He was sure it was coming off suppressant that had started to slowly but surely increase his appetite. It was tedious. So it was timely when Lestrade turned up at the door the with both the lab results and Indian food.
He looked them over while Lestrade scooped chicken jalfrezi and rice into bowls. Fragments of oak wood under the dead omegas fingernails, a woodcarver, craftsman as he'd said. No ID yet, Lestrade's team were checking immigration records for a match. The aroma of curry prevented further useful thoughts.
They ate, Lestrade obviously as hungry as him, and they were soon left with empty foil containers. Sherlock binned the rubbish and dumped the plates in the sink. Taking a deep breath before he turned to face Lestrade. He would have preferred John here for this conversation, he'd been putting it off, but he would have to make do.
'I've looked at that file, the old one. It's personal isn't it.'Sherlock started, not a question. He sat back down, hands clasped, trying not to meet Greg's eye.
'Go on, tell me what you think.' Lestrade mimicked his posture.
'Your father. He was just young he ...' Sherlock made to go on but Lestrade held a hand up.
'As you probably worked out that's what I think too.'
'I'm sorry.' Sherlock said, wondering if the catch all response to something sad was appropriate, John would have known what to say. 'How long have you known?'
'Since I joined the Met. Believe it or not they were using the case in training. Anonymised of course but I knew enough to work it out who it was. I always felt there was part of the story my dad didn't tell me so I started looking into it. I think maybe-he meant to frighten him but it went too far. You looking at it, that's the closest I'll get to certain.
Sherlock nodded. 'Afterwards, your grandmother, was she happy?'
'Yeah, I only knew George years later of course but he was lovely. Funny thing was after they bonded she was ready to go back to being a normal stay at home omega. She'd only worked because her first alpha drank the money, even with that as her reason she wasn't approved of by some. George though encouraged her to keep a bit of independence, saw she was happy that way. She ended up a landlady in the end, well- you've seen the picture.' Sherlock nodded, he remembered the framed print on Lestrade's desk. A formidable looking woman, behind her bar, her children sitting in front of her.
'George was always the alpha I wanted to be.' Lestrade finished. A silence settled, Greg was clearly finished talking about this. A change of subject seemed to be called for.
'I suppose I've thought a lot about the sort of alpha I am lately.' Sherlock said out if nowhere, it hardly lightened the mood.
The older alpha regarded him closely. ' Look, I know you got started on that stuff, the suppressant and the coke, because you couldn't cope. Now though you can manage the rest of your head. You've got that mind palace up there.' Lestrade tapped his temple. 'You must have a room you can just put it in, alpha stuff, when it's not needed.'
' It's not quite that simple.'
'It is you know, that's pretty much how I deal with it. I've got more of a mind shed though.' The older alpha looked at him with a weak smile. Sherlock nodded slowly and started to look at the results again.
##########
It was nearly a week before Lestrade found the identity of the omega after a public appeal.
Sherlock was tearing his hair out with the tedium latterly. Lestrade was there most days, often at the same time as Mrs Hudson and his brother. He appreciated the distraction, even if he mostly wished they would bugger off. John texted regularly, they were friendly, even affectionate by text but nothing more. Their attempts at voice calls were less successful, Sherlock's fault, he couldn't quite disguise his irritation at being Johnless. Even if he knew it was selfish.
The omega, Antonio Lopez, was a Spanish national, here to work on a special commission for a few months. A loner, no alpha, no family, no one to notice, according to his UK agent who had called the police helpline and then made the formal ID. He normally worked on driftwood, gathered near the eco house he'd built on a Mediterranean beach but occasionally took commissions abroad because they paid well.
Lestrade took Sherlock out to look over the omegas rented studio before forensics got to it. The space was in a converted warehouse, part of a complex with cafe, shops and offices.
Sherlock had the immediate sense there was little to find as soon as they got inside. Two pieces of worked oak were mounted on stands, paper plans pinned to the wall behind annotated in several colours. The tools were neat, everything put away apart from a couple of chisels, a pen and blank notepad. A half full paper cup of coffee (from the attached shop), sat to one side, mould beginning to bloom on its surface.
'There's nothing much to find, he left abruptly though.' Sherlock said, running his eyes over the workbench.
'No sign of a struggle.' Lestrade replied doubtfully.
'Look at the bin. Lopez swept up every day before he left, tidied, he wouldn't have left it like this.' Sherlock gestured at the curls of wood on the floor. 'He stepped out and never came back.'
They left via the main foyer, speaking to the barista in the cafe the abandoned cup had came from. Lopez had been a regular for weeks, though he had given the impression he didn't speak much English.
