So I'm just going to say this-I don't like this chapter. It's been annoying me for weeks. Plot-wise it gets to where I want it to go but-meh.
Please give me constructive criticism!
Greg leaned across and kissed John's hair, the colourful lights of the dancefloor behind them reflecting off his face.
John had just finished telling a (slightly edited)version of the story of a particularly hairy evacuation he'd been involved in on his last tour. Their table, a mix of Graeme employees including Joe and Richard, were lapping it up but now the meal was cleared away John's corrupted scent was attracting attention. Excuses were starting to be made to walk behind his chair and discreetly sniff.
They were making an effort to be extra affectionate for the benefit of their audience as per Sherlock's suggestion and the mixed messages they were giving off soon attracted Melissa Graeme. She leaned between them, giving John a decidedly probing look. Across the table Joe made to leave for a cigarette.
'I'll join you, not that I'm encouraging smoking but I could do with a breath of air.' John said, meeting Melissa's look coolly. As he left she took his seat beside Greg.
Joe had made for the front door of the hotel, ignoring the crowded terrace that opened off the ballroom. John followed, scanning the room as he left. He could only see the back of Sherlock's head, occasionally nodding at something Anthea said. John would swear even the angle of his shoulders looked bored.
He found Joe perched on a wall at the edge of a loading bay near the kitchen doors. The only others nearby were a beta couple who were not nearly as discreet with the joint they were smoking as they seemed to think.
He sat down beside the younger omega. 'I've got something for you, someone you should call.' He handed over a plain slip of paper with a mobile number .
'This is someone new?' Joe asked, holding it between finger and thumb dubiously.
' It's a good thing, means they're taking you seriously.' John replied. Joe carefully folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket, looking unconvinced. He fished out a business card at the same time, handing it to John.
'This is where they run things from- for now. It's a show flat in one of the developments, changes every few months. There's no omegas or drugs but that's where they do the admin, for want of a better word.' Joe flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out. 'Richard works there one day a week. There's paperwork, to do with transport mostly.' Joe got up then quickly sat back down.
'He's applied for another job. Oil company in Aberdeen.' Joe shook his head. ' He doesn't quite get Jim won't just let him go.' John was glad they'd decided in the end he wasn't to wear a microphone (something about the legality of him not being a police officer). He had the feeling he was the only outlet Joe had for his frustrations.
'So, I'm assuming that you and Greg is just for this?' Joe said, changing the subject, looking genuinely curious.
'There is someone else, wasn't at the start. We've had to work around it.' There was no point in lying.
Joe got up again brushing stray ash from his jacket. 'You coming?'
I'm going to sit for a minute, maybe best we're not seen together too much anyway. Thanks for this- I know it's hard.' John looked at him sympathetically and Joe shrugged slightly as he moved off.
John took his time going back in, looking round the room. He could see Greg dancing with Melissa Graeme, shoulders rounded and eyes sad. She was rubbing his arm and talking close to his ear. John idly wondered if he was channelling his ex's infidelity to look so wounded. Hopefully anything useful that was being said was getting picked up over the noise of the band.
He wandered towards the bar, the area was slightly elevated and he could see the whole party. He found Anthea, still talking animatedly. She was a natural, but then she would be. He couldn't see Mycroft Holmes wasting his time with anyone sub-par.
After a few moments of more frantic looking than he'd care to admit to, he found Sherlock in an odd corner, he was steering someone gently by the elbow. It took John a few seconds to work out who it was. Of all the places - and yet it made sense if... He reached behind him to where copies of the silent auction list were scattered on a table.
Glen Sunset - A small watercolour by Victor Trevor, best known for his romantic works inspired by the mountains of the Scottish Highlands and Japan.
##########
The scenting had been less awkward than Sherlock had feared. Anthea had been a field asset for years and such subterfuge was second nature. The needful was done, clinically. If she sensed his inexperience, his clumsiness, she gave no sign. For that he was grateful.
The event was the sort of thing his mother organised and he had been avoiding for all his adult life. A room full of people talking about nothing and getting drunk at the fastest pace polite society would allow. Dull beyond belief.
He let Anthea carry the conversation while he kept an eye on John who was now walking towards the main lobby with another male. Lestrade was getting up to dance with Melissa Graeme. Sherlock considered discreetly following John but calculated it would only anger the omega who was more than able in these situations. John didn't need an alpha that way, not at all. That he seemed to want Sherlock was almost unbelievable.
