Disclaimers: No characters are under my possession. If it was, then Mary Morstan would be out of the scene and the detective would be shagging his sidekick.
Notes: Words in Italic would be not spoken, but instead thought by characters. Mostly by John.
Words starting with a bar '- like this' are words spoken in the past, used especially during reminiscing scenes.
Where Pathways Meet
1. Prelude-Chapter 1
Soft fingers were tracing his forehead.
- An alpha and an omega cannot be the same. It had always been that way.
The whispering voice was his mother's. The scent of cinnamon and cookies always brought warmth into one's heart. Feeling the texture of his mother's apron against his face, a young John Watson was lingering over the border of hazy daydream and reality during a remote Sunday afternoon.
- It was an honour, when Sir Holmes bothered to take care of your grandfather... He was an omega. Your grandmother was an alpha, but he lost her in a tragic accident. After her funeral, her family pushed him into the streets... and Sir Holmes took him under his wings.
Her voice, equivalent to the softest lullabies, hummed gently on John's nerves. His sight darkened as her fingers kept stroking against his hairs, the feeling vivid even in the drowsy darkness.
The Holmses was famous for their all-alpha heirs. A person with the Holmes name was always an alpha. Sure, there's an exception for everything, and betas were born every now and then-but they had talents to hinder the inferiority of their gender. They were one of the few families that God blessed with wealth, fame and glory trailing along being an alpha.
Perhaps the all-alpha offspring could be blamed on the fact that the Holmeses never took an omega as their spouses. The reason was simple: Lust cannot cloud reason. A beta spouse was a perfect match for the Holmses who thought wisdom and acute interpretation as one of the best values. Due to genetics, no omega could be born from the alpha-beta couples, only alphas or rarely betas.
Needless to say, they were one of the highest families in Great Britain. They were everywere; politicians, CEOs, scholars and artists. No celebrity could deem success unless they have a Holmes friend.
And John Watson was the family's retainer. His grandfather, an omega, was forced to the streets with an infant son. Nathanael Holmes, the head of the Holmeses, recruited him as the gardener of the family. Despite his status being an omega, his loyalty and diligence made him the butler of the family. Thankfully, John's father was an alpha, who succeeded the job after his father's death. John's mother was also one of the numerous children who was helped by the Holmeses. The family helped her to uni, and gave her the career she was now engaging with, a career she worked on with utter pleasure and sincerity. So John and Harry, as their child, were fated to be brainwashed about the glory and blessing of the Holmeses since they were a child. That memory from the hazy Sunday afternoon 10 years ago, was part of the numerous teachings.
They grew into one of the most loyal people for the Holmeses. So it wasn't a surprise that the picky Holmses selected John Watson as the playmate for their youngest, Sherlock Holmes-despite the fact that John Watson is an omega.
If you ask John Watson about Sherlock Holmes, he would answer as the following; that Sherlock Holmes is a fuckin' genius.
He was the best in almost all fields. While John managed to take a grasp of playing the clarinet, Sherlock mastered the violin, aced algebra and won the national piano competition. But due to the fact that he is indeed a genius, his personalities matched the expecations. He was one hell of a sassy child. The fact that he was on a wierd enemy-like love-hate relationship with his brother Mycroft remains as a mystery for a lot of people. Nobody approached him unless with their greatest guts, and ones who did succeed were easily estranged.
Except John Watson.
He was the eyes and ears of Sherlock. Those who held Sherlock in contempt called him the 'dog of the Holmeses', but even they still favoured John Watson. He was always the sweetest boy in school, a gentleman and an idol among his peers.
Despite all of their differences, John and Sherlock was always inseparable since their first encounter.
And that, was the pain in the ass for John right now.
"You should never leave me."
Sherlock Holmes, the youngest and the most brilliant of the Holmes, was pouting and getting all sulky at John. John let out a sigh.
"Sherlock, please. Anyway, we will live together, won't we? Even we will go to the same uni."
"But the courses will be different."
This hassle was due to the fact, that John did not applied for a course as Sherlock did. Since his graduation from Eton was impending, John applied for the UCL medical school. The got-in notice came today, and Sherlock found it. For John, even though it was the greatest honour, was also an invitation to the nagging-party-by-Sherlock. Even though Sherlock repeatedly claimed John to join his application for the law course, John kept his decision and progressed his application unbeknownst to Sherlock.
