Well this is my first time writing johnlock, guys. Also the first time writing omegaverse, so I apologize for any mistakes concerning the 'verse or otherwise. This is also posted on AO3 and as always, comments are love~


John lay on the sofa staring at the ceiling. The cramps were getting worse. They'd started the night before and he'd woken up in the middle of the night to a grinding pain in his abdomen. He'd tried to hide it from Sherlock; it would be over eventually. Sherlock hadn't a case on so he'd laid around in bed the whole morning. Now it was ten. John was glad he'd come into the living room.

He arched his hips off the sofa anxiously and groaned, gripping the edges and pushing himself back down, harder this time. The end of his menstrual cycle always felt like a constant siege on his body, as if his insides were twisting and pulling farther than they were ever meant to go.

Footsteps in the bedroom. John exhaled and settled down, though he couldn't help the fine sheen of sweat that covered his body.

Sherlock wandered in after a minute, bedhead like a wild bush and housecoat falling about his shoulders. "Morning," he said absently as he turned the kettle on.

"Morning," John said, and couldn't help breathing heavily and shakily as the fire twisted around his groin. Silence. He swallowed.

Sherlock's shadow engulfed him like a wraith's.

"It's cramps, isn't it?"

John winced, the space between them making him cold.

"It'll be gone soon."

"They started last night."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me as soon as they started?" Sherlock was still standing over him and John curled closer into himself, wishing he would kneel down.

"I didn't want to bother you, I don't know..." He took a pained breath as another flash rippled through him. "Look, I'm sorry, okay. I should have told you and I'll tell you next time."

John winced at the silence. He knew he'd snapped.

Sherlock slid down to eye level. "You will tell me next time."

"Yes," John said tersely.

Sherlock sighed. "Just relax," he said, and cool fingers were at his neck and sliding under his shirt from below. He sucked in a breath at the change in temperature in both places and squirmed, though Sherlock followed him. His hand was cool and flat and expansive on his belly, his other a soothing balm against his neck. Sherlock rubbed at John's nape and around his sore abdominal muscles.

"Oh, god, that feels good." John's laugh was strained but genuine, and Sherlock sympathized with him. He then leaned in and gave John a kiss on the cheek, while still keeping up the motions. John forgot about the pain for a moment and stilled. Sherlock kissed him a second time, then moved to his eyelids. John closed his eyes as Sherlock peppered butterfly-light kisses all over his face, moving finally to his lips. It was slow and warm, then John pushed up into Sherlock helplessly as another wave rocked through him. He panted and Sherlock touched their foreheads together, moving his hand from John's belly to take his hand and squeeze tightly.

"You've taken something for it, yes?" Sherlock asked.

"No."

"What?" Sherlock didn't know whether to be confused or relieved.

John laughed. "I don't know. It seems healthier to ride it out, and I wasn't sure-I mean, I didn't want to take it without, well."

Sherlock's gaze was immovable.

"You didn't want to take a pill yourself... and you didn't want to wake me up either?" his voice softened. "Quite the martyr during these, aren't you?"

"Sod off," John said quietly, his insides roiling again and feeling hurt at Sherlock's dismissal.

Sherlock was quiet again. Then he rose and the space beside John was left painfully cold. He whimpered at the loss.

Sherlock was back a minute later with a glass of water and pill. John hesitated, feeling a bit embarrassed he hadn't been able to take a pill hours before. Why hadn't he been able to do it? It wasn't as if he needed Sherlock's permission. They had talked about medicine before. Maybe he was just feeling a bit under the weather anyway, a tad more vulnerable than usual. Giving Sherlock control was usually his way of dealing with that.

"I checked the bottle, John. You aren't on any medication and you haven't taken one of these in weeks. It's perfectly safe," Sherlock said, misunderstanding his hesitance.

A beat.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." John sat up, feeling a bit hot around the collar. He didn't have to address the issue now.

"Good; open, then."

John opened his mouth, and huffed as Sherlock placed the pill on the back of his tongue. Sherlock gave him the glass of water and he drank. He gave the glass back and sunk back down into the couch, releasing energy he hadn't been realizing he'd been holding. Well, it wouldn't be long now, thankfully. Sherlock's hands on his neck, up to his face. John nuzzled into the touch. A glass being set on the floor, another hand in his hair. John moaned and felt a brief respite from the heat and stickiness.

"It'll take effect soon."

"Yeah," John said, nodding. "Thanks." He attempted a small smile. Sherlock returned it brilliantly, though his eyes were still pained. He gave John another kiss to the temple before settling down to kneel by the side of the couch, taking John's hand and rubbing gently.