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"So?" John said with a giant grin. "How do I smell?"

John had been waiting in the house for hours giddy with excitement until Sam returned home from work. He'd felt the heavy weight in his abdomen and lower back shortly after finishing up breakfast this morning and felt his blood sing as the natural lubrication began to slowly slick his entrance until he was so wet he could barely stand it. He felt that deep itch start to tingle against his nerves and felt arousal pour through him. He'd barely been able to wait for Sam. He'd almost gotten out his old dildo that he used to use at the Institute to ease some of the tension, but his bondmate had asked him to wait for him and he would do anything for Sam.

He watched in heated anticipation as Sam's entire body froze as his nose was assaulted with the pheromones John was emitting. Sam dropped his briefcase before lunging at John and pinning him against the wall. John moaned loudly as Sam licked and sucked and bit at the skin on his neck. Sam's body was trembling and his rock-hard cock was being thrust almost viciously into his stomach.

"John…" Sam breathed out shakily. "I don't…this is…oh fuck…"

"I know." John soothed him. "I know."

"What do I do?" Sam said uncertainly.

"Take me to bed." John moaned as his body shuddered and released what felt like a pint of lubricant from his entrance. "Fuck me. Jesus fuck Sam. I need it. I need your cock in me so bad."

Something in his partner seemed to snap and Sam grabbed John and threw him over his shoulder before practically racing for the bedroom. He was thrown face down on the mattress and he quickly tossed the robe he'd been covering himself with onto the floor before presenting himself to Sam and whimpering loudly with need. He was just coherent enough to hear his bondmate ripping his clothes off as he writhed against the sheets his entire body sizzling with the need to be touched, sucked, fucked. Sam wasted no time. He climbed on behind and above John and slammed his dick into him with a shout of pleasure.

"Yes…yes…yes…" John moaned. He met Sam's thrusts into him with thrusts of his own. His body demanding harder, closer, faster. He felt Sam speed up and then the knot entered him, it expanded and John felt his body clamp around it hard. Sam yelped and came collapsing against his back sinking his teeth into John's neck as his body trembled and convulsed. John rolled them to the side and wanked himself off quickly feeling some tension ease out of his body as he squeezed and squeezed every drop out of his bondmate.

"John…" Sam gasped still lodged firmly in John as the Omega's body milked his erection. "That was…insane."

John giggled to himself and cuddled closer. "Well, buck up, soldier. We're doing this again in an hour or so."

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"So." John presented himself to his parents in the kitchen. "How do I smell?"

His mother took a deep breath and then frowned slightly.

"It'll take a while for the hormone suppressants to dull the Omega scent but Dr. Sawyer recommended I at least get used to the body wash." John said hurriedly. "Is it okay?"

"You smell…" His mother began. "Strange. Sorry, honey. You just smell odd now."

"Like I said," John rushed anxiously. "It'll take a couple months for the hormones to get figured out. Dr. Sawyer said I might even go into heat…but it'll work. It'll be fine, right?"

"I'm sure it'll be great." His father cut in. "Have you thought about what you'll do once everything gets worked out?"

"School maybe?" John said sitting down to breakfast. "I should probably try to find a job first. Help out with rent."

"Oh, son." His father said firmly. "You don't have to pay rent. We love having you here."

"I'm not a child." John answered. "And I don't need charity. I can at least do this."

"Alright." His dad said reluctantly. "But you take your time. You've been through something awful. We can take care of you until you can take care of yourself."

"Thanks." John said before picking up the paper and searching for the jobs section. "But I need this. I need something new, something exciting."

"Well, I do have something that I'd like you to consider then." His father said tentatively.

"What's that?" John asked.

"I want to get you trained up, just in case you have to defend yourself." His father said. "I'm not risking you out in the big city by yourself without being able to look after yourself."

"You want me to take self-defense classes?" John asked.

"That…and maybe a something a bit more protective as well." His father said, not glancing up from his paper.

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"Hello." John whispered awkwardly.

