Just for the record, I love Molly Hooper.
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"I want his bloody file!" Sherlock shouted, pacing the floor in his brother's office.
"Why?" Mycroft said blandly.
"I need to know what happened." Sherlock said angrily.
"You could just ask him." Mycroft continued, not even glancing up from his paper.
"Just give me the damn file!" Sherlock yelled at the top of his lungs.
He watched his brother roll his eyes before gesturing to the rather thick file on the windowsill. "Don't do anything stupid, Sherlock Holmes. That man is everything you have ever needed."
"Like you're one for sentiment, Mycroft." He said, stalking over and grabbing the file, roughly shoving it in his coat.
"Those words aren't mine." Mycroft answered. "They're my Omega's."
Sherlock strode out of his brother's office and made his way quickly to the morgue at St. Bart's. He holed himself up at one of the clean autopsy tables and quickly dissected John Watson's life. Every part of it. Primary school reports, doctor's visits, records from the Institute, his bonding ceremony certificate, ultrasound photos, a police report, operating notes, the bondbreaking paperwork, his medical degree, his performance reviews, his termination paperwork. It was all there. He read over the file three times before dropping his face in his hands and sighing heavily.
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Sherlock was gone for two days. This time had given John the opportunity to really think about their situation. His immediate thought was to move out, quickly, and with only the things he could shove into a taxi. This decision had lasted all the way up to him zipping up his largest suitcase filled with his belongings and dialing the taxi company's phone number before he hesitated pressing that green button. He stood there, indecision warring in his mind, before he dropped the phone heavily on the bed.
He spent the rest of the day furiously cleaning the flat. He figured if he did decide to leave (have to leave because Sherlock told him to) then he would at least see the place cleaned first. Sherlock would be able to show off the place to prospective flatmates. Flatmates that weren't him. Flatmates that would get to spend time with Sherlock, laugh with him, fight with him, force him to eat, sleep. Christ. After this little revelation, he spent the evening getting spectacularly pissed with some cheap beer that he had around the flat and collapsing in his bed around 11p without even changing out of his clothes. The clothes that Sherlock had marked with his scent.
The next day, he worked a double shift at the clinic being distracted by the happy couples, the ultrasounds, the tears of joy, the kisses, caresses. Jesus Christ. He spent his lunch break holed up in his office with a poor excuse for a chicken salad sandwich and a bad attitude. The afternoon was thankfully less about loving families and more about the stomach virus that had been circulating in the local daycares. He stopped by the pharmacy on the way home and picked up more beta body wash, spent an hour in the shower scrubbing his skin raw with the chemical scent.
His next little mood swing involved intense anger. What the bloody fuck was Sherlock's problem? He thought he could just fucking assault John like a lunatic and then throw him away when John wasn't the blushing virgin that Sherlock wanted? Well, fuck him. Fuck him and his old-fashioned, sexist views and expectations. John wasn't a delicate flower. He was in his mid-thirties and had more than a few sexual encounters even after his event. He still had a cock and there were Beta females who found him attractive and having sex in the dark wasn't that hard to accomplish. If Sherlock was so determined to bond with an untarnished Omega, then he could fucking go for it. John would happily give him the directions to the fucking Institute himself. John wasn't ashamed of his life or his choices. He wasn't some child to be poked and prodded into domestic complacency for the whim of some overbearing dickbag. He'd played that role already. He'd used up all of the fucks that he could possibly give the moment Sam decided to abandon his childless self. If Sherlock wanted that, then he could have it. John would continue making his own choices, living a life that he was proud of, a life that he deserved. He stormed around the flat before wearing himself out and crawling into bed shortly after ten.
He tossed and turned for several hours before giving up and reaching into his side table and pulling out his dildo. He'd been so unbearably horny since Sherlock shoved him up against that wall, he could barely stand it. He grabbed his bottle of lube and slicked up the plastic before stripping off his pants and rolling onto his side. He touched himself for several minutes before realizing he barely needed the preparation. His entrance was practically begging for it. Jesus Fucking Christ. He slid the plastic in, jerking as the cold plastic slid against his silky walls, before beginning to pulse the artificial dick into him. He worked himself up to a furious pace writhing against the feel of having a cock inside him. He felt his skin began to tingle with impending orgasm. Grabbing at his erection and working them fiercely in rhythm, he jerked and shook as his release raced through him. He barely had a minute of blissful peace before his emotions went haywire and he felt a broken sob tear out of his throat. He threw the dildo across the room and curled up into a ball under his comforter fighting back his overwhelming grief and anger until exhaustion finally pulled him under.