'There are always rumours about how they're forced into these things-you'll know that' Sherlock let his attention drift back round to the group behind him. The slight slur (obviously had more than one before she came out) and the conspiratorial tone drawing his attention.
Most of their table had drifted off to dance and a matronly omega was leaning towards Anthea. His brother's assistant was playing the green but keen caseworker angle well and she was getting the benefit of the older omega's experience. She'd been coaxing information from various people all night but so far nothing really new. Other than a ruthlessness in buying up property , which seemed to attract grudging admiration, there had been no sign Graeme was considered anything but successful.
'The ones from abroad have it worst of course.' Her alpha chimed in, shooting Sherlock with a look of distaste, John's scent no doubt obvious.
'Don't know the language, no family and they're frightened of police.'
'With good reason.' The omega took a gulp of wine, her voice a little too loud. 'You know what happened after that boy escaped.'.
'What was that?' Anthea said, sipping her own drink casually.
'Boy of not more than twenty,got away from one of these places, he told the others he'd get help. Went straight to a police station. By the time they raided the place the following day the omegas were gone. He hadn't spoke to anyone else.' The omega tipped the remainder of her glass into her mouth. Her alpha discreetly moving the wine bottle out of her reach.
Sherlock turned slightly towards them and the omega tensed. Sherlock, smelling as he did of another omega, was not the sort she wanted to share confidences with. Anthea threw him a glance, a signal to bugger off and let her get on with it.
'I'll just be at the bar.' He smiled politely as he moved away, getting evil looks in return. He crossed the ballroom, now dimly lit by fairy lights, candles and the colourful glow of the dance floor.
He caught Victor's scent before he saw him. He thought at first it was perhaps an olfactory hallucination. He'd got off fairly lightly in terms of suppressant withdrawal (thanks to John) and he thought this was perhaps it's parting shot but when he turned round Victor was there. Hair a little shorter, eyes when they met his a little more lined but unmistakably Victor. He had no time to think.
'Victor, you must see this awful print.' He said jovially, as if they'd spoken only ten minutes ago. He gently steered the omega's arm and fortunately Victor seemed to have enough residual trust to go along with it. Trust that Sherlock had, frankly, done nothing to deserve the last time they'd seen each other.
He pulled them into a quiet seating area off the main room, standing in front of a gaudy print of a ship being tossed on rough seas.
'Its bloody terrible Sherl.' Victor looked at the picture then glanced at him, amused. 'There's still never a dull moment is there? I assume you're working on a case.'
'You know about me?' Sherlock had for some reason assumed his work would be news to the omega.
'I've been in Japan, not a cave. I can use the internet you know.'
'I am working, its a little complicated.' Sherlock felt a sudden pang of sympathy that he'd didn't understand till he realised Victors scent was heavy with a broken bond. Widowed.
Victor knew that he'd noticed and was obviously waiting for him to say something. 'I'm sorry about... Do you have family?' Sherlock asked uncertainly. John's area.
'One, he's with my in-laws in Japan till the end of school.' Victor's eyes narrowed, he was reading Sherlock's scent too.
'I'm involved with someone, not bonded.' Sherlock said, staring at the print again, feeling he had somehow undersold his relationship with John.
' Not yet.' Victor smiled and elbowed him gently.
'Yes, well, early days.' Sherlock could feel himself getting red-faced. He had barely considered his future relationship with John. Discussing it with the closest thing he had to an ex while undercover just might make his head explode. 'Thank you for your discretion.' He said formally and made to move away.
'Sherlock?' Victor touched his arm. 'My show opens next week, why don't you come along? Both of you.' He produced a card. 'Text me and I'll send you an invite. Don't worry I'll keep quiet.'Victor raised his eyebrows in an expression that Sherlock couldn't, wouldn't, have resisted once upon a time. He nodded slightly as he left Victor looking at the print. As he turned, his eyes unexpectedly met John's as Lestrade led him onto the dance floor.
##########
After John had been knocked sideways by the sight of Sherlock with Victor he had numbly watched Greg have a short, intense chat with Jim Graeme in a quiet corner of the room. The alpha had then found him and asked him to dance, agreed code for when they had what they needed and could leave, their obvious 'issues' reason enough for a hasty departure.
