It was no secret among the staff at St. Barts that Sherlock Holmes was obnoxiously Alpha. He stared down anyone who stood between him and a closed door. More than one Omega nurse had gone down on their knees before him and his demands to be let into locked rooms until the administration began politely "suggesting" that only Betas be permitted to work with the consulting detective. He butted heads too much with other Alphas. That left Molly Hooper as the only pathologist at Barts who was able and willing to work with Sherlock on a regular basis.

She didn't mind at all. From the moment Molly met Sherlock she was enthralled with his methods. His brusque manner was balanced by his wit, and the fascinating brilliance he displayed in his deductions. She happily rolled out bodies for him and observed while he toyed with corpses, tested bruising patterns and muttering to her over tiny specks of blood. He'd scratch his head, bouncing his curls, and then the case would be solved like that. It was amazing.

When Sherlock was satisfied with his assessment, he would thank her crisply- if he wasn't too distracted- and stroll out of the morgue, his coat snapping dramatically behind him. His strange visits injected a little excitement into Molly's quiet days in the morgue. His trips to the lab were no less interesting. Helping in his odd experiments gave her fresh ideas of her own for research papers and made Molly take on a new way of observing her own data. Her fellow Betas at Barts wondered how she dealt with his notorious difficulty but she enjoyed assisting him. What was a little fuss, really, when he was such a character?

And God, did he smell good. That was an important trait in a man, especially when one worked most of the day in a morgue. Being around a lovely-smelling man was fantastic.

The only problem with the situation was that Molly, despite her government identification stating her as such, wasn't actually a Beta.

The deception had started when she was fifteen, when her first heat began. She'd thought she'd be a Beta, like her parents, but a strange twist of DNA threw her in another direction.

She writhed in bed for three days, aching and crying, thighs drenched in fluid. Her parents paced outside her bedroom door, uncertain what to do. They contacted the family doctor, who recognizing her symptoms delicately referred them to an Omega physician.

Her mum, mortified but earnestly trying, had knocked on the door and then shoved a box into the room before running away.

By then, Molly understood what was happening. She already wanted to be a doctor at fifteen and was a top biology student. She'd have been a fool not to recognize the symptoms of an Omega heat.

She opened the box and choked, caught between laughing and crying. Her mother had bought her a large dildo. And the worst part was of course she desperately wanted to use to it.

So she did. Repeatedly, over the course of the next two days.

After the heat ended, things only grew more complicated. They swore nothing would change, but it was a lie. Omegas were equal now, after the rights movement of the 1990's- they could hold all the same positions, had all the same privileges and benefits of Betas, and Alphas no longer wielded all the power, right?

Except the prejudice was very real and present, and once everyone knew Molly was an Omega, she felt the change instantly. Before, when everyone thought she was a Beta, she was invisible: she was sweet little Molly Hooper who wanted to be a doctor and made weird jokes and had no breasts to speak of.

But now she was Omega. She had ripened. When she walked down the hallway in school, Molly felt the eyes of the Alpha students on her, the hungry stares skimming over her. People brushing past her desk too closely in the classroom and sniffing the air, scenting her. Her excellent submission to the science exhibition at school had gone completely unnoticed that fall when the previous year she had won. The judges had given her that same condescending look, as though she was someone's pet. Her teachers stopped talking to her about her potential future at universities altogether, and started talking to her about her future as a mother. Molly felt as though she become a thing.

The strange part was that when her heats came every two months, Molly loved it now that she knew they were coming, and wasn't frightened. She was excused from school for four days, was prepared and knew how to use the inflatable knot on the Alpha dildo her mother had been too embarrassed to explain to her. (She and Mum still hadn't properly met each other's eyes, come to think of it.)

Molly loved her new sexuality; she loved sinking into her bed and feel the incredible wetness of her cunt, the tension in her belly, the sensitivity of her clitoris and then the shivering, the exploding ripples that signaled her orgasms. She came over and over until she was exhausted, her muscles clenching around her dildo. She knew it would be better when she was older and ready for a real Alpha lover, but she was having loads of fun practicing.

So being an Omega wasn't bad. But the way others saw her as one…that was a problem. She wanted to be taken seriously at university, to continue on the same career path she had been planning for years until biology ironically stepped in the way. And she didn't see a way around it, except to not be an Omega around other people.

