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Sherlock paid for his cab as it stopped in front of the Watson's house. He arrived, just as he had planned, at the moment Molly Hooper came walking down the street. "Well, isn't this serendipitous!" he commented with a warm smile that was almost completely sincere as he stepped up next to her.

"Oh please, you don't believe in such things. If I didn't know better I'd think you planned it," said the perky young woman.

Sherlock laughed. "What do you have there?" he asked, gesturing to the bag in her hand.

"Wine, Sherlock. It's a common courtesy to bring a gift when invited to dinner at someone's home."

"My presence is gift enough," he replied.

"Well, that sounds more like you."

By this time they had made it to the front door and Sherlock rang the bell.

John answered with a bright smile and a hug for Molly. "Hey! Did you two share a cab?"

"No, I took the Tube. We just happened to arrive at the same time. Here you go," she said, taking the wine out of the bag and handing it to him. As she started to remove her coat Sherlock suddenly appeared behind her and helped her out of it. "Thank... you, Sherlock."

He nodded.

"I'll take this to Mary. You didn't have to do that Molly," John said as he turned to walk into the lounge.

"See, I told you," Sherlock quipped.

The pair followed John further into the house and sat down on the sofa, Sherlock sitting next to Molly instead of John's chair, which he usually commandeered.

"So, how was your day, Molly?"

She adjusted herself scooting a few inches away from him before replying. "It was fine, nothing too exciting. Oh, I did find a massive aneurysm though."

"Really? Brain?"

"Yes, and intact."

"Anyone have dibs on that brain?" Sherlock asked with a hopeful look on his face.

Molly narrowed her eyes. "You can't have it Sherlock, it's not happening."

He shrugged. "Can't blame me for trying."

A few minutes later John came back in with a glass of wine for Molly. "Thanks John."

"Where's mine?" Sherlock seemed positively affronted.

"Since when do you drink wine?" John questioned.

"I drink... occasionally. I'd like a glass of the wine that Molly so graciously provided," he said throwing a wink to the pathologist.

John walked away mumbling about how strange Sherlock was acting.


Yes, tonight was a bit out of the norm for the detective. However, he was planning on having an important conversation with his good friend, Molly Hooper, after dinner and wanted everything to go just right.

Sherlock had rarely given much thought to his biology. Being an Alpha had, for many years,

been secondary to everything else in his life, if not very last. He had no room for sex, or knotting and certainly not Bonding in his world. No, no Bond Mate for Sherlock Holmes. But lately he'd been experiencing an itch that he just couldn't scratch. Need. Want. Desire. It was worse than puberty. Nothing kept it at bay, not the Work, not his mind palace, not even masturbation. He was not inexperienced. He'd been with Omegas, mostly at university and a few there after. But in recent months it seemed he was focused on one in particular Omega. His pathologist and dear friend... Molly Hooper.

All of these factors led him to only one possible solution. He and Molly needed to have sex.

The pair had had their share of ups and downs during the tenure of friendship, but Sherlock was confident that Molly was no longer interested in a romantic entanglement with him. She was, after all, a sensible woman and had indeed seen him at his very worst. She knew what a horrible boyfriend, husband or (shudder) Bond Mate he would make. All that aside, he was also confident she was still at least somewhat attracted to him. Her last relationship, Tom the moron; a Beta and a weak one at that, had been over for almost a year and she herself must be feeling the effects of such a dry spell. His proposal, he was sure, would be met with a classic Molly Hooper smile and the aforementioned sex.

He'd been planting the idea for a little over a week now. A simple switching of his scarf for hers set his plans into motion. Very fortunate for him that he'd given her a scarf identical to his for her last birthday. He had asked her for coffee and while she was out he quickly made the exchange. The subtle mingling of their scents – their pheromones – should be having an effect by now.

He'd been spending a lot more time around Molly as well, at her flat and at the hospital. Of course, he'd also been closing in on her personal space; a gentle hand on her back in the path lab, sitting closer than normal while sharing takeaway. All carefully calculated. He was laying the foundation for an idea... The brilliant mind of Sherlock Holmes had found a perfect solution to his little problem. He'd show the rest of these bloody fools how it was done. He would have his cake and never gain a pound.

He was certain that she would see the logic of his proposal. Molly was an Omega, after all. She could date all the Betas and baseline humans she wanted but her biology would always need something more. How long could she possibly go without an Alpha in her life- in her bed? And she hadn't had one, that was a fact. He would have noticed the change in her scent. The last Alpha she'd dated was Moriarty and he knew that she hadn't slept with the psychopath. He had never spoken to her directly about it, simply because he didn't see her for quite some time after the events at the pool. No, he had made John gather that information instead. Sherlock was merely concerned for her safety, of course. He needed to make sure that nothing untoward had happened during her last encounter with the consulting criminal.

He and Molly were friends. An Alpha and an Omega and they had needs: said needs could be satisfied by one another. Nothing would have to change. No commitment, no Bonding and no animalistic biting for God's sake. Yes, brilliant.


"Thank you John," Sherlock took a drink of his wine. "Mmm, lovely Molly."

"I'm glad you like it. It was on sale," she said flatly.

Mary stepped into the room. "Dinner's ready."

They all sat down and started eating. The table was pushed up against the wall to save space in the small dining room. Mary and John sat at the ends, Sherlock and Molly sat next to each other. Sherlock took one bite and quickly deduced who had prepared the meal.

"My goddaughter is sleeping, I assume?" he asked.

