Sunlight peeked through the curtains of John's bedroom window, yellow slivers falling on his face as he stared up at the ceiling. Despite his current train of thought, every bone in his body was so relaxed that he melted into his ivory sheets, lashes drooping from lack of sleep. Fatigue might have won the war it waged on him, had John been anything other than the stubborn bastard he knew himself to be. Luckily, he was just as headstrong at that particular moment as he ever was, which was probably the reason he suddenly found himself using the excuse morning provided to stumble out of bed in a half-assed attempt to stay on his own two feet, all the while thinking of how great a world it would be if only he'd resisted getting drunk out of his mind the night before.

It wasn't his fault. He knows that. He's simply a person of admirable determination. He was determined to drown away his sorrows in a bottle and prevent himself from going off into La La Land. He did both. However, certain times in life require submission, regardless of a person's dominant nature, and John's overworked brain was certainly making damned sure he knew the ramifications of ignoring his need for some serious shut-eye. That didn't matter, though, because he was determined-yes, DETERMINED-to soldier on. Not even science was going to prevent him from surviving another sleepless night unscathed, and if fate should try to interfere with John's plans, fate would get a great big kick in the nuts . . . so to speak.

This was all Mycroft's fault. If he hadn't called the previous night just to drag Greg into the mess his world had become, John would have easily fallen into the warm embrace of unconsciousness without so much as batting an eyelash. But that would be too simple, wouldn't it? Those damn Holmes' found life much more satisfying when they were destroying a member of the Watson family. Heathens, the whole lot of them.

John cursed under his breath and went into the adjoining bathroom, splashing cold water on his face while he contemplated committing suicide. Sure, he wasn't that depressed, but he still got a kick out of the imagined horrified expressions of the people he hated as they stared at his bloated corpse suspended from a cable attached to the living room chandelier. While it would suck to waste all of his potential just for the sake of sadism, the pain and discomfort of suffocation would be well worth the devastation he'd cause to those god awful families.

"John Hamish Watson, get your ass out here now!"

What the . . . ?

John opened up the bathroom door, looking at his father in confusion. "You really were banging on this thing for a while, weren't ya?" How did he not notice that?

Ichabod's purple face sported scarlet patches of rage as he stared his son down, looking so much like a demented serial killer that John couldn't help but crack a smile. "What the bloody hell is this?" he hissed. "How in the world can you stand there and look so happy after all that's happened? More importantly, just how in the hell did you think you could set up a dinner date with the Holmes brothers without notifying me? I bet you thought tonight would be the perfect chance to try to weasel your way out of this marriage, didn't you, you little shit?"

John didn't respond. He was too busy trying not to laugh.

"Well, that's not gonna happen. On your dead grandfather's name, I swear to all that is holy, I will die before I allow you to corrupt this family with your Omegist view of life. I've had just about all I can take from you. I'm going to call our lawyer and set up the wedding for next weekend."

John's smile faltered. "What?"

"Oh, that got your attention, I see," Ichabod sneered. "I'm glad this situation is no longer amusing to you. I'm done ignoring your childish behavior, mate. From now on, I'm not only going to address it, but stop it from continuing as well. It's not right for an Omega to go through life without an Alpha, and I refuse to tip toe through shards of broken glass in my house. You're going to marry that boy, move in with him, the families will be at peace, and I can finally get you off my goddamn back! No more of this coddling you bullshit. I'm done!"

Ichabod stormed off down the hallway, leaving an enraged John standing in the middle of the bathroom. He could feel anger bubbling up inside his chest, traveling through his veins until every part of him was alight with it. His fists clenched so hard, he was sure his nails were digging deep into the skin of his palms. Who the hell his father thought he was, John wasn't sure, but the words he'd just screamed echoed in the walls of the boy's mind, strengthening his resolve to stay as far away from married life as he could. This entire thing was a hoax, a veil that these people are putting over their heads to get the illusion that it'll actually be the key to solving all their problems. Well, it won't. John wasn't stupid enough to believe that, and he hated his dad enough that he'd still protest this wedding even if it was their salvation . . . especially if it was their salvation. John didn't want anything to be their salvation. He wanted it to be their doom.

