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Inscrutable

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April 24th

Sherlock felt the slightest pull of discomfort beneath his ribs. An index finger rose to press against his lips as he thought, stroking there. For once, that laser focus centered in on himself and he frowned at his deductions. Though he remained still, his heart rate was up, and yet his legs have lost feeling where they were- tucked up against the arm of the chair for the past hour. Doubt. When he attempted a deep breath, Sherlock felt a brief wave of nausea sweep low through his stomach and he bit back a growl at his transport. It went away quickly enough, but not before memories forced their way forward, feverish skin, unabashed pleas and a wet mouth on his neck, his chest, his..

Eyes snapping open, Sherlock sprung up from the chair, circulation in his legs suddenly recovered, and bounded into the kitchen. Without thought, he swept the edge of his dressing gown to the side to avoid stepping on it along the way, storming directly to the fridge. John kept a calendar there, occasionally scribbling notes on certain days as reminders. He flipped back a month and skimmed the days, squinting. Rent Due, March Third. Fix Mrs. Hudson’s Telly, March Seventeenth. A sticky note over the twenty-first, Need Milk. Nothing useful.

He flips another month back. Then another. January Third through the Eighth was blocked out, Sherlock remembers. John had gone to visit Harriet, something about her getting out of rehab- peer eyes froze over a scribbled note on the side of the blocked out date of January Sixth.

Sherlock’s blood ran cold as he read, in John’s then unsteady handwriting, Happy Birthday.

 

January 6th

It started that morning, the low, familiar discomfort of heat stirring deep in his core. Sherlock groaned, ruffling his hair in frustration with both hands. Normally, he’d suppress it if he caught it early enough. However, there were times such as this where it would slip his mind- unsurprising, as he often would try to delete the process all together. If a heat were to slip, John would respectfully avoid the flat, picking up extra shifts at the surgery, occasionally leaving quick meals in front of the door of Sherlock’s bedroom. Most of which went untouched.

Sherlock pulled out his phone with a huff and checked the date. John wouldn’t be home for a few days, he wouldn't need to lock himself away just yet. Determined, the omega turned on all the fans in the flat and propped open the windows, letting the crisp January air cool his rapidly rising body temperature. As a distraction, he looked over his emails and skimmed cases worth looking into, solving the ones clear to him just by a brief description from the clients. Not long after informing a woman that her husband has split personalities, the omega was already starting to feel the first waves of ache in his pelvis. After a failed attempt to read another email, mind feeling as if it were slowly being filled with cotton, Sherlock gave in to his exhaustion, curling up on the sofa in a losing battle against himself. The fever took over him quickly enough, the omega drifting in and out of awareness.

 

Sherlock hadn’t expected John to come home early.

 

It had started to snow by the time John got back to London, the last of the irritation from his trip fading as the cab approached his flat. It didn't take him long to realize the rehab hasn't helped his sister much, and he decided it best to cut his visit short before one of them snapped. The alpha sighed and paid the driver before stepping out, stomping the snow from his shoes on the rug once inside. He climbed up to their flat eagerly, bag in hand. As he approached the second set of stairs John pulled off his coat and paused. The usual warmth radiating their flat was reduced to a crisp chill that made him want to put the coat back on.

“Jesus, Sherlock, it’s bloody freezing up here…” John pushed the door open with a frown of concern and instantly dropped his bag on the floor. The scent of Sherlock hit him like a bus, and the alpha was surprised that he managed to keep himself upright. Snow had slowly begun to flow through the open windows, curtains fluttering in the wind. The fans were shaking with their efforts, and John wondered how he didn't smell the scent of Sherlock from down the block. John shut the front door with his foot, hanging up his coat after the initial shock.

The sound of the alpha tore Sherlock from his sleep, bright eyes quickly snapping open as he sat up, hastily pulling the blanket he'd kicked off earlier over him. Sherlock was shivering, the chill clinging to his sweat soaked skin. “Thursday,” He muttered, pupils dilated. “You.. you.. not.. Thursday,” The omega frowned at himself, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

“Back early.” John could tell the omega was barely hanging on to his last wits, a glance to the blanket covering him only proved he’d been in heat for hours already. It was soaked, John was sure it wasn’t all sweat. He willed his legs to move and they took him to the windows.