He woke barely rested and pulled his clothing back on before stumbling down to the kitchen for a cup of tea. He watched the kettle boil with a morose sort of grimace before it clicked off allowing him to fix his cup solely on muscle memory. He was just walking into the sitting room when movement from the couch caused him to jump and almost drop his tea.
"Jesus Fucking Bloody Christ." John shrieked as a dressing-robe-clad Sherlock Holmes shifted to glance over his shoulder at his flatmate.
"Did you make me one?" Sherlock grumbled.
"Did I make you a cuppa?" John asked, feeling wrongfooted and incredibly exposed.
"You know how I hate repetition." Sherlock said yawning widely.
"Would you like one?" John ventured cautiously.
"Please." Sherlock snuffled before turning over to the face the room and burrowing into his pillow.
"Well, alright then." John said fuzzily. He walked back into the kitchen and made Sherlock the milky tea he always drank in the mornings. He placed it lightly on the coffee table and jumped again when Sherlock reached out to curl a hand around his calf before mumbling a thank you and letting go. John made his way over to his own chair and began flipping through the paper, barely able to absorb any of the actual information.
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"Sherlock?" John asked as he glanced towards his flatmate. "What's this?"
"Please be more specific." Sherlock said blandly. "I can't actually read minds."
"Be more specific?" John yelped. "There are over thirty different kinds of chips here."
"37 to be exact." Sherlock corrected. "Help yourself."
"Help myself to what?" John asked confused.
"To the chips." Sherlock said glancing up confused. "You like them, don't you?"
"Yeah, I like chips." John answered. "Why'd you buy so many? Experiment? They aren't laced with something, are they?"
"No." Sherlock frowned. "They're just…I just…eh…urm…oh, Lestrade!"
"Sherlock. John." Lestrade said striding into the room. "Double homicide. You coming?"
"Brilliant." Sherlock said jumping up and pushing past John to get dressed in something other than his pajamas. John picked up some chips and began snacking on them as they waited for the detective.
"Good day?" Lestrade asked.
"Eh. Not too bad." John answered. "Yours?"
"Completely mad." Lestrade sighed. "Haven't had a chance to eat all day. Do you mind?"
"Not really my call." John shrugged. "Sherlock bought them."
"Why?" Greg asked. Picking up a newspaper full of the fried potatoes, he started to bring them to his mouth when Sherlock stormed out of the room and slapped the chips out of his hand.
"No." Sherlock growled. "Not yours."
"Sorry." Greg and John said at the same time while John put his container back on the table.
"No." Sherlock growled again. "Just…urgh…nevermind. Let's go."
"Alright." John said awkwardly grabbing his jacket as Sherlock strode out of the room. Lestrade raised an eyebrow in John's direction but the doctor just shrugged in response.
"No idea what that was about then?" Lestrade asked.
"Not a clue." John said following his flatmate down the stairs.
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"Have you suddenly gone completely mental?" John asked curiously.
"I've no idea what you're talking about." Sherlock said without even glancing up from his microscope.
"This is the seventh cup of tea you've made for me this morning." John said. "Have you laced it with something?"
"A bit suspicious, don't you think? Why do you always assumed I've drugged our food?" Sherlock said blandly. "It's just tea."
"Yes, but it's you making tea that's suspicious." John fired back. "Not just tea though. You put together trays of biscuits and sandwiches. Are you on something? Marinol, perhaps?"
"I haven't suddenly started taking an appetite stimulant." Sherlock answered. "You're starting to sound completely absurd."
"Then what the bloody hell is going on?" John asked.
"Oh, good." Sherlock said standing and grabbing his jacket. "I'm off to see Molly. We'll delay the tea a few hours, shall we? Have a good shift."
"He's completely lost it." John said baffled to an empty room.
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"I just don't see why we wouldn't work as a couple, you know?" Molly whispered to John as Sherlock analyzed the blood coagulation levels at different temperatures.