They bought coffee and returned to Lestrade's car, Sherlock looking over the post mortem report again, reading the little details out loud. A smoker, an infected cut on his shin, most likely work related.
'We'll talk to some more people from the building, see if they saw anything unusual, they must have seen him coming out to smoke at least.' Lestrade said, gesturing at an ugly plastic smoking shelter to one side of the entrance.
'Of course.' Sherlock shifted forward suddenly.'He was a loner, poor English, he wouldn't have wanted to make small talk. He didn't go to the shelter.' Sherlock was back out of the car impressively quickly for someone on crutches. 'Come on, I saw a fire exit.'
They walked back through the building to a fire exit just outside the studio. Sherlock inspected it closely, it had been jammed slightly open.
'We used to do this at my old station. Lestrade said, delicately moving the mechanism.
' Looks closed but isn't in contact to activate the alarm.' The door swung open on to a narrow alley. The original cobbles slimy green. Sherlock moved gingerly around piles of cardboard.
'Look here.' Sherlock tapped a varnish tin which contained a pile of cigarette ends. An upturned crate sat alongside. 'The top few are dry. It hasn't rained to any degree since the day before we found the body. He was out here the day he died.'
'What's this?' Sherlock said, prodding a crutch into the building on the opposite side.
Greg looked around to get his bearings. 'Furniture shop I think.'
Sherlock inspected the cardboard boxes more closely.'These are from the fruit shop across the road.'
'Maybe they just store recycling here.' Lestrade was losing patience with him, wondering where he was going with this.
'No, the council collect from across there, no point. Then there's this.' Sherlock gestured at a doorway partially covered by the stack of boxes.'Look at the lock, New, the rest of it's shabby. Deliberately so.'
Before Lestrade could argue. Sherlock was bent to the lock with his set of lock picks. The inspector looked round nervously but Sherlock knew he was unlikely to be stopped when they were this close to something interesting. The mechanism was simple and it opened into a dingy corridor. The floor suggested it was little used but had seen some recent traffic.
He moved quietly inside closely followed by Lestrade. It confused him at first, the rich woody smell, so out of place. Then he realised what it was masking. His body was half a step ahead of his brain and arousal was already curling in his lower belly when his mind registered the cloying musk of omega heat. He was suddenly moving unconsciously towards it. He tried to shake off Lestrade when he grabbed his arm but the inspector was stronger and more in control, though not unaffected. His pupils were blown when Sherlock turned to him.
Lestrade quickly led him back out of the alley and bundled him into the car. His heart pounding in his chest, he was uncomfortably ,humiliatingly, hard inside his clothes. Lestrade got in and silently drove off. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and it was a few minutes before it occurred to him they were heading the wrong way.
'Where are we going?' He said, surprised at how hoarse he sounded.
'My place, it's closer.' Lestrade replied, sounding no better.
Sherlock knew this was a lie. Baker Street was a good five minutes closer, even taking into account the time of day and a set of temporary lights. Then he realised why Lestrade had said it. John. He wasn't expected back for days but Lestrade didn't want to risk Sherlock in this state with an omega. He couldn't blame him, Sherlock Holmes roused into rut was an unknown quantity, even to himself.
At Lestrade's flat the older alpha poured scotch into tumblers. 'It'll help to take the edge off.' He said, pressing the glass into Sherlock's hand.
'There was something synthetic about it. The smell.' He'd been contemplating this in the car, comparing the scent to John. Obviously different omegas had different scents but this was more than that. Like the difference between a freshly sliced lemon and that bright yellow liquid Mrs Hudson used to clean the bathroom.
'I know, I've seen this before-a brothel' Lestrade replied.
'Your work with John?' Lestrade nodded, they sat in silence for a few minutes.
'Its quite simple really.' Sherlock leaned back in his chair, glass drained.
'Not to me.' Lestrade replied, pulling his coat off.
'He was out smoking as usual. Someone from the brothel appears, some minor cog, security most likely. By this time the antibiotics have started to interfere with his heat suppressant, he probably didn't have enough English to interpret the label. He's hours from a heat and smells like it.' Sherlock glances up to check Lestrade is following, which he raptly is.
' The security assumes he's one of theirs and tries to take him inside. They argue, the language barrier makes it worse. He probably falls in the panic , the security's unlikely to damage merchandise deliberately but damage is done and he's dead, an unlucky stranger. There's a body so someone senior is called. Someone who sees an opportunity to test the loyalty of their newest employee.' Sherlock looked to Lestrade.
'I was meant to find him, literally me.' Lestrade looked queasy.
