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Sweeter than Heaven, Hotter than Hell

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John Hamish Watson was seventeen when he first met the great Sherlock Holmes. There was no way he would have thought that this troubled child would become one day the best and the wisest man whom he would have ever known.

 

What caught his attention at first was the shrill cry of pain that came from a far-off corner of the yard of Haverford Boarding School. He ran in the direction of the now audible sounds of a fight and froze a few feet away from it. What he saw made him skip a heartbeat.

A boy had his back pinned against the wall by another one twice as big and probably a few years older. Two other boys were laughing in the back, cheering their friend who was trying to give the child a hell of a beating. Not that the boy seemed helpless, he was in fact frantically hitting the palm of his hands on the bully's head to disorient him. That's when John noticed that his feet were not touching the ground and that he was going to use that fact to knock the bully off. With his heel, the little boy gave a severe blow to the sciatic nerve on the lower back of his opponent, drawing a howl of pain, then struck another one behind the knees. They both fell off and the first one to be back on his feet was the younger boy. Before he could actually start to beat the crap out of the bully, John was on him, pulling him away from the other kids.

"Dear Lord, what do you think you're all doing? If I ever see you fighting again, I shall tell the director. Now leave. The three of you."

John waited until the little group was gone to release the boy he had kept in his strong hold. That was the power of the prefect. You can reprimand the others because you've been given a little authority on them by the director himself. It was a little unusual to have an Omega as a prefect, but John Watson was not any Omega. He could fight the urge to submit to Alphas and had a great control of himself since his first heat. That kind of power of will was rare among the Omegas, they had almost never seen one being that strong before, less a seventeen year old.

"Are you alright?"

The kid's tone was sharp when he answered:

"Of course I am. It is pretty obvious that I won."

"Not that obvious, if I might say."

Watson's gaze examined the boy. The brown hair was a cute mess, forming soft little curls, especially behind the ears. He had gorgeous, adorable brown eyes, but that was not the most important. What made him say that was the chin covered with blood and the cut on the forehead. He had been hurt and Watson immediately wanted to take care of that.

"You will come with me. I'll help you with that."

John could see that the younger boy was reluctant at following him but after an extended look he gave up and fell into step beside him. They walked side by side for a few minutes, then Watson pushed the door to his room open and led the boy inside. He had him sit on the bed.

"Don't worry, I've done that before. My name is..."

"John H. Watson. Future Doctor, brilliant student, prefect of the school and captain of the rugby team, I know."

"How... ?"

"People seem to like you a lot around here. I'm Sherlock Holmes. And yes, I am fifteen."

Watson was not going to ask that out loud but maybe his eyes spoke for him. Holmes seemed like a brilliant child, he could not deny it. Nodding, he rolled his sleeves up and turned his back to Holmes. He dipped a cloth in hot water and then came back to face the boy, placing a hand on the back of his head and gently wiping his blood-covered chin. Holmes groaned at first, but didn't pull back and let the other man clean his face. After a few minutes, Watson's fingers curled in his sweaty hair as he gave him a worried look.

"Holmes, are you alright?"

He got no answer. Holmes' eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and Watson now had to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. This touch made the younger boy shiver and he muttered that he was fine, but his skin felt abnormally hot and Watson didn't believe him at all. Suddenly, he understood what was going on. He straightened and reached for the door, filling the space under it with some of his clothes to prevent the scent from escaping the room. He had done this before. Helping Omegas go through their first heat. He was there with them for a few days, cleaning the sweat off their skin and reassuring them as good as he could. He had to keep the scent in the room because the last thing he wanted was an Alpha coming for Holmes. The boy was young and probably afraid and things could tend to get a little rapey.

"I've been through this before and it is not as bad as you think. It's gonna be fine."

Oh well. Sometimes it was that bad but he could not really say that. He heard Holmes gasp behind him, then nothing. The silence became heavy, Watson still had his back turned to Holmes and was washing the cloth he used to clean the blood. Suddenly, he smelled it. He smelled it and before he knew it he dropped to his knees.

... How could he have missed it? He hadn't smelled anything on Holmes, anything at all. And yet, the pheromones now released by the heat were incredibly strong. Strong and irresistible. How could he not have noticed before?! Watson had put himself in a really, really bad situation. Not only himself but also Holmes, who was breathing heavily in a corner of the room. The curtains were closed, leaving them in the dim light, the lamp on the desk was their only lighting. He had been so stupid ... Sherlock Holmes smelled like danger, of an arrogance that Watson should not find attractive. The prefect felt the Omega in him already panting as the wild scent filled the room, not leaving him any fresh air. Every time he took a breath, he got a mouthful of that appealing smell. Bloody hell, control, he needed to control himself. He slowly tried to stand up again but a low noise, an actual growl behind him, sent him back on his knees. It was painful, calling for him. He had to submit ... Oh dear Lord. Watson had never wanted it so bad, not even during his own heats.

"It's ... going to be alright ..." he tried to murmur, and then Holmes was on him.

Even guided by his instincts, the boy was so young. He looked as if he had no idea what to do with Watson, what to do with this urge to take what was his. His whole body was screaming Mine! and yet he felt so lost because really, could he just own Watson right now without caring about him consenting or not? Good for him, John was there to help him anyway. They were actually both sprawled on the floor, Holmes on top on him. His shaking hands were trying to get rid of Watson's shirt but before he could take it off after undoing the buttons, the Omega reached for his fists and tugged at them.

"No. Don't."