"Molly…" John said awkwardly.
"Just hear me out!" She squeaked. "He's an Alpha, I'm a Beta. He knows I would do anything for him. If he wanted to start a family or have it just be us. We'd be perfect together. We both work in the criminal field and I could totally help him with his experiments."
"I don't…" John tried again.
"Just promise me you'll think about it." She cajoled. "He listens to you. If you told him to give me a chance, I'm sure he'd at least agree to coffee and that's all I'd need. I could totally take over from there."
"John." Sherlock said firmly causing both of them to jump. "Coffee?"
"Sherlock." John sighed. "Get your own coffee. It's just down the hall."
"No, John." Sherlock said rolling his eyes. "You. Me. Coffee. Coming?"
John chanced a glance at Molly's blushing face and mortified expression before grimacing slightly and following after the detective.
"You could have been a bit nicer about that, Sherlock." John said quietly.
"About what?" Sherlock said, looking confused.
"Letting her down easy." John answered. "You didn't have to pretend that you're already taken. You could have just let her know you weren't interested."
Sherlock stopped and stared at him for several seconds with the strangest combination of exasperation, frustration, and confusion.
"What?" John asked.
"Nothing." Sherlock said heavily before striding out of the hospital.
They did end up getting coffee though. John had a really great time.
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"It's a…" John began. "This is a medical bag."
"Oh, yes." Sherlock answered. "Needed it for the case."
"The elm tree case?" John asked curiously. "I don't remember a doctor disguise."
"It was when you were at the clinic." Sherlock shrugged. "Last minute reconnaissance."
"Right." John said confused. "Why does it have my initials on it?"
"Well," Sherlock said simply. "I only needed it for the one case. I thought you could have it afterwards. I certainly don't anymore."
"Umm…okay." John sighed confused. "Thanks? I guess…"
"Tea?" Sherlock mumbled.
"Oh right. Yes." John answered reaching to flip on the kettle. He ran a hand lightly over the leather case and brass buckles. He flicked them open and felt his face burn slightly at the contents.
"I hope you don't mind." Sherlock said from the kitchen doorway. "I just didn't want a…repeat…of the other month."
John lifted out the four bottles of beta wash with an awkward cough, "Of course…yeah."
"Is the tea ready?" Sherlock asked.
"Not quite." John said. "Give me a few minutes. Do you want any biscuits?"
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"So how are things?" Lestrade asked. They were standing outside a crime scene as Sherlock went to work inside.
"Good. Fine." John answered.
"Yeah, I'd imagine." Lestrade smirked.
"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked.
"Molly told me about your little coffee date." Lestrade answered.
"That was nothing." John replied. "That was just Sherlock trying to spare Molly's feelings."
"Yeah, because that definitely sounds like Sherlock." Lestrade said with a scoff. "He always attempts to be kind and considerate around other people."
"What exactly are you getting at?" John asked.
"You really don't see it, do you?" Lestrade asked flabbergasted. "Sherlock's courting you, you blind bastard."
"That's not…it isn't…" John said, blushing furiously.
"Oh please." Lestrade chuckled. "The chips, the coffee, you told me about the medical bag. I remember that case. Sherlock was never disguised as a doctor. He hovers over you when other potential partners are around. He gave you his scarf the other day. The git's trying to cozy up to you."
"I was cold." John tried. "He doesn't think about me like that. I'm not exactly his type."
"So, you're telling me that Sherlock's type isn't a Beta who follows him around, calls him amazing, and fixes him tea?" Lestrade asked. "And that you're not mad about him as well?"
"What I'm saying is that Sherlock doesn't have a type." John argued. "He told me. He doesn't want a family, doesn't want to be tied down like that. And he certainly doesn't want me."
"John…" Lestrade tried.
"Christ, I didn't even see it." John said feeling his pulse skyrocket and his heart drop. "I'm so pathetic and Sherlock's been feeling sorry for me this entire fucking time. Christ, I have to go."
"John!" Lestrade called after him as John practically fled. Greg Lestrade watched with a sense of dread as the doctor almost ran down the street and around the corner.
"John!" Sherlock called loudly from the house. "I want you to take a look at this! John! John?"