He glanced around him, making sure that no one else was around to hear him as he glanced down at the small gravestone. He read the inscription and felt his heart lurch: To My Baby. You were so loved.

"This is the last place I thought I would be a year ago." John said painfully. "I know that Sam actually buried you somewhere else. But he never let me know where. So, I'm actually just talking to a piece of rock, but I don't think you'd mind. You listened to me drone on so much when you were…with…me that a few more words can't hurt. I realized the other day that I'd apologized to everyone else. But I never apologized to you, so I thought I should. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to catch myself when that person knocked into me. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to protect you. I'm sorry I ruined everything."

John caught the sob that was trying to claw its way out of his throat. He shoved it down roughly and wiped at his eyes viciously to get rid of the moisture there. He chuckled softly as he adjusted the bag on his back.

"I bet you never thought your mum would be attending university to study medicine, huh?" John breathed. "I have a hard time grasping the concept sometimes myself. I need you to know…need you to believe…that I'll never forget you, not ever. But if I let myself wallow, I'll never move on. I think of you every day and I always will. I love you. Goodbye."

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"Fuck. Off. Mycroft." Sherlock bit out as he threw himself down on his grimy sofa and curled into the cushions.

"You can either accept my help or I'm calling Mummy." Mycroft said firmly. "We both know what his solution will be."

"Still clinging to his coattails, I see." Sherlock scoffed. "Does he still tie up your laces for you in the morning? Make sure you don't have jam on your face? Or are you grooming your Omega for that role? So she can suckle you and your spawn at the same time."

Mycroft moved so quickly that Sherlock didn't notice until his brother had thrown him off the couch facedown on the floor with the tip of his umbrella digging into his spine.

"I will not hear an insult about my Omega pass through your lips, is that clear?" Mycroft growled. Sherlock tried to throw him off but failed, the lack of food and the remnants of cocaine making him weak and shivery. "We both know what this little spat is about and if you want to be jealous, then feel free, but don't for one second think I will ever be lenient enough to allow that."

"And what could I possibly be jealous of?" Sherlock sneered. "You're the one forced to play manservant to an Omega like a sex-crazed imbecile. I'll never be as idiotic as you. Imagine, setting up house for something like that. My brain is much too valuable for such mundane behaviors. Omegas are just a waste of genetic material."

"Sherlock." Mycroft sighed heavily, feeling his anger change to pity. "I am sorry."

"For breaking my ribs?" Sherlock crowed. "Yes, you should be."

"I'm sorry you never found someone." Mycroft said quietly.

Sherlock rolled away from his brother and scrambled to his feet before striding unsteadily to his room before slamming the door.

"FUCK. OFF." Sherlock shouted through the flimsy wood.

Mycroft sighed heavily before sending a text to alert the cleaners to search Sherlock's flat to find any leftover illegal substances. He exited the dilapidated building and slid into the comfortable leather seats of his town car. He relished the sense of calm that wrapped around him as his Omega slid over to curl into his side. It's true that he was incredibly lucky. He'd waited a bit longer than normal to attempt to court and bond with an Omega. At the advanced age of 29, he'd made an appointment with a prestigious Institute, took one look around, found his Omega, and bonded with her within three months. They'd been together almost four years now and had two beautiful girls. The only downside to his domestic bliss was the strained effect it had on his fraternal relationship.

He'll never forget the look on his brother's face when he'd announced his news at their family's biannual dinner. Sherlock had looked so fragile and lost. It was shortly after that Sherlock tried once more, at the age of 22, before slowly spiraling into a pit of drugs and darkness. His once brilliant Alpha brother had deteriorated into a junkie who could barely lift himself off the floor most mornings. Sherlock's former fascination and admiration for the bond between an Alpha and Omega had twisted into a scathing hatred of the entire domestic business.

"I ordered him a takeaway." Anthea said, barely glancing up from her phone. "He likes curry, right?"

"Yes, he does." He said, placing a kiss lightly on her auburn hair. "Has the au pair returned with the girls from the park?"

"ETA seventeen minutes." She said simply. "What did you have in mind?"

