A/N Apologies for how long this has taken (again). Thanks for the follows/favourites and especially the reviews.

The following day started well enough.

He woke up to bright sunshine, a steaming mug of tea and, most importantly, confident fingers tracing the line of his spine. Omega scent still strong on his sheets.

They had sat in bed as he explained his theory about Lestrade's father. About how what was now a door in the alley they had visited had once been a small window. Dismissed as being irrelevant because an adult couldn't get through it. A fourteen year old boy though, one that circumstances had made small and wiry on one hand and angry and scared on the other could do so easily. It was little more than an air vent really for the kitchen behind. The murder weapon likely inconspicuously replaced in the knife rack minutes after the act.

The police had become obsessed with the statements of a couple of supposedly reliable witnesses, this narrow view (Sherlock explained) had been their downfall. A cabbie, waiting for customers to come out of a restaurant, was watching the street near the entrance to the alley closely and saw 'no one suspicious'. Lestrade's grandmother's employer, the pub landlady, had lost sight of her around the time of the murder. His mother claimed to be bringing up stock from the cellar but the assumption was that she sneaked out, found her inebriated alpha and attacked him without being seen. It made no sense. Though it was possible she would know he was likely to use that alley to relieve himself at some point in the night it would be unlikely to tie up with the time she was able to sneak away from work. Far more likely he was attacked by someone watching and waiting.

John, he noticed as he told the story, was as raptly engaged as ever, Lestrade was their friend after all, but there was something else. Relief. He deduced relief from the omega. He realised John had been worried that last night would change things. That he would somehow become less, merely a receptacle in Sherlock's eyes. The idea was ridiculous.

'So you think he just snapped?' John asked.

'Maybe, but it may have been more calculating that that. I think his mother was already in love with another alpha, George Lestrade, whose name they would all take a couple of years later.'

'Mrs Lestrade describes herself as having been 'off colour' for a few days between Christmas and new year in her statement, though the medical examination on file confirms she appeared physically uninjured and generally well. I rather think at the time, that 'off colour' would have been code for a heat. We already know that the victim was rarely at home by this point and when he was he was drunk, violent.'

' You think she shared her heat with the other alpha, if she'd had to go through it alone she'd have been in worse shape physically.'John said thoughtfully.

Sherlock nodded. ' George Lestrade was already a trusted presence in their lives. The boy realised they could have a better life but at the time unbonding was unheard of.'

'Christ.' John said quietly. 'You think Greg has any idea?'

'I think he worked it out himself years ago. We'll never know for sure now of course, his father died five years ago. I think he just wanted someone unconnected to cast an eye over it, confirm it.'

'Well he came to the right person.' John reached across and took his hand. Affection during casework. This was new, he could come to like it (if not admit such a thing).

The omega insisted on making breakfast while Sherlock went for a quick bath. The detective shyly wrapping a dressing gown around himself as he got up-much to John's amusement.

When he opened the bathroom door afterwards he reacted straight away to the tang in the air. As he shouted John's name his were feet already carrying him to the kitchen, towards the scent of distressed omega. He was relieved to see John leaning against the worktop. Phone in hand.

He moved to press the older man against his chest, oblivious to the way he was dripping on the floor. He was still getting used to how that felt, being dragged along at the heels of a chemical reaction. His conscious brain unable to keep up with how fast the hormones were bouncing off each other. He knew he was overreacting, that John was in no physical danger, just upset, but he luxuriated in the stirring of his protective side.

'It's Harry.' John said into his damp skin.'She's been made redundant, that was her neighbour, they were worried – you know, with her history.'

Sherlock released him slightly.

'I'm sorry, I'm going to have to go - today.'

Sherlock instinctively tightened his grip for a few seconds but nodded against the sandy hair, brushing a damp lock off his forehead.

'We'll have breakfast first though. Can't get a direct train for an hour and a half anyway.'

John gently released himself and returned to the breakfast, making tea and stirring porridge while Sherlock got dressed.

They sat down at the table and John told him about Harry. He'd known before of course, John's drunk sibling who gifted him his phone had been one of the alpha's first deductions about his flatmate. Beyond that though John didn't mention her much.

She'd been doing better apparently, properly sober for the first time since Clara left her. So John would have to do what he always did, drop his own life to go and look after her.

'Look, Sherlock- we need to talk about what happened last night.' John said, after a brief pause in the conversation.

' I know you probably expected more.' Sherlock said, stirring the remains of his porridge.

'Not at all. I mean, I'd like to do more with you-if you'd have me but like I said-no rush.' John gave him a filthy grin. Sherlock decided he wanted to see that again, soon.

'I think I'd very much like that.' He replied quietly, heat creeping over his face.

'That's that sorted then.' John said getting up from the table and squeezing Sherlock's shoulder. He moved away, as if to go to his room but then stopped and slowly turned.