"Yes, we wanted to have a proper grown-up meal. That's why we're eating so late," Mary explained. "I hope that's not a problem." She was looking at Molly.

"Oh, I don't mind. My schedule's never the same. This one," she gestured to Sherlock, "keeps me at Barts so late, most nights I don't even get dinner. This is a nice treat."

"Good lasagna John. The salad's not bad either Mary," Sherlock commented as he took another bite.

"I might have made the lasagna," Mary spoke up indignantly.

"I would hope not, I nearly died the last time you tried to prepare meat. Might be best for everyone if you stick with bread baking, Mary," Sherlock replied.

Molly laughed as Mary shot her a hurt look. "Oh, sorry Mary, but I was a little sick too."

Sherlock turned to Molly. "A little sick! You and I vomited for three days." He looked at John. "I thought I was going to have to take her to hospital. She can't afford to lose any more weight."

Molly jerked her head up to the detective. "And you can?" She poked his ribs, he emitted a very undignified squeak as he batted her hand. "You're all skin and bone."

"There's muscle there too I'll have you know." Sherlock argued, then he turned to his friend. "How did you two manage to not get sick?"

John cleared his throat. "Well," He cut his eyes to his wife. "I think we managed to eat the cooked part of the meatloaf. Anyway, you survived. That's all that matters." He smiled. "The salad is really good."

Mary finally laughed. "Oh, shut up! All I did was cut up some lettuce!"

"You didn't use a metal knife did you?" John asked.

"What? Why would that matter?"

"Never mind. This is excellent wine, Molly." John commented, redirecting the conversation away from his wife's culinary incompetence.

Molly nodded. Sherlock realised her glass was empty and made to pour her another. She quickly put her hand over the top of the glass.

"Oops, sorry. I can't have any more," she said with no further explanation.

"Why on earth not?" Sherlock questioned.

Molly huffed. "It's... delicate." All three people stared.

"Delicate?" Sherlock asked, giving her an odd look.

She looked at Mary hoping for some solidarity, but only received a shrug in return. "Okay fine, I'm taking experimental suppressants. Alcohol interferes with them, or could interfere I should say. They warned me to limit my consumption. I'm probably being overly cautious. But the benefit is that I only have to take them once a week instead of every day." Everyone was still looking at her. "Okay, stop staring at the Omega! Eat!"

With that everyone went back to their food. Sherlock wasn't sure he was completely finished with the topic, however the dinner table with their best friends, might not be the ideal place for such a conversation.

Heat. Suddenly his trousers weren't fitting very well. He, of course, had considered not only sex with Molly, but knotting her as well. Knotting generally needed to take place during a heat or it could be very uncomfortable for the Omega, possible even dangerous. Unless of course they were Bonded. A Bonded Omega could take her Alpha's knot at any time. Once a Bond had fully formed between the two, the Omega's body would automatically prepare itself for her Alpha's knot; softening the vaginal tissues and releasing additional lubrication to ease in mating. The process was similar to what took place during a heat without the discomfort. This was of course not the outcome Sherlock was looking for. That was a discussion for a much later date. He shifted. Twice. Time to move on, he thought.

"Molly," he said. "How was Toby's vet appointment yesterday?"

"Not great. He's old, though I'm not sure how old, neither is his vet. He was an adult when I adopted him and I've had him for ten years. So..." She looked down. "He's just so lethargic. She's not sure what's going on. They took some blood to run tests and gave him subcutaneous fluids. But he's not eating well. I have medicine that should make him hungry. It- it's not really working."

Sherlock touched her back. "I'm sorry Molly."


John Watson had been watching his best friend all evening. Sherlock's behaviour was finally starting to make sense. Oh thank God! he thought. Finally, if anyone needs an Omega it's Sherlock Holmes. John smiled. And Molly Hooper... this is perfect.

Quite frankly, John had been meaning to talk to Sherlock about this very subject for some time now. An Alpha could only ignore his instincts for so long. As a doctor, and as his friend, John felt it was his place to help Sherlock see that taking a Bond Mate would only serve to give his life more structure. Though, in truth, structure and Sherlock Holmes didn't exactly go hand in hand.

He and Mary had talked at length about Molly and Sherlock and the possibility of a relationship between the pair. If anyone could handle his best friend's moods and erratic lifestyle, it was Molly Hooper. The two of them seemed perfect for each other.


After dinner they all went back to the sitting room and had coffee and a lovely lemon cake that Mary had made. Thankfully her baking skills were leagues above her cooking ability. It was delicious. Molly helped Mary clean up the dishes. When finished, she and Mary came back to the sitting room and she told the men goodbye. She kissed John on top of the head as she passed by him.

"What, I don't get a kiss?" Sherlock asked.

Molly shook her head and ruffled his hair. "No, you get a hair ruffle." She gave Mary a quick hug.

"It's early still. Why are you rushing off?" he asked, standing up.

"I want to check on Toby, see if he's eaten. He also needs another round of meds." She was putting on her coat.

"You know what, we can share a cab."

"You just said it was early."

"Not as early as I thought," Sherlock said as he donned his coat. He started to open the door.

"Say goodbye to your friends," Molly said, putting a hand on Sherlock's arm.

He turned around and stepped back into the sitting room. "Thank you for a lovely evening, and for not giving us food poisoning. I'm seeing Dr. Hooper home, goodnight." He rushed out of the room behind the small woman.


Mary looked at her husband. "Is that finally going to happen?"

"Seems like," John replied with a smile

Chapter Text

"You really didn't have to walk me up, Sherlock. I'm perfectly capable of getting into my own flat," Molly said as she fished her keys out of her bag.

