SUMMARY~When John's heat failed to appear three times in a row after he was shot, he figured it was just another broken piece off the broken toy soldier. So he was rather surprised to feel it start out of the blue...and not at all pleased with it starting while he was on the tube. Set during TBB, omegaverse divergence. Johnlock.
DISCLAIMER~The rights to (BBC's) Sherlock reside with Sir ACD, Gotiss, and BBC and I receive no financial gain from the writing of this story.
AN~If you read my previous story, my first Johnlock, you might recall I was working on an omegaverse fic. This is not it. I basically woke up about 23 hours ago, had an idea, went back to sleep, and when I woke up, I was lucky enough to remember it and spent all day writing it up. Now, just so you're not thrown a little, besides the omegaverse bit, there is a slight alteration in the order of proceedings as detailed by the beginning of TBB. Hope you enjoy.
He really should have clued in when Sebastian Wilkes, their new client and one of Sherlock's classmates from uni, tried hitting on him. John liked to think he had a pleasant enough face but he did not expect unsolicited attention from an alpha who was clearly better off than him. It was a far cry to say he had been interested, neither Sebastian's looks nor scent were much enticing (they might've been acceptable before Sherlock but after Sherlock, well, no one could really beat Sherlock in either department), but he was flattered. But not as flattered as when his gorgeous flatmate with the delicious scent began exhibiting territorial gestures. That he was very much interested in. But he wouldn't fool himself into thinking Sherlock was actually interested. If Sebastian was top shelf, Sherlock was the locked cabinet behind the counter without the price tag. He was just defending what had become his territory after John had moved in. So he just let himself sit back and yeah, maybe he did preen a little. It was unbounded-omega nature to enjoy alpha's fighting over them and John wasn't much inclined to be different in that department. So, he enjoyed it while it lasted because he wasn't sure it would ever happen again.
As a youth, John had enjoyed spending his quarterly heats with whatever alpha would have him. And there were plenty of alphas. He just had to make sure he was with one who understood that no, John did not want to settle down yet and he certainly was not ready to start a brood. He didn't even have to worry about finding one that wouldn't bite because his mother had gifted him with a thick leather collar that covered his scent glands so an alpha could bite to their hearts content and John would be free to go on his way, unbonded, after his heat had passed. By the time he joined the army, he had had plenty of experiences to not mind the mandatory suppressants. After all, regular sex was just as fun.
But then he had gotten shot and the wound had gotten infected and they'd taken him off his suppressants so his body could concentrate on the wound. And by all means, just like everyone else who'd ever taken suppressants and then stopped, he should have had a heat rather soon after. It didn't come. It baffled the doctors and it baffled John. He was invalided home once the infection had cleared and he had thought that that might have been stopping his heat but still, nothing. Three months pass. No heat. He met Sherlock and a few weeks later marked the end of another three months. He had been off suppressants for six months and two weeks, and he should have had three heats. He had never much cared for society's expectations of omegas but somehow he couldn't erase the sensation of failure from under his skin.
So here he was. A 37 year old unbonded omega who couldn't breed, an army captain who couldn't soldier, and a surgeon who couldn't keep a steady hand, sitting on the tube with two bags of groceries and his pocket strangely heavy with the weight of a debit card that belonged to a beautiful alpha who was 'married to his work' and 'didn't care for biology' but still managed to confuse him with courting gestures he didn't seem notice he was doing or what they meant. He was utterly useless in every way that he could think of. And every alpha in the cabin was staring at him. But unlike earlier in Shad Sanderson, it wasn't flattering-it was disconcerting. Just then, as the overhead announced the arrival at Euston Station, he felt it. Something he hadn't felt in over a decade and after his track record of the previous few months, both unexpected and, considering the location, completely unwelcome. A wetness, blooming from his arse, and an actual physical need to have a cock stuffed in his arse and now. But he'd be damned if he was going to get fucked in public by a stranger and surrounded by strangers. Which meant that he needed to get off the tube and somewhere safe, where he could hopefully get in contact with one of the very, very, VERY few alphas he knew in the city and arrange something.
