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The Omega	By : themuller Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3797 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing; all rights belong to BBC Sherlock and I make no money from my writing.

Chapter List
- 1-The Omega
- 2-Breathe
- 3-Plans gone wrong
- 4-At your service
- 5-Shower
- 6-Hooked
- 7-Baby
- 8-Examination
- 9-O+
- 10-The scheme
- 11-Birth
- 12-Heat
- 13-Epilogue
- 9
- 10
- 11
For once John was up before Sherlock. His mind was still reeling from the events of the day before. Part of him wanted to block out the new information, another part felt almost relieved. If they could prove what they had figured out yesterday there was no way that the child could be given to James.
With weary eyes John looked at the piles of notebooks on the table, fearing what else might be hidden in them. What had been the point of the Professor's experiments anyway? To John it didn't make sense. He didn't know much about genetics, but surely having the same person as both mother and father couldn't be healthy. Then again, John's father hadn't shown any sign of illnesses, unless a bad temper would count as such.
No, John contemplated, the greatest problem between his father and grandfather had been the silence. As if both knew too much about the other and neither of them could find a way to break the ice. Not even when his grandfather was lying on his deathbed and John saw him reach out for his father, who just flinched away and left the room. At the time, John couldn't understand what was happening and much less why.
Knowing what he knew now, he had an idea though. His grandfather never explained how he had become a father. His grandmother always resented the child, and his grandfather was obviously unable to cope with his experiences in the camp.
John wondered if his grandfather even knew of the truth behind his impregnation.
John shuddered, and started to make tea. Some routine to calm him. The little one started her morning workout, and John couldn't help but smile, when he felt the small punches in his stomach. Sherlock knew and he didn't care. John's smile grew wider. Hell, Sherlock was probably already thinking about how he could turn the little one into a small scientist before her first birthday.
Sitting down in the armchair with the freshly brewed tea, John looked at his soon to be bondmate. Sherlock had been exhausted and was still sleeping soundly on the sofa, curled up around the blanket, which John had been covered with. John could feel the bond between them, had felt it for a while now, but had been afraid to let it manifest in his mind.
The bond with the Professor had been too painful. The Professor, being a master of manipulation, had overwhelmed John the first months of their bond. Thus, the Professor had been able to induce fear and terror in John, just by letting John feel his thoughts through their bond. It had taken John almost a whole year, before he had taught himself how to shut down for the connection between the two of them. The result had been one of the Professor's most severe punishments ever, but John didn't budge. Somehow being able to block out the Professor gave him a small amount of freedom.
The bond, or whatever it was by now, between Sherlock and him had been one-way. Sherlock had probably been able to feel most of John's emotions, while John had kept the connection from Sherlock to him closed. Still too aware of Sherlock being an Alpha and too worried about the power of their bond. Because it had to be much more powerful than the one he had with the Professor. Developed this far without them even having shared a heat.
They hadn't talked about how to proceed with the Professor's work in light of the recent unravelling's. John really didn't want to touch any of those books again, but he knew he had to. Sherlock wouldn't be able to work through all of those data alone. The two of them wouldn't be able to do that in the remaining months. If it even were months. Weeks were more likely, John thought, petting his stomach lightly and being rewarded with another flutter of movement.
With his hand on his belly he stood up and went to the table. It felt as if his little girl was cheering him on, kicking against the inner walls of his abdomen. He sighed, unable to suppress a little chuckle.
"Yes, yes, little one, I'll look through those blasted books and find every damn useful thing we can use against James and his bitchy bondmate," John leaned over the table and started to look through the books which he deemed the oldest. "Time to change the approach, little one. Oldest first, maybe we can find out what made him tick, eh?"
John worked in silence, sipping his tea, and only checking the very first page of every book to determine its place in the timeline. Not too keen on finding new disturbing facts.
He had managed to get most of the oldest books in order, when Sherlock finally stirred and opened his eyes. Moments later John was enveloped in long arms and possessive kisses, claiming his mouth and invading it relentlessly. John complied, letting Sherlock take him.