Sherlock noticed she wasn't paying attention to him at all, so he moved a little closer. "I'm aware, Molly. But I wanted to talk to you about something."

She stopped and turned to him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all."

As soon as they stepped into the flat she started calling for Toby. He didn't come. "Help me find Tobes first, okay?" she asked as she took off her coat.

They started going through each room, looking under tables, chairs and beds trying to find the sickly cat. He was starting to fear the worst when Molly called out for him from the spare room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed holding a barely breathing Toby in her arms when Sherlock came in the room.

"Is he...?"

"No, he's alive but he's so cold. Can you get me the small blanket from the sofa?"

Sherlock did as she requested. "What else?" he asked when he returned.

"Hold him, maybe your body will warm him up. I have to call the vet." Molly left the room to get her mobile.

Sitting there holding the half dead cat, a cat that he'd always been secretly fond of no less, Sherlock realised that their conversation wasn't happening, not tonight anyway. He also realised he should stay with Molly, it's what a friend would do, and he was her friend after all. It wasn't a case, it wasn't exciting by any means, but it was expected. Tedious. He checked Toby's breathing a couple of times while she was gone. Still alive. Good.

Molly came back into the room a few minutes later. "Okay, she's going to meet me at the clinic. Hand him here." Molly was standing in front of him with her arms outstretched.

"I'll carry him. I'm going with you," he said, standing up.

"Oh, Sherlock you don't have to come."

"I know I don't have to, but I am. Come on." And with that they were out the door.


An hour and forty five minutes later they were back at Molly's. They also were catless.

Molly dropped onto her sofa, drying her eyes. Sherlock stood next to the coffee table, trying to figure out what to do or say. His instinct, of course, was to leave. This sort of thing did not come easily to him. Consoling a woman, even a friend, was way out of his comfort zone. But looking down at Molly's big brown eyes he found he couldn't make himself turn and walk out her door.

"This is gonna be a long night," Molly finally said.

"You need tea." Sherlock took off his coat and headed to the kitchen. Then he heard Molly sob. "Perhaps something stronger," he said to himself. After a bit of searching he found a bottle of whiskey.

"That's funny looking tea," Molly said as Sherlock handed her the glass.

"Drink it. It'll help you sleep."

Molly took a large drink then made a face. "I don't even know why I have this."

He sat down next to her. "Tom left it."

"That explains why it tastes like piss." She quickly took another drink.

"Molly, the doctor said she was going to do everything in her power to save Toby. She said his chances were good," he said, trying to offer her some measure of comfort. He was quite proud of himself for not telling her that he thought the cat was as good as dead. A few more hours of happiness won't hurt, he thought. Then he found himself trying to figure out where on earth that notion had come from.

"I know, I know." She drank down the rest of the whiskey, put the glass on the coffee table then rested her head on the back of the sofa and exhaled deeply.

He knew it was completely inappropriate, given the circumstances; however seeing Molly's soft, creamy neck stretched out as she tried to gather herself was driving him to distraction. He didn't even realise that he was inching closer to her until she spoke.

"I know he's just a cat, Sherlock." She turned to face him, but she didn't seem to have noticed that he had moved. "But he's my cat, and I love him. I'm sure you must think I'm being ridiculous, but it means a lot that you went with me."

Sherlock shook his head. "Actually, I don't think you're being ridiculous. The human attachment to domesticated animals is perfectly logical. Studies have shown that people live longer, healthier lives when they share their lives with a pet. Not that I put much stock in studies. Frankly though, I find Toby better company than most humans I've met."

Molly laughed. Then there was a pause.

"I had... a dog." He didn't know why he had said it. He had already given her an intellectual explanation as to why she was attached to her pet. He didn't need to elaborate, however he didn't stop. "When I was a child. He died, of course." He stared at a scratch on her coffee table. "I, ah, do understand, how... difficult this is for you Molly." He turned to her. The look in her eyes almost took his breath away. Ah, yes, that look, he thought. It was devastating.

The problem with Molly Hooper was that she was most beautiful when he least expected it, when she wasn't even trying. She didn't knock him backwards when she took her coat off at that awful Christmas party. No, it was the look on her face after she had finally stood up to him. She was indeed hurt, almost in tears, however in that moment her strength had shone through... she was magnificent.

The look she was gracing him with now was very reminiscent of one she gave him on the night she'd helped him die. She was seeing him vulnerable, and she was always very careful with him when he granted her access to this side of his delicate ego. She was so generous. What was he thinking? How could he have ever imagined asking Molly Hooper to be his... what? Paramour, inamorata, fuck buddy? It's a good thing that cat got sick, he thought. Then he shook himself when he realised how horrible that was. Damn it, I'm growing as a person... wonderful! He quickly stood up.

"I should go, let you get some rest." He picked up his coat and put it on.

Molly got up and followed him to the door. He had just grabbed the door handle when he felt her small hand on his arm. "Sherlock?"

He turned not releasing the door. "Yes, Molly?"

"Thank you, for tonight. For going with me and for staying. For... what you said." Then she put her arms around his neck in an innocent embrace. Sherlock's mind went blank for a split second then suddenly started racing- processing everything about her body and how it felt against his. He was instantly aroused. A moment of fear flashed in his mind that he was on the cusp of a full Alpha rut but then he felt Molly's breasts pushed lightly against his chest, Molly arms holding him securely, Molly's breath on his cheek, and that worry seemed to evaporate instantly. He drew a deep breath and he was absolutely done for because all he could smell was Molly and her lovely Omega scent. It was musky and sweet. It made his mouth water. He couldn't remember being this close to her for this length of time. God, it was heaven. He'd gotten used to the scent of her over the years, but this close it was intense and overwhelming. He wanted to drown in it. Finally he released the door and snaked his hands around her lower back while simultaneously lowering his head to her sweet smelling neck.

