Title: Temporarily Divided, Not Conquered
Rating: R
Pairing: John/Jim (noncon), John/Sherlock (pre-slash)
Wordcount: ~2,500
Warnings: omegaverse, implied noncon
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, and I do not make any money from this fanwork.
Summary: John is an omega, and he's about to go into heat. Sherlock is an alpha, but he leaves because John asks. He should have realized his archnemesis would take this as a perfect opportunity to hurt his Most Important Person.

A/N: In this 'verse, omegas go into heat every 6 months. There are pills to impede fertility, but they do not prevent heat.


When John told Mike Stamford he was a hard man to find a flatmate for, he wasn't just referring to his PTSD and screaming nightmares. He is an omega without an alpha, at the ripe old age of 35. There are very few omegas still single at his age, so John knew that it would be very difficult to find another omega to flatshare with. He really didn't want to live with a 20 year old omega, and he doubted that any young omega wanted to live with him.

This, of course, meant that John would have to find an alpha that could put up with his bi-yearly heats.

Somehow, Mike Stamford found that alpha in Sherlock Holmes. He said Sherlock was an alpha who wasn't looking for an omega (somehow without ever mentioning Sherlock's name, the wanker), but who was willing to put up living with one.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Except, of course, for the fact that John has been living with Sherlock for the past 5 months, and he is due to go into heat in 1 week. He imagines Sherlock likely already knows, because John cannot hide his preparations from his friend - and so does not even bother trying. He needs to stock up on food, bottled water, vitamins, fans. Of course Sherlock has noticed. John wants Sherlock to stay - of course he does. Sherlock would be a great alpha for John, because he doesn't buy into the whole 'omegas are helpless' bullshit. Sherlock just lets John be himself.

John has to return the favor. Sherlock doesn't want an omega. Sherlock doesn't want John, at least not like that.

"Sherlock," John starts one morning after breakfast. "Um... I figure you already know, but I'm going into heat next week. It'll likely start on Sunday. I've taken three days off at the surgery."

Sherlock focuses his gaze on John, eyes laser-bright.

"Understood," his friend replies.

They lapse back into silence.

"Does that 'understood' mean you'll clear out for the three days?" John asks, because it is best to make sure. "I'm sure Mycroft or Lestrade won't mind if you bunk down with them."

Sherlock looks surprised.

"Why would I leave?" he asks.

It is John's turn to be surprised.

"Well, I really can't be the one to go. It is best for an omega to be in a familiar space when they experience heat. And a hotel doesn't have enough privacy. I would have alphas beating down my door, drawn in by the scent," John explains. "I'm sorry if it's inconvenient, but I really would appreciate it. It's only for three days, and then you won't be bothered for another 6 months."

Sherlock frowns.

"I wasn't asking why I had to leave, rather than you. I was asking why I had to leave at all," his friend clarifies, looking a bit miffed.

"Sherlock, I know you think your body is just transport and all that," John replies. "But you'll be able to smell me from your bedroom and the sitting room, even if I locked myself in the bedroom the entire time. Which I won't, because I'm going to need the bathroom and the kitchen occasionally. And the scent of an omega in heat, so close and not covered by any other scents, well I rather think that even the most in-control alpha would be driven up the wall. You might not come after me, but it certainly wouldn't be comfortable for you."

Sherlock looks hurt, just for a second, before his expression smoothes out. John thinks maybe he's offended at the implication that John's heat would make Sherlock uncomfortable (read: horny).

"I will find alternate accommodations for the requisite three days," Sherlock says. "Is there anything else you need?"

John refuses to let himself be shocked by the question. It is not usual for Sherlock to be so concerned in such a way, but John knows his pheromones must be increasing to a high enough degree to make single alphas subconsciously want to take care of him. They are in close enough quarters that it is normal for Sherlock to be affected.

"No, I'm all set," he answers. "But thanks."

Sherlock doesn't respond, but he is out of the flat by Saturday night.


John wakes up Sunday morning with a gasp, feeling as if his blood is boiling in his veins. He rubs against the bedsheets, wishing they were cooler. John pushes the bedcovers off and takes his pajamas off, sighing as the cool air of the room brushes over his naked skin.