A hand in John's hair, pulling his head back and baring his throat to Sherlock, who licked and sucked his way down John's neck, sucking hard when he hit his mark, making sure that John could feel it, and that it was visible. John felt as if he had been caught in a storm, not quite able to follow what had brought it on.
Having been forced into heat several times through the past years, he couldn't help the feeling of dread every time Sherlock came close to his mark. John tensed before he deliberately forced himself to relax into Sherlock's ministrations.
It felt too good to be true and as much as he wanted to believe in Sherlock, John still held back. He wanted to trust Sherlock, his body and mind aching for the possibility to just let go, just let himself be engulfed in Sherlock's care. But he couldn't. Not completely, not yet.
John knew that care came at a price. And he wasn't willing to pay it. He wanted a certain amount of freedom, of making his own choices and decisions. And that, he just didn't believe Sherlock would give him.
John bid back a sob, realising that he could have so much more than he ever had before, but still desperately seeking just that tiny little bit of freedom and autonomy that he had lost for good with his diagnose.
Sherlock looked at him with those clear, piercing eyes, trying to deduce what John was thinking. He could feel John's sadness through the bond, thinking about yesterday's revelations. But no, that wasn't what was on John's mind, was it?
Sherlock frowned, pulling back. John whimpered at the loss of contact. God, he felt like a mess. If Sherlock said something now, anything, John would happily surrender, throw himself into Sherlock's embrace and forget about his reservations.
But Sherlock didn't. Because Sherlock could see John. Understand him, much more than John had thought possible. And Sherlock wasn't interested in an obedient Omega, serving his every little whim. Oh yes, he would certainly enjoy it, but only for a few days, maybe weeks. Sherlock needed a mate who could stand his ground when it really mattered. And John had done so. Even resisted the Professor when every part of his biology had been screaming at him to submit to him.
Sherlock was still observing John, his eye registering every little movement, trying to figure out what was happening. And probably knowing way before John, what was troubling him.
"I won't, John," Sherlock whispered, kneeling beside John, looking up at him. "I will not force you. I will not take choice away from you."
John was trembling. When he looked down into Sherlock's wide-open eyes, the honesty in his face, combined with an unknown vulnerability, it took John's breath away. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on their bond, feeling it in his chest like a warm glowing, pulsing through his body. When he opened his eyes again, Sherlock looked at him with wonder.
"You can feel it, can't you?" John breathed softly. Sherlock just gave a small nod, then slowly and very, very carefully raised his hand to touch John's chest with the tip of his fingers. As if he was afraid to break something precious and fragile.
"You can do this on purpose?" Sherlock's voice was hushed, even as his curiosity got the better of him. John concentrated on the bond, and saw Sherlock's confusion, when he closed the connection between them. Sherlock frowned, and looked pleadingly into John's eyes.
"Don't," he murmured, pressing the palm of his hand against John's skin. Sherlock drew in a deep breath, when the bond was spreading its warmth through John's chest into his hand and through his whole body once again.
The two of them just sat there, breathing in their scent, feeling the warmth, and trust, which flowed through the bond.
"He didn't write about this in the book, did he?" Sherlock broke the spell of the moment.
"Git," John giggled. "No, the Professor didn't write anything about the bond itself in the book. I don't think he ever experienced it like this himself, except maybe with James' mother. But that would hardly have been enough data for his scientific mind, would it now?"
John placed a light kiss on Sherlock's head and tousled his unruly curls.
"Get up, we've some work to do," he said and waved a hand over the piles of books on the table. Sherlock gave a put-on sigh, nuzzled and kissed John's belly, then stood up.
"Have you found the oldest one?" he asked, while he went to their small kitchen, searching for something to eat for John, and putting the kettle on.
"I hope so. I'm just not sure if I dare read through it," John answered with a concerned look on his face.