She thought it would be harder to lie about but the new laws made it rather simple. Changing was really a matter of personal choice these days, anyhow. Declaring yourself was not required until eighteen. When the time came to get her driver's license, Molly checked off the box on the form that said "Beta," holding her breath.

She had showered that morning in the specially procured Beta-scented soap and shampoo, and then added perfume for good measure. The apathetic government employee glanced at Molly, accepted the form without even looking at it and stamped it.

I can do this, Molly told herself. I'm off to uni. And I'm starting the heat suppressants, she thought regretfully, thinking of her heats. The suppressants would erase most of her scent. But also there would be no more delicious days of fucking herself senseless in the madness of heat…

But instead she was free to be invisible.

A trade-off she could live with.

The situation with Sherlock had been going on for years and could have gone on for more, but Molly's feelings got the best of her. She knew it was inevitable; he was too gorgeous and too Alpha. She had had boyfriends over the years but they were all Betas. She hadn't truly understood how having feelings for an Alpha would complicate and intensify matters so greatly. It was bad enough that he was good-looking, educated, and shared several of her interests, but that he was so dominantly Alpha made him irresistible and touched a unique chord in her. She found herself chattering far more than usual in his presence and then chastising herself inwardly for it after he'd leave.

See me for what I really am. You of all people should be able to.

Despite how much everyone loved to talk about Sherlock Holmes, no one at Barts had any gossip to confirm his preferences. She had no idea if he was gay, not into Betas, asexual or just not interested in her particularly but he was never more than polite to her. Sometimes she felt like he watching her while she worked, but her attempts at flirtation were all brutally ignored. She tried shutting down her feelings for a year, but eventually she began to ask herself, Why the hell not at least try? Honestly?He's an Alpha, you're an Omega even if he doesn't know it…it's kind of perfect. And won't he be impressed a little when he finds out you fooled him?

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?"

"Black, two sugars."

And he was off to the lab. Stupid imperious Alpha!

She was furious but she couldn't restrain her submissive impulse to actually bring him the damned coffee while he met the man that turned out to be his new Beta flatmate. But she added five sugars to the coffee in a minor act of rebellion.

Molly was trying to find a way to approach Sherlock more overtly when fate- or bad chemistry, as it were- stepped in and took care of it for her.

She was out sick for a week in June with a flu that sent her to the doctor, who stuffed her full of meds and sent her back to bed. She hurried back to work within a few days as Barts was begging her to return.

"I'm going to murder that shithead detective if you don't come in soon," her coworker warned her. "I'm sorry you've taken ill, but I can't be held accountable for my actions. You are the only one he tolerates. He wants you. He says anyone else is unacceptable. Molly, I will stab him. I can find arteries. I've had training."

"Ha. That's funny." She groaned and wiped her eyes blearily.

"I'm not kidding, Molly."

"Alright, Dave. Tomorrow. I can do tomorrow. On the mend, I promise." She gave her mobile an obscene hand gesture.

"Great. See you tomorrow. Will you put that body back no-" The call ended.

In the morning, Molly rushed to work late after a quick shower. She skipped most of her rituals, still feeling under the weather. She hoped she wasn't contagious, because her face was flushed as she jumped into a taxi and gave the cabbie Barts' address.

Dave, an Alpha who practically growled every time Sherlock trespassed into his territory in the morgue, was waiting for her. He pushed the list of high-priority post-mortems in her hand, gave her a rundown of the week's issues, and then left quickly, claiming he had a meeting with Stamford. She didn't blame the man, as he looked exhausted himself with dark circles under his eyes. Apparently the flu had been tearing through the hospital and the morgue had been understaffed, with not just Molly out.

She shivered, and left her cardigan on. The post-mortems could wait a few hours. She couldn't bear the thought of doing them at the moment. Her stomach was churning and she was suddenly famished. She gathered up a stack of charts and clipboards and hauled them to the lab. She had a stash of snacks she kept in her desk up there, a perfect excuse to go work upstairs and munch on crisps for breakfast.

Sherlock was waiting for her in the lab, looking fresh from the shower himself. He spun around on his stool and smiled brightly, as he often did after he'd successfully badgered his way into the room. She wondered who he'd dominated to get past the lock this time.

She beamed back at him. She really had missed him and his chaos.