He gets up, squirming as he feels a bit of his natural lubrication trinkle out of his hole and down his thigh. He's ready, so ready. He wishes he hadn't sent Sherlock away, that he had a nice alpha to push down and ride and... John sighs, walking to his fans and turning them on, all pointed towards the bed. At the last one, he stands in front and lets the cool air blow against his skin. It's not nearly enough.

John returns to the bed, opening the cooler he left beside it and taking a drink of water. He's not hungry, at least not for food - but he forces himself to eat an apple and some cheese anyway. He needs the calories. Then he opens his nightstand drawer, pulling out his heat aid. It is a dildo that secretes the necessary alpha hormones when he triggers the inflatable knot. John shivers, remembering the feel of it inside him during his last heat. He's so hard and wet and...

John lies back down on the bed, spreading his legs and situating the dildo against his hole. His eyes flutter shut at the sensation. Oh, it feels so good, he just has to...

"You won't be needing that, Johnny-boy," a familiar voice growls, deeper and darker than the last time he heard it - when it's owner wrapped him in a semtex vest.

John's eyes fly open.

"Moriarty," he groans, dropping the dildo and going for his gun.

The alpha is on him before John even gets a hand on the drawer, pushing him back down on the bed and laughing as John struggles against alpha strength and his own nature.

"No," John whispers. "No, I don't want... Go away."

But Moriarty smells so good, his pheromones responding to John's own and smelling so strongly of alpha.

"Oh, Johnny-boy," the voice coos. "You should have let dear Sherlock have what he wanted. Instead you sent him away, leaving your little omega self all deliciously vulnerable. How could I possibly resist?"

"No," John says again forcefully, writhing against Moriarty's hold on his wrists. The man just smiles down at him, a mix between his typical crazy genius and the urge all alphas feel to take care of a needy omega.

"We're going to have so much fun," Moriarty whispers, before flipping John onto his stomach and chaining his wrists to his headboard with handcuffs.

Fuzzy handcuffs. Not to hurt his wrists? Moriarity must know that the scent of John's blood while he is in heat would raise his alpha instincts to protect, and divert time and energy from the actual mating. Shit, John doesn't even know where he got them from. He didn't see Moriarty holding them. His mind is going all fuzzy and warm, surrounded with the scent of a strong, virile alpha. His instincts are telling him to give in, to let the alpha take care of him.

His instincts don't care that said alpha is Moriarty, who tried to kill both he and Sherlock not two months ago.

"Shh," Moriarty whispers when John pulls on the handcuffs, a constant litany of 'no' falling forth from his lips. He can't... He can't... "You'll just hurt yourself. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

John closes his eyes at that, relaxing and giving into the inevitable - though he doesn't stop saying 'no'. At least - at least Moriarty's alpha instincts aren't so screwed up that he can hurt an omega in heat.

That's... that's something.


Sherlock's mobile beeps. A text. It is Tuesday night - he assumes John's heat is over and his friend is telling him he can return to the flat.

Sherlock considers ignoring the text and living with the homeless network for another day or two. He hates it, but he is still upset that John sent him away. He assumed... he assumed that John would want them to spend John's heat together. They have been dancing around each other for two months, since The Pool Incident, as John likes to call it.

It was a stupid assumption. Just because John is attracted to him doesn't mean that his friend wants him. Wants them. Together. So Sherlock restrained himself and left the flat as John asked.

His mobile beeps again. Another text.

What if John needs something? Needs him?

He opens his mobile.

Message 1: Your pet is very sweet. I can see why you like him. JM.
Message 2: I left him wrapped up for you. I expect a suitable gift in exchange. JM.

Sherlock snarls.


He is at Baker Street in less than ten minutes, slamming the door open and sprinting up the stairs. The scent of John and heat hits him as soon as he enters the sitting room. Unfortunately, it is also laced with the scent of Moriarty. His hackles rise even further at the scent of another alpha entwined with his omega. Sherlock rushes to John's room.

The door is locked.

He steps back and kicks it open, entering the room.

"John..." he whispers.



"Sherlock," his friend mumbles, pulling against the handcuffs spreading his arms wide.

He is naked, covered in sweat, semen, and the smell of other. The scent of his heat is stifling in the closed room. Sherlock cannot help but harden - his instincts screaming to claim John as his own, to push the other's semen out of him. To make sure John knows...

Instead, Sherlock opens the window, letting some fresh air circulate before approaching the bed. There's a note on the nightstand.

Until next time. JM.