Molly clearly noticed the change in the nature of the hug. She tried to pull away, but Sherlock moved with her not allowing an inch of space between them. He slowly backed her away from the door while lowering his head to her neck and breathing in her scent.

"Sherlock? W-what are you doing?"she asked, but by this time he had her against the wall.

He didn't answer, but rather started kissing her throat. Oh, she tastes even better than she smells, he thought as he ran his hands up and down her back, wanting to touch as much of her as possible. Molly's hands immediately found his hair, first scraping her nails into his scalp causing him to growl in approval, before taking two handfuls and pulling, hard. Sherlock tore his lips away, albeit reluctantly, to look into Molly's eyes. Her pupils were blown out and she had the most lovely blush covering her cheeks going all the way down her chest as far as he could see.

He shrugged his coat off, throwing it behind him as he looked at her, then dove into her lips with another growl. He heard her whimper as he wasted no time seeking the depths of her mouth, exploring it with his tongue. He gripped Molly's hips roughly as he ground his erection into her stomach. Molly answer his kiss just as fervently, sucking his tongue into her mouth, biting his lips as their teeth crashed and they moaned together. Finally, he broke the kiss, his lungs nearly burning with the need for air.

"My. God. Sherlock!" she said taking breaths between each word. "What's all this about?" Molly asked as she moved her hands from his hair and held onto his shoulders.

Sherlock, however didn't move at all. "I-I just... you... y-you're s-so..." He stopped his own stammering by lowering his lips to Molly's neck once again, first kissing then licking and sucking. Suddenly he was nipping her skin, leaving little red marks in his wake. He noticed that Molly hadn't hesitated in tilting her head, giving him more access to her throat. Such a perfect Omega. His hands had found their way to her breasts, kneading them as she writhed and moaned under him. He needed something else though... flesh and more of it. Somehow, his lust addled brain remembered that she was wearing tights. He bent down, reaching under her dress, peeling them off completely. Molly wasn't protesting but she wasn't really helping either. She was wearing a loose shirt dress. Starting at the bottom, he began unbuttoning it.

"Sherlock!" Molly called out. He barely heard her; all he could think of was getting her out of the damned thing. "Sherlock, what are we doing?" she gasped, as he finished with the last button and raked his eyes down her body, then gently pushed the dress off of her shoulders.

"My God, Molly, your body would make me believe in a higher power," he said as he continued to stare. She was wearing a matching bra and knickers set in a light pink, nothing fancy. Simple and all Molly. Now she stood in front of him in only her pretty under-things. Oh, but he wanted her out of them.

His control (yes, he had been holding back, if just barely) snapped completely. He had to have her, no matter what. He finally let himself admit that Molly's proximity, her scent, her gorgeous fucking body, had sent him right into a rut and that there was nothing he could do about it now but give into it, fully. It had been years since he'd felt the soft warmth of an Omega, bending to his every need. No wonder his body- his biology was reacting as it was. "Molly, let me have you and you won't regret it," he said without taking his eyes off of her lovely body, at least until her arms folded up across her breasts, obscuring his view. He looked up into her eyes; she was clearly aroused, he could smell it, but she was hesitating- confused. He had to take control. He let every Alpha instinct in him run free. "Molly," he said with as much authority as he could muster. "Move your arms, your breasts are perfect. Let me show you just how much I appreciate them." Taking hold of her wrists he pinned them to the wall beside her and lowered his head, placing open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin above the pink material. It was now or never; he moved one hand to her sex, delighted to find her pants completely soaked. Molly's legs started to buckle so he snaked his arms around her, picking her up and moving her to the sofa.

Once he laid her down he knew he had her. She was rubbing her thighs together as he quickly undressed, never taking his eyes off the squirming Omega just below him. Kneeling down next to her he quickly peeled off her dripping knickers as she watched with wide eyes.

"Your last time Molly, was it Tom?" he asked, as he raked his hands up her thighs, spreading them wide. She nodded. "Mmmm..." He dipped his head, taking a deep breath and enjoying the heady sent of her arousal. His body was urging him to mount her, but he just had to have a taste. He opened her with his thumbs, taking only a second to enjoy the view of her fully on display for him. When he wrapped his lips around her clit it caused Molly to buck up into his face. He moved his hand to her stomach in order to hold her down; he couldn't have her rushing things, he'd only just begun. Then he dipped his tongue into her tight channel, fucking her with it as he rubbed his nose against her clit. She cursed and moaned, calling out his name - a sound he decided he could definitely get used to. He raised up to look at her and used his thumb to rub small circles over the bundle of nerves. Watching as she started falling apart under his ministrations made his cock twitch and leak. Knowing she was close and that he didn't want to waste a drop, he lowered his mouth, once again driving his tongue deep inside her. She came within seconds as he lapped greedily, drinking his fill.

"You taste magnificent!" He kissed her deeply, forcing her own juices into her mouth. "God Molly, I'm so hard for you!" he said as he broke the kiss then bent his head taking a nipple in his mouth through her bra. He couldn't wait any longer. Quickly positioning himself he thrust into her without any preamble.