“You want every alpha within a mile radius to smell you?” He didn’t intend to slam the second window. John winced, noticing Sherlock’s flinch. “No,” The sound was raspy and weak, a stark contrast from his usual arrogant tone.

John frowned down at the slush of wet snow slicking the rug and went to shut off the fans, clenching his teeth as the smell in the room got increasingly pungent without the air circulation. “Have you eaten?”

Sherlock had a far off look as he gazed at the windows, and it took him a moment to draw his attention back to the alpha. It was clear being in his presence only made him fall deeper into heat “What?”

“If you haven’t, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse for you. Have you eaten?” John repeated and went into the kitchen, flinging open the cupboards.

“No-ooooh..” Sherlock’s head fell back as he finally inhaled the first traces of John’s scent since he arrived, his body writhing with pleasure at the smell. By the time he could look up again, John was squatting in front of his legs at the foot of the sofa, shoving a peanut butter sandwich at him. Sherlock frowned and made an unhappy sound, choosing instead to press the heel of his palm over his crotch in a weak attempt to get some friction against his stirring erection.

“No, eat.” John demanded and took his wrist, stopping him. Sherlock stared at him a moment before cautiously opening his mouth, letting the alpha feed him. He took a bite, frowning a bit as his eyes focused on John’s hand over his wrist. He swallowed the piece and went to speak.

“I… I need..” John didn’t let him finish, pressing another bite into the open mouth. The alpha was breathing out of his mouth, showing only determination as he tried to breathe in as little of Sherlock's scent as possible. Sherlock whined over the bite, veering back as he swallowed again. “Need you to help me.”

The alpha let go of Sherlock’s wrist and clenched it over his jean clad thigh. He offered another piece to his mouth and Sherlock refused, clenching his lips shut. John sighed. “Eat the rest of this, and some water, and I'll.. help you.”

Sherlock squinted at him, skeptical, until John dragged the hand from his thigh through the omega’s sweaty curls. Sherlock trembled with the action and opened his mouth for another bite pliantly, eager to do what the alpha asked of him. John continued to card his hand through the slightly knotted curls and leaned his forehead on Sherlock’s knee in agony, panting slightly at their proximity. “Fuck.”

Sherlock whimpered to get his attention back, having finished the sandwich without him looking. John leaned back with a great deal of effort, growling as he had to adjust himself in his jeans. “Sherlock, look at me.”

He couldn’t help but soften, sad to see the genius be so changed by heat. John gently pulled Sherlock’s jaw to look at him, covering the omega's nose and mouth with the blanket so that John’s scent wouldn’t inhibit him as much for a moment. “I need you to tell me that this is alright. That... that I have your permission to help you through this.”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock moaned through the blanket, spreading his legs wider from where he sat on the couch, adjusting himself. He moved the blanket from his face sluggishly, pale trembling hands hot over John's. “Please, alpha,”

John knew that Sherlock wasn't himself, and hoped some part of him meant it. “Fuck.”

John stood and took a step toward the kitchen, stopping after a step when Sherlock let out a startling whimper. Upon turning around, Sherlock looked like he was being abandoned, eyes fearful in a way John hadn’t seen unless the detective was acting for a case. But this was genuine. Instead of arguing, John went back over and scooped him up into a hold, the omega’s arms around his neck, long legs tightly encircling his waist. The alpha could feel Sherlock’s erection against his belly, and when he set him down on the counter, a wet patch was left over his jumper.

John left him sitting there and turned to get a cup, filling it with water from the sink. When he came back, the omega’s pants were in a damp heap on the kitchen floor, and he was grinding his bare arse on the counter.