"I just wanted to make sure we could read them a story before naptime." He said offhand.

"I'll let her know." Anthea said kissing him chastely on the lips before turning back to her phone.

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"Lestrade!" Sherlock shouted as they raced down an alley. "She's getting away!"

Sherlock sprinted through the city streets after their smuggler. He felt his blood sing as he finally caught sight of that ghastly looking leopard print bandana. He put on a burst of speed as he noticed the closing gap between them. Thirty feet…twenty feet…ten…five…two…reach out and…

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL." He shrieked as the criminal smirked, pulling out the knife and racing quickly off into another alley way. He felt his entire body shudder in pain and shock as blood started seeping out of his abdomen. Everything started to get fuzzy and cold as the realization that not eating for 27 hours prior to the chase was going to make his recovery time about 3.4 times longer than considered medically normal. All his other senses seemed to click off and the only thing that registered in his brain was a sorted of garbled, muddled Lestrade shouting at him as if through water. His muscles seemed to abandon him as he collapsed to the ground saved only by the DI's grip on his coat. As a seeping bitter cold settled over his skin, he finally lost consciousness.

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"…Sorry, there's no way with his drug history that we can administer more pain medication…" The voiced called out to him, dragging him back into awareness.

"But just look at the stupid bugger." Lestrade cajoled. "He looks like death warmed over and he won't stop grimacing."

"I always thought that was just his regular expression." Mike Stamford, his doctor, responded lightly. "Seriously though, I wish we could do more but for right now, he's just going to have to fight through the pain. And considering how well his surgery went today, it won't be long before he's back at it with a vengeance."

"Based on my initial assessment," He growled. "It will take me approximately three weeks to regain my usual level of physical activity."

"Morning, sunshine." Lestrade drawled.

"What was so spectacular about my surgery if that's my recuperation time?" Sherlock continued. "It can't have been that amazing."

"Because if Dr. Watson hadn't been performing your operation," Mike cut in. "Your recovery time would have been twice as long."

"I highly doubt that." Sherlock scoffed.

"Well, you can take that up with him." Mike said, sounding tired. "He'll be making his rounds in a few hours. Get some rest."

At that, Dr. Stamford strolled out of his hospital room and Lestrade took up residence in the vacant chair next to his bed. Sherlock tried in vain to appear asleep so he wouldn't be subjected to Lestrade's banal commentary, but the DI did seem rather determined and Sherlock was in no state to offer any real level of protest.

"Did you know she had a knife?" Lestrade asked calmly pulling out his notebook to begin scratching almost incoherently at it with his pen.

"Obviously." Sherlock quipped. "That was my main objective. To get run through by a crazy designer puppy smuggler in Kensington."

Sherlock shifted in irritation and felt a sharp pain radiate out making him grit his teeth and growl menacingly. "Get me more meds, Lestrade."

"You heard the GP." Lestrade shrugged. "It's out of my hands. Of course, you could always call that brother of yours. See if he can do anything for you."

"Fuck off." Sherlock bit out. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your attempt at policing?"

"I seem to have been granted the afternoon off." Lestrade shrugged. "What a coincidence. Guess I'll just spend the rest of my workday here with you."

"Really, Lestrade" Sherlock answered. "The last thing I want to do is be subjected to your idiocy in my current state. Please feel free to bugger off and leave me alone."

"You really want to spend all of that time here by yourself with no one to talk to?" Lestrade asked.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Well," A strong voice interrupted from the doorway. "Your primary physician and I discussed it and we're recommending at least two days to help prevent infection."

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John smiled as he made his way into the room of his earlier patient as he took in the younger man and his visitor (he supposed his partner considering how familiar they seemed with each other). He was halted by the razor sharp gaze and felt his skin ripple uncomfortably.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes." He said fighting off the feeling of exposure. "I'm Doctor Watson, your surgeon."

"Oh, that's just perfect." His patient sighed heavily. "Of all the bloody doctors in this entire bloody place, I get this one."

"Excuse me?" John asked confused.