Watson himself was surprised at how he managed to keep his voice that calm, since his body was shivering and he already had that wet feeling between his thighs. He had to do this, for both of them, he needed to keep his head clear so things wouldn't go the wrong way. Surprisingly, Holmes obeyed and released Watson's clothes, but then kept looking at his hands without knowing what to do with them. Young maybe, but very intelligent indeed. He could understand that something was wrong and that, maybe, it was not a good idea. That didn't make things easier. Even if he was aware of the situation, it would not last for so long. He would soon hit the peak of his heat and the need would be so strong that being that close to an Omega would drive him crazy. Watson knew that. He knew that he had to keep the control over Holmes and have him submit instead. It was totally unheard of. And a stupid idea. But still better than letting go and finding himself bonded to a fifteen year old troubled child he had just met. Sherlock Holmes, an Alpha. An Alpha with the best scent ever.

"Easy, easy. Here, I got you."

Watson closed his arms around Holmes, tightening his hold as soon as he felt him resist. Holmes made that growl again, that husky noise in the back of his throat, and gosh that was amazing. Pure animal instincts. Watson wanted every part of it. They would both suffer during this heat, it was going to be painful. He knew that very well. One hand in the dark curls on Holmes' nape, fingers clenching in spite of himself, Watson gently rolled his hips. The movement created a hot friction against the bulge in the Alpha's trousers and was rewarded by a whimper. Holmes took the motion in a few seconds; a fast learner. With Watson's arms keeping him from going further, he rubbed himself against the prefect faster and harder. It was not quite enough but it was not that bad either. They were both groaning and panting heavily, mouths a few inches apart, Holmes' dark and yet aware eyes staring in Watson's gray blue ones. The Omega's arse was dripping wet and Holmes could definitely smell it. His thrusts were now frantic, erratic, whole body rubbing against Watson with desperation. A few more minutes of this treatment and Sherlock stilled out of a sudden, moaning loudly. His moan turned into a sob of pleasure and he violently broke Watson's hold to tug at his own trousers helplessly.

"I-I ... Watson ... Ngh! Aaah ..."

He was finally able to open his trousers after a few attempts and took them off furiously, before going back to thrusting against Watson's jerking hips. He then yelped and fell on top of the prefect. Watson was very aware of the pulsating cock against his naked belly, even through the light cotton underwear. Soon his stomach was hot and sticky with come, the young Alpha groaning softly in his ear as he reached a really needed orgasm, coming all over Watson. That's when John realized that Sherlock was knotting. And what a bloody knot! So huge against his stomach. He had to hold back a whimper, the very idea of having that knot in him was so appealing. On the other side he could only be relieved because Holmes was able to knot even without actually fucking him, which meant more or less than an hour of respite before he would need to have sex again. Watson let out a sigh and gently rubbed Holmes' nape, whispering :

"A few days left ..."

Chapter Text

Watson lifted his head to cast a glance at the shadow lying on his bed. Sherlock Holmes was still recovering from his first orgasm, waiting for the knot to subside. 

 

"Good boy ..." Watson had said, after a few minutes, still lying on his back with Holmes on top of him.

The Alpha had snorted in an adorable way, wrinkling his nose while lifting his head to look at Watson. They had stayed like that for a couple of seconds, then Holmes had shaken his head.

"Are you sure you are the Omega here? Or is it the other way around?"

"What do you mean?"

"I am the Alpha, but I am the "good boy" ?"

Watson had just laughed because the kid had a point here. He wasn't behaving as any other Omega, but from what he could see, Holmes didn't mind. He was back to nuzzling his neck and purring like a cat, Watson's fingers still running through his damp hair. The prefect had finally lifted him and carried him to the bed, then had sat himself on a chair on the other side of the room, keeping some distance between them. It didn't change anything. The strong scent was everywhere, he could not avoid it.

 


"Why are you still here?"

Watson blinked a few times, realizing that Holmes addressed him. That was a good question, and he wasn't even sure how to answer that. He was stuck in a room with an Alpha in heat and he wasn't leaving. On the other way, he didn't want to have sex with him. Something was wrong, now that he thought about it. No wonder why the boy was asking.

"You need me," he said without thinking.

"You're not helping."

That hit him hard. It was a fact. He was making it worse for the Alpha just by being in the room, his own scent increasing the need Holmes was actually feeling. It was only a matter of time before he would try to mate him again and this would last for days

"I cannot leave. Trust me, if I open this door, all the Omegas in London will invade the place, rip your clothes off and try to jump your bones."

"... The smell is that strong?"

"Even worse."

They both fell silent again. Watson had finally removed his pants soaked with his own fluids. He was wet and slick, open and so needy, he couldn't help pushing a finger deep inside and moving it back and forth. The thrusts were slow at first, then he increased the speed and the silent fingering soon became pretty obvious, the wet and obscene noises due to the self-lubricating filling the room and making Holmes gasp. 

"W-Watson ..."

John didn't listen to him, even added another finger and pushed deeper. Holmes was squirming on the bed, all his senses assaulted at once. The smell of his Omega - Whoa, where did this possessiveness come from? - the noises his fingers made while fingering his slick hole and all this heavy breathing, it was just too much. He shifted so his dark eyes could rest on Watson and he barred his teeth as he watched the good prefect losing control of himself and falling into pieces. Gorgeous. And all his. Holmes' hands clenched on the bed, he wanted to literally push Watson on his back and fuck him right now. Instead, he kept groaning softly, waiting. A few more minutes and he would be ready for the second round. Watson was very aware of this gaze staring at him, of these low noises escaping Holmes' throat. Noises of hunger. It made Watson ache and for a moment he wanted to spread his thighs and let go. Submit to his Alpha in need and let Holmes own him. It was his duty to make sure his Alpha was satisfied. But since when was Sherlock Holmes his Alpha ... ? Dear Lord, his mind was babbling nonsense about how he wanted Holmes' knot, wanted to be owned and wanted that moment where two separate people bond into one spiritual unit. Biting his lips, he withdrew his fingers and pulled up his underwear. Holmes moaned with frustration and Watson heard him moving on the bed. A moment later, he was being pulled to the floor by the young boy and felt his hot, sweaty skin against his own bare chest. 