John gathered his two shopping bags in his right hand and slipped through the crowded cabin to the exit doors, doing everything he could to avoid every alpha who now looked much too interested. As he reached the doors, right before they opened, a hand grabbed his arse and a nose tickled his neck. Without a thought, he broke the wrist attached to the hand and ducked away, nearly sprinting through the door the second it opened. He could feel the lubrication, sliding slowly down the back of his thighs. A thoroughly uncomfortable sensation but it wasn't the drenching of a full heat yet. It had only just started for which he was thankful. He still had a little bit of time, a few hours, to find someone to take care of it. His current problem though was how to get out of Euston Station.
Out of the corner of his eye noticed that the alphas from the cabin he had been in were all following him. Not at a worrisome pace, not yet. But they weren't the only ones. Little by little, he could see the unbonded alphas in the station perk up. He had to have been absolutely pouring out pheromones. Enticements to secure a mate. It was all a bit not good. To top that off, he couldn't remember his need being this strong before. Perhaps a decade of not having a heat had something to do with it. He needed safety. The door to the unisex loo up ahead opened and John burst into a run. He could hear the others cry out in surprise and then follow. His heart pounded in his throat but so much different than when he was chasing criminals with Sherlock. That was fun-dangerous. This was bad-dangerous.
He nearly tripped on the threshold but managed to close the door right as a body slammed into it. Either he was getting weaker, one of the frustrating biological responses to a heat and to interested alphas, or the person on the either side of the door was exceptionally strong. Perhaps both. Either way, he was jarred from his spot for a moment and he threw his weight back against the steel. He was beyond thankful it wasn't wood as he threw his weight into it again and again, trying to jar whoever was on the other side. Finally the pressure let up enough that he was able to slide the lock and he collapsed to the floor, panting. There was a thud against his back and then another. And then another. And another. Scents were pouring in from the alphas just on the other side and he could smell five, six, seven. He began to lose count and knew he was in trouble. If he stayed in that loo for the duration of his heat, he would die, dehydrated and starved. It was rare but he'd seen it enough. Fuck. Who could he call?
Sherlock didn't care, Harry hadn't been sober when he'd spoken to her the night before so she definitely wasn't now, his new boss Sarah he hadn't even asked out yet, Bill was still in Afghanistan, he didn't have Mike's number, there was that DI who Sherlock helped but he really didn't know him. Sherlock was the only person he could think of. He had seemed to be in a charitable mood this morning after leaving that Sebastian bloke this morning, giving John his card to get groceries as he went off to do whatever it was he was going to do. But he would be the first to know how fast the alpha's mood could change. He pulled out his phone and stared at it for a minute, shooting off a quick mental prayer before he selected Sherlock's number and press call. He pressed it to his ear as it rang. And rang. And rang.
"Fuck! Pick up!" he cried, starting to panic, the quickly approaching heat creating a massive hormonal imbalance that had his moods changing as quickly as Sherlock's. The phone continued to ring. If the detective didn't answer, his best bet would be to call the police and hope they would help. Another ring. He felt like crying. He needed help and his alpha wasn't answering his call!
"John? Why are you calling? You know I prefer to text."
"Oh god, Sherlock! Finally!"
"John?" The sudden concern he could hear in the other's voice was a slight balm to his nerves.
"Sherlock, please I need help!"
"What is it?" A pause. "You're in a lavatory. Where?" He would be impressed at the deduction when he wasn't occupied with other things.
"Euston Station. Sherlock-" he shifted his legs and couldn't help but interrupt himself with a moan as his jeans shifted over his achingly hard cock.
"Oh, fuck, Sherlock. I'm going into heat."
"John, really!" The alpha's concerned disappeared and was replaced with annoyed exasperation.
"Sherlock just shut up a minute! You don't understand! I've been off my suppressants since I've been shot and this is the first heat I've had." He went quiet for a moment as he waited for the information to sink in. He knew the other man, as much as he didn't care for biology, would understand. "I got the groceries and took the tube home and my heat started right as we got to Euston Station. I got off and ran to the loo and there are alphas banging at the door. I lost count after seven."