Lestrade sighed heavily as he heard the genius's footsteps moving quickly toward him. Oh, shit. He was going to get it now.
"Where's John?" Sherlock asked.
"Ah…he had to go." Lestrade bluffed. Badly apparently, going by the frown on Sherlock's face. He swallowed heavily as the Alpha stalked towards him and corralled him against the driver's side of his car.
"What happened?" Sherlock said menacingly. "You did something. What did you do?"
"We were just talking." Lestrade said earnestly.
"You listen to me, Lestrade." Sherlock said, a deep growl in his throat that was making the hair on Greg's neck stand on end. "I will air all that dirty laundry that you so desperately try to keep locked up in that dense little brain of yours if you don't tell me exactly what you said to John. Right. Now."
"I may have let slip the fact that you're trying to court him and he seemed a little less than enthused about the idea." Lestrade said. "He said something about you feeling sorry for him before buggering off."
The cascade of emotions on the taller man's face was making Greg's head spin. His features finally settled on an indignant rage that made Lestrade gulp and attempt to avoid eye contact.
"Pray that you haven't ruined everything, Lestrade." Sherlock breathed inches from his face. The genius turned quickly striding away after his doctor. He had to fix this.
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John paced the floor of the flat trying to sort out his fucked up life. Every bloody fucking time he thinks he's found something good. Something that he can keep, it gets stolen away from him. Just one good thing, one thing that he can live for each day. That he can wake up to each morning with joy. His entire fucking god damn life was like a study in tragedy. And he was pissed. John jerked in surprise when he heard the front door slam shut and heavy footsteps come charging up the stairs. He took a deep breath and turned to face the door.
"Oh, hey." He said with a pained smile. "Wrapped up the case already?"
He didn't get a chance for another comment as Sherlock marched toward him, bracketing his face with his large hands and slamming their mouths together. John felt his entire body thrum with the feeling that this was right, this was home. He clutched onto Sherlock's coat with white-knuckled need as the taller man slid his tongue against John's lips and sucked greedily. He moaned as Sherlock bit at his lips and tugged him impossibly closer. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's lower back aligning their hips and walking John backwards towards his bedroom. John was backed into the doorjamb and he whimpered loudly as Sherlock began nibbling at his neck. Sherlock traced his pulse point with abandon sucking a bruise all along the vein as John moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors.
"Bed." Sherlock growled against his skin. "Now."
John could do nothing but nod enthusiastically as Sherlock began to tear at his clothing. John helped as much as he could but was unable to do more than just cling to Sherlock and lick at his skin. The taller man dropped him lightly on the bed so that he could take off John's shoes and trousers. He was laid out stark naked on the bed and Sherlock was standing over him, still fully clothed and leering at him. John felt a wave of prickly anger nip at his skin and he rose onto his elbows and glared at the genius.
"I'm not going to apologize for my past." John said firmly.
"I don't want that." Sherlock breathed heavily. He quickly stripped out of his impeccable suit and crawled over his doctor. He rested his head on John's chest before kissing his scars reverently, lapping at them with his tongue causing John to squirm.
"You're perfect." Sherlock whispered against his skin. "Every inch of you."
John felt his body start to open and trickle with lubricant as Sherlock traced that gorgeous mouth and tongue over his chest, sucking gently on his nipples causing him to arch his back into his detective's touch. Sherlock slid up his body allowing his erection to rub against John's skin, leaving a trail of pre-come to mark his legs and hips. Sherlock sucked at his collarbone and ground his cock into John's hip, groaning loudly and breathing heavily.
"Mine." Sherlock rumbled. "You're mine…all mine…going to fill you…stretch you open…capture you and keep you…forever…"
"Sherlock…" John keened pulling him up to catch that sharp gaze. "You have to know…I have to tell you…I can't…I'm not…"
"I know." Sherlock said kissing him fiercely. "I know everything. All of it. But you have to know how desperately I want you, need you. John, you're everything."
"That night though…" John said running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.
"You didn't smell like me." Sherlock said fiercely. "You didn't belong to me. I was wrong and I hurt you. I need you John. I need you more than anything but I had to know. I had to know what you needed. I needed to learn everything about you so I could figure out how to make you mine."