“Christ. Drink this.” The alpha panted and pressed the cup to Sherlock’s lips, effectively stalling the omega’s movements as he greedily sucked down the water. It was spilling over the sides of his mouth, down his neck and chest. It took everything in John not to catch the straying rivets with his tongue. The alpha’s trembling hand took the empty cup and filled it again, handing him another full glass. Sherlock made a small noise of protest, but took the cup, free hand going down between his spread legs in attempt to give himself some relief as he drank. John moved his hand and replaced it with his own, fingers pressing into him as a reward for drinking the water. Sherlock nearly choked on his last swallows, slamming the mostly empty cup down and tilting his hips, trying to press further down onto the digits that weren’t enough. “More,”

John growled and yanked his own jeans and pants off, letting Sherlock tug off his jumper. As soon as they were off, the alpha slid Sherlock from the counter and pushed his back hard against the door of the fridge, pressing his cock into the omega's slick heat. Sherlock hissed in relief and pleasure, letting John slowly press himself fully inside him. “Alpha, my alpha..” he gasped, adjusting to his size.

“Mm.. such a good omega, Sherlock.. waited so patiently for me.” John finally allowed himself to breathe in Sherlock’s scent, nosing at the scent gland against his neck and sucking there. He restrained himself from biting down, knowing Sherlock wouldn't want a bond once this was over with. Sherlock crooned at the praise, adjusting his legs over John’s hips as the alpha fucked him against the fridge. The alpha held Sherlock up with one hand, the other worming between them to fondle the omega's prick with quick pulls.

Sherlock moaned, head falling to rest at the joint of John's neck and shoulder, biting down slightly on the tan skin. John groaned in response, nosing at Sherlock's curls until he finally picked his head up, John quickly swooping to kiss him hard. Sherlock pulled away with a gasp, cock twitching in John's hand. "My alpha.. please knot me,"

John's breath caught and hurried his rhythm, fridge rocking with his thrusts. He quieted Sherlock's pleas with another kiss, groaning into his mouth when Sherlock shifted his hips just so and felt himself let go, coming hard into the omega, knot filling him. Sherlock cried out as the fullness sent him over the edge, fingernails digging into the skin of John's shoulders. They both panted, John just able to prop them up against the fridge as their orgasms swept through them.

The alpha suddenly let out a breathy chuckle, and Sherlock lifted his head warily in question.

"Completely forgot," John muttered, reaching to the side of Sherlock's head to retrieve the pen he kept within the spiral of the calendar. The alpha scribbled something on the calendar and Sherlock frowned, turning his head slightly to look before John set the pen aside.

"Happy Birthday."

 

 

 

April 24th

 

“Looking for something?” John emerged from the bathroom, snapping Sherlock out of the vivid memory. The omega wasn’t able to mask his surprise, dropping the two month pages of the calendar he didn’t realize he still held on to.

Once his knot went down, John had helped Sherlock to his room and cleaned them both up before the next wave of his heat hit. The omega had fallen asleep shortly after laying down, and when he woke with the next twinges of need, he was alone. John had left him to the rest of his heat alone. Sherlock was grateful for it later, though his omega cried out John's name into his pillow for the rest of the days his heat lasted, chest heavy with rejection. They hadn't discussed it, but John was there once Sherlock's heat was over and he had cleaned himself up, offering the omega a case file Lestrade brought over with a hesitant smile.

“Sorry,” John flashed an amused expression at the rare catch of Sherlock Holmes off guard. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” The alpha’s eyes flicked to the calendar and back to Sherlock. John had his robe on and a towel in his hand, drying the back of his head with it.

“It’s April.” Sherlock stated, straightening and looking down at the floor with a thoughtful look.

“Er.. yeah, it is. Good deduction.” The alpha flipped the towel over his shoulder.

“My last heat was In January.” The amusement slowly left John’s face. “Yeah, so? You suppress them sometimes, don’t you?”

Sherlock looked up at him finally. “Not since then.” He shook his head and inhaled, meeting the alpha’s eyes.

“I have reason to believe that I am pregnant.”