"I feel so betrayed, Watson."
John stared at Sherlock, wordless. Sherlock used to call him 'Watson' every time he gets angry. Each time, John felt like if Sherlock was running away from him at least for a thousand miles. Like the floor underneath him was crumbling down. But he should be content, for now. John was enraged, and with a very good reason.
"Why, 'Holmes'? My dream is to be a doctor, and you have no rights to stick your nose in it."
All of a sudden, Sherlock's face fell-into embarassment. As if he was bitten by his beloved pet and was rushing to the hospital. And at the same moment, John tasted a subtle sense of victory. Until now, he never protested against Sherlock. Even when John, 10 years old, had to send a way a dog he loved so much because Sherlock said it made too much noise. John cried for days, but he never stood against Sherlock for his loss.
But it was his dream. John wanted to become a doctor, and he studied hard for it. UCL was his dream school and he got in. But Sherlock was the problem.
"We should be together, always-"
"-and your mother offered to find a flat for us. Both of us."
But Sherlock was still fuming with rage.
"That's not enough."
Sherlock rose from his armchair and snatched at John's wrist, who was standing in front of him. Totally unexpected, John widened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock.
"I need you."
And Sherlock broke loose from John's wrist and stormed out of the room. John cradled his tingling wrist with his other hand, doing nothing besides looking dumbly at Sherlock striding out. When his wits finally returned to him, John growled against the empty armchair.
Baker street 221B. Packing his bags, John quietly recited his new address in his head where he and Sherlock would live now on. A place for upper classes, John thought. If not for the Holmeses, John could have never afforded it. But they, especially for John and his family, were very generous. Perhaps it would count on the fact that John was kind of on a status equal to 'bodyguard-friend-babysitter' of Sherlock.
The voice was beautiful, words were spoken as if singing. She was Sherlock's mother. The lady of the house, and one of the brightest stars on London's high society. Victoria Elisa Holmes was the queen of all ladies. She was a tall, slender woman with elegant beauty, raven locks and milky skin. The lavender two-piece was strikingly matching her blue eyes. She drifted to John's side, placing a loving kiss on his forehead.
"You absence would bring me down so much, dear."
"I'd miss you as much... Mrs. Holmes."
"Oh, John, please. You know you can all me Victoria."
"But how can I-"
She placed a hand on his shoulders. Warm hands.
"You're like a son to me. At least more of a son than that cold-blooded friend of yours."
John smiled. Her face melted at his smile, and she pulled John into a tight embrace.
"I adore your mother of having such a son."
John smiled quietly, returning the embrace. She petted John on the back until she was content, and then she held John by his shoulders while looking into his eyes.
"So. Wasn't Sherlock cranky of your decision?"
Of course she know all about Sherlock's whining and pouting. She had ears and eyes on every columns and walls of this house. John laughed.
"He was, in fact, seemingly displeased."
Victoria's laugh was like a warm summer breeze. Her face was filled with pleasure.
"If not for you, I would doubt Sherlock of being a human."
John laughed back.
"You seem happy about it."
"Surely I am, as he pouting is not a usual ocurrence."
She petted affenctionately on John's blonde hair.
"Please, look after him... I can never stop worrying about Sherlock."
She sighed a little, but soon her worried looks transferred into a ladylike elegance with a hint of vain.
"At Chester Hall, we will always miss you, John."
John nodded slowly. She smiled at him, and drifted out of the room.
Returning to packing his stuff, John gradually indulged himself into memories from the place.
- Sherlock. This is John. John Watson.
The boy was standing beside a willowy black-haired beauty. His face was quite precocious, and John was highly doubtful that the boy was the same age as himself. The arrogant atmosphere surrounding the boy was the perfect demonstration that the boy was a Holmes. John gathered his wits and stuck out a hand towards the boy.
- My name is John Watson. Nice to meet you.
The alpha boy flickered his blue eyes-suprisingly clear, beautiful eyes-at John for a while, until he threw himself at John and hugged him tightly.
- You're mine.
John supposed that was the time when Sherlock's possessive trait towards himself started. Sherlock was oblivious to anyone until then, and he claimed John 'his', refusing to let John go for hours. Of course Chester Hall buzzed of the story since then.
Sherlock never left John's side since their first meeting, forcing his parents to bring John to live with them. John's residence at Chester Hall continued from that time, and Sherlock brought John with him to Eton. John's family wasn't able to afford public school tuitions, but the Holmeses promised him of support. It made John to become even more loyal to the family.