"Why won't you let me do it?" Sherlock asked and he sounded so young and helpless at this very moment that Watson felt his heart sinking.

"You can't just bond with the first Omega you meet, Holmes. This is serious. You're young and free, you'll have plenty of time for that later."

Just like the first time, he induced the pace and Holmes followed. Most of their clothes had been removed, making the burst of feelings more intense due to more bare skin touching. Neither of them was able to talk any longer, they were reduced to animals, animals desperately rubbing their groins together to fulfill their needs. It wasn't enough and Holmes was sick of it. He reached for Watson's neck and bit him at the junction between neck and shoulder, then left a wet trail along his collarbone with his tongue. Subtly, his fingers worked their way towards Watson' hole and once he reached it, Watson bucked his hips with a moan. Holmes pressed a thumb inside, clasping his knees around Watson to keep him from moving or pulling back. When the prefect tried to say something, Holmes cut him off with a kiss full of teeth and tongue. A little awkward since he had never done it before, but still good and he didn't mind the sloppy way their tongues were dancing together. He was slowly moving his thumb in and out and when they parted for air, Watson cried out in pleasure, making Holmes curse under his breath. Bloody fucking hell, that was hot. He added a finger, then another, still rocking his hips to rub himself on Watson's thigh while fingering him vigorously. 

"H-H ... Holmes!"

Watson could protest as he wished, nothing would stop the kid now. He was discovering something incredible: the lust. He wanted to see how many fingers Watson could take, wanted to turn him into a mess, wanted to blow his mind and finger him to orgasm to see the expression on his face when he would come. He wanted him in every possible ways. Four fingers pressed in Watson's entrance, Holmes went for the last one, the pinky finger trying to make his way inside. He was stretching him as hell, but the older boy was so wet that it made it easier. He gently pumped inside Watson, making sure that he was not hurting him. Stronger than his need to mate, there was the need to keep his Omega safe. Watson's positive response with a great deal of moans encouraged him and he kept doing until the Omega's muscles clenched around him and he came hard, Holmes following a couple of seconds later. Watson's upper body was covered with semen. Like, a lot, really. There was a metric ton of it. Mostly Holmes'. The boy licked his lips at that sight and withdrew his fingers, smiling at the noise it made. He looked amused.

"Good boy... "

"Very funny, Holmes, really."

"You didn't complain when I had my fist up your arse."

Watson was still stunned by the way Holmes seemed in control. He was the one in heat and yet he could still talk to him, well, no, he could formulate a few sentences in a breathless way and keep himself from thrusting his cock right now in him. Not that he couldn't do it... Watson's body was open for him. This boy was really unique, special in his own way. He even found the strenght to laugh a little as he stood up to reach the bed, where he would lie for the next hour or so. 

They didn't talk much during that time. They were mostly trying to regain control of their breath and mind, each on their own side of the room. Watson had heard about Sherlock Holmes before. A boy so brilliant that he could actually describe a part of a person's life just by looking at her, her clothes and her expressions. A genius, indeed, capable of great deductions. Also a bit eccentric, but all Watson could see was an adorable young man who seemed nice and, like he had said, unique. There was something in him that Watson could not describe. Something appealing that other people didn't have. Mostly, Sherlock Holmes was a mystery and Watson loved that. And that bloody knot, Dear Lord!! 

 

They kept going like that for the whole night and the day after, without a word being spoken. Holmes would come to see Watson when he needed him, they would repeat the same scene again and again. Rub and thrust against each other, sometimes with Holmes fingering the Omega but they never went further than that. Waston ensured that there was no actual penetration. Once, he had fallen asleep, skipped one of the peak of the cycle and woken up with Holmes curled in his arms. His heartbeat had increased until he felt Holmes' knot on his thigh, and the sticky and hot come covering his stomach. The Alpha had been reasonable, hadn't gone further than what they had done before. That made Watson smile; he really could trust Holmes.

It was at night, the second day of the heat, that Holmes finally broke the silence.

"What are you writing?"

He could hear the scratching noise from where he was. Watson didn't answer him but stood up and walked towards the bed. Holmes shifted to face the other man, who handed him a note and settled himself at the end of the bed. Close, really too close, though. The Alpha took it with a sigh and read the first line.

"The British man lives in a red house. Watson, what is that?"

"Read it."

Holmes rolled his eyes but tried to focus on the paper. His beautiful brown eyes roamed the sheet for a moment, then he raised his head and blinked one, two times. Watson's expression was indecipherable as he told him to read it again. His tone left no room for discussion so the boy obeyed. Once he was done, Watson abruptly took the paper back and stared at him. He could see that Holmes was having some problems staying composed. Another wave of heat, since the knot had completely subsided. John knew the kid was the intellectual type and maybe keeping his mind occupied would distract him from his surging desire.

"Now repeat the riddle."

Holmes groaned. He tried to sit himself on the bed but Watson's hand on his stomach pushed him on his back. That caused the boy to firmly grab his wrist, trying to bring him closer to take what he needed from him. They fought for a moment then Watson finally was able to pull back.

"Repeat it."

"I won't take orders from you, John Watson."

"Fine. I overestimated you."

 Watson stood up and slowly walked to the chair he had positioned in the middle of the room. In the light of the lamp, he watched Holmes' moist body squirming on the sheets now soaked with sweat. He knew he could give him what he needed, but he decided not to. Obsessed with the shadows playing on Holmes' hot naked skin, he crossed his legs and tried to forget that he was still dripping wet himself between his thighs. Between a few gasps, Holmes finally said:

"The British man lives in a red house. The Swedish man keeps dogs as pets. The Danish man drinks tea."

A smirk made his way to Watson's lips. Naturally, Holmes had his pride to save.