'Wouldn't have been too difficult, simple matter of knowing your habits, making a noise at the right time. Graeme may even have intended that you know you're being tested. Of course everything I've just said relies on forensics and toxicology not yet completed. When will you see him next?'
' End of the week, with John.'
'We have some time then-to plan. I should go' Sherlock, case deduced, was starting to feel awkward and he stood up, making for the door, head down.
'Sherlock, it wasn't your fault. The chemicals they use magnify everything, they make you ...'
'Dangerous?' Sherlock supplied, caustically.
'I was going to say primitive. They just bypass your brain.'
' I cannot have my brain bypassed. Text me when you have more.' Sherlock swept out of the flat.
His arousal had dissipated enough to let him pick up antiseptic swabs on the way home, he already had syringes. Normally he would just borrow from John's well supplied first aid kit but that hardly seemed appropriate in the circumstances. He was relieved when he got into the flat and discovered his last few vials of suppressant in the fridge still had two weeks of shelf life left.
The alternative involved an all nighter alone in Bart's lab to produce a new batch. There was always the chance he'd weaken, go and procure some of the other substance that would help. He still maintained, for professional purposes, a mental map of the places where cocaine could be purchased in London. There were three within a ten minute walk of Bart s, five if you were less fussy about quality. He counted the vials, Three days worth, enough to get a little clarity.
He sat in his chair with the suppressant and syringe balanced on his knee and suddenly thought about how John had felt in his lap that night. Vulnerable and in control all at once. He tried to brush the image aside. John could do better than a virgin alpha who got addled by pheromones like an adolescent. He began to prepare the syringe, hands shaking, when his phone buzzed.
Have you checked the mail? JW
Sherlock sighed, he hadn't since John left and a pile of mail was likely to give Mrs Hudson an excuse to barge in. He made his way downstairs. Bills, lab equipment catalogues and junk were all discarded and he was about to do the same with a padded envelope (what John called crazies regularly sent them weird stuff in the post) until he recognised John's handwriting, he tore it open. There was a post it note and a bubble wrapped package.
Saw this and thought of you (I know it's cheesy but I did). John
Sherlock carefully pulled the wrapping away. It was a silver bookmark with an enamelled bee dangling from a chain. He smiled at the memory of the afternoon he and John had spent wandering through a Kent orchard. It was not long after they started to flatshare and well before John had known about his alpha status. The case was a missing person, easily solved, but he remembered John not only listening to him talking about the dynamics of the hives they came across among the trees but actually asking intelligent questions. Sherlock remembered thinking, for the first time, there was a chance this might actually last.
He turned the gift in his fingers, pulling his phone from his pocket. He couldn't do it, the suppressant, there was so much fragile hope in the gift, hope he tentatively shared if he was being honest.
Thank you it's lovely. :-) SH
He deleted that, soppy was all very well but he only tolerated smileys from John even his mother didn't get away with it.
Thank you, I love it. When are you coming home? SH
Few days yet. GL needs me at the end of the week. That OK? JW
Sherlock realised at that moment that after what he had seen it was not OK. He wouldn't send any omega, less still one he cared about as much as John into that situation and yet...
There was that moment after a chase, or a stand off, that moment when they knew they'd gotten away with it - again. The look on John's face then, so bright and alive. Sherlock could never take that from him. He tapped the phone against his fingers. Perhaps there was a middle ground. He dialled.
'Anthea? I need a favour- from both of you- he once told me he could procure an invite to anything. This shouldn't be too much of a challenge. I will of course need an appropriate plus one.'
##########
John had started to feel better about Harry, eventually, he'd stayed a week longer than planned. She'd finally lost that stillness that made her seem like an accident waiting to happen.
She'd been emailing contacts and seemed confident of getting at least a bit of freelance work before long. They'd spent the rest of their time together leisurely, watching old films and going for long walks. Clara even came to visit, John making himself scarce for a few hours. Love, he knew, had never been the issue.
Truth be told he blamed most of his sister's problems on presenting late. John had made most of the big decisions of his teenage years knowing he was a servant of his biology, at least up to a point. Harry was sixteen before the proto-heat that heralded the start of puberty. More than that his parents were already noting with pride the interest their assumed alpha daughter was taking in omegas. They were kindly people who accepted her for what she was but Harry never forgave herself for robbing them of an alpha child, even after they died in the car crash a few years later.