"Oh, fuck Sherlock!" Molly called out and dug her nails into his shoulders. "Oh, it's too... you're so..."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it Molly?" Sherlock said into her ear. "Not a some random Beta. No, me! You always wanted ME!" He slammed into her over and over again as she whimpered and cried. "Did you think about me while you were fucking him? Did you think about my huge Alpha cock while you were settling for that poor excuse of a copy? Tell me Molly?" He drove harder and harder not even considering her pleasure for one moment; all he could think about was his need and staking his claim. Rational thought was absent from his great mind. He was completely overtaken by lust, passion, desire and a sudden rush of power over the small sweet-smelling Omega beneath him.

"Oh yes. Oh, God Sherlock! Yes! Yes!" she screamed.

Sherlock looked down at her; eyes shut tight, bottom lip caught in her teeth. He suddenly wanted to make per pay. Make her pay for making him lose control. And if he was going to lose control, he might as well lose all of it.

He leaned down and licked her throat then asked, "You want my knot, Molly?"

Her eyes snapped opened. "I-I'm not in h-heat Sherlock. I-we, ah, shouldn't."

"I didn't ask about your heat, Molly. I asked if you wanted my knot. My big Alpha knot." He pulled out just a bit, grabbing a hold of the base of his cock to stimulate the glands. Molly whimpered at the loss. "Just say it and it's yours," he said and he watched as Molly's eyes followed the movement of his hand.

Molly screwed her eyes shut and thrust upward seeking friction once again. "Yes, God, yes. But I've never been knotted before. Shouldn't we... ah..."

He twisted his hand around his cock, squeezing tightly while keeping the head still pressed just against Molly's wet cunt. "Course you haven't. You were waiting for me, weren't you?" Then he could feel the glands starting to swell, a subtle hardening that was unnoticeable to the naked eye. He chuckled and thrust back into her, bottoming out. Molly threw her head back and gasped at the abrupt intrusion and Sherlock couldn't resist; he bent down for another taste of her delicious neck. That's when he felt it; his knot was starting to form in earnest. "Molly, are you ready?"

She didn't answer, but looked up at him with apprehension in her eyes. He ignored it. He was being driven completely by instinct. He heard her cry out, but he was so overwhelmed by the his own need he couldn't make out what she was saying.

Sherlock kept moving until he couldn't. She was unbelievably tight. There was a thought in the very back of his mind that he was hurting her, then suddenly his orgasm overtook him and he couldn't think at all anymore. Molly cried out again, digging her nails into his back, breaking skin in several places. The urge was too great as wave after wave of ecstasy flowed through his body. The instinct to Mark was overwhelming him. He couldn't stop himself; he managed to bring his own arm up to his mouth at the very last second. Feeling the sweet gush of blood in his mouth, even if it was the wrong blood, quieted the urge. He rolled them on the sofa so they were facing each other, knowing it would be several more minutes before they could disconnect.

That's when he finally made eye contact with Molly once again. He watched as her tear-filled eyes flashed down to his mouth. Why is she crying? he wondered when saw the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"You b-bit yourself?" she asked breathlessly.

He nodded.

"Right. Of course," she whispered.

She never looked at him again, nor did she speak. She just tucked her head down and waited. They lay there for twenty awful minutes. The aftershocks were, of course pleasant, but at the same time terribly uncomfortable as Molly refused to make eye contact and kept her face turned into the cushion. He finally felt his knot receding. She felt it too and seemed to be relieved. A couple minutes later his knot was gone and he quickly got up.

"Well, I ah, should probably..." He started gathering his clothes. What have I done? he thought, panic raising as he hastily dressed.

Molly stared at him for a few seconds then dashed to her bedroom. She came back wrapped in a dressing gown. "What the hell was that Sherlock?" she asked arms folded across her middle.

He was dressed and putting on his shoes. "I would... assume you were familiar with sexual intercourse Molly, what with all the sex you and meat dagger had," he said standing up.

She slapped him. "We're back here then?"

"It seems so," he said, blank faced.

She stared at him for a few seconds before saying, "You said I wouldn't regret it."

"What?" He had no idea what she was talking about.

She laughed bitterly and shook her head. "When you were talking me into letting you fuck me. You said I wouldn't regret it."

Oh I did, didn't I? he thought. He wondered what else he'd said in his lust fueled madness.

"Find a new lab," she said, staring at the wall. He wasn't even surprised to find her not crying. She didn't even seem shocked by his behaviour.

He nodded. "Right, so... Goodbye, Molly Hooper." He walked out the door.

He forgot his coat.

Chapter Text


Sherlock walked for hours. What the hell happened? He thought he had the situation under control, right up until the moment he didn't. Now the itch had become an intense burn. Why is it suddenly worse? He kept seeing the look in Molly's eyes when she realised that he had wanted to Bond with her, but had bit himself instead. No, want was too small of a word. He needed to. Need didn't fit either but it would have to do, for now. God, this is worse than heroin.

Something within him kept telling him to turn around and run- not walk- back to Molly Hooper's flat and sink his teeth into her neck. He just kept walking though. As the cold seeped into his bones he felt hollow and old. He felt lost. The absence of his beloved Belstaff was almost a welcome distraction.

The sun was just coming up when he recognized the familiar surroundings of the Watson's neighborhood. It took more than four minutes for John to answer the door. For some reason he didn't even consider picking the locks.


The doctor squinted at his best friend. "Bloody hell, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"None whatsoever." Sherlock pushed his way inside.

"Do come in." John followed as Sherlock flopped onto his favorite chair. "You look like shit."