Sherlock hummed in response, putting the food and tea in front of John, indicating him to eat.
"I'll find the interesting ones, and you can work out those tables and diagrams from his German notes," Sherlock offered, taking a sip from his tea before settling down opposite of John.
Names, numbers, dates, and different symbols, indicating different treatments, John thought, yes, that would work, especially with the German texts. He would be able to work out the tables without needing to know the truth behind each symbol, making it possible to see just numbers and letters. He gave a curt nod, bracing himself for the task before him.
They worked in silence, Sherlock only pausing to take on his thinking pose, while John had to take a nap every now and then, fatigue overwhelming him. John would be the only one to eat, Sherlock claiming that food would slow his thinking processes.
By the end of the day, Sherlock had worked through the very first of the Professor's diaries. Written in English, and telling the story why he had to leave the country in the first place. While John had worked on yet another set of data from one of the early German notebooks, he could feel how Sherlock drifted from curiosity to disgust, from detached interest to sheer outrage while reading the diary.
"Care to take me through it?" John asked after he had prepared himself for the night, knowing that Sherlock wouldn't be sleeping. John had build a little nest of blankets and cushions on the sofa, feeling his Omega nature taking hold of him the further his pregnancy progressed.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Sherlock asked uneasy.
John indicated the sofa. With a cup of tea Sherlock sat down, and John curled up in his lap. Absentmindedly Sherlock began to let his fingers thread through John's hair, calming both of them.
"He started young," Sherlock began, "before he was eighteen, he had developed this idea of a perfect soldier. Strong, yet easy to control, and able to reproduce himself."
Sherlock cleared his throat.
"By then, Mortimer Moriarty still lived in London. He was heading for the university, wanting to study race and gender, genetics as they were understood at that time," John could feel how Sherlock tensed. "He had several girlfriends. All Alpha females. Every single one died while still dating him. Nothing showed up at the inquests. They had all been pregnant, but in the very early stages. It looked as if the pregnancy had caused their deaths. Nobody was able to accuse Mortimer of any wrong doing."
Sherlock took a sip of tea.
"He kept the articles about the girls deaths like a scrapbook. And documented every step in his great 'scheme'," John concentrated on Sherlock's voice and on their bond. Sherlock seemed detached and objective. John could feel it all the way through his own body. "Mortimer experimented on his girlfriends. Impregnated them with, well, you know by now," John nodded, no need to spell it out again. "Problem was that the Alpha females literally poisoned themselves with their pregnancies. Their bodies killed off the foetus within days, starting to poison the pregnant woman. All of them died during their first month of pregnancy, probably not even knowing that they were pregnant."
Sherlock fell silent for a while. John closed his eyes.
"How many?" he asked.
"Five. He had to leave the country by then, because the police and authorities began questioning him and his involvement with the women. He moved to Berlin. It was 1939, just before the war broke out," Sherlock fell silent again.
"How was he able to ever come back here again?" John wondered.
"I don't know. We'll have to look through the books," Sherlock answered, caressing John's nape lightly, soothing him.
"Or we could ask your brother. Surely, he must know something about all of this 'scheme' stuff?" John's voice was a mere murmuring. Sherlock was so very close, the feeling of peace and safety through their bond was lulling John to sleep.
John didn't see the deep frown on Sherlock's face, didn't watch him walk back to the table, looking through some particular papers, and John's notes.
John was soundly asleep by the time Sherlock had found what he was looking for. The frown was by then replaced with a look of utter disgust and Sherlock felt relieved that John was sleeping. He wasn't able to control his own feelings any longer. Sherlock made himself comfortable in the armchair, papers, books, and John's handwritten notes scattered around him, spending the night thinking.
John woke with a start; feeling like someone had punched him in the chest. Coughing for air, he looked confused at Sherlock, who was pacing through the room like a caged tiger.
"Brilliant idea. Such a brilliant idea, so stupidly applied," Sherlock triumphantly declared to no one in particular.