His skin was starting to feel too hot, his clothes too itchy. He needed to get undressed but he couldn't until he was safe. He shifted again and moaned as the rough fabric created stimulated his aching cock. And then he suddenly he couldn't stop undulating his hips, chasing the friction. He was panting and moaning into the phone, moaning Sherlock's name, as the pressure rose in his bollocks, the other line staying much too silent and then he was coming, a relief that only lasted seconds. It was a hollow orgasm though, as any orgasm an omega experienced during a heat without a real alpha cock up their arse was, and soon he was sobbing because of it.
"Sherlock, please! Fuck!" He slammed his head back against the door, the pounding from the other side increasing as the scent of his orgasm filtered through the door. The front of his pants and jeans were uncomfortably damp had he not been in heat it would have been uncomfortable due to oversensitization but now it was because he was already hard again. "I know you don't care for omegas and as much as I would love you to fuck me into your mattress for the next four days, breed me, mark me, oh fuck you would give me the prettiest children, so smart so beautiful..." He was getting off topic but now he couldn't stop, scrambling to get his trousers and pants off his hips and down his thighs, shoving two fingers up his arse before they'd even gotten to his knees. "Oh god I want you to knot me, knot me for hours. Oh shit, this isn't enough." His hand was pumping furiously, trying to reach his prostate and quite unsuccessfully. He shoved another finger in, the wet sound, the squelching of his fingers moving in and out, echoing throughout the room. There was noise growing on the other side of the door at his back, and the pounding grew more insistent. He braced the phone against his shoulder so his hand could tug at his cock and the second he brushed his prostate, he was coming all over his hand, crying out his flatmate's name in orgasm for the second time.
"Shit, Sherlock, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you don't want me but I need to get out of here." His cock had already hardened again, his fingers pressing back inside his arse as his hand stroked his cock. "Fuck, this isn't enough. Sherlock, it hurts, fuck it hurts. I need a cock. I need someone to fuck me," John cried as he continued to fuck himself with shaking hands. "I want you to but you don't want you to so if you could just help me get out of here, I'll find someone. I can try to get ahold of Sarah, or see if Lestrade is interested, maybe that Sebastian from earlier, or-"
"No, John." The doctor almost cried when Sherlock spoke for the first time in minutes, and it was a rejection.
"Please don't leave me here, Sherlock! Whatever I did, I'm sorry but please don't leave me here! I'll do anything you want if you just get me out!" he cried, his hands stilling at his alpha's rejection. Wait, no, fuck, not his not his not his not-
"You misunderstand me, John. Understandable in your current state. I will help you but you will not go to anyone for your heat." That beautiful voice stroking his ear was stimulating but the things he was saying were harsh rejections that withered at the omega's nature. But perhaps it was because of that that the soldier he was at heart finally surfaced.
"Sherlock Holmes, you will not get between me and a cock and if you try, I will fucking-"
"You will use me."
"If you would actually have me as your alpha, I will bond with you." John was speechless, his brain frozen.
"You impossible man, we've known each other for six weeks and you actually want to bond with me? I'm nothing compared to you! I can't compete with you in intelligence, looks, money, anything! Why would you want to bond with me?" What the fuck was his mouth saying? The alpha he wanted to bond with was reciprocating and he was arguing with him?! Everyone thought Sherlock was the crazy one but John was starting to think they had it all backwards. Obviously he was the one off his rocker.
"Problem?" John took a deep, steadying breath and exhaled harshly.
"No just...please, please don't regret me. Don't get bored with me. Or tell me if you do. I'll understand. I'll leave you alone, I promise, just please, oh god, Sherlock, please." He was begging now, and he knew he was, and normally you wouldn't have been able to get anything of the sort from John Watson but heats were a force in and of themselves.