"You are such an idiot." John grinned at Sherlock's face. "You are everything I've ever wanted. You could have asked me ages ago."
"I just wanted to treat you like you deserve." Sherlock whispered. "You deserve every good thing, John Watson."
"So do you, Sherlock Holmes." John replied unable to smother his giggle. "Kiss me."
"With pleasure." Sherlock answered.
John clutched at his Alpha's hips wrapping his legs around Sherlock's waist as they hummed and moaned at the taste of each other's skin. John bit down fiercely on Sherlock's collarbone as his Alpha wrapped his long fingers around his cock and began to pump him intensely. They were sweaty and gasping and, Christ, Sherlock smelt so bloody delicious. John's entire body was throbbing with need and arching up against Sherlock's skin demanding more contact.
"John, please." Sherlock begged. "I need…"
"Yes!" John pleaded. "Hurry. Now."
Sherlock stole another wet kiss before leaning back to part John's legs and run his fingers possessively over John's entrance. He slid two fingers in and let out a rough moan as his Omega's body clenched wantonly around his digits.
"You're so wet for me." Sherlock panted. "Just for me."
"Always for you." John reassured him clenching his fists in the soft sheets. "I need you. Please. Now."
Sherlock slid his fingers out before pulling John's legs over his shoulders and shoving in slowly causing John to whimper loudly. God, it was perfect. He was stretched and full and Sherlock felt so bloody wonderful tucked close inside him. He glanced up to take in the gorgeous image of Sherlock covered in sweat, hair sticking up and out at all angles, cheeks flushed a brilliant red, and his eyes drinking John's face like it was saving his life.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock breathed.
"I'm on cloud nine, love." John grinned. "Would you move please?"
"Yeah, I will." Sherlock panted. "Just give me a minute. This is…I've never…this is amazing."
"It's sex, Sherlock." John giggled.
"It's with you, John." Sherlock answered. "Ready?"
The Omega nodded happily and sighed in pleasure as Sherlock started to pump in and out in a steady rhythm that was making John's legs tremble. John licked his lips and hummed as heat pooled heavily in his groin meeting Sherlock thrust for thrust.
"John…" Sherlock gasped. "I'm going to…oh…god…"
"Come on." John answered, rubbing his thumb over the slit of his cock. "Fuck, Sherlock…come on."
Sherlock finally let loose all restraint and pounded roughly into John causing the Omega to brace himself against the headboard and cry out with pleasure. John began stroking his own erection in earnest as Sherlock slammed in once…twice…before practically howling as he filled John with his ejaculate. Sherlock's entire body shivered and bucked as he rode out his orgasm inside John as the doctor's body attempted to clamp down and keep them locked together. But he wasn't in heat, he didn't have the right hormones for it. Sherlock slapped John's hand from his own cock and quickly stroked the Omega to a toe-curling orgasm that left him panting and limp across the sheets.
He was feeling fuzzy and sated as Sherlock pulled out and wiped them each down with Sherlock's discarded pants. John sighed happily as Sherlock climbed back in bed and wrapped him tightly up in his arms pulling the bedclothes up around them.
"You can never leave." Sherlock whispered continuing to scent and mark his neck with an almost fervent impatience.
"Sherlock," John smiled. "I've stuck around this long without having that lovely cock up my arse, there's no way I'm leaving now."
The Omega could feel the smile lighting his partner's features. He melted into the feeling of his Alpha running his hands possessively over his skin as sleep tugged at his consciousness.
"John…" Sherlock breathed against his skin.
"Hmm?" John hummed.
"Bond with me?" Sherlock asked tentatively.
John turned in his partner's arms and kissed him fiercely wrapping his arms tightly around Sherlock's neck.
"Yes." He answered when they came up for air. "With every single bloody part of me, yes."
Sherlock's brilliant smile and sparkling eyes made John's heart swell so quickly in his chest it was almost physically painful. He didn't think he could get any happier.
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John felt his bad mood wafting off of him like a fucking cloud of ire. Stupid, bloody residents and their stupid bloody Alpha egos. He'd show those stupid children what it meant to be an actual doctor as opposed to just a gloried encyclopedia. Questioning his diagnosis just because he smelt like a Beta and worked in an Omega clinic. John was so focused on his inner rant and the notes he was making on his patient's chart that he almost missed the door opening a few feet in front of him and knocked right into the two people exiting.