Chapter Text

April 24th

 

 

 

"Right." John murmured as he took in the information, scratching the back of his neck in thought. Sherlock watched him closely, trying to catch every raw emotion over his face before it melted away into strictly medical concern. John looked nervous for the briefest of moments before it melted into curiosity as his eyes went to the calendar.

"Thats.. christ Sherlock, nearly four months." The alpha went over to the fridge, flipping up the months of the calendar. His fingers brushed the rows of dates, mumbling as he counted.

"Fourteen.. Fifteen weeks, that's.. pretty far along." John frowned, briefly wetting his lower lip as he recounted before dropping the pages to the current month. The alpha turned back to him and looked him up and down, one brow furrowed.

"I don’t know, Sherlock. You should be showing by now- right beanpole you are." Sherlock looked down at his flat stomach and frowned, crossing his arms before he could stop himself.

“Most omegas don’t show immediately upon their first gestation, it’s more common with second and further pregnancies to show earlier.” The omega defended, shifting his stance a little. “I’ve been experiencing irregular patterns of fatigue and nausea, though it hasn’t been enough to make me actively fall asleep or vomit.”

John nodded, “That’s true,” he pulled out a stool from the dining table and perched on it, lips pursed in thought. “But those symptoms could mean anything, early onset andropause, maybe.”

“I’ve eliminated that variable based on my hereditary history.” Sherlock replied, turning to retrieve two mugs from the cabinet, his back to John as he filled the kettle with water.

“Yes, well you don’t exactly treat your body like a temple- skipping meals and not sleeping for days was bound to catch up with you eventually.” He felt John’s gaze on his back as he readied their tea.

“I do what I need to stay functioning.” Sherlock turned, facing the alpha and leaning his back against the countertop.

John tilted his head, lips tight. “Like pumping yourself full of drugs?”

Sherlock gripped the granite tightly, suddenly furious. His nose twitched. “You think I’m using.”

“I didn’t say that.” A brief look of regret flashed over John’s features. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, it’s just.. another variable to consider, is all. Long term use has its effects.”

“I’m well aware.” The omega snapped, turning around again when the kettle whistled. He shut his eyes and took a breath before opening them and busying himself with fixing their tea.

John stepped forward off the stool. "Mind if I see something?"

Sherlock shook his head stiffly, distracted as he spooned sugar into his cup. He stopped, however, when he felt John approach him. The alpha rested a gentle hand on hip and tugged, turning Sherlock to face him. Before the omega could process what was happening, John had already reached up to his neck was pulling gently at Sherlock’s nape.

Sherlock nearly shuttered at such a possessive gesture and cowed his head instinctively toward John, one of his hands finding the alpha’s waist to balance himself. Their chests nearly touching, John leaned up and inhaled deeply at his scent gland, his thumb rubbing over where it rested over Sherlock's neck in praise as he did so. Sherlock instantly faltered against the alpha, gripping John’s arm tightly to remain upright. John’s lips brushed his skin as he breathed and Sherlock exhaled shakily into his hair, eyes fluttering at the pleasure it sent up his spine. Getting his fill, John stepped back, leaving a shocked Sherlock still bent at the neck. Sherlock released him reluctantly. "You do smell a bit different."

Sherlock straightened, clearing his throat. He hadn’t been scented by anyone out of his immediate family circle in an age, he could still feel a pulse of pleasure under his skin- the omega in the back of his head positively writhing that an alpha had scented him. His neck was cold from where John’s breath had ghosted over it, and he flexed his fingers in longing to touch there. "How so?"

John hummed and licked his lips, sitting back down on the stool. “Er.. your normal scent is a bit earthy, like erm.. teakwood, eucalyptus, things like that.”

The alpha looked down, avoiding his gaze. “Now there’s something else weaved through. Something light, cream almost? Possibly floral,” John scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s hard to explain.”

Sherlock placed the two finished cups of tea on the table, drawing John’s attention up. “No, that’s.. helpful.” He replied, bringing his cup up to his lips. He didn’t point out that John described something very similar to his own scent as the new one coming from him.