"Ignore him." The other man said with a grin. "He's a right git most of the time and I fear the pain won't make it any better. I'm Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade."

"Nice to meet you, DI Lestrade." John said shaking his hand firmly. "How do you know my patient?"

"He consults for us on cases." He answered. "And please, call me Greg."

"Leave." Mr. Holmes said firmly.

"You're going to have to be more specific." Lestrade answered back.

"You, Lestrade, go." Sherlock bit out. "Call me when you catch her and you'll find the flashdrive sown into the lining of one of her dog's outfits."

"Right." Lestrade said making a note before turning to John. "Good luck, mate."

"Thanks." John said confused as he watched the older man hurry out of the room. He turned back to shoot a tense smile at his patient before beginning. "Down to business, then? Alright, the wound was fairly well placed, avoiding any major organs…"

"How long?" Sherlock asked him, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I'm guessing at least 10 years going by your trouser pockets and the extremely obvious scent of that shampoo drifting this way."

"Pardon?" John asked filling something akin to fear skittering over his skin.

"The hormone suppressants, do keep up." Sherlock drawled with a sharp glint to his eye. "It is truly astounding how dense everyone is. If they'd taken a second to actually observe their colleague, they'd have seen you for what you really are."

"I don't…I'm not…" John babble, flustered. This couldn't be happening. No, he'd worked too hard. There was no way this man could know. He'd been so careful. He felt his heart start pounding against his chest as his brain filled with loud, panicky noises that were making his eyes lose focus.

"Calm down." Sherlock said rolling his eyes. "I couldn't care less about the fact that you're one of those silly little Omegas who feel justified in pretending to be something they're not simply due to their biological desire to produce offspring. You are probably even functioning under the delusion that you deserve more from life than just being some sort of breeding machine. It's positively adorable that you think that."

John's fear quickly turned to anger as this stupid fucking Alpha made assumptions about his life. With barely another glance at the great arse, he bit out clearly. "No nicked organs, easily sewn up, minimal if any scarring, nurse will change your bandage at evening rounds."

John turned and stormed out of the room feeling his face twist into something harsh and terrible.

"I see you met him." Mike said with a light smile.

"Excuse me?" John seethed.

"Sherlock Holmes." Mike said with a forgiving smile. "Right awful git, but one of the most brilliant men I've ever met. He can deduce your entire life story from just looking at you. He's nearly always right and he tends to be a bit abrupt in his delivery. I see he put you through the ringer."

"How did you ever become that man's doctor?" John asked incredulously.

"Hired by his brother, if you believe it." Mike shrugged. "I'm practically on retainer. Pay's good and Sherlock's not so bad. Just bound and determined to 'deduce' himself into an early grave."

"Right." John said awkwardly.

"Just ignore the barbs." Mike said confidently. "He'll only delete his own deductions later and it only makes it worse if you rise to his taunts."

"Thanks, Mike." John said, trying to shake away the last bits of anger and focus once again on his job.

"No problem." Mike said, flipping through a chart and striding away, whistling under his breath.

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"He's a right terror, Dr. Watson." The nurse said leaning heavily against the floor station. "He won't shut it and he keeps throwing cups of water at anyone who enters. Can you please do something? Anything?"

"I'll go and have a look." John sighed heavily.

John took a deep breath before pushing open the door to Mr. Holmes's room and then immediately ducking the projectile that was flying towards his face.

"Oi!" John called out. "You great ponce, lay off."

"Oh, it's you."Sherlock drawled. "Shouldn't you be trying to lure some unsuspecting fool into your bed?"

"I see your attitude has only improved as the day as progressed." John said with a large eye roll before collapsing into the visitor's chair. "Is there any way I can convince you to give the nurses a reprieve. They're planning a mutiny out there."

"Why?" Sherlock said. "They're all idiots anyway and at least that might be minimally entertaining. As it is, I'm terribly bored."

"Is there anything I can get you to keep you occupied so you lay off the staff?" John asked hopelessly. "Crosswords? Novel? The bloody dictionary?"