"Don't be stupid, John. How could I ever regret you?" John couldn't help the quick inhalation at the words and despite all the blood currently diverted to his cock, there was a good chance he was blushing. "Do you need me to bring you anything from home?"
"Yeah, um, a change of pants and trousers." He was definitely blushing now.
"Then I will be there soon."
"Wait!" There was a pause from the other end.
"Yes, John?" He shivered at that name saying his voice as the heat swelled again, quickly eroding his logic.
"I need, oh fuck." His hands were moving in and out and around himself again and he tried to focus. What was it he needed again. "I need... I need... Oh fuck, I need you. Wait, no, not just that... I need... Fuck what did I need. Ah! I need something that smells like you. Like your bed sheet. No, you don't sleep. Does it smell like you anyway?" There was shuffling from the other end.
"It should be sufficient."
"Ok. Good. Good. That's fine. Good. I'll see you soon?"
"Yes, John." The omega breathed a sigh of relief and then yelped when a hard thump on the door jarred him hard enough to lift him off it several inches. His panic was rising. It felt like they were closer to getting in. He gulped.
"Oh god Sherlock, please hurry." The only answer was the click of the line disconnecting.
Sherlock typically avoided London's Underground at all costs and hadn't stepped foot in it outside a case in years, and even then he did his best to send anyone else below surface in his stead; there were simply far too many people in too little a space, too much input, too much useless data all at once. But it was John at stake and so he would make the exception. There was a delicious smell wafting up from below as he raced down the stairs, bed sheet and clothes folded and draped over one arm, and even if that scent wasn't a direct line to John, it wouldn't have been hard for even the most unobservant person to figure out where the omega was cooped up.
There was a group of alphas gathered against one of the walls, nearly frothing at the mouth as they threw themselves against what had to be the door. Security personnel and even some of Scotland Yard had been called to try and drag the feral alphas away from the lavatory door keeping them from the omega entering heat. John's scent only grew stronger and more enticing as Sherlock approached and he responded in kind, pheromones of possession and warning positively exploding from him. It wasn't something he at all cared for but his parents had always loved going on about how he came from a strong family line and his scent would be especially potent when he presented. From all conducted experiments, they had not been wrong but he had prefered to not use it whenever possible. And he really didn't have to use it. The way he looked and presented himself was usually enough to get what he wanted but if all the alphas in front of him were feral, more was needed.
As his pheromones traveled through the air, the alphas around the door looked up, facing the new competitor for the fertile omega. To his surprise, a wave of pheromones from John flew back at him, enticing him closer. It was instinct to send back even more until he and John were caught in a strange tennis match of pheromones and the alphas in between looked dazed. As he neared the edges of the mob, pieces of the edge broke off and attacked. Unlike them, he had managed to retain full control of his capacities and struck out quickly, the call of his waiting omega making him aggressive. There were other alphas standing between them and he would not stand for that but he knew better than to make his hits lethal. He struck here and there as he forced his way through the crowd, focusing on the legs, crippling the others until they were unable to walk, focusing his attacks on metatarsals, tibias, and patelas. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the police and security following in his wake, tying the alphas wrists with zip ties and dragging them to the side. None of them would get in the way when it was clear with the way the omega was responding that it was his omega.
Finally he reached the door which, metal as it was, was covered in dents from the alpha mob's attempt to break it down and get to the omega-in-heat within. John's scent was beyond potent and it was cloying Sherlock's senses entirely until all he knew was John, and it was making him harder than he had ever been in his life. The alpha attempted to reign himself in and calmly knock on the door.
"Sh'lock?" the sound was muffled and slurred but it was John. Sherlock crouched in front of the door and pressed his fingertips through the space at the bottom. A moment later a mouth and nose were nuzzling at his skin and tugging dangerously at the restraints of his control. A tongue pressed against his middle finger and he had to bite his tongue.
"Can you unlock the door, John?" His voice was rough, stuck in his throat. The tongue disappeared from his finger and there was fumbling at the doorknob for almost too long before it clicked. He stood quickly and wasted no time sliding through the door and flipping the lock closed again. Nothing could have truly prepared him for the site that greeted his eyes.