'So, I've been monitoring my levels at work.'

Sherlock had a peculiar blank moment. Ah levels.

'Yeah, so-I'm all over the place. What with me having been on suppressants for so long before I stopped.'

'You stayed off suppressants for me?' Sherlock looked at him sharply, he hadn't known his flatmate had done something so personal to help his healing.

'Yeah, you needed a full omega to get your own hormones back straight. Didn't we talk about this?'

'No, I'd never have let you do that.' The detective protested.

'Well, it wouldn't have been up you – and its done now.' John said with a wave of his hand.

' I've probably got about four weeks left. I was thinking you could help me out with the next one. I know it seems funny to talk about it with Harry and everything but I need to be practical. I can't go back on suppressants now until I'm through another cycle.'

Sherlock was touched. He believed that was the expression. Touched and suddenly protective all over again as he realised John-Captain Watson - had found that incredibly hard to say.

'Of course, I'd be honoured.' He said formally, then immediately laughed along with John at how ridiculous he sounded.

' I mean you know my limitations already..' Sherlock began.

'We've plenty of time, I think once you get started you won't have many limitations.' John gave him another filthy grin, lovely.

'I really do have to go and get ready though.' The omega quickly moved to peck him on the cheek and then went off to his room.

As John left twenty minutes later they parted with a kiss that started off in the flat,casual and closed- mouthed. Ending on the landing with Sherlock pulling back seconds away from dragging John back inside. Crutches be buggered.

##################

John sat on the train watching the suburbs fly past. His thoughts drifting between the rather wonderful of last night (soppy git) and the as yet unknown of his sister. He had completely forgotten about Lestrade until his phone buzzed.

'Hello fiance.' He said brightly as he answered.

'Hello, nice work last night. Just to let you know it's going the direction we hoped for. Richard called me this morning and he offered me something.'

'Excellent, easier than you thought then.'

'Yeah well he didn't put it straight forward of course. The idea is I'll be a consultant on security, full time once I retire but internal affairs are fairly certain it amounts to the same thing.'

'What did you make of the cousin, telling us what he did, is he looking to take out Graeme or feeling guilty about what they're into?'

'Well I'm on a train so..' John looked about the carriage but it was quiet anyway and he could see no one paying him any attention. '...but I'd say he's guilty- and worried about his alpha.'

'There may be more use for him yet.' Greg said thoughtfully.

'I was wanting to speak to you anyway, I'm going to be out of London for a few days – my sister that I told you about. Can you keep an eye on Sherlock? I mean he's got Mrs H and his brother will keep a close watch but taking some food over one night would be a big help. Try to keep him eating something.' John suddenly wondered, given their performance last night (in two rooms), exactly how close a watch Mycroft was keeping on his brother. Probably best not to think about it.

'Will do. He's been looking at some old stuff for me anyway.' Greg said. John, with a pang of sympathy for his friend, remembered this morning and the old case. Certainly put Harry into perspective.

'I know you've got family stuff but will you be up for being demure again if needed?'

'Absolutely, I'll text you in a day or so.'

'Thanks – good luck with Harry. Bye.'

'Thanks – Bye.'

John had barely put away his phone and lifted the cooling coffee he'd bought at the station before the thing buzzed again. Unknown number.

'John, I understand you're going on a trip.' Mycroft said, before some irritated background muttering which John took to be instructions to the long suffering Anthea.

'I am, but I'm not quite sure how you would come to understand that.' John said, sipping his coffee and settling in for the usual verbal sparring match.

Mycroft ignored the implied question. 'Should I send someone round?'

John thought of the omega Sherlock had mentioned last night. 'No.' He said a little too brusquely. 'I mean Mrs Hudson is going to be around and Greg Lestrade will look in. If you try and smother him it'll only make him more likely to do something stupid.'

'That sounds reasonable. I assume his hormones are coming along well enough.'

'Mycroft, do you have cameras in the flat?' John said suddenly.

'In the flat – no. Aside from the unforgivable breach of privacy. My brother would have found them in the first day. There is however a security camera on the landing. A sensible precaution in an old building.'

There was a pause on the line as John remembered the goodbye kiss that morning that had somehow ended up with John pressed against the wall of the landing with Sherlock's thigh wedged between his. John almost felt sorry for Mycroft (sneaky, nosy bugger that he was) because no big brother should have to watch a sibling in that sort of situation. Still, served him right for installing the bloody camera.

' I'll keep a weather eye out. You must look after your sister. Let me know if you're not back by the end of the week. Goodbye John.'

#################

As Sherlock made his way back up from dinner at Mrs Hudson's he stuck his tongue out at the security camera concealed in the light fitting on the landing, with any luck it had been disabled anyway after Mycroft got an eyeful this morning. If his brother thought that side of things was functioning properly he was more likely to leave him alone.