"The green house is to the left of... A-AH! - Of the white house. The ... The owner of..."

He was struggling a little bit, his hand now palpating his throbbing cock. 

"I-I can't Watson..."

"Sure you can, Holmes. I know you can."

He listened to the sob escaping Holmes' lips and pushed the game further, insensitive to the boy's distress. Sherlock seemed to be about to cry, but Watson knew better.

"Listen to me. You will repeat it all without any mistake or you'll have to start again from the beginning. I won't let you stop until you've said all the words that are written on this paper, Holmes."

He watched as Holmes twitched while biting off a moan. The kid was loving it! Watson remained silent for the next few minutes, giving Holmes all the time he needed to clear his mind and concentrate on the riddle. He started to repeat it in a husky voice, whimpering and groaning through it sometimes, his hips jerking involuntarily. When he mistook the brand of cigarette in one of the clues, Watson snapped "Wrong." in an unemotional tone. It was hard to keep his voice neutral since Holmes, that bloody little brat, was enjoying being reprimanded. He was making all those orgasmic sounds while slowly stroking himself. What a special Alpha indeed. He still found the strenght to start over and finally, after a good ten minutes, he carefully murmured the last clue:

"The person that smokes Blends ... Has a neighbour who drinks water."

He closed his eyes, as if waiting for Watson to call him down. It didn't happen. 

"You did great, Holmes. I've never seen someone in heat being able to concentrate that much. A lot of people can barely talk. Now tell me: Who owns the fish? "

Watson didn't have to wait for the answer.

"The German, obviously, if you want me to solve it like that. But that is utterly stupid in fact. To ask who owns the fish relies on us making the assumption that someone does indeed own a fish. From logic we can determine that the German owns a pet, and we don't know what that pet is, but can we really say that it is a fish?"

Watson's eyes widened. Seriously, what could he say to that? Holmes had solved the riddle and even raised a very good question. That was enough torture, he deserved his treat. The prefect gently patted his thighs as an invitation and Holmes was on him the minute after. His brown irises were full of innocence as he waited for Watson to make the first move. The prefect lifted the younger boy and carried him to the bed. They ended up interlaced on the sheets, hot skin against hot skin. Watson gently removed a sweaty curl from Holmes' forehead and continued the movement, stroking his hair with a smile. 

"Let me love you, Watson" Holmes whispered softly, his eyes dark with desire.

"For the tenth time, Holmes, you can't do that sort of thing with any Omega that -"

"You're NOT any Omega."

Those were the magic words. Watson opened his mouth, closed it, then simply closed his eyes and let Holmes take matters into his own hands. The Omega removed his own underwear then lay on his back, legs falling open. Holmes purred and started whispering in his ear, saying whatever crossed his mind, total nonsense which was unusual for him since he was so brilliant. He finally resigned to some "Love you" or "Need you" or even "So hot, so wet ..." whispered in a hungry tone. Watson didn't mind at all. He could not resist any longer. Two days, two bloody fucking days, he had been harassed by Holmes' pheromones, he had been wetting his pants with self-lubricating and he had endured so much dry humping without losing control ... This was all too much now. Oh god. He felt like he was going insane.

"Holmes. Now. Please. Need you. Please."

Watson cried out when Holmes finally shoved in. They both cried out, actually. They had waited so long for this to happen. The very first thrusts almost sent Waton over the edge and he had to fight not to come immediately, shoving his face in a pillow to muffle his loud moans, fingers clenching on that pillow. After a few minutes, he pulled his head back to let Holmes hear him groaning and whimpering, and gosh, Holmes loved that. He thrust even harder, Watson was so wet he was leaking all over his thighs but that was great, that was fine because it felt so good. Watson bit his lip. The strong scent was everywhere, wrapping around him. Whatever he had thought before, Holmes didn't smell like danger at all. He smelled like protection, like security, he smelled like home and in his arms was where Waston wanted to be, and stay forever. He felt like he could understand the young boy better than anybody. There was no need to talk, no need for the orgasmic noises Holmes was making. He knew that he was enjoying this anyway, he could feel it. He could even feel more than that. Love. Trust. Comfort. Holmes had always been alone. He was unique, he was a genius, but he was different and people are afraid of the unknown. Holmes had been set aside too often. But, the last time the kid thrust inside him, Watson felt suddenly so full and so fucking great, and he understood. Holmes didn't need many friends to be happy. He had the only thing he wanted, the only thing he needed: Watson, all to himself. The Omega could read his Alpha like a book, and the reverse was also true. He was not a mystery for Holmes anymore. Sherlock Holmes had only been waiting for his Omega. And he had found it.

Holmes suddenly shifted and his knot still locked in Watson made the poor guy whimper.

"Dear Lord  Holmes, stay still!"

It was a little awkward, the young boy didn't seem to know how to position himself so they would both be comfortable. He actually moved a lot even if Watson protested loudly, causing them two more orgasms. Eventually, he settled himself on his side behind the Omega, legs weakly wrapped around Watson's, and stilled. That's when Watson allowed himself to close his eyes and smile sleepily. The feeling of closeness was overwhelming and yet he loved it so much. It was great, the way he could feel Holmes with every part of his soul. 

He then felt Holmes' hot breath against his ear as the boy whispered softly:

"You're mine, John Watson. And I love you."

Chapter Text

It was midnight and Watson's eyes were still wide open. He could barely control himself so his distress wouldn't affect Holmes and wake him up. That was the last thing he wanted, he would not be able to handle it otherwise. The prefect could use some sleep. There were still four hours left. However, the seriousness of what he was about to do was keeping him awake. He shifted to lie on his back and look at the ceiling, finding comfort in the feeling of the warm body curled against his. This great feeling wouldn't last. Four hours. It seemed so long and so short at the same time. Watson swallowed with difficulty and closed his eyes, his head immediately filling with memories.