They left the dance floor again a few minutes later after a slow number. Greg's hand firm in the small of his back. As he leaned in to the alpha John sincerely wished it was Sherlock's touch. He wished they were scented, marked ,bonded. He wished there was no doubt.
As they walked out the front door to get a cab he spotted Joe out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting on the steps, hunched over and didn't look right. As John approached he realised how far from right the young omega smelled too. He was aware of Greg stopping in his tracks several feet behind.
Joe turned, face flushed and sweating. 'Came on suddenly. First time in ages I've had no warning.' He looked apologetic. John crouched beside him, lifting his wrist and taking his speeding pulse.
'I think I'll see Joe home. Catch you up?' John threw over his shoulder to Greg. The alpha nodded and quickly, gratefully, left. John helped the now shaky omega into a cab, chaperoning him to the small flat that had been a present from Jim. Thankfully it was reasonably close by.
He sent Joe to change while he looked out food and something to drink. Joe returned in a bath robe and took a long drink from the proffered glass wincing slightly.
'Sorry-Pinch of salt.' John said. 'Helps replace what you're losing in sweat.'
Joe nodded, edgy. 'Everything alright? Is Richard on his way?' John asked.
'I think so. It's just we decided the next time that we'd just do it, bond. No point in waiting.' He smiled shyly at John. 'We just didn't expect it to be so soon.'
'Oh-well congratulations.' John said, moving to hug him, mindful that Joe was a mass of sensitivity. He found tears springing to his eyes and he hurriedly took his leave. Taking the tube rather than a cab just to give himself the extra minutes to pull himself together.
Baker Street was surprisingly noisy when he got back. Music and giggles spilling out of Mrs Hudson's flat. Her cousin of course. Doubtless wine and possibly 'herbal soothers' had been consumed.
Upstairs it was a little more business-like. Greg was swearing under his breath at a laptop while Sherlock was draped over his chair, tie rakishly undone. Like a bored James Bond.
'Right,' Greg said. 'Lets try this one.' A sound file started to play and they all listened intently. John perched on the arm of Sherlock's chair and a hand came to rest gently on his back.
JG: Missy couldn't help but notice. I'm sorry.
GL: Risk of the job. I'd been working flat out for weeks. He was lonely Jim, I don't blame him really.
JG: Still, an omega that's spoken for. I wouldn't let it stand. Alpha in your position, it's the loss of face as much as anything.
GL: Can't do much can I. It's one of his old army mates, what's worse they'll be working together.
JG: I blame the alpha not John. They're all slaves to their hormones at the end of the day. Mind you if Missy did something like that to me I'd be feeling a little rough round the edges (Graeme' s voice dropped). The offer from before still stands you know, I could arrange a male, now I know...
GL: Thanks but not at the moment.
JG: You're a romantic, I can respect that. Let me know if you change your mind. As for the alpha, well, there are things that can persuade him to keep his knot to himself, that's all I'll say. I know you're working in the background for me on, well, certain things, that cuts both ways as far as I'm concerned.
Greg turned the tape off.
'A reference to our dead sculptor.' Sherlock sighed.
'Think so.' Greg replied.
'Is it enough to do something?' John said.
'Maybe, it's a bit vague, IA will need to get the warrant.' Greg shut the laptop. Glancing at the papers on the desk beside him, his eyes narrowed.
'What's this address?'
'Anthea left it. An omega who got away from one of the brothels made a report there. By the time the place was raided the omegas had been moved. I was going to look into it.'
'This is where IA are based. I mean, it's a big station, probably just a coincidence.' Greg sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
'The universe is rarely so lazy.' Sherlock said pensively. 'Something Mycroft says.'
'Shit. Joe.' Greg looked at John. 'They don't know any more than I've got a source but if he calls...'
'I'll text but he won't have phoned them yet. He wasn't keen and besides, they plan to bond during this heat. Probably won't surface for a couple of days.' John found himself avoiding Sherlock's eye as he tapped his phone.
' How lucky they didn't tape you too.' Greg looked queasy.
John nodded. He had started fidget to fidget anxiously when the phone dinged with a reply. 'We're ok.' He sighed.
'Go home Greg, get some sleep.' John said, running a medical eye over the alpha.
'Yep, you're right.'Greg stood decisively, stretching. 'I'll be in touch, thanks again.
The alpha left and they could hear him being accosted by Mrs Hudson and her cousin on the way down, much to Sherlock's amusement.
John stood too. 'Well,I need tea.' He just assumed two cups.