John Watson's clothes were spread out on the tiled floor and John Watson himself, his strong, confident, army doctor, was spread out atop them. His skin, still tanned from his time under the Afghani sun, was flushed everywhere Sherlock's eyes fell. The mobile by his head was still lit with Sherlock's name and his face was wet with tears. His knees were pulled up towards his chest, his left hand embedded three fingers thick in his arse, his right hand, his gun hand, was wrapped firmly around his cock. There was come all over his right hand and stomach, and the back of his thighs were slick and shiny with lubrication. And the noises he was making...
Sherlock had had sex with omegas in heat before. He'd had sex with omegas out of heat. He'd had sex with alphas, and he'd had sex with betas. All during uni when he'd needed to understand the motive behind so many murders. He hadn't found any of it that special. His body had indeed responded to the call of omega-in-heat but it had been ignorable, his mind able to resist the fog of pheromones. But when John had been on the phone with him, and so obviously failing to keep control of his own body, the sounds of his fingers aided by the slick of his self-lubrication echoing in the lavatory and through the phone's speakers, Sherlock hadn't been able to help himself. He had been painfully hard in seconds at the thought that John was masturbating so furiously to him. Sherlock hadn't been able to stop himself from freeing his cock and stroking it in time with the sounds of John's own strokes, coming at the sound of John doing the same and with his name on his lips. Of all the experiments he had done though, he had never wanted the other party like he wanted John Watson.
John, at first glance, had been as dreadfully boring as the rest of them: omega, army, prone to take orders, boring. But a second glance: doctor, shoulder wound, psychosomatic limp. Much more interesting. But not likely to last. Still, he had offered a flatshare and the man had accepted. That second day, when John had limped around the living room, cleaning up here and there, nesting, he hadn't thought John would last the week. But then john had surprised him yet again, praising his observations instead of scorning them. And more than once at that. Later that night, John, against all accepted known omega responses, killed a man to save Sherlock. Didn't flinch in doing so either. Furthermore, afterwards, had giggled about it. Sherlock's fascination had set in. He had expected his fascination to fade shortly. For John to become predictable like everyone else did, like his parents had, like Mrs Hudson, and Molly, and Lestrade, and even Mycroft had. He had expected John to get fed up with his habits, like the way he tended to use cooking dishes for his experiments like the chemist he had roomed with seven houses ago gave up on after 10 days, or the way he kept body parts that even the mortician four flats ago couldn't stand after three days. That the omega would forever surprise him finally sunk in just a fortnight into their partnership when he had come home while Sherlock had been examining the insides of a torso killed by poison.
"Un-fucking-believable." John had muttered from the doorway. Sherlock hadn't looked at him, knowing that this was the day. John had remained unpredictable rather a lot longer than most people, but this is where he would become like the others and Sherlock would be alone again. "I never thought I'd see the day." Sherlock held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting. "Sherlock Holmes, you actually brought home dinner!" Utterly surprised, Sherlock straightened and turned to the omega lingering in the doorway. Blue eyes had been twinkling even as the man fought back a smile. His eyes had flicked down to Sherlock's hands and then back up to his face. The alpha looked down at his own hands and realized he was holding organs and skin out of his way with forks. He looked back at John and then burst into laughter, the omega following directly after. As they calmed down, John shed his coat and started on tea, warning, "I'm not helping you get that into the fridge." In that moment, Sherlock knew: he could never lose John Watson.
Staring down at the omega, his omega now, he knew that this was the right solution. John would forever be bound to him. He would never be bored with this man at his side. He would never again be alone. It was perfect. John was perfect. John was still fucking himself on the lavatory floor, writhing furiously and breathing so deeply and so quickly he was bound to hyperventilate. In between breaths he was panting, strange sounds pouring from his lips as if he were trying to speak. Sherlock dropped to his knees and grabbed John's wrists, pressing them to the floor above his head. The omega began to sob, undulating his hips up towards the alpha above him. He transferred both wrists to one hand and grabbed John's chin with other, forcing their eyes to meet.
