Chapter Two-

Sherlock prided himself on being able to control his baser instincts. He knew he could be in the presents of an Omega in heat and not succumb to the desire to mount them and mate them. He knew this because he had tested this. Sherlock had willingly entered a room with an Omega in heat, alone, and had absolutely no desire to mate with them. He had only done so to prove a point to his brother that he, in no way, desired a Mate.

Sherlock knew that if he, for some ungodly reason, ever did find himself with a Mate then that said Mate would distract him from The Work. He could not have that. His whole world revolved around The Work. It was the only thing, besides Cocaine, that kept his brain occupied. Without The Work, he would be bored. And a bored Sherlock was a disaster in itself. Last time he was board, he nearly burnt a whole block down.

Sherlock swept through the halls of Barts, ignoring all the looks he was receiving from everyone, and threw the doors to the morgue open. He smiled darkly when he saw the black body bag waiting on the examining table where Molly, a Beta, had left it for him. Molly, who had heard him come in, came running into the room. She meet him at the table, him on one side and her on the other.

"Hello Sherlock, I hope this one is more acceptable than the last one." She said quietly. Her only response was Sherlock unzipping the body bag.

"How fresh?" He asked never looking away from the body.

"Just in." Molly told him eager to please him. "67, natural causes. Used to work here. I knew him, he was nice." Sherlock zipped the body bag back up before straightening up. This body would do.

"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop." Sherlock informed her and she rushed to grab the ridding crop he had brought in earlier that day. Sherlock quickly shed his jacket, took the riding crop from her and began to whip it as hard as he could. After a good long five minutes of him whipping the dead body, he stopped and took a few deep breaths to reign in his adrenaline. The Work always gave him a high that no amount of drugs could ever give him.

"So, bad day was it?" Molly asked with an awkward chuckle to hide the fear watching him whip the body had given her. Sherlock ignored her and took out his trusty notebook and began to write his observations about the body and the whipping down.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me." Sherlock told her barely looking at her.

"Listen, I was wondering. Maybe later, when you're finished..." Molly started and Sherlock had to bite back a growl at her. She wanted to go on a date to try and start the bonding that would lead to mating, he needed to put a stop to this. He glanced at her to deduce anything he could that would stop her from wanting to be with him.

"You're wearing lipstick. You weren't wearing lipstick before." He noted catching her off guard.

"I, uh... I refreshed it a bit." Molly told him shyly as hope shined in her eyes. She had put it on in hopes to catch his attention, and she had thought it had worked.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Sherlock asked looking away and saw her deflate just a bit.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?" Molly asked.

"Black, two sugars, please." Sherlock snapping his notebook closed to look at Molly dejected face and knew he had stopped her silly little idea of a date. "I'll be upstairs."

~Two~

Sherlock was in the middle of testing some blood when a knock sounded on the door of the lab he had commandeered. He ignored it knowing that the person on the other side would get the message and leave. He knew it wasn't Molly with his coffee, she wouldn't have knocked. He nearly growled when a Beta and Omega walked into his lab as if they owned it.

Sherlock glanced at the two and realized that the Beta was Mike. Apparently he had found a flatmate for him after all. His attention then turned to the Omega as he limped in. The Omega staid standing. Psychosomatic. The Omega automatically fell into parade rest. Military. Sherlock turned his attention away from the Omega to continue The Work. Tan face. Had been in the sun a lot. Recently returned to London. Wounded in action.

"Bit different from my day." The Omega muttered as he looked around the room. Doctor. That pipped Sherlock's interest. It wasn't everyday that an Omega became a Doctor much less a military doctor.

"Oh, you've no idea!" Mike responded to the Omega.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." Sherlock said after getting the results from his test.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asked in annoyance.

"I prefer to text." Sherlock told him.

"Sorry, it's in my coat." Mike told him and Sherlock bit the urge to snarl at him and roll his eyes. Useless.

"Uh, here, use mine." The Omega offered before digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Oh, thank you." Sherlock said receiving a slightly shocked look from Mike. Sherlock ignored the look and got up. As he got closer to the Omega, Sherlock took a slight whiff of his scent and noted the 'Broken' smell coming from him. Something happened to this Omega that had caused him to become 'useless' to normal Alphas, something to do with either his heat cycle or his womb. If Sherlock had been a normal Alpha with a desire to find a Mate and reproduce, that scent would have put him off but as it was it didn't bother Sherlock one bit.