'That was peculiar, I had no idea Victor was even in the country.'
John glanced up briefly from the comforting ritual of kettle, tea bags, milk.
'You did though.' Sherlock was looking at him keenly. John decided he might want scotch instead. He split the difference, splashing spirit into the steaming mugs, before carrying them back to Sherlock's chair and sitting back on the arm, glad he was facing away from the piercing stare.
'I only looked him up online. It's not like I hired a detective or something.' John said embarrassed and defensive at once.
' It's just as well, most of them are idiots. I don't mind. I'd have done the same in your position, well I'd have asked Mycroft to do it for me. I suppose I should take it as a sort of flattery. ' Frank Sinatra and giggles drifted up from the flat below.
Sherlock got to his feet, smoothing down his suit. He gently prised the mug from John's grasp. 'Will you dance with me?' Sherlock held a hand out. 'Please? We seem to have music whether we want it or not.'
John just smiled at him but the alpha was deadly serious. Hand extended formally like he was in a regency costume drama. He settled into Sherlock's arms and the alpha led elegantly as they drifted round the floor. I've got you under my skin, seeping up through the floor.
'I don't know if I'd be a good bond mate John. You should know. Less still a good parent.'
'What brought that on?' John tried to look at Sherlock's face but the way they were dancing made it difficult without looking him straight in the eye. 'Why don't we see how we go with this heat first, eh? Won't be long now. I don't agree by the way.'
Sherlock pulled him closer, nosing his as yet unblemished scent gland. 'I know I can tell.' Sherlock purred into his ear, Drawing John's hips closer.
'You'd be a great bondmate, you're respectful and kind - in your own way. You don't assume or demand anything. Don't get me wrong, you're off your head, I don't really want to share a fridge with you and I wouldn't be surprised if you get me killed one day. John stopped abruptly and looked up at him, he appeared to be proposing, omegas didn't propose. They submitted, presented their neck.
'I'd like us to bond, doesn't need to be this heat or the one after but...' Sherlock let his head fall, drawing lines with nose and lips over the scent gland. It should be all the answer John needed but he still wanted to hear it. He needed to know Sherlock thought he wanted to bond, wasn't just following his knot. He tightened his grip on Sherlock's shoulders and a hand threaded into his hair.
'I never thought I'd want to.' Sherlock said, wrapping John tightly in his arms.'I find I do.' The music stopped abruptly and raucous laughter from downstairs took its place. They stepped apart and looked at each other for a second before John lifted both mugs, handing one to Sherlock. He found he was grinning uncontrollably round a mouthful of tea as they silently toasted.
Sherlock's phone rang and John moved to go and change clothes. The tone of voice though, quickly stopped him.
'Who have you been talking to, Mycroft?'
'I see, just as well she doesn't work for the secret service or anything isn't it.' Sherlock's sarcasm heavy tone seemed to be totally lost on the effusive voice at the other end- 'Mother' Sherlock mouthed.
'If must know he's a doctor.' (More enthusiastic noises on the other end) ' An army doctor. Captain John Watson.'
'Well I can't do that I'm afraid I don't have one, no, not a single one-even on my phone.'
At this John grabbed his own phone and moved to hook an arm round Sherlock's neck as he snapped a photo of the two of them. Sherlock looked daggers at him.
' We're very busy tomorrow I'm afraid. I know it's her birthday, I have sent a card. The volume of cases make it impossible...'
John made a decisive grab for the phone.
'Mrs Holmes? John Watson. Yeah nice to speak to you too. Sorry about Sherlock, he's got an experiment at a sensitive stage.'
'Of course we can come out tomorrow if it's his aunt's birthday.'
'Mycroft's taking his car, even better.' John dodged a cushion tossed in his direction.
'I've got one right here, sending it through now.' He grinned at Sherlock as he sent the photo.
'See you at two tomorrow then. Bye' He looked at Sherlock, defiant.
'It will be hell you know.' Sherlock said flatly.
'That's how families are meant to be. Consider yourself lucky, I've done my fair share of weddings and funerals with Harry.' John was sliding out of his jacket, he remembered the card from Joe.
'I meant to give this to Greg. Address where they run things from apparently.' Sherlock took the slightly dog-eared card from his hand.
'Well we could look into this. If I'm being forced to visit my parents tomorrow you could indulge me with a little breaking and entering afterwards, hmm?'