 

Watson moved a little, something soft tickling his neck in a not so unpleasant way. Yet, he'd rather be sleeping than feeling this thing, whatever it was, on his Adam's apple. They had just finally gone through the heat and now he needed some rest, definitely. Dear Lord, this thing was still there, slightly brushing his skin, sending a shiver along his spine. Watson finally opened his eyes just a crack, and then shot them open with astonishment as he saw those dark brown eyes just above his face. These eyes blinked slowly and kept staring at him. OK, that was ... well, to be frank, that was creepy. 

"Did I wake you up?" a voice asked in a murmur.

"Oh, no, I'm still sleeping." he replied in a tone full of sarcasm.

"Oh. Great."

By this response, Watson understood that the Alpha didn't really listen to him. The handsome face above Watson's did not move. There was just that obsessive stare, not even directed to Watson's eyes but more on his neck actually. The hot breath was brushing his skin and Watson could only hope that the other boy wouldn't notice that he had goosebumps. 

"Holmes."

The kid reluctantly looked up at him and sighed, as if finally noticing that he really had woken him up. 

"What are you doing?"

"Experiment."

"On my neck. At two in the morning."

"I shall do my experiments when I feel like doing them. My brain was in the mood for it. My mind rebels at stagnation."

"May I ask what you discovered?" The sarcasm was back in his voice, with some annoyance too.

Holmes didn't seem to mind. He just shrugged and tilted his head to press his lips to Watson's Adam's apple. So that was he who was doing that. Now it didn't explain anything. Why was he doing that and for what purpose? Certainly not for an experiment of any kind and besides, Holmes seemed way too relaxed to be trying to figure something out. It was almost as if he could fall asleep right there, on Watson, with his mouth or cheek pressed to his neck.

"Holmes, for god's sake, why are you -"

He was interrupted by a cute little purr coming from Holmes' lips. Watson gulped and the boy made that noise again. He was clearly enjoying himself. 

"See, Watson. I am studying your throat. It is fascinating, the way it produces a pleasant vibration when you speak."

So that was it. He just loved the feeling and woke him up on purpose to enjoy it? Watson could not believe it. He rolled his eyes.

"No need to be a genius to know that. Now that you've found that amazing fact, would you please let me go back to sleep?"

"No. Mmm ... Keep talking."

 

 

Holmes raised an eyebrow when he heard the door slam heavily. He narrowed his eyes as Watson gave him an angry look and he easily concluded that he had done something that had displeased him. Indeed, the young man walked towards him, eyes full of judgement. 

"What have I told you about your experiments, Holmes?"

"What is it this time? Oh. That guy from chemistry class? I just sedated him, he doesn't mind."

"You sedated a student?!"

"He asked for it! Anyway, he must be fine by now."

Watson grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"He's not waking up, Holmes!"

"... I might have miscalculated something..." was Sherlock's only answer. 

Watson slowly released him and let out a deep sigh. He could only wish that the boy would recover soon. Fortunately, nobody knew who had done this and Watson wasn't going to tell that it was Holmes' fault, of course. Still, he was a little sick of repeating himself, just to find out that Holmes hadn't listened at all. 'Don't use this toxin on anybody' or 'Don't put that in your mouth, you don't even know what it is!' , there was always something to say and yet it didn't change anything. Holmes perfectly managed to make Watson worry most of the time. And Watson suspected that he was doing it on purpose. But that was still fine with him... He loved his Alpha nevertheless.

 

 

Watson opened his eyes again and crossed his arms under his head. Almost a year had passed since he and Holmes ... Since they had bonded. The first week had been the worst. He really was freaking out. He, John H. Watson, was bonded to a fifteen year old kid he barely knew. That was stupid, imprudent, thoughtless! Worse, his Alpha was really a weird guy. Seriously. Holmes was so bohemian in his habits and lifestyle. He was an eccentric, with no regard for contemporary standards of tidiness or good order. And what to say about his erratic eating habits? He could be found starving himself at times of intense intellectual activity! Holmes was also a loner. He didn't strive to make friends, although he valued those that he had, Watson had noticed. Not that he had many. So the Omega was always the best to Holmes' eyes, well, at least that's what he loved to think. Even though Watson had never met someone like Holmes before, he got used to him. The boy was cute, nice, brilliant. He had a strong sense of justice. And ... Well. He was his Alpha. Now that he thought about it, their story didn't make much sense, but they had become the greatest friends. And even more.

At that thought, Watson got a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow it, swallow the burst of feelings, because he might actually cry if he didn't stop himself. His discomfort slightly disturbed Holmes' sleep, and the Alpha buried his face in Watson's neck with a little sigh.

"Mmm you all right?" he muttered in an adorable sleepy voice.

Watson gently rubbed Holmes' nape with his fingers, then brushed his knuckles on his cheek, making him smile and slowly open his eyes. Watson smiled in return, in spite of the tight feeling in his chest.

"Yes. Yes, I am fine. Just a nightmare. You can go back to sleep."

"Want me to play the violin for you ... ?"

Watson bit his lip. He was touched by the attention. Of course he should decline the offer and let Holmes sleep ... But he wanted to hear him play. One last time. He simply nodded and watched as the Alpha stretched and got out of bed in his only underwear. He lit the lamp placed on the desk and sat in the chair right beside it with his violin. Watson could only watch and smile, a little sadly because he knew, he knew this was probably a sort of farewell, in a way. Unbeknownst to Holmes. The Alpha propped the violin onto his shoulder and chin and began playing. The bow slid across the strings, making so perfect and beautiful notes. Watson had always loved the way Holmes played the violin with his heart and soul. So intense and so pure. He was falling in love a little bit more every time. Once Holmes was done, he put the violin back in its case and climbed on the bed. Lying face to face, they both remained silent for a moment, only smiling at each other. Then Watson murmured a thank you and Holmes folded his arms around him. Maybe he would be able to sleep, finally ... 