He immediately changed for bed where John had left a jumper. Deliberately he assumed, since the military had long since drilled any messiness out of the doctor. He lay down and hugged the ugly thing to his chest. It didn't have the depth of scent of the scarf he'd worn at the start of his last heat but it was pleasant, peaceful, to lie and inhale it. He could feel himself drifting off just as his mobile buzzed.

Are you behaving? JW

Little chance to do anything else these days. How is Harry? SH

Actually still sober but really down. I'm going to stay for a few days anyway. Have you eaten?JW

Mrs Hudson insisted – as per your instructions. SH

Sleep well then. Speak to you

Night John. SH

He was in the process of tucking himself and the jumper into bed when his phone buzzed again.

I've got a body. Any chance you could come have a look tonight? GL

He sighed and buried his face in wool for a few seconds, distraction would be good though.

Certainly - send a car. SH

He hauled himself back out of bed and got dressed.

The car Lestrade sent was driven by a female sergeant who chattered at an incredible speed for the whole trip. In the end he only just restrained himself from telling her that, yes, her alpha was stealing money from her.

It was a classic body dump location. Waste ground at the side of a canal. Not in the canal though - so this one was meant to be found.

Lestrade he realised. as Anderson reluctantly brought him through the cordon, was genuinely shaken. Not his crime scene-he had actually found the body. He stood back a distance from the officers in charge.

'Thanks for coming.' He said, as he saw Sherlock. 'Bit of a strange one, I was walking home and I heard this rattling coming from among those trees' he pointed to where a row of beeches screened the street from the unsightly area behind. 'I thought it was one of the feral cats caught in something so I comes through for a look and there he is.'

There was a full moon and the scene was cast in a bluish hue. The glaring lights forensics worked with not yet set up.

Lestrade stood behind him as he looked at the young naked man, the thick smell of omega fear clung stale to the cold body.

'You know all the times I've been to scenes like this, had it drummed into me about. contamination and I only just stopped myself covering him with my coat.' Lestrade said.

'Caring, never an advantage.' Sherlock replied absently. He was unable to crouch the way he normally would at a scene. Instead he leaned forward on his crutches swaying from side to side. It was undignified but effective enough.

'I'd Jack it in if I didn't care anymore.' Lestrade said, coming to stand beside him.

'With the nudity and the location you're starting to think sex worker- your wrong.' Sherlock carefully stepped backwards.

'That's what you're supposed to think. Look at his hair, high quality shampoo and product. Yet his hands show signs of repetitive manual work. His feet are coarse, you mostly see that on people who've spent a lot of time in flip flops.' Sherlock said, moving to get a better view of the omega's torso.

'He's tanned, but not in any even way, forearms, neck have had a lot more sun than the rest of him. I'd say he's a craftsman or an artist highly paid. Usually lives somewhere warm overseas. That should help you get an ID, no one's missing him, that's why he was chosen.'

'I assume the pathologist will be able to tell you more about his specific line of work from the fingernails.' Sherlock said, turning away.

'Thanks, appreciate you coming out at this time. Bring you dinner tomorrow?' Lestrade asked as they walked back to the road.

'John left instructions did he?' Sherlock replied,arching a brow.

'Fine. Say eight, that should give us a chance to get the preliminary results from the lab.' The detective climbed back into the waiting car.

###############

John sat across from his sister at her kitchen table pushing pasta round his plate. He hadn't been hungry but when Harry got like this it was his instinct to enforce a routine. Probably the soldier in him. Harry on on the other hand ate quite a bit, Clara always had been the cook.

'So, we've only spoke about my miserable life, what about you?' Harry said, pushing back from the table and sipping from her water.

'Harry, we're talking about you because- well you know why.'

'Changing the subject.' She said, grinning and ,though it was a sign she was about to tease him, he was glad to see it.

'I'm good at the moment. Job, flat, the usual stuff all, you know, fine.'

'Alpha?'

'No one special, just the usual.' His hand went, to a spot above his collarbone where Sherlock had left him with a plum coloured bruise. The movement was unconscious but Harry spotted it, pulling his shirt aside.

'No one special, hmm. Anyone ' not special' trying that would have got a broken jaw for their trouble.' He defensively pulled his shirt back.

'You don't want to talk about it, that's fine.' She held her hands up.

'I'm just surprised your weird flatmate hasn't scared them off yet. Night John.' She said, yawning half the sentence as she got up.

He'd forgotten, Harry didn't know about Sherlock being an alpha. Probably best it stayed that way for now.

He then found himself at a bit of a loose end. Neither of the books he'd brought appealed at the moment and there was nothing on telly. He opted to get out his laptop, a bit of a more qthorough read of the press articles on Graeme might be useful if he was needed again. Staring at the blank search engine box though he typed in a different name, Victor Trevor.

Thanks for reading.