"John, I know it's difficult right now but I need you to answer me. Are you on birth control?" The man didn't answer, just tried turning his head to offer his neck. Sherlock felt his mouth water in temptation. He could not, would not, mark John in a public toilet. Nor would he impregnate him before they had discussed it outside the throes of a heat. He tightened his grip and turned John's face forcibly back to his. The omega, apparently aroused at this display of power and moaned, body going lax. "John," he stressed. Those beautiful blue eyes, unfocused, cleared minutely. "Are you on birth control?" John licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak. He had to clear his throat before he tried again but finally he was successful.
"Yeah." His voice was rough, overused. "I uh..." he cleared his throat again. "Because of how long I was on suppressants, I couldn't start taking them again until I'd had a heat." His eyes and his voice seemed to get clearer the longer he spoke. "I thought that I was bro-that I would never have a heat again. But there's been evidence that omegas can still get pregnant without a heat so I've been taking them just in case. It's a bit not on to be chasing criminals with a child in one's bells, yeah?" he giggled and then moaned, hips gyrating. "Oh Sherlock, can we please talk later? I really need you to fuck me right now."
"I know. But I will not. I need you in my territory." He paused, taking a deep breath. There were still too many alphas outside the small room, and his instincts were in a riot. It was...difficult for him to concentrate. And for Sherlock Holmes, that said quite a lot about his distraction. But oh, what a distraction he was. "There are still quite a few alphas outside. You smell of too many things, too many people. I need you clean. I need to scent you. I need to mark you. I will do none of those here." John whined and Sherlock's grip tightened once more. This time he coupled it with a disproving growl and a quick nip at John's throat. He silently thanked evolution for his omega's submissive nature as John went boneless before him. "I will clean you, dress you, and then we will go."
The doctor closed his eyes and took several calming breaths, trying to center himself. Slowly, he nodded but did not open his eyes. Sherlock snagged John's pants from the floor and stood, turning the hot water on and soaking the bright red fabric. "Red pants, John? How delightful." He wrung out the water and kneeled betweens John's thighs again, cleaning the cum and lubrication from his soon-to-be mate's skin. Done, he helped the omega to his feet, kneeled in front of him and guided his hands to his shoulders. John's entire body trembled as he stood there and Sherlock smiled up at him as he lifted a foot and guided John into first his pants, then his trousers, finding it oddly endearing. Even more than that, it was was one the few smiles he actually meant. John was good at dragging those out of him. Better, they always aroused John and now was not any different. Quick as a snake, he tilted his head up and pressed his lips against John's.
"Sherlock," came the choked whisper. Sherlock grabbed John's shirt from the floor and shook it lightly before standing himself.
"Shhh..." he whispered back, stoking the sweat-dampened hair lightly. "Come on, let's get your shirt on." One arm at a time, they managed to get John redressed. When Sherlock bent to retrieve the sheet he had brought that had fallen to the floor and John's dirty clothes (the omega would be angry if he left them), John's knees crumpled without the support and only the alpha's quick reflexes kept him from falling to the floor. Bracing John against his chest, he handed the dirty pants and trousers to the other man before twisting and folding the sheet to make it into a bit of a shroud, draping the makeshift hood over the gold-blonde hair before wrapping the remaining fabric around John's body until he was cocooned. John dropped his nose into the fabric and breathed deep.
"I liked your scent from the very beginning," he murmured, nuzzling further. "I knew if you ever lowered yourself to be with me, you would a good alpha. Good mate. My mate." John was reverting back to his omega nature again, eyes dilating. "Mmm. Strong mate. Good mate. Pretty mate. My mate." Sherlock couldn't help his smile this time either, this one more from his alpha side preening at his omega's compliments and recognition of his virility. Hm. Perhaps his alpha side was surfacing as well. It wouldn't do to stay much longer. He swept John up into his arms, something he knew the man would protest had he been at full mental capacity, but for now he simply curled into Sherlock's chest, settling his nose into Sherlock's scent gland. The omega settled and safe, the alpha concentrated his senses on the world outside the door.