 

When Watson opened his eyes, he was cold. It took him a minute to notice why. Holmes was curled up on the other side of the bed, with most of the sheets. The Omega allowed himself to watch him sleep for a few minutes. The dark and soft little curls of hair behind the ears ... He would have touched it, but he couldn't. It was time. A quarter past four. Watson leaned towards the boy and pressed a silent kiss to his hair, a single brush of his lips. He then stood up, the tight feeling back in his chest. His heart was sinking and he bit his lips not to cry as he took his suitcase. He had secretly packed up the day before while Holmes wasn't there, so he wouldn't see that coming ... He had to do it without letting him know, or it would really be too hard. Maybe he was just a coward... It was still too late. He could not back down. Watson dressed quickly and cast a last glance at Holmes before leaving the room and silently closing the door behind him. It was the end of the year, he wasn't the only one leaving today. He was done here and was going to university in London. Wanted to be a doctor, of course. What a plan for an Omega, but Holmes had always believed in him and he was now going to realise his dream. Holmes was younger. He still had two years to do in this school. Their separation was inevitable, the day had come, but things would have been easier if they hadn't bonded at first ... Not that he regretted anything ... It was just so hard. He kept walking even though the more he walked away from the school, and consequently from Holmes, the less well he felt. Watson finally reached the train station with the other students. 

At the same time, Holmes' eyes snapped open at the violent tear he felt. He could barely feel Watson, far away in the distance, and that made him panic instantly. He struggled to get off the bed, heart racing and eyes already damp. No. No, no, no! Not Watson. No. Bloody fucking NO! The Alpha felt like he was being torn apart, a part of his soul was torn and it was so damn bad! He wanted to run, run and scream Watson's name, make him come back right now. He wasn't stupid, he knew where the Omega was going. He knew that it was what Watson wanted and he could not prevent it, he had to let him go... He had to ... Oh gosh no. Watson had to come back right now. Too much pain. Holmes went for the door but the emptiness he was suddenly feeling, as if he missed an entire part of himself, knocked him off and he stumbled right in front of the door. With a long groan of pain, he cried like a wounded animal, tears running down his cheeks. Watson ... Oh dear Lord, Watson ...

 

Watson sighed and got into the train. Ten minutes later he was gone. That's only then that he let go and allowed himself to cry. But he couldn't. His eyes only filled with tears and he rested his forehead on the window. Before the connexion was definitely broken, Holmes' pain struck him hard and Watson half-whispered, half-sobbed ...  'I love you'.

Chapter Text

1881

Watson sighed and slowly stretched his bad leg, massaging his thigh. Stamford, an old friend of his, gave him a puzzled look. Watson let a few seconds elapse before saying:

"Who would like to share a room with me anyway?"

He frowned as the other man laughed. 

"What is it?"

"Well, you certainly have more chances that this other fellow who told me this morning that he was looking for cheap accommodation."

Stamford seemed to realize a little too late that he shouldn't have said those words. Now Watson was looking at him and he obviously wanted more information. Of course, if there was another man who was looking for someone to share a rent with, it was a chance for Watson. But... The man shook his head.

"No."

"Why?"

"You haven't seen him! The guy's a freak ... Not that he isn't nice, I bet he can be pretty friendly when he wants, but ..."

As if these words could discourage Watson! 

"And he's an alpha!" added Stamford.

Watson shrugged. Oh please. The Alphas, he knew them. He had bonded with one and fought with others. He was a doctor; a reputed job mostly practiced by Alphas. He was also a soldier, had fought in Afghanistan. How many Omegas had done that in their life? He wasn't any Omega and sharing a room with an Alpha did not frighten him. Of course, when the heats would come, they would have a problem, but they could certainly manage that. Try to avoid each other during the cycles, even if they would probably be more frequent due to the presence of each other's pheromones. Staying with an Alpha could make his heats become frantic, he knew that. But it's not as if he was in a position to be demanding in his choice of roommate.

"I don't mind. Can you introduce us?"

 

 

Relief and satisfaction flowed through Holmes' veins along with the seven-per-cent solution, the moment he thrust the sharp point of the syringe home and pressed down the piston. He sighed and sank back into his chair, dropping the syringe on the table beside his bottle. After a few seconds, he frowned. The effects of the cocaine were not the same as usual, he could already tell. He used this drug usually to empty his head, clear his mind, only this time the effects were just the opposite. His mind kept filling with memories that surely didn't belong to him since it was about war and he had never been to war. Or maybe they weren't memories, but thoughts and hallucinations. Holmes had never experienced that before and the effects were worthwhile to be noted down. However, before he could actually stand up and reach his desk, an urgent distress filled his soul and his primary Alpha's instincts instantly got the upper hand. He sank in his visions, regardless of their strange nature and of the fact that he didn't know where they came from. 

Gunshots. The damp ground beneath his feet. Men running, screaming, more gunshots. He could almost smell the relents of sweat, feel the ferrous taste of blood on his tongue. He used his senses to the maximum, expanding its field of vision, seeking the source of his anxiety. It was out there, somewhere, he knew it. He could feel it in his bones, the imminent danger, the threat hanging over them. No. Not over them. Over this shadow in the night. Whoever it was. Another gunshot, much closer this time, and a shrill cry that sent a wave of pain through Holmes' body. He shifted in his chair, teeth clenched. No. He had known it, known that he wouldn't be able to make it in time. He dropped to his knees. The contours of a body. Low gaspings. His hands tore the fabric of the trousers and palpated the leg. There was the wound, covered with blood. He was touching, yet he couldn't feel anything at all on his palms, not even the hot rush of blood. When he raised his hands before his face, they were perfectly clean. No. No way... He tried again, his touch firmer, but he couldn't even draw a howl of pain from the body lying before him, as if the man wasn't feeling the pressure of the hand on his wound. Holmes was in panic. Before he could do anything else, some other men circled them - circled the wounded man, only him. Dragged him away from the battlefield. The vision vanished the moment after, leaving Holmes breathless, sprawled in his armchair, his hair damp with sweat. Barely taking time to recover from this disturbing experience, he jumped to his feet and hurried down the stairs. His impulse caused him to crash headfirst on Stamford who had just opened the door, and both men fell to the ground. 