"Boring." Sherlock said turning onto his side to face John and the doctor noticed a flash of pain cross his patient's face.

"The pain meds aren't doing much for you, huh?" John asked.

"Brilliant." Sherlock scoffed as he fought back the burning ache in his gut. "Please avoid stating the obvious, it puts me off."

"Because that's my main concern right now." John said bluntly.

They sat in silence for several minutes before John's curiosity got the better of him.

"How did you know?" He asked cautiously. "About me, being…well…"

"I didn't know." Sherlock said evenly. "I observed."

"How?" He asked again.

Sherlock attempted a put-upon sigh but John caught the gleam of interest in his eye. "It's like I said. If anyone actually paid attention, it's all there. The clinical and chemical smell of your shampoo and body wash. Medically prescribed for betas that have trouble attracting a mate. Most betas with this problem have tell-tale signs of desperation. Plastic surgery, make-up, tanning beds, gym memberships. But you don't have any of those markers. You're just a bloke that happens to have the exact same scent? What could that possibly tell me? Obvious, you're not a Beta at all. You're just pretending. Now, what are you hiding? Let's take a look at your trouser pockets. Signs of a topical substance around the openings for your pockets. You're a doctor. Fastidious about cleanliness, so it's supposed to absorb into your skin over time. A lotion. What kind of lotion? Well, taking in your hideous body wash, it has to be a hormone suppressant prescribed by your doctor. Now, why would an alpha want to masquerade as a Beta in a powerful position as a doctor? Erectile dysfunction? Hardly. If that was the case, the side-effects of those medications would show in your physiology. Thinning hair, faint scent of rust on your breath. No, it has to be the other option. An Omega. You're obviously not bonded or you wouldn't have to pretend to be a Beta. An unbonded Omega trained as a doctor. Must have been in hiding for a very long time. Since puberty, I'd imagine. Scoffed at the idea of fulfilling your role as a broodmare and donned your little disguise. So, see? Perfectly simple."

"That was…" John began feeling his head reel and his cheeks flush. "…amazing."

"Was it?" Sherlock asked, wrongfooted for the first time in a long while.

"Yes," John said, honestly. "That was brilliant, you know it was."

"That's not what people usually say." Sherlock said blithely.

"What do people normally say?" John asked.

"Piss off." Sherlock said evenly and John couldn't help himself he broke out into giggles at the straight look on his patient's face. He watched Sherlock's features crack into an almost smile before it was smothered again under a stern mask.

"And you can do that with anybody?" John asked curiously.

"Yes, of course." Sherlock answered confidently.

"Right." John said standing up to prop the door open so they could see into the hallway before collapsing back into the chair. He waited until he saw someone stop at the vending machines down the hall and turned to his patient. "Can you do him?"

He watched with a sense of satisfaction as Sherlock's eyes grew sharp and engaged. He stared in rapt fascination as Sherlock deduced that man and the next seven that walked into their line of sight. They were giggling slightly over Sherlock's latest deduction when Dr. Thompson walked through the door.

"John?" Dr. Thompson asked, sounding a bit perturbed. "What are you still doing here?"

"Oh," John said, glancing at his watch. "Just spending time with Mr. Holmes."

"Your shift ended over an hour ago." The other doctor answered.

John ignored Sherlock's sharp gaze as it flitted over his features and addressed the other doctor, "Well, I thought I'd…"

"I don't appreciate other doctors on my floor when it's my shift." Dr. Thompson said snidely, cutting him off.

"Well, right now I'm not 'on shift' and it's still visiting hours." John answered firmly. "If Mr. Holmes asks me to leave then I will but until that time you can just deal with it."

"Mr. Holmes?" Dr. Thompson said, attempting to appeal to his patient. "Is this man bothering you?"

"Somebody in this room is," Sherlock said blandly. "But it isn't Dr. Watson."

"The Director will be hearing about this." The other man sneered before glancing at Sherlock's chart and then striding away.

"Git." John growled.

"He doesn't like you." Sherlock said simply.