All the alpha smells that had surrounded them previously had vanished, and now the only ones nearby passed by quickly. He opened the door and strode out briskly, ignoring all those around him but with an expression that invited no interaction and broadcasting pheromones of omega-protection. John was heavy in his arms but with the excess of adrenaline his body was producing in response to the pheromones, he didn't seem to notice. Those walking through the station and on the street gave them a wide berth for which he was grateful. Now, with his omega nearly in full heat and pliant in his arms, was not the time to challenge his claim.
It took him an excruciating six waves of his arm to get a beta cab drivers. Alpha ones couldn't be trusted to not challenge his claim on John, and omegas couldn't be trusted not to challenge John's claim on him. Finally they were secure in a cab, John still curled tightly against him, constantly nuzzling at his scent gland. It was wearing on his ability to remain outwardly unaffected. It was hardly soon enough before they were back at Baker Street and he was knocking on his own front door. Mrs Hudson answered with a startled noise.
"Sherlock! Is Dr Watson all right?"
"I'm afraid John's heat has rather taken him by surprise." The woman took a step back, bowing her head lightly to not present a challenge. Sherlock smiled at the beta. "It will not be a problem if you remain but I am not sure you wish to hear our activities this evening." The old woman blushed at the same time that she smirked.
"I'll just pop off to my sister's for the evening. You two have fun!" With that she retreated to 221A to pack and Sherlock darted up the stairs into 221B. As soon as the door was locked, he went straight to the bathroom, setting John down on the toilet as he started the shower. As he waited for the water to heat, he quickly stripped first himself and then John who was still delightfully relaxed and allowed himself to be manhandled this way and that. His initial arousal seemed to have waned as soon as he became surrounded in Sherlock's scent. The actual heat still had another two to three hours before it started. He would use the time to wash and feed John up. Make sure he was hydrated.
Washing the two of them was a bit of a challenge with John's bonelessness but finally they were free of any scent but their own. He put a dried John into the bed, already covered with another sheet thanks to Mrs Hudson and he hurried to the kitchen, gathering as much of a meal as he could find and plenty of water before returning to the bedroom.
"John, eat this and then you can sleep." The omega seemed to have lost all will to move and simply opened his mouth and Sherlock complied, slowly feeding him until he was full. Once finished, John passed out and Sherlock began the long process of scenting. He ran first his hands then his nose, lips, and tongue across every inch available to him, firmly and somewhat permanently imprinting the tan skin with his scent. John remained asleep as he did this for which he was slightly glad. If John had been awake, he would have spent the whole time wiggling about and making the job generally impossible. Gently, he flipped John to his front, making sure his breathing wasn't restricted before he began on his back side. As he slid down his body, he had to avoid the epicenter of the glorious scent and taste John was emitting, saving it for last. Finally, all of John had been covered, inspected with fingers and licked and nuzzled, except his arslehole. Sherlock spread his omega's legs again and dove in.
The first press of his tongue in the small hole woke John with a shout as an indescribable flavour burst across his tongue. He closed his eyes, pressing in again. The scent of John's heat filled his nostrils as the taste filled his mouth when he swiped his tongue in again and again and John kept moaning and writhing.
"Sherlock, please!" John cried so suddenly that Sherlock sat back in surprise at the first words his omega had spoken in nearly two hours." John used his surprise to pull his knees under himself and thrust his arse in the air, hands pressed to the bed. He was a pretty sight on all fours like that. Then again, he was a pretty sight all the time. "My heat is starting Sherlock, and I really need you to fuck me right now!" Blue eyes, dilated and hooded, peeked at him from over a scarred shoulder. He wasted no time in complying, after all, he'd been hard since right after his orgasm with John over the phone hours ago. His omega was so slick and loose already there was no need to prepare him. Sherlock got to his knees behind John and slowly, slowly pressed in.