"Good morning, Sherlock. What are you working on?" She dropped her stack on the desk and closed the door behind her.

"Five new types to be analyzed," he said. He smelled a rolled Cuban cigar. "The ashes will all be completely distinct, bringing the total to 248. Don't worry, I've already burned them, these are extras. Dave isn't a fan of Cubans, it seems. Or accurate post-mortems."

Molly giggled. She unbuttoned her cardigan, feeling her cheeks grow warmer. She felt uncomfortably hot all of a sudden, and a flash of nausea passed over her. She tugged at the wrists of her sleeves, and wished she had eaten something before running into work.

"I've got some soil samples to look at as well, but not for a case. Nothing urgent. Boring really. What is that smell?" He frowned and peered out the door window.

Molly glanced over her shoulder. "Um, nothing? I don't smell anything but burnt cigars. And you. Aftershave, a light one. French, with sandalwood notes. And Alpha, of course."

Sherlock raised his left eyebrow.

"What? I have a good nose for scents too, you know. Maybe I learned a trick or two, being around you." She felt momentarily dizzy. His scent was overpowering, and her mouth began to water. It's true, she was good at picking out perfume notes, but she wasn't this good normally.

He turned back around his stool, slipping a slide onto the stage under the microscope. He said dismissively, "It's not a trick." He paused, and turned slightly back toward her. She saw his face in profile, and his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"Molly." His voice was stern. It was the cold commanding tone he reserved for those who stood in his way.

"Yes, Sherlock?" Molly felt the urge to run.

He spun sharply on the stool and pinned her with his blue eyes.

"Why does it smell like Omega heat in here?"

Molly touched her belly, her fingers splayed across her abdomen and then downward. Her body burned steadily, her temperature evening out after its earlier fluctuations. She bit her lip and felt the ache building in her groin, the tell-tale signs that she had been missing in her rush to get to work, mistaking the flush for illness.

Sherlock watched her hands travel down over her body as she assessed and realized her predicament, and his own. His eyes darkened, but remained unreadable.

Molly sank back against the door of the lab. "Surprise." She laughed weakly. Her eyes were bright against her pink face. Her hair had fallen out of its ponytail and sat limply around her shoulders. "I fooled the great detective. Sherlock Holmes. I'm…Not a Beta. Hate me?"

The rising heat of her own body became unbearable. Molly stripped the cardigan off and let it fall to the floor. Fuck. Oh god, I can't stop this.

Sherlock's eyes blazed and his nostrils flared, taking in her scent as it filled the room more fully now. It took him no more than three seconds to cross the small lab, pull Molly away from the door, and trap her between the wall and his body.

He cupped her face, and kept her pressed against the wall, his thigh between her legs. He scrutinized her, his brow furrowed, and it occurred to Molly that Sherlock was not happy.

In fact, Sherlock was one seriously annoyed Alpha.

His eyes were like chips of ice, and his jaw was tight. His mouth opened and closed twice as though he meant to ask a question but then thought better of it. His eyes traveled over her face and throat and breasts and dropped low over her body, scanning for information. But what Sherlock saw wasn't the clue, it was what he smelled. He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and bent to nuzzle Molly's throat.

Instinctively she tilted her head to offer her neck to the Alpha for scenting.

She hadn't used any special soap that morning, had only sprayed on a little perfume. Usually that would be enough in the morgue where no one came close to sniff her. Her suppressant pills altered her hormones enough to eliminate her scent so she was out of the habit of using the Beta soap on a daily basis. The bitter smell of the Beta brand bothered her. She was tired of smelling like something she wasn't.

What the hell had happened? Even as her skin was on fire, and Sherlock buried his nose in her throat and slid his hand down to hold her waist, she wondered.

She smelled of pure Omega heat, with the only Alpha she wanted standing between her thighs at that moment.

"You were ill. Antibiotics," he remarked, lifting his head. Sherlock's eyes were hooded, and his mouth hovered two inches above hers. She felt the breath of his words.

"Yes…" Molly arched against him, squirming and uncaring who could walk in the lab any moment. She remembered this feeling, but when she was fifteen and alone, she hadn't had a man like this pinning her to a wall and covering her with his overwhelming scent. She wasn't going to let the opportunity pass.

