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The Omega	By : themuller Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3785 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
When Sherlock finally made it into the shower, John had already discarded his semen soaked clothes and stood in the middle of the small room, unsure of how to proceed. He was so hard it hurt. Sherlock was still too befuddled from John's ministrations and the resulting orgasm to get a clear thought through his mind. Unfortunately that meant his Alpha instincts took over unguarded.
"Don't touch that!" he growled aggressively at John, who flinched away from him.
Before John averted his eyes, Sherlock could see resigned compliance in them. John's shoulders sagged, his whole posture changed. This was not the flirting put on submission, John had shown just minutes ago. This was the conditioned response to an Alpha who claimed the Omega's body and mind as his property. To use in whatever way he found fitting.
Within the beat of an eye Sherlock stood in front of a stranger. Not John any longer, but 'the Omega' waiting for the next order from his Alpha. Sherlock's eyes widened in horror when he realised what was happening, what already had happened.
The playful mood from before had been replaced by a feeling of terror and John's eyes had gone dead. Sherlock felt like he had been dealt a blow in his stomach.
"John," was all he could manage.
He was out of his depth, wanting to embrace John, to soothe him, to set this right. But John's lack of eye contact, his withdrawal into his mind, leaving just a shell to be ordered around was more than Sherlock could handle on his own.
The change in John brought back the unpleasant memories from Sherlock's visit to the sex club. Many of the sex workers had the same look on their faces, the same demeanour, waiting for the next Alpha to tell them what sex act he wanted them to perform.
Sherlock took off his own clothes and started the shower. Once the water was hot, he guided John under the spray, took a washcloth and cleaned him gently. John let it happen. He didn't respond except when Sherlock told him to lift an arm or turn around. John did whatever Sherlock told him to.
John's cock flagged by the time he went under the shower. Sherlock was wondering why it hadn't right away. Then again, if these were conditioned actions, it was quite possible that the Professor had wanted John to show arousal whenever he was ordered around. Sherlock remembered how most of the sex workers in the club in fact were wearing cock rings or the like, ensuring a visible sign of the right kind of 'enthusiasm' on the sex worker's part.
Sherlock's mind was racing while he was wiping John dry with a large towel. By the time he had finished, he had decided on whom to call. Sherlock took his own bathrobe and placed it around John's shoulders, then steered him to the sofa. He collected a few cushions and blankets, then told John to lie down on the sofa. John followed the order, obediently placing himself facing the room after being told to do so. Before Sherlock covered him in blankets, he petted John's tummy, and a wave of relief ran through him, when the touch was rewarded with a small flutter of movement.
Placing two blankets over John, Sherlock almost cringed when he saw John's eyes staring unseeing into the room.
"I'll have to make a phone call, John, but I'll be back in a few minutes," he said with a soft voice, then got up, unlocked the door, and went outside to find a phone.
He returned within minutes. And waited, kneeling beside the sofa, caressing John without getting any response. The minutes ticked by and it felt like ages before Mike turned up. He closed and locked the door behind him, looking worried for once.
"What did you do?" the question was nothing like Mike's normally mild mannered conduct.
His eyes had narrowed and the frown on his face spoke volumes. Sherlock didn't answer immediately, feeling uncomfortable with telling the older Alpha the whole story.
"Sherlock, this is serious!" Mike sneered, clearly conveying not only annoyance but impatience as well, which both took Sherlock by surprise, being used to a calm and relaxed Mike.
"John," Sherlock almost stammered, still not wanting to give all the details, "we had sex. He gave me a blowjob," close enough to the truth, Sherlock thought, "then he went into the shower and I followed, and I," Sherlock had to swallow, "he was hard and I thought he was about to touch himself, and I didn't want him to, and I -" this was embarrassing, "I practically growled at him not to touch himself."
Sherlock felt like a little child being summoned to the headmaster, waiting for his punishment.
Mike didn't talk for a while just stood by the locked door and took in the situation in front of him. John was apparently calm, but did not respond to Sherlock's continued stroking. Sherlock was obviously distressed, and rightfully so, Mike thought angrily. Stupid, young Alpha, after all John had told them, this brilliant young boy should have been able to deduce a thing or two as to how to conduct himself in front of his bondmate. Well, soon to be bondmate if he could help it anyway.
Well, Sherlock was a Holmes after all, so what had he expected Mike scolded himself. Should have given him a manual on how to treat traumatised Omegas.