Today torrential rain was keeping them indoors, both busy on their respective laptops. John had finally got round to looking up Jim Graeme again. The press seemed to love him, a local boy made good. Occasionally there was a veiled reference to something and John wondered if it was lack of evidence or influence that kept it from being more. He had a Graeme charity ball with Greg in a few days. He didn't have all the detail yet but he knew there had been a death that Graeme was likely implicated in and Sherlock was now helping as well.
Thoughts about Victor Trevor still hovered at the back of his mind. Sherlock's former lover was everything John feared he would be, pretty, rich, talented. None of which would matter so much if he were still happily bonded in the far east. He wasn't. The award winning artist had been widowed two years ago and had returned to his native west country.
'You were miles away.' Harry put a mug in front of him. 'Thinking about your mystery alpha?'
'Sort of.' He confessed.
'Tell me then.' She prompted, curling into her chair.
'He's different. Nice though, in his own way.' Very much his own way,John thought.
'It'd be good, to see you settled.' Harry John could protest that it was early days she sat bolt upright with a small yelp, staring at her laptop.
'I got offered a job-sort of anyway- six months maternity cover starting in three weeks, my old boss.' John smiled at the way his sister suddenly seemed a little taller.
'Thanks John, I'd still be moping about if you hadn't came. Even if I am keeping you from other things.'
John threw a cushion which she dodged.
'Seriously though, it's been nice. Maybe before I start this job I could come visit you? You could show me the sights?'
He paused, this would take some explaining, on both sides. ' Yeah, we could sort something out.'
##########
John was regretting taking this shift now. He'd felt obliged because he'd been otherwise occupied so much recently and frankly he was a bit broke. He'd came straight off the train from Harry's. All he could think of if he dared to let his mind drift was Sherlock's scent and the way their limbs had tangled so naturally together.
'Morning Julie' He shouted with a wave to the receptionist at the desk as he went towards his room. The elderly beta made a slight but well practiced movement with her head to indicate he should join her in the office behind. He had been hoping for a quiet, quick clinic, he was obviously to be disappointed.
Julie closed the door over as she came through from the desk. 'Young man out there won't give his name but insists on seeing you. I've explained you're not on call but no one else would do. He was in a couple of days ago as well apparently. Look for yourself, behind the leaflets.'
He opened the door to the waiting room a crack and looked out. Joe. Trying to disappear into the corner.
'OK, can you show him through?' Julie raised her eyebrows but nodded.
John had just got settled in his room when Julie showed him in. 'Sorry, didn't know what else to do.' Joe said, heavy, tired eyes meeting Johns.
'Its fine, sit.' John said gently. Sitting next to him rather than at his desk.
'Look, I'm just going to say this. Either Greg doesn't know what Jim is, thinks he's just skimming off property deals and smuggling booze, or he does and he's trying to expose him. I don't want to know which. Neither of you seem the type though to just let that go on. Did you tell him about the club?' John nodded.
'There's more. Richard knows thing too.'
'Look Joe, I can't promise anything, I don't even know if Greg can.' John placed a hand on his sagging shoulder.
Joe shook his head. 'We can't carry on like this though. Richard, he's just an accountant, he didn't sign up for this. It's only a matter of time before he does something, something he can't fix.'
John moved to his desk and scribbled on a slip of paper. 'Phone me later, give me a chance to talk to Greg.' He handed the slip over. 'If you feel unsafe either of you, phone me and get yourselves somewhere public.' John tried to convey a steadiness he didn't feel as Joe left.
Greg was waiting as soon as he finished the clinic. Restless in his seat like someone waiting for bad news. John went through his talk with Joe, telling Greg about the erratic heats as well. How it tied him,even unbonded, to the alpha Richard.
'You think he's steady though, his health won't be an issue?'
'Greg don't try and make this about his hormones.' John replied with irritation.
' It's just I'd hate to get further into this and then have him go to peices under pressure.'
'If it comes to that the alpha' s a bigger risk. Joe grew up with Graeme.' John tried not to snap. From what he'd seen of the young omega he was pretty strong, he'd had to be.
'True.' Greg nodded thoughtfully. 'OK, I'll talk to internal affairs, see if there's something they can do.'
##########
After Greg left John ended up seeing another patient, a child, who had vomited all over the waiting room -and then all over John. He was walking home in a borrowed T shirt when a text came through.
IA happy to use J as source - can offer protection. Can you talk to him alone at do tomorrow? GL
Can do, see you at 7. J W
John ran himself a bath. The omega called him as he waited for it to cool. He passed on Greg's message and promised they'd talk more at the charity dinner. Joe sounded calmer than earlier, resolute.
John soaked in the hot water for nearly an hour. When he got back out a text was waiting.
