Author's Note: I'm reposting this from my other account on so if you stumble upon the exact same fic there, don't worry.
WARNING: This fic contains some adult scenes further into it, so if that's not your cup of tea then you should not be reading this.
Sherlock has never felt like that; the pure craving need for an omega. To bond with them. To love.
Yes, he has heard stories from his classmates in school about how complete they feel when they found their one true omega. Their mate. To Sherlock, they're just stories. Fiction. He has never felt the need for love even when he was first presented as an alpha.
And now 16 years later, he still doesn't believe in love. He believes in pleasure, in biology, but never in love. The thought of it was superfluous even. Irrelevant.
There were those times way back when he was first presented, that he actually waited for signs of his omega. Waiting for that one day where he would smell the wonderful smell of his omega going through their first heat. Waiting to follow the trail of his omega directing him towards them. Feeling curious to what all the fuss about being bonded was about. But signs of his omega never came.
Sherlock waited everyday in his home for signs to show for 5 continuous years. And for all the times he waited, it never came. So he gave up, discarding the hope of someone actually needing him. No one would ever need him. He was Sherlock Holmes for God's sake. The freak.
The day Sherlock gave up was the day John Watson was first presented as an omega.
When John first knew that he was an omega, he couldn't wait to meet his alpha. He has heard his friends saying about how fulfilling being with your alpha makes you feel. John wanted to feel that. Feel complete. Whole. To love and be loved.
When John encountered his first heat 2 months after he was presented, his alpha never came. His alpha didn't show up. His alpha left him writhing on his bed alone with the need to be filled. The wetness sensation of his lubricated hole was excruciatingly painful without his alpha shoving into him. His alpha has forgotten all about him. His alpha didn't need him. John cried that night, ignoring the pain of being in his first heat alone.
For the next 11 years, John and Sherlock danced to different music in different events. Going to different places. Never colliding into each other's paths until one day, they did.
Sherlock took out his phone and started to type out a text to Molly. He hailed for a taxi when he reached the street outside of 221B and climbed inside as soon as it neared him.
Need to run some tests for a case. I'll be at the lab in 20. –SH
"St. Bart's," Sherlock stated in a flat tone as he sat back into the seat and looked out the window. He's not watching the boring world do its tedious everyday jobs, instead he's in his mind palace reviewing back the facts and details that he has collected from the current case.
"I need to get some things from the lab first," Mike said cheerily as he looked at John, "then we'll go grab that drink, yeah?"
John looked at his watch; it was still early, 5 p.m. "Sure, I'll company you to the lab, then." John smiled, "besides, don't want to attract unwanted attention to myself in the pub if I'm waiting alone."
He and Mike walked back to St Bart's, where Mike works. They'd do this every week on a Thursday, just grab a couple of drinks in a pub to release some steam. Mike's a good friend of John's since high school after John introduced him to Sarah, Mike's omega, and they've been friends ever since.
When John walked into the lab behind Mike, he could see an unfamiliar figure hovering over a microscope. The man, obviously an Alpha by the unusually strong scent of him, had dark unruly curls and a lean body. John closed his eyes and smelled the air again because his scent was…delicious?
He shook his head and when he opened his eyes, he was met with piercing blue-grey eyes. With such a deep cupid's bow like that, the man had lips that should belong to a Greek God. They were closer now, only a foot away from each other. From here, John could smell his strong alpha scent even more and it smelled so good. Unusually good. Oh God, I wan-
John took a shaky breath to try to control himself.
"Hey, Sherlock," came Mike's voice, bursting the bubble of intensity, "this is an old friend of mine, John Watson."
Sherlock, John repeated in his head, Sherlock.
Oh God, his voice! John let out an involuntary whimper after hearing that deep rumbling voice say his name.
"U-Uh… Hi," John answered nervously, "I'm John."
What on Earth am I saying? He already knows your name, you idiot! He scolded himself.
"Obviously," came the reply, "so John, Afghanistan or Iraq?"
"Uh… Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know?"
"I didn't know, I noticed," there was a confused silence for a minute before he let out an exasperate sigh and started to speak again, "Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military. You look like you know your way around here, either you come here often with Mike or you studied here in your early years. Mike's statement of you being an old friend proves my suspicion that you trained at Bart's, so army doctor. Obvious. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists therefore, you've been abroad but not sunbathing. Army doctor trained at St Bart's, suntan - Afghanistan or Iraq."
Sherlock turned around to see the look of undisguised awe and amazement on John's face,"that's not what people normally say…"
"What do people normally say?"
John's laughter resonated all around the lab and the sound made Sherlock's heart flutter. He looked at Sherlock with such warmth that it was alarming. They just met but they acted like they've known each other for ages.
There was a text alert coming from behind John before Mike announced that he had to skip the drinks because Sarah needed him back home. Leaving John behind with Sherlock, Mike left the lab.
He turned back around to look at Sherlock, "so, do you work here? I've never seen you around."
"No, I'm working on a case," replied that deep voice, "using the lab to collect more data."
"Yes, a case. I'm a consulting detective." He said while looking at John as if waiting for him to be impressed but John was only confused.
"Sorry, a… consulting detective?"
"Yup!" Sherlock answered with a pop of his lips at saying the word, "only one in the world; I invented the job."
"So what? You solve crimes on your own?"
"Not necessarily, usually I work with the police. Whenever they're out of their depth - which is always - they consult me.
"What case are you on now, then?"
And for the first time, someone was genuinely interested on what he was doing. Someone wanted to know more about him, his work, and his life. That someone just happens to be John Watson.