"This is an old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike introduced. Sherlock carefully took the phone from John instantly noticing the tan did not go past his wrist and began to send his text.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked obviously shocking John as Mike shot the Omega a smirk.

"Sorry?" John asked.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock repeated turning to look John in his eyes. Blue with a speck of green. John quickly looked away from him to glare at Mike.

"Afghanistan." John said as Molly entered with his coffee. "Sorry, how did you know..."

"Ah, Molly! Coffee, thank you." Sherlock interrupted, bored of John's question, and handed the Omega his phone back while turning to take the coffee from Molly. She had removed her lipstick. "What happened to the lipstick?"

"It wasn't working for me." Molly said awkwardly after glancing at John and taking a half step away from him sensing his 'wrongness'. His womb then.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now." He told her in hopes that it would keep her from wanting to date him as he went back to The Work while taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay." Molly breathed out, a hairs breath from crying, before she quickly left the room. There was a slight twinge of guilt at that. Molly, though Beta, was a lovely girl and one of the few people Sherlock could stand to be around for longer than a few minutes, she was also one of those few people that stood by Sherlock even after knowing him.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock said turning his attentions back to John, his new flatmate.

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked after he realized Sherlock was speaking to him once more.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end." Sherlock informed the obviously very confused Omega. "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He watched in slight amusement as the Omega took in everything that Sherlock had told him before his eyes began to shift between him and Mike.

"You told him about me?" John asked accusingly.

"Not a word." Mike said smirking at John. It would seem he had just proved a point Mike had made to the Omega earlier.

"Who said anything about flatmates?" John said trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. Everyone who met Sherlock for the first time went through this stage. The next stage would be anger. And the third and final stage was calling him a 'freak' and storming out of the flat. Sherlock did hope that John lasted longer than a couple of days, he seemed quite interesting.

"I did." Sherlock said as he gathered his jacket. "I told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for." He said slipping on his jacket. "Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap." He told John while putting on his scarf.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked in half guarded, half broken voice. He damaged his womb there. A touchy subject. Stay away from it.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in Central London. Together we ought to be able afford it." Sherlock informed John. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00." He ordered and John opened his mouth to question him some more. "Sorry, got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

"Is that it?" John demanded and the tone of his voice caused Sherlock to stop. Had he not known John was an Omega, he would have thought he was an Alpha with that tone. John was becoming more interesting by the moment.

"Is that what?" Sherlock challenged wanting to see how John would react to an Alpha's challenge. Most Omega's would instantly back down and cower away, but John just squared his shoulders and raised his chin in defiance to either his own biology or to Sherlock's challenge he didn't know. But it interested him.

"We've only just met and we're going to look at a flat?" John asked.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked causing John to lightly laugh, and from the shock in his eyes, he could tell that it had been quite a while since he had actually laughed. Sherlock usually found laughter to be annoying, that was probably because it was directed at him, but Sherlock found John's laughter to be pleasant. It was airy and light, almost like his scent.

"We don't know a thing about each other." John said with a small smile, he was gaining entertainment from this. "I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name."

And though Sherlock had wanted to hold this off for a couple of days, he didn't want to run John off that quick. Why he didn't know, but he figured it had to do with how interesting John was turning out to be. But if John was going to be his flatmate then he needed to know who he was sharing the flat with.

"I know you're an Army doctor. And you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help 'cause you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic and more likely because he recently walked out on his Mate." John's eyes widen slightly at that. "And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid." John shifted uncomfortably as if just remembering his bad leg. "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Sherlock asked stopping himself from mentioning the damaged womb having a feeling his flatmate wouldn't like that. It kind of shocked him that the thought of John being upset with him actually caused him to stop deducing John, usually how people felt about his deductions didn't matter to him.

Sherlock quickly made his way to the door so he could leave before John could tell him to piss off like all the others did. He opened the door and was half way out of the room before he remembered John had initially wanted his name and the address. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." And with a wink, Sherlock flew out of the room and back towards the morgue.