“Have you taken a test?”

“No.”

“Alright, well,” John exhaled, chewing his bottom lip. “Take one, and if you are, we’ll.. we’ll discuss it, yeah?” John sheepishly plucked up his mug and avoided eye contact.

 

 

April 30

 

 

 

Sherlock leaned on the countertop and drummed his fingers against the marble. He was in the bathroom, waiting for another test result. He’d taken multiple tests of various brands over the past few days, and all had been negative.

He frowned at himself at the mirror, once again accessing the changes in his form. Sherlock had found himself needing to wash his hair more frequently, his hair and skin secreting more oil than usual. The nausea and fatigue was the same lingering feeling daily, no better or worse. His tighter shirts had begun to irritate his chest, his nipples rubbing raw after a few hours of wear.

The omega stood straight and turned to the side, smoothing his shirt over his torso. Nothing, of course. He’d measured his waist and hips daily since the discovery to no avail. “Stupid.”

The timer went off and his eyes went to the test and plucked it up. Negative.

Sherlock threw it in the trash with a growl, sweeping out of the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit John kept under the sink. Flipping it open aggressively, he sat at the dining table and plucked out the tourniquet, yanking out the tubes and needle. Shoving the kit to the side he yanked up his left shirt sleeve and flicked the inside of his elbow for a vein.

After extracting a sample of his blood he placed a drop on a slide and got to work. Many tests later, the omega finally found what he was looking for.

“There you are,” Sherlock breathed, looking into the microscope lens again. “Thought you could hide, could you?”  

The omega wrote down his hormone readings in a small journal. “HCG levels slightly above average, just enough to indicate pregnancy- yet not enough to trigger a positive in a home test. Incredible.”

 

When John returned from the surgery that evening, Sherlock sat very smugly at his desk. “It was positive.”

“What’s that?” John was exhausted as he headed for the kitchen, “Anything edible in, or do we need takeaway?”

“The pregnancy test, John. It was positive. You told me to tell you if it was.” Said Sherlock, sitting at the desk, computer open in front of him.

The alpha froze as he stared into the open fridge, promptly shutting it. He turned around. “I.. god, really?”

He ran a hand through his hair and slowly went over to his chair, dropping himself tiredly into it. John ran his hands over his face and leaned forward, hands steepled over his mouth. “And you’re sure? Did you take multiple tests?”

Sherlock’s hands hesitated over the keys. “Obviously.”

“And how are you feeling about this?” John asked, tilting his head in effort to see Sherlock’s expression.

The omega turned toward him in the chair. “How do I feel?”

“Yeah, Sherlock. Do you want this?” John said, carefully.

Sherlock blinked. “Yes.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.” The omega replied, shutting his laptop.

The alpha leaned back and nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Okay. You just don’t strike me as the kid loving type, I suppose.”

“I find children more favorable than adults. Constantly changing, growing. Their minds are like sponges. They can learn so much in such little time.” Sherlock replied almost fondly.

John licked his lips and chuckled, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. He let his chin rest in his palm and placed his index and middle finger against his temple. “My DNA might muddle your genius a bit, don’t keep your hopes up.”

Sherlock frowned, leaning forward. “You’re a doctor, John. You’ve above average intelligence from the rest of the population.”

He considered a moment, clasping his hands in his lap. “Or at least our child will have a strong moral compass.”

John chuckled again and smiled at him before looking down at the carpet. They both didn’t speak for minutes.

John was the one who broke the silence. “I’ll be here, you know. In any way you’ll have me.”

Sherlock watched him, taking slow and steady breaths. Yes, this could definitely work. John would be there, he knew. Through any hardship, John would always be there for their child, even if he were to leave him. The omega offered a small smile. “I know.”

John nodded sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. “Well I’m going to have a shower, you order something for us, okay? Anything you want is fine. You need to get some weight on you now, don’t you?”

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned, pulling out his phone.

John went into the bathroom, seemingly content, until he caught sight of multiple negative pregnancy tests in the bin.