"What the ... Holmes! What are you-"

"I-I don't know. Good afternoon Stamford, nice to see you. Would you mind please removing your knee from my stomach?"

 The other man rapidly pulled back with a little squeak and held his hand to Holmes to help him up. The detective froze the moment his eyes lay on Stamford.

The scent hit his nostrils, wrap up all around him. An enchanting smell, both sweet and strong, delicious mixture of fragrances. Full-body goosebumps. Internal temperature rising steadily. Heat spreading in his whole body, then pooling to his groin. Pupils dilation, eight point six millimeters. The pulse reaches 95 beats per minute. R-Remember to breathe deeply to ... to prevent hyperventilation... F--Focus back on Stamford be ... Before he notices ... 

Holmes blinked suddenly after staying unblinking for at least ... fifty-seven seconds and four tenths, approximately, his mind informed him. Damned precision. He gently rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and tried to inhale deeply. Bad idea. He almost lost his focus again, flickering in shock in front of a stunned Stamford. When he had told Watson that this fellow was special he wasn't lying.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes... Yes, mostly. Were have you been? This scent is not yours. Whose is it?"

"What scent?"

"The one floating on you, pure delight, sweet as honey, rolling on my tongue with every breath I take! That scent! Do not make me wait, Stamford, tell me, who's that friend of yours? It must be a friend if you've been close enough for his smell to stuck on your clothes. Or, or maybe he just bumped you on the street so he might be a pure unknown! Dear Lord, tell me you know his name!"

"Well, I do know hi-"

"Coming closer! Wait for me baby, you're mine !"

And he was gone, running like crazy, guided by his nose apparently. His nose, or his instinct, or maybe both, Stamford couldn't tell. The only thing that crossed his mind at the moment was that ... Bloody hell, he had just set out the strongest and probably the weirdest alpha of London on the trail of his friend ... 

 

Holmes found him easily. The omega with the best scent ever. A tall guy with a straight posture, despite the cane he used to walk. In a fraction of second, Holmes could tell that he was a soldier. Ex soldier. Probably wounded to the leg if we relied on his limp. A soldier and a wounded leg ... Something clicked in place in Holmes' mind. The vision. He had thought it was hallucinations, but maybe, maybe they truly were memories. Not his, but the ones of this handsome omega. If he could feel him that much ... They were more than compatibles! It was the opportunity of a lifetime! His body shivered at the thought and he started running again in the man's direction without thinking any longer. It was driving him crazy and the alpha in him was slowly losing control. Fortunately he reacted fast enough to avoid being impaled on the blade the omega had pointed in his direction all of a sudden. Wow. What a temperament, he loved that. The man was on his guard. Marvelous! Holmes could not help but smile. He could tell that the Omega knew exactly what was happening... And by the look on his face, he wasn't pleased with that.

"Brilliant, indeed."

"Let me get this clear: I'm not going to have sex with you."

"What makes you say that those were my intentions?" Holmes asked, feigning incomprehension.

"Oh come on. You rushed at me, full of pheromones. I can feel it you know."

"... Right."

Holmes cleared his throat but suddenly stole the blade from Watson's hands in one fluid motion, pointing it under the man's chin with a proud "A-AH!". Watson sighed and his gray blue eyes stared in Holmes' brown ones for a moment.

"What little game are you playing ? Would you get that out of my face and hand it back, please."

Holmes smirked in an adorable way, sending some unwanted heat in Watson's stomach.

"It's not in your face, it's in my hand."

Oh, he wanted to play this game? Watson frowned and reached for the man's arm but Holmes shifted so he would be out of reach, giving him a playful look. The doctor rolled his eyes.

"Get what's in your hand out of my face."

He was finally pleased to be handed back the blade, and put it back in his cane, shaking his head as if he was very discouraged by Holmes' behaviour. The detective slipped his thumbs under the straps of his trousers. 

"You really should stop complaining."

"What? I'm not complaining! I just think this is the foolishest thing that ever happened to me!"

"No it is not."

"You're right. I've been bonded to a kid when I was just a kid myself and I left him. That was the foolishest thing. So you come in second position."

"See! I knew I couldn't possibly be- ... Wait, what?"

Watson gave him no answer at all and started walking. He was more than aware of the alpha following him but he never looked back nor stopped his walk. He ignored Holmes for the next ten minutes, pretending not to hear him reciting facts about Watson's life that he should not even know. In fact he was getting so annoyed by this smart arse that at one point he thought about giving him what he wanted just to silence him and, well, silence the voice in his head. The one telling him to submit to this alpha because he seemed like a very strong one. Hum... Nah. I wouldn't work anyway. Holmes seemed to be the kind of guy who would barely be able to shut up during sex. Maybe the alpha would even be able to find out the exact date Watson lost his virginity, and how he lost it, just by looking at his naked body, or whatever ... That bloody thought was creepy.

"Watson!"

Thank god! Stamford! He stopped his walk and turned around to see the man walking towards them. Before Watson could say anything, Stamford gave him a little smile.

"Oh. I see that you've already met!"

Watson froze in understanding and gave him a look. The one saying 'You're kidding me right?'. He then gestured in Holmes' direction.

"He's the one you were talking about?!"