Before he even knew what he was doing, John destroyed everything in that cramped little space, breaking mirrors and ripping both the shower curtain and the rod from their place above the tub. Taking the rod, he banged at the tiles on the wall until all his rage was spent, causing him to fall to the floor in a pitiful heap of misery and despair. Ignoring the bleeding knuckles aching from his abuse, he slowly put his head in his hands and wept, hating the tears that trickled down his face. They were nothing more than a reminder of his weakness and his failure, salty badges of emotional truth that laughed and mocked him for his inability to control his own emotions.

It's not right for an Omega to go through life without an Alpha.

Why him? Why did he have to be the Omega, touched by greatness, but burdened by compliance? Did having the gift of bestowing life, the blessing of feeling strong emotions, and the power of love really make him the poster child for subjugation? Does being an Omega make him weak and vulnerable because he lacks the physical strength and heartlessness Alphas seem to possess? What was it about Omegas that made society think they were nothing more than the ground beneath an Alpha's feet, with no greater purpose than to keep the superior species above them from falling while they're constantly stepped on?

John never should have pushed his father. If he'd pretended to be an obedient little Omega, Ichabod wouldn't have felt the need to punish his son by moving the wedding date forward. Now what was once an amusing, yet alarming situation has turned into a full on tragedy. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he knew that he couldn't go through with it. This whole marriage thing . . . it would destroy him. But how do you get out of something like this? What in the world could he possibly do to ensure that he remained single, regardless of the contract both families have put in place?

"I'm such a fool," John mumbled, hanging his head in defeat. He was so tied up in his own misery that he didn't even notice the footsteps of another being in the room until the person in question was standing right in the doorway.

"Don't upset yourself with such triviality, John. Most people are."

John's eyes snapped open at the familiar baritone voice. His sight immediately found the black shoes standing on the floor and traveled up, past the black trousers and purple shirt until those damn blue eyes pierced a hole right through him the way they'd done the first time he'd ever been cursed with their presence. A chill slid down his spine, slipped into his knickers and implanted itself in his groin.

Why did he have to have this connection with his Alpha anyway? The man was clearly a robot, if his emotionless tone was anything to go by. What kind of relationship would that be? An Omega who wanted nothing to do with an Alpha and an Alpha who wanted nothing to do with an Omega? How on God's green earth could that ever be possible?

"John?"

The thoughtful boy shook his head to rid himself of his inner dialogue, looking up at that dolt Sherlock Holmes with a distaste he hoped the young man would be offended by.

"There's something I have to do, but I need someone else there when I do it. Would you be willing to assist me?"

John didn't know why he didn't hesitate. He didn't rant, rave, or curse the Alpha out the way he wanted to. Instead, he said one word, and one word only . . . the word of an utter jackass.

"Okay."

"Ah, John! So lovely to have you in our home."

John, stunned out of his mind, turned to Sherlock and watched as he removed his scarf from his neck, placing it on the coat rack before walking away from his bewildered Omega. John tracked his movements with trepidation, wondering why his Alpha left him all alone with a very eager looking Burgess Holmes. When Sherlock disappeared down the hall, the old man's voice finally registered with John.

"Watson?"

One shake of the head, and the boy's eyes finally tore themselves away from the place where his Alpha had been, turning his attention to the man in front of him. "Oh, uh . . . h-hi, Mr. Holmes."

"Call me Burgess, please."

John nodded. "Very well."

"Would you mind walking with me, lad? Spare a poor old man a little bit of your time."

Something about this is very off-putting, John thought to himself. Out loud, he said, "Sure."

Burgess led John outside to a little garden that held a pathway leading up to a greenhouse. John eyed the flowers with little interest, too caught up in the uncomfortable silence as he clung desperately to an invisible raft he was pretty sure didn't exist.

"So, John . . . how do you like Sherrinford? Dead ringer for Sherlock, isn't he?"

John stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded. "W-what?"

"The boy you probably thought was Sherlock. That's actually his twin brother. I asked him to bring you here so that I could have a word with you. We both knew you'd think he was Sherlock. However, we weren't sure you'd actually come. Glad to see you did."

Sherrinford. Brother. TWIN brother. Sherlock had a twin brother.

The fuck did I get myself into?

"I see I've upset you," Burgess noted the panic on the boy's face hesitantly. "I apologize profusely for my deception, but I had to find some way to get you here and I didn't know if I could ask because you don't know me very well. I could have asked Sherlock himself, but I have no doubt in my mind he'd find such a task tedious."

John didn't bother to respond. Instead, he continued to watch the old man babble with what must have been a pretty stupid look on his face. Getting involved in such a crazy situation will often do that to a person, after all.

"The thing I'm trying to say, dear boy, is that I brought you here today because I want us to get to know each other. I got a call from your father earlier and he told me that you were having dinner with my sons tonight. I knew that wasn't your doing. I don't know what's going on or why that business started, but I can't help but be alarmed that you have no desire for marriage. I can deal with the rest of the mysteries surrounding this entire thing. I can do that all day. What I can't do, is have a son-in-law who hates my entire family because he thinks we've forced him into a relationship he doesn't want to be in. The last thing I want is your unhappiness, Mr. Watson. I may have drawn up this contract with your family, but it was only because I needed to secure the future of my own. It was the best luck in the world when we found out you two were destined for each other. It was like this was bound to happen. It was like fate."

"I-I-I don't understand," John interrupted firmly, anger rising. "How in the world could you all possibly know we were meant for each other? And just what makes you think a marriage is going to solve anything? What the hell iswrong with you people?"

"Please understand, John. I didn't want any of you to suffer. We all thought that if a Holmes developed a bond with a Watson that we could unite our families through them. You may not know this, but when you and Sherlock were children, we had the two of you meet. From the moment you both laid eyes on each other, I knew, John. We all knew. It was destiny. This thought of an arranged marriage was placed in our heads through divine intervention. I believe there is a higher power up there somewhere, and I can't help but think they were smiling down on us all the day we discovered the undeniable proof that you and my son were meant to be."

"But I don't want to be bound to him!" John yelled. "Don't you understand that?"

"I do," Barnabas said sadly. "I know that, despite finding a mate, both parties need to allow it to happen for the bond to mean anything. An Alpha and an Omega can be destined for each other all they want, but if one doesn't acknowledge the pull they feel toward the other, they're both doomed. I wanted you two to grow up together, but certain circumstances prevented that from happening. I didn't want you or my boy to get hurt, so I was forced to keep you two apart until you were both old enough to fend for yourselves. Now I'm paying the price for it."

"No," John said shakily, ignoring the emotion behind the word as he shook his head. "I'm paying for it."

Barnabas and John stared at each other. The old man frowned at the pain in the boy's eyes. He almost regretted setting this whole thing up, but he couldn't allow himself to be swayed by emotion. John was still young enough that he couldn't see what a blessing this was. He was a part of something big, something amazing. Sure, there would be obstacles, but if Barnabas could just get the child to see that this didn't have to be a bad thing, this marriage could save not only the families, but John and Sherlock as well. John needed to see that being an Omega was a powerful thing, and Sherlock needed someone to humanize him, turn him from a great man into a good one. Their personalities were so well matched that it stunned Barnabas. Sherlock would satisfy John's need for freedom and adventure, teaching him that having an Alpha by his side that understood him and treated him as an equal was the best self-esteem booster in the world for an Omega. In return, John would place himself inside the lonely world of Sherlock Holmes and teach the heartless Alpha humanity, tear down all of those walls Sherlock spent so long building and show him the beauty of love and compassion. A bored, angry, defiant Omega in need of someone to take him away from his detestable existence and show him his true power. A cold, unfeeling Alpha in need of someone to stand by his side and share his love of adventure and excitement. Someone who will thaw his frozen heart and replace contempt with love.