John shook his head, trying to wake up.
"John," Sherlock knelt beside the sofa, cupping John's face in his hands. Kissing him vigorously, almost suffocating John, who still was only half-awake.
Panting, John pulled away, a hand on Sherlock's chest.
"What brought this on?" John said throatily, trying to get his mind on-line, before Sherlock assaulted him with another round of kisses. He failed.
Half an hour later, Sherlock eventually released John from his attack. Incredibly, the mark on John's neck was still unbloodied, but now it was one in many. His hair was dishevelled as were his clothes, his belly laid bare, sporting hickeys all over.
John was wide-awake, completely befuddled, and had no idea what all this was about. Sherlock's eyes roamed over John's half-naked body, looking extremely pleased with his own handiwork. Smirking, he stood up and started to prepare a breakfast for John.
John looked down at himself, then looked at Sherlock, unfazed getting toast and tea ready, then back at himself. Once more at Sherlock. At last giving up, shrugging his shoulders, sighing, and getting up to change clothes.
"Don't," Sherlock cautioned.
"What?" John's confusion grew and he was close to pinching himself to make sure he in fact was awake.
"I want you like this. When our guests arrive," Sherlock said, clearly expecting John to catch up. He didn't.
"Guests?" When Sherlock didn't answer, being engrossed in the task of tea making, John moved towards the bathroom.
"No change of clothes and keep your hair as it is," Sherlock said, and John could feel his excitement once more through their bond.
With another sigh, John went to bathroom, going through his morning routine without touching his hair or changing his pyjamas bottoms and the dressing gown, he was wearing.
Returning to their room, he felt exposed. He wondered who their guests might be, since Sherlock had been telling anybody who wanted to visit them off through the past weeks.
He could feel the exhilaration from Sherlock, at the same time Sherlock deliberately tried to mollify John through the bond. For the first time ever, John let the bond work its magic without trying to fight or control it. Strangely, John felt liberated.
Sitting down at the table, Sherlock served breakfast for John and took only a cup of tea for himself. The table had been cleared, the books piled on the floor up against Sherlock's wall of notes.
While John was eating, Sherlock didn't talk. John could feel how he tried to work through the bond, conveying his feelings, trying to make John react in certain ways. When he had finished breakfast and cleaned everything up, John smiled at Sherlock, who was sitting in the armchair.
"You could just talk to me, you know," he said.
Sherlock huffed.
"You'll have to submit to me, John," Sherlock said.
"Why?" John asked surprised.
"We've to convince them that you've submitted to me, totally, despite not being bonded," Sherlock explained reluctantly.
John shrugged his shoulders.
"Where's the problem?" he asked.
"Will you do it?" Sherlock didn't look at John. He could feel Sherlock's trepidation and John's smile grew wider.
"I already have, haven't I?" he asked back.
John slipped from his chair to the floor, kneeling beside Sherlock, his head leaning up against Sherlock's legs. John was feeling peaceful, and looked up at Sherlock, who gazed down at him in amazement.
"No, John, I don't -" John cut him short.
"I know, Sherlock. I trust you to know what you're doing. Just drop me a hint when you want me to stop the performance."
Reassuring Sherlock, John let out a contented sigh because somewhere deep down, kneeling in front of his Alpha felt so very right.
Sherlock didn't have time to explain further. A knock on the door announced their guests, and Sherlock just called for them to enter, the door being open for once. John frowned at that, making him feel even more vulnerable. Steeling himself with a deep inhale of Sherlock's scent, and scooting even closer to his Alpha, John changed his body language into that of an submissive Omega, wanting to please his Alpha's every wish. He could feel Sherlock's delighted shudder, before Sherlock too prepared himself for their guests, leaning back in the armchair in a pose best described as imperious.
