he exclaimed with false jollity.

"Greg," Lestrade corrected without looking up, "Come to say your goodbyes? Unusually sociable for you." When Sherlock said nothing, just fiddled with his shirt collar, Lestrade finally looked up. He blinked a double take, then looked across at John and blinked again. "Is that what I think it is?" he finally asked.

"Yep," said Sherlock, popping the final consonant with satisfaction. "I just wanted to let you know that London will have to manage without me for six weeks. I'm taking John on a honeymoon to Italy."

"But, but you aren't…" Lestrade stuttered.

Sherlock waved a hand grandly, "Paperwork. By the time we get back we will be."

John did a quick practised calculation in his head. Six weeks would take him past his next heat, even if it were late. John had to grudgingly admire his planning. The bastard thought of everything. Everyone said that France was so romantic, but John had always secretly wanted to go to Italy.

Lestrade was still processing the shock. "Well then, I suppose congratulations are in order. Can I get you a drink or something?"

"No time, no time," said Sherlock whirling out the door, "Our train leaves in half an hour."

Ah yes, thought John, Sherlock's Alpha personality is in full swing now. I'll be chasing after him for the rest of my life.

Somehow the thought was satisfying.


A/N: Thanks and credit one last time to the amazing Ariane DeVere for her transcript of the episode "The Hounds of Baskerville" to which I referred constantly, even when I mauled it about for my own purposes.

Upcoming: fluffy relationship and honeymoon stuff and one more cameo for Lestrade, then that will be the end! Thanks for reading and especially for commenting.