The resulting moan from his army doctor was almost as glorious as the feel of the tight wet heat pulling him in. It was slick and hot and every centimeter he slid in, the louder John got. It was perfect. When he was fully seated, he stopped a moment, enjoying the sensation and laying out over the back below him. John turned and nipped along his jawline, nuzzling the skin softly as he hummed contentedly. Smiling at the blatant affection, Sherlock pulled out to the sound of a protesting groan and pressed back in to one of satisfaction. He quickly set a grueling pace, his fingers pressed into John's hips hard enough to bruise but the omega just kept crying for more and he was more than happy to oblige. The first round of the heat was bound to not last very long and soon his knot began to swell and John's cries grew more desperate. It was now or never.
"Are you sure you want me to knot you, to mark you, John?" He had to speak from between gritted teeth in his effort to not thrust his knot in.
"Yes, god yes, please Sherlock! Please alpha! Knot me! Mark me! Alpha, my alpha, please, please!" Sherlock bit his lip hard enough for it to began bleeding and increased the pace of his thrusts. John was tightening around him and all he could do was hold on. He wrapped a hand around John's cock and stroked it in time with his thrusts. Less than a minute later John was crying out and Sherlock thrust hard enough to pierce him with his knot as he bit into John's neck. John seemed to explode beneath him, crying out as his cock spurt out out come over his hand and the heat wrapped around Sherlock's cock so tightly that he came too, the restrictive pressure pressing on his knot until he was coming again and again, teeth embedded firmly in John's scent gland. When the first wave passed he collapsed to the side, taking John with him. Slowly, he pulled his teeth free, licking at the wound apologetically and nuzzling at the underside of John's jaw. Suddenly he was coming again, his (his) omega moaning softly at the sensation.
"John?" he said softly, wrapping his arms around the omega's waist, rubbing soothing circles into the softening stomach below his hand, and nuzzling softly at his jaw. There was no answer. "John?" he said again.
"'m'ok." Despite his reassurances, his answer was slurred and mumbled, like he didn't even have the strength to open his mouth.
"Are you sure?"
"Best. Fuck. Ever." Sherlock's hands stilled and then John was turning his head to nuzzle at Sherlock's jaw. "Best mate ever. I don't deserve you." John continued nipping softly at his jaw, running his nose along the hollow of his throat, a substitute until the knot freed them and the omega could scent along his new alpha's scent gland properly. Sherlock's arms tightened as he came again, teeth lightly gripping above his mate's scar.
"John, if either one of us does not deserve the other, than it is I who doesn't deserve you," Sherlock corrected when the sensations of his orgasm had passed. "Of all the people I have met, you are the only one who has not become predictable or boring. You praise me when I deduct, you scold me when I do wrong, you only mind my experiments when they disrupt the dishware or your food, you're not afraid to tell me 'no'. To me, you are not just the perfect omega, you are simply... perfect." John's face was a bright red the alpha's knot finally deflated and he slipped free, prodding the smaller man to roll over until he faced him. Gently he eased his omega's face to his scent glad, thrilling in the sensation of his nose passing up and down repeatedly.
"You insufferable git." John's insult came muffled from against his skin and Sherlock hummed, nosing at the gold-blonde hairline. "You're the one who's perfect for me, curing my psychosomatic limp and apparently my psychosomatic heat-loss, and making life wonderful again.
"Then it seems perhaps we are perfect for each other." John was silent for a long moment, slowly furthering the ingraining of Sherlock's scent into his senses, each pass of his nose along the scent gland accompanied by gentle nips and quick passes of a smooth tongue. The detective relaxed into the proceedings, waiting for the next round of heat to start up again.
"Yeah, I guess we really kind of are." His omega's grin was clear in his voice and Sherlock smiled, pressing a kiss into his hairline.
Urgh. So, I'm not as pleased with that as I want to be. I LOVE John's part, but Sherlock's...I don't know. Either I suck at writing Sherlock or maybe it's because it's very nearly 04:00. Either way, now this is posted I can go to sleep so as not to miss my local showing of the DW 50th. Tscüß.