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Weaponized Biologicals and Other Curtain Fic

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John shifted Sherlock's legs over his shoulders and set an increasingly rapid pace, thrusting into Sherlock until the sensation was just on the verge of uncomfortable. Their motion a sustained earthquake that the objects on the headboard could not withstand.

John and Mary's bonding photo fell to the floor. The stack of biochemistry books bounced on to the bed. The gun magazine. Sherlock flailed them off her arm, before bracing her hands above her to prevent John from pounding her into the headboard.

Sherlock keened, her mind casting through words and ideas, and feelings that could only resolve themselves on her tongue as, "Please! Please! Please!" Even though John had already given her all she'd asked for.

John gave a final guttural cry arching his back. Sherlock squeezed. She wasn't quite there yet. She wanted more. More. More. John made this little twist that made the most of what an Omega was given. She lost her hold on coherent thought.

They rested there for a while. Sherlock was already ready to be on to the next thing, but John had impressed on her that he needed a moment afterwards. He stroked her back taking full advantage of her pheromone rich sweat with the extra hit of friendship-comfort in addition to the orgasm glow.

Sherlock looked up at the clock and wished not for the first time that they had one that recounted the seconds.

Finally, John reached over her head and grabbed a flannel, pulling slowly out of her. She grabbed her own flannel and tidied up.

She lay next to John for an extra two minutes. Examining the soft skin around his belly critically. He still hadn't lost the baby weight, but it had already been impressed on her that suggesting exercise regimens would not be appreciated.

Two minutes and Sherlock rolled off the bed, leaving John chuckling. He preferred a cuddle after sex, but Sherlock couldn't see the point. Prior to sexual intercourse as a form of foreplay certainly, but afterwards seemed a waste of time. She picked up the biochemistry book and went downstairs.

Mary was putting away the groceries. She looked at Sherlock. "Oh, good. John will be nice and relaxed for our date night." She put the milk in the fridge and kissed Sherlock's cheek. Her Alpha musk made an interesting contrast to the scent of sex that still lingered on Sherlock's skin. Mary scented a deep sigh at Sherlock's neck before going up to enjoy "John cuddles."

Sherlock still didn't see the point. She puttered around for a bit. Checked on Peri in her crib. She was sticking to her normal sleep patterns. Her scent a sweet milk baby unpresented without a hint of the base scent to come. Sherlock updated the notebook.

Sherlock's breasts were beginning to ache. Again. Which admittedly had precipitated the sex in the first place.

She pulled out the breast pump and annotated the items that were outside of expected parameters at GeneTech while carrying out one of the most tedious exercises in the world. The unfortunate side effect of physical intimacy with a reproductively active Omega. She paused and savoured the sore feeling between her thighs and the euphoria brought on by the chemical cocktail of sex. The project at least was interesting. Generally when she was called in as a Consulting Biological expert, it was to point out flaws in the facilities at Biotch companies. She was enjoying this turn into criminal investigation.

She glared at the milk when she was done. It wasn't even as if it could be used. Theoretically yes, but John and Mary had declared her milk unfit for consumption by their child unless she changed her diet, which she tended to forget about - ignore. She of all people knew the limits of her transport.

She kept a small sample for later analysis, and pulled out a bottle of Mary's breast milk. Right on schedule, Peri indicated by her wail that she was ready for feeding.

Sherlock held the small squirming life form, being sure to position her head to hear Sherlock's heartbeat. She consumed the milk. Sherlock performed the gas removal procedure, checked her diaper for new materials and updated the notebook. Because positive reinforcement had been emphasized in all of the books on being a child's Milk Mother, even if she wasn't actually carrying out that function, Sherlock said, "Excellent work. You've gained three ounces. Continue to metabolize the nutrients in milk at exactly that rate and soon we'll be able to upgrade you to pureed food." Sherlock considered this. "This may not be an incentive." She didn't actually have anything more to say given Peri's overall lack of cognition. She positioned Peri in the sling, because contact with human skin was important at this stage and went about her tasks.

She was absorbed in her work when she looked up. "Utterly adorable." Mary was taking a picture. Sherlock looked down. Peri had every appearance of very seriously reading the binder.

Sherlock tapped the page. "That's right Peri, there is every indication that someone on staff at GenTech is syphoning electricity and biological materials for their own purposes. I've narrowed the culprit down to one of three individuals. Who do you think it might be?"

Peri did not have an answer, which was consistent with cognitive functions under still development. It was not her fault that she was a moron. It had been impressed on Sherlock that she was not to say that until Peri was at least forty.

John came into the room, freshly showered and in a suit that made him look nothing like an Omega capable of shooting a stranger for a stranger. Then again, Mary's red dress did nothing to imply former government wet works operative.

John kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Will you be alright, love?"

Sherlock sniffed. It wasn't as if she hadn't done this dozens of times before. It was fortunate Mary was interested in things like tedious movies and boring dates where the individuals did nothing more than consumed food.

John laughed and gave her a longer kiss, until Mary said, "Save some for later, honey." John followed Mary out the door and Sherlock was alone at last with the baby.

She grinned and proceeded with her date night enrichment series. Tonight's subject was the workings of the human cells. She pulled out the ten inch model and went over the parts of a cell with Peri. Studies showed that frequent interaction resulted in increased cognitive development. "Who is going to be the most cognitively developed baby?" asked Sherlock. "That's correct. You are."

 

At that very moment, Dr. Jenna Moriarty was in the midst of packing up her experiments with certain biologicals.

The staff room had been alight with gossip that Dr. Holmes had been called in to review GenTech's books and that could really mean only one thing.

Jenna looked one last time at the lab she'd constructed in the abandoned third floor clean area and sighed. She'd miss this place. But her work thrived in the shadows. Almost literally given the light sensitivity of some of the biomes she was working on.

Years later, when she died coughing up a lung from a disease she'd created in a substandard lab cadged together in a warehouse in Peru, she didn't really think about Peri Morstan graduating at the top of her class.

There really wouldn't have been any reason to do so.