When Mycroft entered with Mike in tow, John almost panicked, barely able to keep up the appearance of a subdued mate. Sherlock's hand in his hair tightened and helped John to stay grounded. Sherlock would take care of this, had planned this, John only needed to follow his lead, John told himself, leaning into Sherlock's grip and curling further up around his feet.
xOxOxOxOxOx
Sherlock watched his guests' reaction to the sight in front of them. Mike's was close to pity at the sight of a seemingly bonded John, grovelling at the feet of his master. Despite of his resentment for the man, Sherlock couldn't suppress his friendly feelings towards him. Mike genuinely liked John and had probably hoped for him to avoid bonding with Sherlock. Who knows, Sherlock surmised, maybe he even had wanted John as a second-bond.
But most fascinating was Mycroft's reaction. He looked - jealous. Surprised, Sherlock held his breath, gathering more information as the two men approached the table and sat down, facing towards Sherlock. Mycroft was jealous of John! Sherlock shot a glance between Mike and Mycroft, wondering what he had been missing regarding the true nature of their relationship.
Didn't matter now, he scolded himself. Back to more important business, while filing this new information safely under 'Mycroft'.
"I would like to take you on a history trip," Sherlock began without a greeting or other social niceties. "Starting, well, twenty, thirty years ago, Mycroft?"
Mycroft straightened his back, sitting even more rigid than he normally did, raising one of his eyebrows.
"When did the British government start its cooperation with Professor Moriarty? And what was the main idea behind it?" Sherlock challenged his brother, who looked uneasy from Sherlock to Mike, who was sitting with an open mouth. Mycroft cleared his throat, before he answered.
"About thirty years ago would be correct," he admitted. "The Professor had approached one of my predecessors with a solution to the failing population growth."
Sherlock looked expectantly at his brother, but nothing else was forthcoming.
"That was all it took?" he asked, incredulously. "I can make sure your people will breed more children, was all he had to offer, and you handed him a society on a silver platter? To use as his own private laboratory?"
Sherlock shook his head in disbelief, while Mycroft shifted in his seat, definitely not happy about Sherlock's line of thought.
"It made good sense at the time. Ensuring better rights for the Alphas in a bond, making sure the Omegas were kept at their side to increase the number of children born to an Omega. Keeping Omegas out of the workforce, letting them take care of their children," Mycroft explicated.
Sherlock could feel John's struggle through the bond. From the outside he looked complacent, letting the discussion wash over him, but Sherlock knew that he had to fight hard to keep up appearances. He suppressed a wince, before he continued his assault on Mycroft.
"And did it work?" Before Mycroft could answer, Sherlock continued. "No, it didn't. Look at the numbers. The population is still dwindling, isn't it? And your ingenious solution? Go get some more ideas from your beloved Professor," Sherlock almost spit out the last sentence.
By now, Mycroft was looking at the table, trying to find some way to explain what had happened.
"Second- and third-bonded Omegas, so an Alpha really could deliver a great amount of children? But where are these children, Mycroft? Even you must have realised that something doesn't add up," Sherlock almost sounded exasperated. So much stupidity, and they just let it slip instead of having examined what was happening.
Mike was still trying to understand what Sherlock was talking about. Sherlock could see that he was truly appalled by the implications of Sherlock's accusations. But it seems as if something else was dawning inside of the lawyer. Sherlock had hoped that his findings would give him the needed evidence to fight for their child.
"Has anybody in the government ever tried to look into the Professor's past? Or were all of you just too taken in by his personality to doubt him?" Sherlock was angry, but not as much as he had been last night, when everything suddenly fell into place. When John asked him, if Mycroft wouldn't know about the 'scheme'. When Sherlock finally had put together the small clues about this whole conundrum.
"He wasn't interested in children. He wanted to create the perfect soldier," Sherlock sneered, observing Mycroft closely, not wanting to miss any signs of him having known what really was going on. Mike was too stunned to say or do anything at all. Mycroft's hand was trembling, and his face was bloodless.
"Do you have any proof?" he whispered, lips pale, and eyes wide.
With this Sherlock stood, indicating John to do the same.