Chester Hall was a beautiful mansion. Built at Christmas 500 years ago, it went through various extensions and repairs which led to the magnificent and breathtaking façade of today. John loved this enormous mansion. This was the place where he spent the days, running the fields around the mansion. He occupied the mansion only for vacations during his Eton years, but he always kept this room, and it was home for him. Sitting down at his bed, he reminisced the nights he spent in this room.
- John. Look at this. I found this at the fields. Fascinating, isn't it?
- John. I'm bored. Let's watch movies.
- John. Read me this book. I'm too tired to read.
- John. The thunder is roaring. Sleep with me.
Sherlock. All Sherlock. Among the many rooms and countless hallways of the mansion, Sherlock always frequented his room. Moving to the same flat would cause even more of it.
Before he knew, John was smiling.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hudson."
She was a nice old lady, but a little gossipy. She stared at John for a while.
"You're a very nice omega, young lad. I've never seen an omega like you."
Apparently, her words suddenly sent Sherlock into fits.
"You're the discriminating one?"
"Oh, no, my dear. I'm a beta, but I've got lots of omega friends. And you're an extraordinary one."
John placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, and soon Sherlock stepped back.
"We would occupy your flat from now own. I'm John Watson, and this is Sherlock Holmes."
"It's an honour to meet you. Never expected to meet a Holmes in my lifetime."
Mrs. Hudson said, smiling.
Before John recognised, Sherlock was staring at Mrs. Hudson- a stare all too familiar for John.
"...Your daughter. Fine altogether?"
Mrs. Hudson gaped at his words.
"-How did you know?"
"She's in Paris? A lovely city, isn't it?"
Her mouth was opened so wide, it seemed as if a bug would easily find it as a cave. John quickly stepped in.
"He's always like this. You should be used to it."
Mrs. Hudson stared blankly at John. Sherlock moved his hand and signalled to somebody. Then the porters came in to move their stuffs inside.
When John met the first morning at his new flat, his heart was filled with expectations as he stepped out of bed. Finding a robe to cover his pajamas, he tried to calm down his disheveled bed hair. When he walked out of the room, he found-
"What on earth are you doing?"
-Sherlock, examining whatever-shmapp-it-is on his microscope. Without turning his eyes to John, he pointed at a paper attached next to the table.
It read: Scientific study in process. Don't bother to disturb.
John sighed. Well, it was the usual. John absent-mindedly wondered what his day would be like, while trudging to the coffee machine and stuffing roasted beans into the machine.
College wasn't an option for a few days, so his schedule was as blank as never. The only thing John had to do was to enjoy his new flat and the new surroundings.
...And, taking care of Sherlock. John sighed, turned his back, and analysed the scene he was now facing.
"Please, Sherlock, I told you not to play the wanton with experiment equipment. Especially one with glasses."
Apparently, Sherlock left a box of cover slides on the rim of the kitchen table. Glass fragments was covering the floor as if it was a confetti. Not even flinching for a little, Sherlock opened his mouth.
"...Few more boxes would be needed."
It meant that John had to clean this mess and go out to look for boxes of cover slides. John stood for a while in a daze, gaping at Sherlock's impudence, and when he got his mind back, he ran to find a broom. Staying quiet while John cleaned the pieces of broken glass and put on his coat to step outside, Sherlock yelled at John the instant John turned the doorknob.
"One cup of tea, please."
John seriously considered throwing the umbrella he was holding at Sherlock's annoying face for a moment, but still he managed to take off his coat, return to the kitchen and made a cup of tea for Sherlock before going outside.
All, for Sherlock.
A/N: Hello! Before you say anything, please take in mind that English is not my mother tongue. I've got almost no experience in writing an English fic, so my grammars and expressions may suck as hell :P So if you want to point out about the details(anything, really), I would appreciate so much. Please be gentle on insults and let me know if you enjoyed even a little.
I hope you like my portrayal of characters, as they are entirely different from the BBC version. They're uni students, so they're young and a little naïve for now. And Sherlock would be a less of a 'pain-in-the-ass' as John kept to be on his side for years :D
+) Updated 03-01-2014: Fused Chapters 1&2 together. Also, minor restatement, thanks to Nell(guest review)! Don't hesitate to correct my mistakes! ;)