The key to the handcuffs is underneath. Sherlock quickly unlocks John's wrists, before backing up a bit, giving his friend space.

John doesn't seem to want space. He throws himself into Sherlock's arms, still naked and sweet-smelling and covered in other.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, I didn't mean to. I couldn't help it. Sherlock. Oh god. Please don't leave. Please. Please. I just... I don't... Oh god," John whispers, confused and hurt and traumatized.

Sherlock cards a gentle hand through his hair and presses John's face against his neck. What... what does one say in such a situation?

"It's not your fault," he says softly - because it's the truth. This isn't John's fault at all.

It's Sherlock's fault, for leaving his Most Important Person alone and vulnerable. He should have known that Moriarty would take any opportunity to hurt him.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't," John whispers. "He just... and then I... and he smelled so good and I've haven't... with an alpha, during heat, in such a long time. I forgot it could be like that."

"Let's get you cleaned up," Sherlock replies, ignoring the ache in his chest at Moriarty having - taking - what Sherlock so desperately wanted.

Still wants.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Sherlock asks softly.

John shakes his head.

"No. No, he made sure I was fine before he left. He said... he said it would be sweeter that way. I don't know..." John answers, his breathing calming a bit.

Yes, of course Moriarty knew it would be worse for Sherlock if the other alpha took care of John's physical needs. If John was hurt, hungry, thirsty... there would be something for Sherlock to do. Instead, his instincts are screaming that another alpha took John - and took proper care of him.

Sherlock helps John to the bathroom. His friend is limping, sore from three days of... Sherlock runs the bath while John brushes his teeth, obviously avoiding looking at himself in the mirror.

"Come now," Sherlock commands gently, pulling the toothbrust from John's hand before he can brush his gums raw. He helps John into the bath, then goes to give him some privacy.

"Don't," John asks, grabbing his wrist. "Don't go."

Sherlock looks down at John's hand around his wrist. He nods, kneeling down by the side of the bath.

"What do you need?" he asks quietly.

John blinks at him, confused.

"You. Not going. I don't know..." John answers, obviously uncomfortable.

Sherlock takes a deep breath. He motions for John to recline, before cupping water into his hands to dampen John's hair. Then Sherlock reaches for the shampoo, pouring some into his hands and working it gently into John's hair. John closes his eyes. Sherlock feels his chest ache again at the though of how much John trusts him. And Sherlock... Sherlock just left him.

"I'm sorry."

It takes a moment for Sherlock to realize that John is the one who just apologized.

"I'm sorry," John repeats. "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have sent you away."

Sherlock looks him straight in the eye.

"It is your choice who you share your heat with. It should always be your choice. You did nothing wrong by sending me away," Sherlock replies, refusing to let John blame himself.

"You... you wanted to stay. That's why you were confused when I asked you to leave. You thought we were going to..." John says softly. "I didn't realize. I mean, not until Moriarty said..."

Sherlock can imagine what Moriarty said. Easily. He purposefully chooses not to.

"It's your choice. You did nothing wrong," Sherlock repeats.

John looks at him, his eyes sad and hurt and... regretful.

"If I knew that you wanted me, I wouldn't have sent you away," he admits, his voice small. "I just... you always said that you didn't want an omega. I didn't want to trap you. I know... I know what the scent of an omega in heat can do to an alpha."

Sherlock swallows, his throat tight.

"You could never trap me," is all he says in response.

The idea that John wanted... Sherlock knew that John was - is - attracted to him. Of course John was being self-sacrificing. Sherlock should have been selfish, like usual, instead of trying to imitate John by denying himself what he wanted. Then... then none of this would have happened. John wouldn't have been...




"I'm sorry."

It is Sherlock that whispers it this time, as he gently rinses the shampoo from John's hair. John closes his eyes trustingly again, letting the warm water and Sherlock's touches wash over him. John smiles softly at him, though there is still something frayed and almost broken in his gaze.

"It's okay," John says, though Sherlock is not sure who his friend is trying to convince. "It's okay. We'll get through this. Right?"

Sherlock nods decisively.

"Together," he agrees. "We'll get through this together. I promise I won't leave you alone like this again."

He cups John's cheek, his thumb stroking gently. John catches his hand in his own, turning his head to place a chaste kiss to the inside of Sherlock's wrist.

"Together," Sherlock repeats.