"If you could please deduce something horrible about him," John sighed heavily. "That I could maybe hold over his head when he's a complete arse, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Besides the fact that he had a wank before he started his shift and he wants you fired, not much." Sherlock said before turning that knowing gaze on his visitor. "What was that?"

"What was what?" John asked curiously.

"You're an Omega." Sherlock said, sounding frazzled. "You're not supposed to stand up to Alphas. You're always supposed to defer to them."

"Oh, Mr. Holmes." John said, shaking his head from side to side. "You may be brilliant but never assume that an Omega is naturally deferential. Besides, they have to be strong. It's in their DNA to raise and protect children. They're fiercer than you'd believe given the right set of circumstances."

"Hmm." Sherlock said in reply.

"Well, I'd best be off." John said rising slowly. "Are you sure you don't want a Sudoku or anything?"

"No." Sherlock said, sounding preoccupied. "I think I'll be fine."

"Well," John said making his way to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Have a good night, Mr. Holmes."

"Dr. Watson." Sherlock said suddenly. "What we talked about earlier. About you…I won't say anything…to anyone."

"Thank you." John said honestly. "Good night."

"Night." Sherlock answered.

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John rolled out of bed in his tiny bed-sit and began the long process of getting ready in the morning. He took his medications and applied the topical solutions and ate some toast with a cup of tea as he waited for it to absorb. He spent the usual 75 minutes in the shower repeatedly applying the body wash and shampoo before standing in front of the mirror applying the concealer to the very top of his bondbite that tended to show despite his collared work shirts.

He arrived at work and slipped into his scrubs in preparation for an early morning surgery when he was paged up to the Director's office ASAP. He sighed heavily as he tried to think up reasons to discredit Dr. Thompson ludicrous accusations. The man was a complete prat. He changed back into his collared shirt and made his way to the administrative part of the hospital. He waited outside the Director's office until the assistant buzzed him in and he began to smile until he got a good look at the people in the room.

"Dr. Sawyer?" John asked curiously. "What's this about?"

"John," She sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry about what?" He asked.

"No need to apologize to him, Dr. Sawyer." The man said evenly. "You're not the one who has been deceiving everyone in this facility for years."

"I don't know what you're talking about." John said, feeling something heavy lodge in his throat.

"Creative way of covering up your little ruse." The man continued. "Claiming childhood illness and being sent up to Scotland to stay with relatives."

"What's going on?" He asked. "Sarah?"

"I've looked into finding you other positions at Omega clinics." She said. "They always need part-time coverage for when the other practitioners go on maternity leave."

"You're firing me?" John asked incredulous. "I'm a damn good surgeon!"

"You should just be glad the hospital isn't pressing charges." The man cut in. "Honestly, an unbonded Omega, a Brokenbonded Omega performing surgery. It's appalling."

"I'm so sorry." Sarah said resting her elbows on her desk and sighing heavily. "You're officially being let go. Security will escort you to clean out your locker and then off the premises."

"Excuse me," John tried again feeling his anger burn in his gut. "But my relationship and reproductive status have no sway over my abilities as a surgeon. I was top in my class in school and I have the highest success rate of anyone in this bloody hospital. I deserve this job and I'll be damned if I just give it up so easily because you've got a problem with my physiological status."

"It's the law." The man drawled. "You've broken it and now you must pay the price."

"It's a stupid law." John growled.

"Please don't make a scene. Your kind is so prone to emotional instability, but I assure you," The man said pointing to the door with a black umbrella. "It's unbecoming. Guards?"

John felt his entire heart stop in his chest. He stumbled out of the office and near fell as one of the security guards pulled him out by his shoulder. He felt humiliation tinge his entire face pink as he emptied his locker in front of what felt like the entire hospital staff. His hands were shaking as he tried to fold his extra shirts and pants and shove them into his work bag. He could practically feel the sneers vibrating off his skin. If they didn't already know, they'd know soon enough. He rushed out of the doors and away from his home for the past decade. He felt his future yawning out in front of him, uncertain and terrible. Now what?