"You better get dressed, John, and I think we could do with some tea," he winked at him after helping him to get up from the floor. The pregnancy was making such gymnastics increasingly difficult.
John nodded to the two stunned Alphas, then trotted to the bathroom and disappeared behind a thoroughly locked door.
"John has prepared a few charts, showing the magnificent work of your Professor for Mr Hitler," Sherlock said, ruthlessly exploiting Mycroft's shock. "Oh yes, brother dear, you can count yourself and your government in a fine group of people, aiding a madman to continue his experiments on a much larger scale."
Sherlock went through the Professor's ideas and explained about his deadly experiments, hinting that John's pregnancy with great probability was an extension of one of those tests conducted at the camp. The death toll of the Professor's test subjects was frightening in itself, but Sherlock's clarifications on the symbols, indicating different 'treatments', had Mike throwing up at one point in the sink of their little kitchenette. John was still occupying the bathroom, as Sherlock had hoped, not wanting John exposed to the cruel facts about the Professor's other experiments.
"All of this was devised, so the Professor could create a soldier, who would be easily manipulated, as a bonded Omega would by his Alpha. Especially, if the Alpha was trained in some of the techniques the Professor had sophisticated over the years. Your government was so very considerate, when it provided him the perfect research ground for how many Omegas could be bonded with one Alpha, and still keeping the Alpha in control," Sherlock was talking fast now, wanting this to be over with, before John was finished in the bathroom.
"But that was only one part of it. The other part was having a soldier, who could impregnate himself," Sherlock paused, watching Mycroft closely. "He succeeded, but only with two Omegas, both being freed, before the Professor could use them for further experimentation. He looked for them and their offspring for years. Working your government to ensure a legislation which would give him every possibility to legally conduct his experiments on them, once he found them."
Sherlock looked from Mike to Mycroft. The sheer horror in Mike's pale face hadn't faded, while Mycroft decidedly tried to keep a calm face, being betrayed by his shallow breathing and fidgeting fingers.
"John's grandfather was a very rare Omega, and the Professor assumed that his offspring would carry the genes necessary to get close to his soldier, who could reproduce himself unendingly," Sherlock snorted. "John's child would be the crowning of this idea. She would have enabled him to create as many Omega Plus' as he wanted," Sherlock drew a deep breath. "At least that was what he thought. Stupid, stupid man."
Mycroft looked at him in surprise. So far, he had been disgusted by the ideas and the inhumanly experimentations by the Professor. But he couldn't see any flaw in his logic.
"Come on, Mycroft," Sherlock coaxed. "Genetics isn't everything. And even if it were, looked at the charts. If an Omega Plus is self-impregnated, that equals a normal coupling of genes between a male and a female. The male Omega is a hermaphrodite. The permutations of his genes are as vast as any outcome of intercourse between an Alpha and an Omega. Maybe even greater, because those charts clearly leave an impression of an Omega carrying genes which only activate through this kind of self-preservation."
"Self-preservation?" Mike sounded weak, but astonished. "How can this, this self-whatever be an act of self-preservation?"
"What if, way back in time, an Omega male was the only member left of a tribe? If he had to, he could start a whole new tribe by himself. Or, like the two Omegas who survived the initial experiment, they both conceived an Alpha male. Surrounded by Omegas, as they were in the camp, that was nature's way to enhance the chances of conceiving children," Sherlock explained triumphantly. "This implies that any idea of standardising the offspring of an Omega Plus is void. By nature, this off-spring would be as different as possible from his or her father."
John had left the bathroom, listening in on Sherlock's explanation. Putting the kettle on, the room had fallen silent. He turned and looked at Sherlock, who stood arms crossed like a conqueror in the middle of the room, eyes sparkling.
Sherlock could feel John's appraising glance. He could see, how John's hand caressed his belly, finally coming to terms with his own pregnancy and the child it will result in. Their child, Sherlock thought, proudly.
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The Omega