Drawing in a deep breath, he decided on a strategy and gestured Sherlock to join him at the door.
"I'm about to give you a dressing-down like you ever had one. The physical part of it will be show," Mike whispered to a wide-eyed, vulnerable looking Sherlock, "but I mean every word I'm about to say to you. Do you understand?"
Sherlock nodded, and Mike almost pitied him. Out loud he started to shout at Sherlock, telling him how utterly stupid and ignorant he had been, and what the hell he was thinking when he had turned out his possessive Alpha nature. Sherlock didn't try to defend himself, mostly because Mike just put words to what he actually felt. But he visibly shrunk in front of the agitated Alpha, at least twice his age. Mike put every little ounce of authority and the additional age difference to good use.
It helped that he really was furious. All of this could have been avoided if Mycroft had acted on his Alpha instincts and had protected the Omega from further harm. Instead the idiot had put his brother's needs before anything else. Mike was talking himself into an Alpha rage, which cowed Sherlock in a way he never had experienced before - and he wholeheartedly hoped that he never would be on the receiving end of it ever again.
"Sherlock," Mike's voice was low and threatening now, "you and your brother believe to be way above the rest of mankind. But I swear, if I ever catch you acting like this again, I will not stop with a smack to your head."
With that, he gave Sherlock a hard and loud slap on the face.
Sherlock didn't try to strike back, but had taken a step backwards, humiliated, and with an air of utter defeat. Mike was still looming over Sherlock, when he suddenly felt a hand pushing him back.
"Don't you touch him," John's voice was calm, but his eyes threw daggers at Mike. John had placed himself protectively in front of Sherlock, making up for the difference in height by squaring his shoulders and leaning forward, ready to punch or throw himself at Mike.
Mike looked at John, once more amazed by this Omega's resilience and loyalty. And they haven't even bonded fully yet, he thought. Looking at an equally flabbergasted Sherlock, Mike wondered if he had any idea what an extraordinary bondmate he was going to have in John.
Mike shook his head, and looked at John, his normal smile finding its way back to his eyes.
"Welcome back," he said, deflating John in an instant.
The completely flummoxed look on John's face almost had Mike laughing, but he could restrain himself to a smug grin.
"I'm sorry, if I've been a tad violent, but I had to provoke you in some way to get you out of that state, John," he explained.
John stood disbelieving between the two Alphas.
"That was just a show?" he asked hoarsely.
"Well, no," Mike admitted. "I meant everything I said, but I'm not prone to violence. To be honest though," Mike added as an afterthought, "Sherlock had it coming."
"Yes, thank you," Sherlock cut in sourly. "I think, we can manage things on our own from here."
Mike ignored Sherlock and focussed on John.
"Are you alright?" he asked concerned. "I could stay if you want me to. Or I could arrange for another Omega to stay with you tonight. If you want to, I can take Sherlock with me."
Sherlock closed his eyes. It hadn't even occurred to him that John might want him to leave, that John maybe even needed him to leave to regain his footing. Sherlock realised how much he already depended on John to be there when he returned home. 'Home' being where ever John was.
John cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Mike," John answered with a steady voice, "but I would prefer Sherlock to stay. Just him," he added apologetically.
Mike nodded. He told John that he was welcome to contact him any time, and shot a last warning glance at Sherlock, before he left the room. John locked the door behind him then turned and leaned back against the door.
Sherlock hadn't said anything, trying his best to return Mike's farewell glare and failing miserably. Age did add a lot to an Alpha's confidence, he found.
Now Sherlock turned to John.
"John, I'm-" John held up a hand and shook his head.
"No, Sherlock, no. Not now. I'm too tired to talk about what happened. I need to sleep," John looked as worn out as he sounded. "I need to think, and I don't want to say things I regret later on."
He walked towards the sofa. Sherlock stood crestfallen in the middle of the room. John changed the sofa into the bed, put pillows and the duvet in place, before he went into the bathroom to change into pyjamas. Sherlock hadn't moved when John returned. Sighing, John went to bed. When Sherlock didn't follow, John turned towards him with just the hint of a smile on his face.
"Come here, you git, and turn out the lights," he said, and Sherlock could feel the knot inside of him dissolve.
xOxOxOxOxOx
"You have to stop this charade, Mycroft!"