"Sorry." John murmured as he sidestepped them deftly and continuing down the hall.
"John?" A vaguely familiar voice called out in confusion. "John Watson?"
"Yes?" John turned still making notes and not looking up from the pages.
"What are you doing here?" The man said sounding completely off-balance.
"Excuse me?" John said finally looking up and feeling his extremities tingle as he met the eyes of…bloody hell. "Sam."
"Aren't you going to introduce us?" The younger woman asked happily. Christ, was she ginger.
"Of course." Sam said, staring at John like he'd personally spit in his coffee. "John, this is my bondmate, Kate. Kate, this is a…friend…from years ago, John Watson."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson." Kate said, shaking his hand happily.
"Doctor?" Sam asked with a hint of sarcasm after taking in his coat and nametag. "You became a doctor?"
"Yes, I did." John said firmly, feeling his anger focus in a death ray in this dick's direction.
"They let you work in a hospital, do they?" Sam laughed condescendingly. "That's adorable."
John caught the confused and somewhat embarrassed look on Kate's face before smiling congenially and answering, "Funnily enough, they did. That's what happens when you pass all of your exams and graduate from university."
"Well, what else were they going to do with you, right?" Sam sneered.
"Sam…" Kate chided him lightly.
"Kate's just had her fourth child, you know." Sam continued smirking at John's flushing features. "The eldest is thirteen now. Kate's an incredibly wonderful mother. It's amazing how some people just seem more suited for the role than others."
Yeah, John was about 3 seconds from tackling the giant fucking dickbag and ripping his stupid moustache off his ugly fucking face when he heard his name called from behind him.
"There you are," Sherlock said striding toward the trio before freezing and doing a quick analysis of the situation before continuing toward them and stopping next to John with a warm hand on John's waist and contrived grin at the other man.
"Oh, hello there." Sherlock asked blandly.
Sam did a quick analysis of Sherlock's hand placement and John's lack of bonding ring and smirked before replying, "Listen, mate, I don't mean to step on any toes here, but you do know that he can't have any children, right? I wouldn't want you getting into anything without being fully informed of John's…defect."
And that's when the shit hit the fan.
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"You really shouldn't have done that. I had things well in hand."
"What? Were you going to polite him to death? The git had it coming."
"I was surprised at Kate's reaction. She needed almost no convincing in lying to the police."
"I'll have to thank Mycroft for making the video surveillance disappear."
"Yes, well, hold still while I finish cleaning up this cut. How you managed to slice open your eyebrow, I'll never know."
"Ouch." John squirmed. "Go easy. That stings."
"I must say," Sherlock said, dabbing at his cut with antiseptic before covering it with a large plaster, "That tackle was rather impressive. I was a bit overwhelmed. It took me a few minutes to recover enough to drag you off him."
"Admit it," John countered with a grin. "You just got sidetracked staring at my arse."
"That," Sherlock smiled. "And I thought I'd let you get a few more punches in before security showed up."
"I'm bloody insane." John giggled.
"You're bloody mine." Sherlock answered, kissing him firmly on the mouth several times before cleaning up the medical supplies. "As much as I love being your booty-call Alpha on the side, can you please stop taking the hormonal suppressants soon so I can bond with you properly?"
"It's only for another few weeks." John answered. "I want to make sure that the part-time A & E position pans out before giving up my job at the Omega clinic."
"I already told you that Mycroft has things well in hand." Sherlock grumbled.
"I don't want to jinx it." John answered.
"Bloody impossible man." Sherlock said under his breath.
"Take away?" John asked happily, sliding off the kitchen table and limping sorely to their sofa.
"Already called." Sherlock said, falling onto the sofa with his back to the arm and his legs splayed open so John could cuddle between them with his back pressed warmly to his Alpha's chest.
"God, I love you." John sighed happily as he turned on the telly.
"The sentiment is most enthusiastically returned, I assure you." Sherlock murmured in return.
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Alright everyone! That's it for the main story. Epilogue with their first heat together to come. Thanks so much for reading! As always, you guys are the best!
~Couchbarnacle.