"Sherlock, please." She slid a hand between them, moving down low and was gratified to find a hard bulge pushing through his black trousers into her palm. He moved against her, nudging her harder into the wall. His eyes grew darker, and he tipped his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

He reached down and grabbed her wrist, then took hold of her other arm, pinning both arms just over her head to the wall. Molly whimpered, and peered up at him, a plea in her eyes. He continued speaking matter-of-factly, with his body pressed tightly against hers. Her nipples ached where they brushed against his torso.

"You don't get your suppressants from the same doctor you got the antibiotics from. Presumably because you're hiding your status. Which is smart, but also stupid because you should know better. I imagine you know that antibiotics would nullify the effectiveness of birth control but you didn't factor in that it occasionally has the same effect on heat suppressants. So here we are. Molly Hooper, Omega and liar."

"I wanted to tell you. I would have, if we'd- If you'd ever…" She tried to smile, but she felt the old embarrassments, even in the heat. The ghost of past rejections rose in her mind.

"If I'd ever acknowledged your fumbling attempts at flirtation? Given in and taken you knowing that as a Beta I would hurt you, that you could never take my knot?" Sherlock's eyes were steely again, though the hardness of his cock pressing into her belly told her a different story. "Do you have any idea what it was like, knowing you wanted me, watching you bend over as you worked? Knowing despite everything, you were mine whenever I wanted, that I could fuck you anyway I chose, make you scream and love it?"

Molly's thighs were soaked by the time he was done speaking. Her arms ached overhead and began to shake with the muscular tension. Sherlock dropped them, clasped her shoulders and held her firmly.

"You were a Beta who wore a cloyingly sweet perfume. One that I deduced was worn to attract my attention." Sherlock crinkled his nose in annoyance. He slipped a hand into her loose waves of hair and tugged lightly. Molly leaned into his touch and shivered. "Don't ever wear it again."

"I won't." She smiled. "I hate it, too. But I outsmarted you. Didn't I?"

"No." Sherlock frowned. "Just for a while."

Molly grinned and threw her arms around his neck. "Years, even." She felt the heat taking hold and knew she would lose all control soon. "Take me home, please."

"After the first round. I'll have some control then even though you won't. I suppose. It's been a while since I indulged." For the first time, a trace of uncertainty tinged his voice. She distantly wondered how long it had been since Sherlock had been involved with an Omega but put aside that conversation for a time she could focus. "This is our place. It should begin here." Sherlock leaned over and locked the lab door. He drew down the shade over the window. "If Dave or anyone else tries to use their key card, I'll murder them."

Sherlock stripped off his jacket and draped it over the counter where he hadn't been working.

All reason lost, Molly yanked her camisole and bra over her head. The rest of her clothes followed while her Alpha watched. He stroked her body covetously, tasting and nipping the curves of her small form as it was exposed. He covered her in his scent, removing the smells of the lab and the perfume and replacing them with his own.

She remembered something funny. "You and Dave have got to stop threatening to murder each other."

"No. He sees you as his Beta, something he owns- part of his territory. You're mine," Sherlock snarled. He took her in his arms, and then there was no more talking for a while.

Sherlock kissed like a storm. Molly held on and gloried in his strength. His tongue slid against hers and she wondered again who had taught him because he clearly had had plenty of practice. He cradled her head, his fingers massaging her scalp, and she moaned as they kissed.

After Molly was thoroughly kissed and gasping, Sherlock took off his shirt, covered the stool with it, and sat her down on top of it. He spun the stool around so her back was to the counter, with her facing him, and then he went down on his knees.

"An Alpha on his knees?" Molly teased softly. She felt exhilarated. Sherlock was hers. The heat was making her lightheaded; so much so, she felt she must be imagining what was happening.

Sherlock responded by pressing on her chest so she'd lean back, and then he spread her knees wide. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and pressed his face hard between her thighs.

Oh. Molly threw her back and arched. She'd thought Sherlock would be like the Alphas in romance novels, all about getting right down to the fucking and knotting. She should have known better: Sherlock Holmes never did anything like everyone else.

Sherlock licked over her thighs, taking in all the Omega juices that had been soaking her for the past hour. He was torturously slow, taking his time in the journey to her cunt. He squeezed harder on her thighs and pulled her snug against his mouth. His tongue caressed the pink folds of her sex and Molly wiggled against him. She dug a hand into his hair, pleading for more. Sherlock learned the topography of his Omega, the angles and tastes of her all over before finding the bud of her clitoris and giving her the direct flick of his tongue.