Sherlock just stared ahead. More than five minutes passed without so much as a word from the detective. John had noticed the smell instantly, but was waiting, patiently for an explanation.

"What's going on Sherlock? I'm about to make you piss in a damn jar," he said moving to sit on the coffee table in front of the brooding man-child, finally having had enough of the silent treatment.

"I slept with Molly," Sherlock said barely above a whisper.

John blinked. He didn't think it'd be that easy. "Yeah, that's fairly obvious. So? Why are you here?"

"I walked out... right after."

John leaned forward running his hands over his face. "Okay, all right... that's not good- not good at all. But Molly is, well, maybe the most forgiving woman on the planet, so you just have to explain how sorry you are and beg- yes beg- her forgiveness and everything should be fine... hopefully."

Sherlock closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair.

"There's more isn't there?" John asked. Of course there's more. Nothing's ever simple with this man.

"I knotted her," he mumbled.

John gasped. "Outside her heat?"

"Obviously," Sherlock answered in a bored tone.

John had to conscientiously resist the urge to punch the Alpha. "You went into a rut, didn't you?" He asked indignantly. The detective remained silent. "Don't fucking do that, Sherlock. This is too important!"

"Yes!" he snapped. "Of course I did damnit!"

"God that couldn't have been comfortable for her." He paused, wondering if she was okay. He needed to check on her or perhaps have Mary call her, considering. A thought suddenly struck him. "I'm shocked you didn't Bond her, actually, you two seem ideally matched. Did you at least ask first, before you..?"

His friend seemed lost in his mind once again, but the former army doctor wasn't having any of that today, not after what he'd just discovered. "Sherlock! Did you hear me? I said: did you ask her before you knotted her."

Sherlock shrugged. "Sort of."

"Sort of? What does that even mean?" He shook his head. "You know if you're not going to take this seriously..."

"I am taking this seriously, John." Sherlock interrupted. "It's Molly for God's sake."

Sherlock's tone made the doctor pause and he realised that he needed to keep an level head. One of them had to be calm. His friend might seem collected and controlled at the moment, but John knew that Sherlock could hide a lot under that facadé. "Frankly you're lucky she didn't spike into heat. It's been known to happen. So, did you just run out or did you exchange pleasantries first?"

"No, I insulted her and she told me to find another lab. Oh, and she slapped me. For an Omega, she can be extremely violent."

"Jesus, you really have managed to muck this up. But, lucky for you..." John patted him on his forearm and Sherlock winced. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"Nothing." He jerked back. "I-I banged it on... something."

Just then Mary ran down the stairs. "What the hell's going on? Molly just called me."

"Well..." John started as he stood up.

She raged forward. "I have to pick up Toby's remains later. He died. She can't go get him. She's in heat."

John's head whipped back to Sherlock.

"She wouldn't tell me anything. But she was crying and begged me not to tell this one." Pointing to Sherlock. "Which tells me he's done something monumentally awful. Now what is it?" She was furious.

"And that's my cue," Sherlock said, standing up.

"You're going to Molly's then?" John asked.

"Of course I'm not. She doesn't want to see me."

"Only because you insulted her and walked out after knotting her," John said.

Mary's reaction was instantaneous. "You fucking prick!" She slapped Sherlock with surprising force.

He rubbed his jaw. "I'm not sticking around for another strike." He started to walk away.

As John grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving, Sherlock gasped, clearly in pain, and tried to pull away. But John was too quick for him. He shoved up Sherlock's sleeve, reveling the teeth marks on his forearm.

John didn't let go and Sherlock didn't fight anymore. It didn't take a genius to figure out the rest. "She saw this! She knew you wanted to Bond her but bit yourself instead?"

Sherlock refused to answer. In fact he was having a hard time even making eye contact with either of his friends.

John released Sherlock's arm and shook his head. "Of all the shit things you've done...I- I..."

"People usually talk before Bonding, John!" Sherlock defended, though still not looking at the doctor. "I-I couldn't just..."

"Yes! But you could have at least tried. Instead you went all Sherlock on her and had to make her feel used- walked out on her. I know you, remember? I know exactly what you did, how you behaved." He paced away, keeping himself between Sherlock and the door, then he turned on the Alpha. "She's in heat now because of you! You did this!"

Sherlock finally looked at the Beta. "She had some whiskey last night, perhaps..."

At that weak attempt of an excuse he couldn't stay calm anymore, John got right in his face. "Don't you fucking try it! You know exactly what's going on. This is her body looking for her Bond Mate. Trying to call you back." He took a step back and gave Sherlock an appraising look. "Speaking of which, how ya feelin'? You've knotted your future Bond Mate. You must be feeling it too," he added in a mocking tone.

"You're a Beta, you have no idea," Sherlock answered in a low dangerous voice.

"Well then what was the point of all of this? Huh?"

"I-I didn't... It- It just... happened."

John's eyes grew wide and he smiled, though it wasn't the least bit pleasant. "Mr. Control himself, lost it?" His smile dropped. "Listen to me, you either go over there and make that amazing woman yours before some unbonded Alpha in her building gets a whiff of her or come to terms with the fact that you've just lost the best thing that could ever happen to you."

Abject terror flashed in Sherlock's eyes and he was out the door before John could say another word.

Mary turned to her husband. "Could that really happen?"

"No. Not at all. Molly's building is properly ventilated. He'll remember that later, but right now he's too confused and worked up. I had hoped that'd do the trick." He exhaled.

Mary suddenly grabbed her husband's face and said, "God you're sexy when you're defending a tiny pathologist's honor." Then she kissed the breath right out of him.