Thinking about the two boys filling each other's meaningless lives with purpose was the final nail needed for a coffin of this magnitude. There was no getting around it and there was no use in denying it. Those kids were perfect for one another.

As John turned and walked away, he might have been thinking his life was about to end. In reality, it was only the beginning, the starting point of an adventure he'd never forget. Barnabas smiled at the boy's back, glancing at Sherrinford through his peripherals as his son moved forward to stand by his side.

"I hope you know what you're doing, father."

"Oh, I believe I do," Barnabas replied excitedly. "I finally do."

Two eyes met in a darkened room with drawn curtains, emotionless glares dripping with unseen challenge. Stillness reigned supreme in the enclosed space, with only the clicking of the grandfather clock on the wall giving sound to the suffocating silence. A dangerous battle of wills was taking place in that room, and, much like Highlander, there could be only one winner.

Movement was made by one of the challengers, and the other tried to hide their smile as an event that he foresaw took place before his very eyes, securing the fate of his insufferable opponent. A couple more were made before the smug one dared to speak, taking a piece off a board placed on a table in front of him and moving it to the desired location.

"One of these days, you will come to the realization that there is a moment in life where you must sacrifice your queen to achieve the desired result. It is lucky for me that I was fortunate enough to learn that lesson a long time ago."

The opponent's eyes narrowed as he saw his defeat play out in slow motion, saying nothing while he watched the last move executed in such a way that he could have gladly strangled the man in front of him, had he been able to admit that said man was one of the few people in the world that could get a rise out of the otherwise stoic Alpha.

The Knight was moved. The game was over. Mycroft, as always, was the winner.

"Checkmate."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Mycroft grinned. "Quite."

"And you wonder why I refuse to participate in a relationship with you."

"Oh, please," Mycroft responded, waving his hand dismissively. "My competitiveness isn't the problem here. Now, on to more important matters. I've invited both myself and my little brother to the Watson household for dinner."

Sherlock's head snapped up. "The home of my Omega."

Mycroft watched the curiosity that flashed through the icy blue orbs with a terrible frown. He had no idea that Sherlock and John were mates before he'd seen them together. After the dinner where Pontius was murdered, there was no denying the incredible effect the little Omega had on Mycroft's brother. While he knew Sherlock didn't want or believe in love, he had a strange feeling the Alpha's obvious attraction to him would prove a problem if the man became entangled in a web Mycroft didn't want him to be in. How was he expected to protect the kid when he wasn't even aware of his own bond? Sherlock didn't know it yet, but his interest in John Watson would turn into something much more dangerous, something he wouldn't be able to contain, no matter how emotionless he believed himself to be.

The older man might have been right about this marriage not solving a thing, but he couldn't help kicking himself in the ass for not predicting an actual bond existing between the Alpha and Omega. How was he going to keep such a situation from spiraling out of control? More importantly, how was he going to keep himself from falling prey to the same fate? Gregory Lestrade was his mate. He detested the feelings that developed at just the thought of the boy. He made Mycroft feel something he'd always thought was beneath him. For the first time in his life, it wasn't just Sherlock Mycroft needed to protect, but a certain little Omega that the Alpha was sure would one day be the death of him.

Damn little shit.

"We need to be there. Don't ask me why. Just say yes."

Mycroft wasn't sure whether it was relief or fear that came over him when Sherlock said yes without a moment's hesitation, but he had a feeling that things were beginning to heat up in a way he didn't think he was comfortable with, and he hated himself for admitting that, no matter what happened, he wouldn't be able to handle the repercussions. No wonder he didn't believe in love. It was too complicated and irrational to ever be considered logical.

Refusing to voice his concern, Mycroft plastered a fake smile on his face and walked away, wiping it off the moment he stepped foot outside and noticed a boy leaving the Holmes residence, a boy with a face that displayed all of the man's problems on every surface of his skin.

I've got my eye on you, John Watson, he thought to himself. One wrong move, and it'll be your family's last.