Mike was leaning back in the comfortable armchair; he long ago had decided to call 'his'. Through the large windows of Mycroft's London based flat, Mike had a good view of Regent's Park. He had arrived late for his weekly meeting with Mycroft because of the trouble with John. Still angry with both Holmes brothers, he had explained to Mycroft what had happened.
"It's too soon," Mycroft answered, clenching his teeth.
Mike saw the signs of being under stress on his friend. He really had to take care of him. Later. Right now he needed him to understand that things had progressed much further than any of them could have hoped for.
"They've bonded, Mycroft, trust me on this one," Mike held the tumbler in his right hand, the cigar in his left. Leaning towards Mycroft, who sat in the other chair, facing the windows, a small coffee table between them.
"But that's impossible, Mike. It's only been four days! And the Omega-"
"John, Mycroft. He has a name. Get used to it and drop your old fashioned antics," Mike shook his head. God, the Holmeses were just too much sometimes. "He's family now."
"He's not been in heat yet. There's no way-"
"Deal with it! I've no idea how it's possible, but they've a shared scent by now. I don't even think they know how far gone they both are," Mike smiled good-natured at Mycroft.
They had both been under pressure for quite some time now. The Professor's untimely death hadn't helped, and Mike knew that Mycroft was worn out.
"You don't really want Sherlock snooping around at that sex club, do you?" Mike asked.
Mycroft hesitated, then closed his eyes, and rubbed his face. Yes, he was exhausted, Mike thought. He needed this case closed soon.
"No," Mycroft's voice was soft, "no, not really. But you know that the murderer isn't the mastermind behind this. And there is so much more to this than meets the eye."
"Yes, and if you tell Sherlock, I'm sure he'll help getting this cleared up. For all I know, John might be a valuable asset in all of this," Mike argued.
Mycroft huffed.
"An Omega, a pregnant Omega?" Mycroft's arrogant voice was back and Mike had to restrain himself from slapping him in the face too.
"Just because your family seemed to enjoy fighting each other, bonding Alpha with Alpha for the umpteenth generation, doesn't proof all Omegas to be weak, fragile, and dumb. Only goes to show the stupidity of certain families. Really, Mycroft, did you enjoy your childhood that much?" Mike knew that the remark was below the belt, Mycroft having suffered heavily under the constant fighting between his two parents, resulting in both broken bones and open wounds, but they stayed together until Mycroft's father had died.
"Well, your bond seems to work all fine," Mycroft muttered weakly.
"Yeah, after we'd fought for the best part of four years, laid out a contract, then bonded, just to start fighting all over again," Mike explained.
Penny had fought him every inch of the way, as he had her, both afraid that the other would get the upper hand once they bonded. A year after their bond, Penny got pregnant and almost had an abortion, being scared of Mike's reaction. Since then both had calmed down, Penny realising that Mike wouldn't pin her down with home and family, and likewise Mike realising that Penny wouldn't turn him into a henpecked husband. Against all odds, the truce had developed into a deep and trusting relationship, leaving both of them a liberal amount of freedom to shape their own lives.
"It's hard work, every day. But that's not the point here, Mycroft," Mike changed the subject back on track. "Instead of letting Sherlock run around London like a headless chicken, you could put him on the right trail. At the same time John could continue to go through Moriarty's research files."
Mycroft made a dismissive wave with his hand, and Mike finally lost his patience.
"Mycroft, listen carefully," Mike's voice had turned dangerously low and Mycroft eyed him nervously, knowing his friend well enough to recognise the tone of voice.
"Either you come to your senses and tell Sherlock everything - and I mean absolutely everything you know - or I'll leave right now, telling Sherlock the bits and pieces I know about, while you can try and get by all on your own for at least one more week!"
Mycroft's eyes went wide and he fought to keep his composure. Mike knew that he was at the end of his tether. Another week without any special attention from Mike was surely close to unbearable by now, since they hadn't had time to indulge themselves in their normal routines for close to three weeks in a row.
"That is blackmail," Mycroft's voice was clipped, his posture stiff and tensed.
"Last resort, Mycroft, last resort," Mike said softly. "Why don't you just trust me? Is it because it's about your brother?"
Mike sighed and leaned back in the armchair, seeing Mycroft's resolve crumble for good.
"Deal?" he asked, laying a hand gently on Mycroft's trembling arm.
"Deal," Mycroft whispered.
Mikes smiled and patted Mycroft's arm. He had bowed his head. Waiting. Mike shifted in his seat, getting comfortable.