Molly spread her legs further, lifting her thighs in the air and bending her knees to give Sherlock more access. He made an approving sound and slipped one finger, and then another, into her pussy as he worked her clit with his tongue. She rocked against his tongue, holding onto the counter with one hand, using her last shred of sense to keep herself on the stool.

With the wildness of heat, it took her less than a minute before she was shrieking Sherlock's name, uncaring who heard her. She came, her juices flooding over his tongue while he lapped them up, his face glistening. When the shaking in her belly slowing, Molly felt a shard of calmness return though her heat hadn't really ebbed. Only knotting would help with that.

Sherlock stood.

"Why?" Molly gasped.

"You've never been knotted, obviously. Living life as a Beta, not even out to me, the Alpha you wanted. Now you're ready." His eyes narrowed, and he smiled. "And I don't want to go slowly."

He looked distinctly wolfish as he leaned over and pulled Molly from the stool. He flipped her over and Molly grabbed hold of the counter's edge to steady herself.

The rest of Sherlock's clothing was discarded, and his hand gripped her hips. The fever of her heat seemed to be transmitted to him now, and his eyes were dilated and unfocused. His dark curls were damp and in disarray over his forehead.

Molly bent over the stool and held the counter, presenting herself to her Alpha. She was a natural Omega, utterly giving. What a shame it was she'd had to hide for so many years. For her career, undoubtedly. But he could understand sublimating one's sexual needs in order to greater serve their intellectual pursuits.

He nudged her with his hips, fisting his cock and touching the swollen base where the knot would form. He reached between her legs and slipped his fingers into her cunt, finding her more than ready for his cock. She spread her thighs wider.

"Please, Sherlock. Waited so long…" Her quiet begging was nearly lost.

Molly wiggled her hips against his cock, demanding, and barely resembling the polite little pathologist he'd tried to put out of his mind for the last two years. And with that, his doubts were cast aside. The ramifications of the shift in their relationship could be examined later. For now, there was just Alpha and Omega and joining, without shame and noise and distraction and the clutter of the outside world.

Sherlock grasped her left hip, took hold of his cock, and sank into Molly all the way to his balls with one thrust. He had prepared her well with his tongue and fingers; she was ready to be fucked by an Alpha without mercy or grace.

He rode her the way he wanted and she followed the pace he set. Sherlock groaned as his cock slid wetly in and out of her tight cunt. He hadn't been with an Omega since his drug-using days and those times were largely deleted, except for the portions useful in a clinical sense. Nowhere in his memory had he retained the knowledge of how unbelievably perfect it felt to have an Omega's juicy sex massaging his cock like she was made just for him.

"…made for me. Fuck, you were made for me." He sank his hand into Molly's hair and tugged, riding her harder. "Mine, all mine. I want to fucking brand you, no one else will ever have you. All mine, my woman, my Omega. Mine. Dammit. Fuck." With the ridiculous stream of Alpha possessiveness, the knot began to form on the base of cock, swelling even as Molly tightened around him and cried out with her second orgasm.

Oh she loved his stream of filthy Alpha speech. Of course she did.

That made his knot grow big faster, swelling inside her and Sherlock's thrusting slowed, unable to pull back out of Molly with the obstruction of his knot. His pumping became shallow, and he wrapped his arm tight around her belly and breasts, keeping her close. Molly lifted her arms away from the counter and covered his arms on her abdomen with hers.

Sherlock fucked into her as the knot grew and then he felt as though his eyes would roll back in his head with the sheer mind-numbing pleasure of it. He climaxed in a hot gush of cum, but his knot continued to grow, having been long denied release. Molly moaned and shook against him. He cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples, toying with her, and her cunt milked the cum from his massive knot. Ecstasy roared through him and then primal panic. Sherlock brushed the hair off of Molly's pale neck and kissed and sucked a dark mark into it. Not satisfied with that, he sucked harder and nipped at it. Needing more as fucked into Molly, he sank his teeth hard into the side of her neck.

Molly came again with cry, her belly rippling against his hands and her neck moving. The knot reduced as the cum flowed into her, and Sherlock felt much better. He licked at the wound on her neck, feeling oddly happy as he traced the row of teethmarks he had laid on her pink skin. Molly sighed as they rocked together and she reached back to stroke his hair.