Sherlock picked the lock, letting himself into Molly's flat. Her scent was everywhere. It engulfed him. He had visited Heat Houses in his youth, but nothing prepared him for Molly's heat hitting him all at once. Her unbelievable scent, that had driven him crazy the night before, was increased tenfold. It was sharper and sweeter. It flooded his senses, caused his mind to reel and his blood to boil. Staggering against the wall he tried to get his bearings. That's when he heard her sobbing. His knees buckled and he suddenly found himself on the floor. Something's not right, this isn't normal. He tried to get his foggy mind to work out what was wrong but it just wouldn't co-operate.

Molly must have heard him because before he could get up he saw her standing in front of him... completely naked, covered in a light sheen of sweat, and panting. She was holding the taser he had given her during Moriarty's return.

"No!" she said in a low, shaky voice.

"Molly, please let me help you." He was dangerously close to begging already. It didn't help that his cock was hard and heavy in his trousers.

"Fuck you, get out." She wiped the tears off her face, trying (and failing) to look fierce.

"I- I don't know what to say... I..." He was still on the floor.

She shook her head. "You're making me spike into stage two, now go!" she whimpered as she moved closer with the taser in front of her.

"I won't leave this time, I promise." He knew he had to convince her. Right then he needed her just as much as she need him.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll stay until my heat's over. Can't resist now, can you? I won't do it, though. I won't go back. I can't let you treat me like that again."

"Molly I'm sorry. I was wrong to leave, and what I said... and to... to..."

"Knot me?" she sobbed. "It hurt you know. You had to know, you felt it!"

"I know, I know and I'm sorry. It was... I want you... I want help you." He staggered to his feet as his mind tried to form words to convince her to let him stay.

"Look." She pointed to her sofa. He looked over to where she was pointing and saw a small blood stain where they had been. "Is that what you wanted?"

He had made her bleed? How had he missed that before? Oh fuck... "Are you okay?" he asked desperately.

"My heat seems to have mended it. But now everything hurts, thanks for asking."

"Please!" he begged. "I can help you."

She laughed. "An Alpha... begging? Aren't I a special girl?" She mocked as she lowered the taser and stared at him for several long moments. "Fine," she said with very little emotion then turned to walk into her bedroom.


Sherlock was on his knees once again. This time he was frantically scrubbing the blood stain out of Molly's sofa cushion. She was sleeping, but she'd be awake again soon and the next wave of her heat would be upon them. Sherlock wanted to give her something- anything. He wanted to undo his barbaric actions of the night before. He couldn't of course, so he settled on erasing the reminder of it from her setting room.

Molly had led him into her bedroom two hours before and crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees. Like this, she had said, I don't want to see your face. Don't put your mouth on me, Sherlock. Please don't. Her coldness didn't dampen the fire that had been ignited in him though. Not one bit. He gripped her tightly as he drove into her. When he felt his knot starting to form, as gently as he could, he rubbed a finger over her engorged clit. She cried out as she came, but not his name. No, just unintelligible nonsense.

And when the urge struck him just as it had before - no it was much stronger this time, if he were honest - he used every ounce of discipline he had, used every trick in his arsenal to keep from laying open Molly's neck. It tore him apart. As they lay in her bed waiting for his knot to recede, once again they didn't speak. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, stroke her skin. He wanted to taste her so badly it was very nearly painful. But he had stayed as far away as he possibly could, under the circumstances. He couldn't hear her crying this time, he didn't think she had. His emotions were all over the place, it was incredibly confusing and disorientating. When he was finally able to remove himself, he did, then Molly got up and locked herself in the bathroom.

Sherlock sat up and tried to decide what he should be doing. After several minutes he had realised that Molly would be tired but that the sheets needed changing. He found fresh ones and quickly remade her bed. It also occurred to him that she'd be hungry and thirsty as well. As he left some water and crisps on her bedside table he realised he was acting upon some kind of instincts. It should have disgusted him, but it didn't. He just felt hollow and empty. A deep sadness settled in him like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

Knocking softly on the bathroom door he'd let her know that her bed linens had been changed and that he'd left her something to eat and drink. She hadn't answer, so he'd left her alone. As soon as he shut the door to the guest room he heard the loo open. He'd sat on the edge of the bed and once again tried to formulate some kind of plan. That's when he'd decided to clean her sofa.

He put the cloth back into the bucket to re-wet it, then started scrubbing once again. That's when he heard Molly's bedroom door open and he braced himself.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He didn't turn around. "I'm trying to clean this before the stain sets in. You just bought this sofa and presumably don't want it ruined." He stopped scrubbing, but didn't look at her. "It's the least..." He let the sentence die as he resumed his mission.

Molly, wrapped in a dressing gown, walked over and inspected the cushion. He could see her in his peripheral vision.

"It's fine Sherlock. You can stop now." She bent down and picked up the bucket, then held her hand out for the cloth.

He gave it up, though for some reason he didn't want to.

She walked into the bathroom with the bucket. Sherlock still hadn't moved. He was at a loss. He was never at a loss. When she came back she sat down on a low ottoman, then motioned to her large leather chair. Reluctantly, got off of the floor and sat down across from her. He wasn't looking forward to this; her questions, her judgment... her eyes. He'd never been good at answering for his mistakes. Speak first, he though.

"I'm sorry about Toby," he said.

"I know you liked him," she replied looking off into the distance.

The flat was almost completely silent except for their breathing and the sounds of morning traffic filtering in from outside. Finally she spoke.