"Well, then, take of your shoes, Mycroft," he demanded in a low voice. "And make sure, the door is locked."
xOxOxOxOxOx
The next morning found John draped all over the sofa bed, head snuggled into the place, Sherlock had left a few hours earlier. Sherlock was pacing the room in front of his wall of notes, a small black notebook in his hand.
"Good morning," John mumbled, wondering if Sherlock ever slept at all.
Confused, Sherlock looked at him.
"Have you been sleeping?"
"Yes," John said cautiously, not knowing what answer Sherlock expected from him. "I thought that would have been obvious."
Sherlock grumbled, then heaved a deep sigh.
"I better repeat myself then," he said clearly annoyed.
John had to suppress a giggle, pushed pillows and blankets together, making a cosy spot for himself on the bed, and then turned his full attention on the lanky male in front of him.
"Go on then, repeat yourself. Just to please me," John said with a mocking tone of voice, completely lost on Sherlock.
"I've found the notebook!" Sherlock exclaimed triumphantly. "He had a meeting. At a sex club with someone he denotes as 'O-Plus'."
John's face blanched. With a few strides Sherlock was at his side, panicking.
"What? John, what's wrong?"
"That's me," John said. Seeing Sherlock's disoriented look, he elaborated.
"The Professor used to call me his Omega Plus. James was his Omega, and Sebastian well, for obvious reasons the Professor just called him A-nil."
John shuddered. While James only on very few occasions was called by other names than his first, Sebastian only ever was A-nil to the Professor. Even John was fortunate enough to be acknowledged by his name every now and then, when the Professor was in a good mood or they were working together in the study.
"But, had he ever taken you to this club or any other club?" Sherlock asked, stroking soothingly over John's stomach.
"No," thinking about it, John had to smile. "He wouldn't let me get close to other Alphas if he could help it. I guess a sex club would've been the last place on Earth he would've taken me."
"You'd no idea, he was visiting the club? I've found entries like the one on the day of the murder at least once a week for the past two months," Sherlock explained. "The same club and an O-Plus."
"Did he go on a particular day or time of day?" John asked.
"No, the club's only open from Thursday till Sunday. Any of those days and any time during the opening hours, as far as I can remember," Sherlock didn't like the memories flooding his mind. Still, they might be useful now.
"So, you think he was meeting someone at club, an Omega? If it was the same person every time, someone should know. Maybe the club keeps some kind of records?" John mused, his hand stroking his belly absentmindedly, brushing Sherlock's as he was calming down again.
"Hardly," Sherlock answered, his mind starting to focus on the case and probable course of action. He got up and started pacing again, then seemed to come to a decision.
"I'll need to," lost in thoughts; he didn't finish the sentence, just grabbed his coat and made it for the door.
"Oi," John shouted, annoyed to be left out, "where are you going? To the club? It's far too early for that, isn't it?"
"No, there's," again Sherlock trailed of, "I'll be back later tonight, John. I promise."
With that, he turned, unlocked and opened the door, and went away without further explanations.
John heaved a deep sigh.
"Well, little one, seems like it's just the two of us then. Better get some breakfast going, I'm starving," John got out of bed and started on his morning routines.
The day passed uneventfully for John, who used his time reading the diaries and taking notes. He concentrated on the former Omegas the Professor had bonded with, trying to find patterns, similarities, and exceptions.
Surprised, John realised that he had been the only bondmate to be called Omega Plus. The three former Omegas had been women; only the second was mentioned by her first name, Anna. The other two were just 'the Omega'. Anna was James' mother, who had died while giving birth. The other two Omegas had been pregnant several times, but miscarried every single time.
John shuddered. The Professor had meticulously recorded every observation, punishment, behavioural characteristics, and the like for each of these women. Clinical in his descriptions, no matter how great the suffering must have been, when the third Omega miscarried for the fifth time, seven months into her pregnancy. The small boy stillborn.
It reminded John that the little one wasn't in the clear yet. Something about the miscarriages struck John, forcing him to reread the unfortunately many accounts for the third Omega. It almost looked as if the Professor had experimented on her.
She must have been a strong woman, John thought, surviving through all that pain. Again and again hoping and each time it seemed as if she could carry to term, getting closer to the nine months. After the last miscarriage her health deteriorated fast and she died only thirty years old, the Professor's neat handwriting stating date and time of death, cause of death being 'heart failure'. Since the Professor was her bondmate and a scientist, not a medical doctor but well versed in the Omega behaviour and biology, no coroner's report was issued.