He had bitten her. Deeply. And then gotten his saliva in her.



"Hmmm?" Her body was flooded with oxytocin, pure chemical bliss. The way he knotted and filled her was everything she'd ever wanted, and sated her in a way she couldn't name. Molly could barely put together a coherent thought, but Sherlock sounded almost normal. Bloody Alphas.

"Molly. I bit you. I'm in your blood."

She turned her neck. The angle was awkward. Sherlock was still inside her, his knot almost gone but not quite. His hand idly stroked her breast, despite his cooler tone. He was studying the mark he had left on her throat. Normally she would call the look in his eyes unreadable when they were like this, but they were…not.

She could sense he was troubled. How was she so oddly in tune with his emotions? Was the sex just that good?

Molly clapped a hand to the teeth wound.

"You bit me. Hard. That's why- Oh." Her brain went blank for a moment. She sank back against Sherlock, letting him hold her. Her gut reaction was elation, complete and blinding happiness. He'd taken her for his.

"I didn't ask for your permission to life-bond." Sherlock said it flatly.

"I would have given it, a hundred times over," she said simply. "I just don't want you to feel, you to not want- this." She flapped her hand. "Do you want this?" She hesitated, and Molly found courage she wasn't sure she had. "Do you want me? Even when I'm not…like this?"

"Don't be stupid. Of course." He flinched, and Molly realized she was unconsciously clenching around his cock as his knot continued to go down, squeezing more cum into her. She laughed and he groaned, wrapping his arms tight around her. Her body was incredibly overheated and hypersensitive to his touch.

Of course. He said 'Of course.' Is this for real?

"I realize you want to bask in the glow, but we need to get out of here while the heat's abating. We don't have long before your cycle will come back around, probably less than a half hour, maybe less if your suppressants have made you unpredictable. We can discuss this more later. I'm sure John and Mrs. Hudson will be thrilled though. They've been after me for ages to get an Omega. Betas think pairing off solve all the aggression problems." He rolled his eyes.

"Well, studies do show bonding balances out a lot of those issues." Molly stifled a smile, but her dimples showed. She sighed as the knot finally deflated, and Sherlock slid from her completely. She looked down between her legs and winced. "Ah. I think there needs to be some cleanup before we go anywhere or I'm never going to be able to show my face at work again."

Twenty minutes and a lot of cleanup later, Molly and Sherlock ducked out of the lab. Dressed and presentable, she'd initially felt no one would know what they were up to but she realized now that their scents would be a dead giveaway. They had pair-bonded and their scent was beginning to mingle, and Molly's Omega-in-heat fragrance was powerful.

Alpha medical staff wandering the halls stopped dead to stare at Molly as they passed. Sherlock glared and wrapped his arm tighter around Molly's shoulders. He had draped his jacket around her shoulders possessively, marking her as his further, but that wasn't enough. Apparently his newly mated instincts were screaming at him to make it clear to everyone that she was his Omega. This was going to take some getting used to, Molly mused, but she rather liked it.

The taxi was waiting for them downstairs and her face was already burning, with the heat fever returning in a rush.

They were nearly at the exit when they encountered Dave, who was coming back from his "meeting," which looked more like a nap in the medical students' locker room. The Alpha pathologist's nose quivered and his eyebrows rose when he realized that Molly, the Beta, was the source of the tantalizing smell.

"What…? No. You can't be."

"She is," Sherlock replied smugly. "And mine."

"Now see here, Holmes," Dave began, crossing his arm. "Where do you-"

"No, you see," Molly interrupted. Her face burned scarlet red. Whether it was with anger or the heat, she didn't know or care. "He is my Alpha, and we're bonded. You don't need any more explanation than that, or I'll speak to Human Resources. And he has permission and every right to use the lab and morgue as long as he has supervision from a staff pathologist. Now we're leaving. I've got the next few days off and I don't want to hear from you at all. If there's an emergency, have Mike call me." Molly grabbed Sherlock's hand and marched out the door. As they ran for the taxi, Sherlock turned back and grinned nastily at the other Alpha.

It had never been a secret to the staff at Barts that Sherlock Holmes was obnoxiously Alpha but now it was apparent that Molly Hooper was just as proudly Omega.