On case. Thai later? always starving now. SH
John smiled, grabbing his book out of his suitcase and heading without thinking for Sherlock's room. He lay on the bed, discarding his towel and wrapping himself in the alphas gold dressing gown, generally absorbing the scent he'd missed so badly.
Sherlock must have crept in because the next thing John knew he was in the doorway. Leaning on one crutch, staring at John in a way that made his stomach flip.
'That's a very expensive garment you know.' Sherlock said, crossing the room.
'Not for the likes of me then.' John grinned. As the alpha joined him on the bed he growled, a feral noise John was sure the alpha hadn't known himself he was capable of. It did sudden, violent, wonderful things to John's lower belly.
Sherlock's mouth was already on his, long fingers impatiently pulling the robe away, the pile of fabric sliding to the floor. John let himself sink into the bed, a wave of alpha pheromones encouraging him to slip into a warm, submissive place, even if only for a moment.
John could feel the alphas cock firming against him through layers of fabric and he was about to complain about being the only one naked when he had the sudden urge to have Sherlock in his mouth. He gently pushed the alpha away, smiling reassuringly when he looked rejected. He shifted, pulling Sherlock with him until the alpha was sitting on the edge of the bed. John sank down between his legs pulling a pillow with him because, though he may have felt like a teenager, his knees didn't. He hadn't done this in a long while. Recently he'd only sought out alphas for his heat and a heat demanded penetration and lots of it, no time to get fancy.
'Is this Ok?' John said stroking the alpha' s thigh. Sherlock nodded, breathing hard and the omega carefully released him from his clothes, gently licking at first to get a,feel for the alphas sensitive spots. He relished the feeling of control as he slid his mouth down Sherlock's length, eliciting a delicious moan, they were both aching for release. He enjoyed doing this, with the right alpha at least, and Sherlock was so helplessly responsive, not least John suspected, because he was enjoying the show John was putting on, making sure Sherlock saw how his lips and tongue slickly moved over him. The alpha was soon grabbing handfuls of bedding with white knuckles. Obviously fighting the urge to thrust into John's mouth. John took great satisfaction in the full body shudder of Sherlock's all-too-quick orgasm and the complete boneless collapse that followed. The alpha lay back on the bed with a rare grin. John moved to lie beside him.
'I'm sorry.' Sherlock exclaimed breathlessly, to John's confusion until the omega realised he was looking at John's still hard cock.
'Its alright, give yourself a minute.' John smirked, Sherlock looked wrecked. 'It won't take much.' He leaned in towards the alphas ear. 'I was halfway there just from the feeling of you in my mouth.'
Sherlock suddenly pulled John towards him, manoeuvring him until the omega's naked back was pressed against his still clothed chest. One gentle hand reached down to wrap around John while lips brushed the shell of his ear.
' Thank you- I've imagined you doing that- it felt incredible.' The alphas voice was shaky. There was a sense of satisfaction at having unravelled him so completely. Sherlock began to kiss and lick John's neck, the omega arching up to his mouth and thrusting into his hand. It wasn't dignified but John couldn't have cared less and was soon coming under Sherlock's hand. The alpha seemed surprised and intrigued to suddenly be sticky and they lay together on the bed after a quick clean up with tissues.
' The plaster is coming off tomorrow.' Sherlock said, breaking the comfortable silence. 'I should be more use to you then.' Fingers curled suggestively around John's hip. In spite of his recent orgasm arousal flickered in John's belly at the thought.
'You've not had second thoughts then?'
' Not now, though you should know I had a ...moment of weakness.' John shifted round to face him.
'Not what you think, I thought about starting suppressant again, I had the dose drawn but...'
'What stopped you?'
'A bee.' John smiled at him and wriggled closer.
' I know that brothel was a whole fucked up situation but-sometimes losing control that little bit can be great- you'll see.' John held his gaze for a few seconds. 'Now I'm starving. You said something about Thai?'
'Yes, I'll get a menu. As Sherlock hobbled off John stretched, his eyes resting on what was hanging on the outside of the wardrobe.
'Sherlock, what do you need a tux for?'He shouted absently, picking up the gold dressing gown.
'I wanted to talk to you about that.' The alpha stood hesitant in the doorway. ' I thought you could use some assistance with your undercover work.'
This has ended up more casefic and longer than planned. I'm un-betaed so if you spot anything that doesn't look right, especially on the timeline/deductions side please let me know. I think I said five chapters when I started this-I suspect now it will be more like ten. Who knows- I may get it finished inside a year (though not at this rate).
I'll be posting this (and my other Sherlock stuff) on AO 3 as well-same user name. Thanks for reading.