Nothing in the notes suggested foul play by the Professor, but John's instincts told him something was amiss. He had to talk with Sherlock. Not that it would help anyone, the Omega long buried and probably forgotten by her family. Still, in the back of his mind John was sure the mystery of the third Omega was hiding more than a tragic life story.
The rest of the day went on peacefully, giving John the much needed rest and time to recuperate from the last days of turmoil.
He went to bed early, being woken in the middle of the night by a frantic knocking on the door. Sleepily he stumbled to the door, unlocking and opening it, brushed aside by a wild looking Sherlock who rushed into the bathroom. A few minutes later John heard retching sounds followed by the shower. Sherlock emerged fifteen minutes later, still damp, clad in his pyjamas, leaving his clothes and coat in the bathroom. Without a word he laid down beside John, curling into him like a little child. John wondered what had happened, but decided to let it go. Sherlock would talk, when he was ready. And right now they both needed to sleep.
John pulled Sherlock as close as possible, stroking him until he felt the muscles relax and Sherlock's breathing become deep and regular.
The next few days continued without Sherlock disclosing his whereabouts. Neither John nor Sherlock breached the subject of John's reaction on Sherlock going all Alpha on him. John didn't know if Sherlock was evading him or if he was too engrossed in the case to be bothered with telling John about his newest findings. Probably both.
John on the other hand was making progress on his understanding of the Professor's research. Many things didn't add up yet, but he got the picture of a man who used every available Omega as a test subject. Including his own son. Ever so often, John came across pieces of information, followed by a 'Q.E.D. as before'. As if it was a mathematical proof, not the life or death of a human being. The add-on 'as before' seemed to allude to earlier research, and John got more and more anxious as to what was awaiting him in the notebooks and diaries from the Professor's earliest research.
It was also quite evident that the Professor had several lovers, or rather 'test subjects', at the same time. Only exception was the time with his second Omega, Anna. After her death there was a gap of a few months without any mentioning of another Omega.
John had tried to gather the data and information in a way that made it more accessible, hoping some kind of pattern or system would show itself. As the second week of his confinement was nearing its end, John still hadn't found the one clue that connected the financial scheme with any of the Professor's other research.
Sherlock and John hadn't had 'the talk', mostly due to Sherlock's odd hours. As promised, he would stay with John during part of the night, but always left in the morning. John was worried about the lack of sleep and food, especially since it started to show. Sherlock's cheekbones becoming even more pronounced than they were naturally so, his clothing not as fitting as it had been.
Eventually, John woke one morning with Sherlock still asleep by his side. He had come home even later than usual the night before and it looked like his body finally demanded a rest.
Carefully John extracted himself from the limpet-like embrace Sherlock had become accustomed to since the shower incident. If he needs sleep, he will probably like some food as well for once, John thought. Starting breakfast, he suddenly found himself caught in a strong hug.
"Happy birthday, John," Sherlock whispered seductively in his ear, while his hands started to work their way around John's stomach and from there on downward.
"Nothing to be happy about," John grumbled back, before he could think. Sherlock tensed up and left off.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, taking another step back.
John turned slowly, head bowed, hands rubbing his face.
"No," he said. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. It's not, I mean - hell, why is this so damn difficult?" He looked at the ceiling, shouting at no one in particular.
"Look, Sherlock, it's my twenty-first birthday. I'm locked up at a police station, accused of murdering my bondmate. I've a high-risk pregnancy, which can terminate any time. And yes, it should have been a happy day, coming of age and what not. Instead I've a guardian till... until this case is solved or I've ended my prison sentence. Not one of my best birthdays, no," he added with a sigh.
Sherlock look at John, unsure as what to do or say.
"Sit down, tea is ready in a minute," John said firmly.
Sherlock sat down at the table, looking over the notes, John had compiled during the last days. When he came upon John's tables regarding the miscarriages, he frowned.
"John," he asked without looking up, "what is this?"
He held up some of John's notes, while looking through the rest of them.
"Times and dates, how far progressed the pregnancy was, when it terminated, where the Professor had been at the time, and several other factors, I've tried to collect. So far, I can't see a pattern," John stopped, looking worried at Sherlock.