"I told you..." Stamford smiled, amused.

Holmes decided to put in his two pennies worth.

"Oh! Then you are looking for a roommate, I suppose. Since people usually call me freak and leave after two minutes in my company, and it's been more than ten now and you're still there... I think we could get along pretty well."

Watson was more or less of this opinion. On the other hand, he really needed a roommate. Plus, he had been to war, he could ajust to difficult situations and handle them, so this guy shouldn't be too much trouble. Except for the heats problem, definitely. The smell of this alpha was already strong enough, thank you. He turned to face the man after a few seconds and shook his head.

"We should give it a try, I guess."

"Great. My name is Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock Holmes? That name was ringing a bell but Watson couldn't remember exactly why. 

"John Watson."

And he shook Sherlock's hand firmly. The moment their skins brushed for the first time, both men froze and their eyes grew bigger. Again, Stamford was witnessing a scene out of the ordinary. The men stood there, staring at the other with fascination. For both of them, it was like finding the missing puzzle piece. Something clicking in place and making them complete. The firm grip of theirs hands softened and almost became a caress.

"Alright ... I'll ... I'll see you later then" Stamford stammered and he left them alone, the situation becoming way too intimate for him to stay. Whatever was going on there between Holmes and Watson, it was none of his business and it made him feel uncomfortable.

Holmes wanted to be angry at Watson. Wanted to scream and ask him why he left, wanted to shake him and punch him so Watson would know exactly how painful their separation had been. But Watson knew, he realized. He knew because he had felt the same, he knew because he could feel it in Holmes from the moment their minds met and their bonded soul found their soul mate again. They stood out there for a long moment. Then, they both turned their head to look at the dark alley a little further on Holmes' left, the same thoughts filling their minds. They hurried this way without a word being spoken and as soon as they were there, they were all over each other. They kissed deeply, full of teeth and tongues, hands ripping theirs clothes, carelessly tearing them with energy and rushed movements. Eager to be skin against skin and to feel each other in the most intimate way, they rushed through the preliminaries. Holmes had of course noticed that Watson didn't need his cane at all anymore. He was using his bad leg as if he wasn't limping a few minutes ago, and when his knees buckled under him, the wound was far from being the cause. Once they were out of their trousers, Watson stilled. He didn't have to ask Holmes to stop, the detective did it by himself and glanced at him with a questioning look.

"... I missed you."

Holmes smiled and leaned closer to press another kiss to Watson's lips as an answer. Of course he had missed him too. Watson spread his thighs but the detective waited a little more. His mouth close to the doctor's ear, his hot breath brushing his skin, he muttered:

"Did I really bother you when I was following you?"

"Of course not. I got used to your babbling, Holmes. It's just your scent that annoyed me. It shouldn't be allowed to smell that good..."

He gently rocked his hips to let Holmes know that he didn't want to wait any longer. The younger man was laughing in his neck, teasing him, pressing his body against Watson's so the man would feel how hard he was, but yet he wasn't going further. If the previous moments were frantic, Holmes was now taking all his time to properly feel Watson's presence. He traced a hot and wet path with his tongue along the man's body and was happy to make him shiver. However, he didn't get to tease Watson much longer because the doctor wrapped his fingers around Holmes' prick quite firmly and guided it exactly where he wanted it to be. Holmes moaned loudly and started thrusting without hesitation. Nipping at Watson's bottom lip, he wondered how he could have survived without this for so many years. Living all alone, still not finding his mate. Nobody was able to compose with him like Watson had been able to do during their year together. What he had thought was an insignificant little bond between kids was in fact something pure and real. Something that had never faded. At each thrust of his hips, it was as if he was rediscovering his omega. Watson was whimpering under him and Holmes was touching, caressing, kissing every bit of naked skin he could reach. 

They passionately made love, in that alley. Not once, not twice. How many times, then? Watson could not remember, when he regained his senses in the morning. All he could tell was that he had no idea how they found the strenght, since they weren't even in heat. He looked at Holmes who was sleepily pressing sloppy kisses on the curve of his jaw. They were both tired but blissful and the night they had just spent outside in the dark was definitely the best one ever. Watson finally asked:

"Where did you say it was, again?"

"221B Baker Street."

"Baker Street ... Dear Lord... How are we gonna make it there? There's like a metric ton of semen in my arse and you ruined my clothes!"

Maybe it was because of the discouraged tone of his voice, but Holmes chuckled. A little bit at first, then louder, and in the end they were both laughing. Suddenly, the detective placed a hand on Watson's mouth and whispered:

"Someone's coming."

Now that the sun had risen, they could be more easily spotted by anyone crossing the alley. Therefore, Holmes decided to make them move so they would be hidden by those big crates stacked in a corner. Easier said than done. From the first movement, Watson let out a small cry that was fortunately choked by Holmes' palm. Moving slowly, Holmes tried his best not to create to much friction between his knot and Watson's muscles tightening around him. Not that the bursts of feelings weren't good, but the person walking towards them would easily hear them groan and ... Well. They progressed slowly, Watson whining every so often, Holmes holding back his laugh but not his wide, amused smile. They finally reached this hidden spot behind the crates and kept silent until the footsteps were gone. Then with his tongue, Watson coated Holmes' palm with saliva, causing him to pull back rapidly. The doctor gave him a dirty look.

"You bastard!"

Holmes chuckled again. Definitely a bastard.

"I can't bear another orgasm right now, stop moving for god's sake! Holmes!"

The man smiled and crossed his arms on Watson's chest, locking eyes with him and gently rocking his hips in a slow pace. That drew delicious moans from his Omega. The apartment at Baker Street could wait, they would stay locked together for a while so there was no urgency. Insensitive to Watson's grunts, both of pleasure and annoyance, Holmes replied cheerfully:

"I love you too, Watson."