His frown had deepened, while he worked through the dates and time, eyes flying over the pages, connecting the dots in his mind creating a coherent picture. A picture, which was as fascinating as much as it was horrifying.
"He had experimented on them," Sherlock whispered.
"Yes," John just said, placing a hot cup of tea in front of Sherlock, and sitting down with one himself.
"Twenty-four hours," Sherlock mumbled.
"Hm?" John wasn't sure he had heard correctly.
"John," Sherlock looked at him wide-eyed. "Twenty-four hours without your Alpha, and you'll suffer a miscarriage."
John slowly put down his cup. It took a while before the information truly registered in his brain.
"You mean," he swallowed, "you're saying, he put his third Omega through the - he did it on purpose?"
John felt nauseous. Sherlock nodded. As much as he admired the scientific set up, the results were too shocking - and the cost of achieving this kind of knowledge... Sherlock forced himself to stop contemplating what could have happened to John, if he hadn't returned like he had promised the last couple of days.
They sat in silence for a long while then John stood up and prepared the rest of the breakfast.
"Unscrupulous then," John broke the silence, sitting with toast and his fresh cup of tea. "I wonder what else will turn up, now that I'm getting closer to his earlier research."
He cleared his throat.
"What about you? Have you come any closer to who's behind all of this?"
"Well," Sherlock answered, swallowing down his third toast, "I'd been working together with Mike on this."
John could feel a slight pain in his chest. He would have loved to be able to accompany Sherlock through the city.
"He checked the financial manipulation scheme, while I found the mysterious O-Plus."
"You've found him?" John said pleasantly surprised.
"Her."
"Her? But, a woman, would she - could she be able to cut the Professor's throat?" John's hope for a soon release dwindled rapidly.
"Yes, she could and she did," Sherlock answered, chewing happily on his fifth toast.
"And why am I still in custody?" John asked, a bit of anger creeping into his voice.
"Because of the paperwork. Everything had to be approved by Mycroft," Sherlock clearly disliked that part immensely. "Mike couldn't disclose anything to the police. Mycroft needed time to take precautions. John, nobody knows the Professor had been killed. The public still assumes he died peacefully in his sleep."
John tried to wrap his head around Sherlock's brother being involved in a cover-up, while Sherlock tried to unwrap it.
"But, I am definitely in the clear now?"
John suddenly felt nervous. He would soon be free to go, free from being under guardianship, as informal as it had been, free to – well, that was the problem, wasn't it? Free to do what? He needed Sherlock by his side, now more than ever. Unconsciously, his Omega instincts had latched on to Sherlock, keeping the little one safe, making sure he would survive. Bonding against all odds. John was sure he wasn't the only one aware of the changes in their scents.
Sherlock interrupted John's rising panic attack.
"Yes, John, you are definitely in the clear now," Sherlock confirmed seriously. "Will you bond with me?"
Sherlock looked fearful and defenceless. To John, he was the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes upon. Still boyish in many ways, but John realised how much he wanted to watch this young man develop into a true Alpha. Strong and vulnerable, intelligent and annoying, and Sherlock would always be his, always his Alpha.
The magic of the moment was disturbed by a knock on the door. Letting out a frustrated huff, John placed a light kiss on Sherlock's lips before he turned to unlock the door.
Even before he opened the door, it wash pushed open, having John tumbling against the wall, James and Sebastian brushing past him, followed by an unusually agitated Mike and an even more than usual tight-lipped and grave looking Mycroft.
"Mr Moriarty!" Mike sounded exasperated. "You can't do this. You're risking –"
James cut him short with a malicious grin on his face.
"Well, well, Mr Barrister," James crooned mockingly. "Johnnybaby here has to know his place."
John stood shell-shocked with his back to the wall.
"Don't you, baby?" James had turned his vicious brown eyes on John, who couldn't respond, fighting his urge to kneel before James. 'Baby' was the pet name, the Professor had used for him. When John needed to ask the Professor for anything, food, drink, other life necessities, he had to use the third person. "Baby would like to…" John despised it more than anything else the Professor had done to him. More than the beatings, the punishments, the loneliness, the humiliation. This one word more than anything else was the epitome of everything John hated about being an Omega.
"And since Daddy is gone," James continued his sing-song with a self-satisfied smile, "Johnnybaby's baby will have to live with his next of kin. Who would be," James paused dramatically, "yours truly." And James bowed sardonically.
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The Omega