"The thing is," She drew a deep breath and kept her eyes on the floor. "I thought that I noticed a change. There were times I... I thought I was smelling..." She closed her eyes. "But I dismissed it. I kept telling myself that it was crazy- impossible. That there was no way that I was actually scenting attraction from you of all people."

"I thought, perhaps, that you'd noticed on several occasions actually. Your nose would do this little twitching... thing. I couldn't exactly hide that." He attempted to smile but dropped his eyes again at her harsh glare.

"Why does my scarf smell like you?" she asked. "I didn't recognize it until after you left yesterday. I feel like such an idiot for not putting that together."

"I exchanged our scarves a little over a week ago."

She nodded. "So you've been planning this."

He leaned forward; Molly backed away from him. An indescribable pain arched through his chest. He kept his face a mask of indifference, not letting her know how much that small movement affected him. "I was planning something, but not this." He took a deep breath knowing this would sound, well, just as bad as it actually was, especially after what had transpired between the two of them. "I had planned on asking you to enter into a sexual relationship with me. I had hoped that you'd be amenable to such an agreement." He paused watching as Molly closed her eyes and fought back tears. "After we returned from the vets last night, I decided not to pursue that course of action. But then you... hugged me and I..."

"Lost your famous control?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Apparently."

Several moments passed in silence. Then she spoke.

"So... after everything I've done for you. After risking my job and lying to our friends. After all the insults and manipulations. After years of what I thought was a deep and meaningful friendship. You thought I might be up for the occasional friendly shag!?" By the end of her tirade she was on her feet and screaming.

He couldn't look at her. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as she stood above him and let loose. He deserved this, of course he did. He deserved anything she wanted to hurl at him and more.

"And then, the ever stoic, unmovable king of control was broken by a fucking hug?" She walked toward the window then turned back to him. "Don't let that get out Sherlock. The criminals of the city would just love to get their hands on the fact that you have a kink for plain, small breasted pathologists." She had turned half around to face him.

Sherlock stood up and started to move toward her. She held up her hand then turned to face away from him once again. She stayed that way for several minutes. Finally she turned back to him and spoke, "I... I, ah, did you know you were hurting me?" Her voice broke.

He started to answer, then remembered the warning bells that had gone off, he had ignored them. I'm a monster, he thought. He looked away from her.

"No answer then," she said. "And when your instincts to Bond kicked in, you chose to fucking bite yourself instead of..." She took a deep breath. "I mean you managed to ask if I wanted your knot, but clearly the idea of Bonding with me is beyond repulsive." She shook her head. "Well, I think you should leave before I spike again. I can take it from here. It won't be comfortable, but I have..." She didn't need to finish the sentence for him to know what she was talking about. "We'll never speak of this." She walked out of the room and down the hall.

Sherlock got his coat and exchanged the scarves. Somehow it made everything seem so... final. He could hear Molly softly crying and he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. He quickly left before he did something else incredibly stupid.

Chapter Text

When Sherlock left Molly's flat he flagged down a cab and spent the entire ride trying not to vomit in it. Damn you, John Watson, I thought better of your cooking abilities. He managed to make it to Baker Street before emptying the contents of his stomach, thankfully. Stumbling to the kitchen he grabbed two sachets of rehydration salts watching them dissolve in a large glass of water before downing it. After ending up on the settee rather than in his room, as he'd indented, he fell into a fit-full sleep.

He was curled up on his sofa when John came storming in the next morning. He knew this was coming: the righteous wrath of John Hamish Watson. That didn't mean he was looking forward to it.

"You left her... again!" John screamed as he stomped into the room. "Mary's there now, in case you were wondering!"

Sherlock didn't answer.

"Damnit Sherlock you... No! Get up! Get the fuck up, right fucking now!"

Sherlock rolled over and planted his feet on the floor. "She asked me to leave, John. What was I supposed to do?" he said in a flat tone, his voice hoarse.

John paced back and forth in front of his friend. Then he took a deep breath. "You look like hell. Have you... did you...?"

"I'm clean, John. Happy to prove it to you, if you like. I actually think I have food poisoning or the flu or... something," Sherlock said as he got up and staggered to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

John followed closely behind the detective. "Can I..." He raised his hand as Sherlock began to drink. "Can I take your temperature? I think you have a fever."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course I do. I just told you I was sick, didn't I?"

John ignored outburst and felt his forehead. "Have you thrown-up?"

"Twice yesterday. None today." He didn't mention that in the back of his mind he thought that it was possibly due to Molly's words and his all-consuming guilt. He'd rather think it was something he'd eaten.

"All right bed, I'll get you some paracetamol."

"I forgot how you love to fuss," Sherlock complained, but shuffled off to his room nonetheless. He'd let his former flatmate be his doctor for the moment; it was certainly better than being screamed at. The way he was feeling at the moment though, he didn't much care.


John took Sherlock some medicine and water then told him he'd be back later to check on him. As he was walking into the kitchen to make himself some tea his mobile rang.

"Mary, how's she doing?"

John Watson had been awoken that morning by his wife's voice. She was speaking in a hushed conciliatory tone until she hung up, then all hell broke loose in the form of one pissed off former assassin and all around Mamma Bear.

Mary told John that Sherlock had been to Molly's, but left after they'd had sex one time. Then she told him the whole story. Mary was mad- no she was very nearly murderous. She was even more upset than she had been the day before when she'd picked up her friend's dead cat. After her phone calls and text messages went unanswered, she and John decided that their friends must be busy and she finally stopped calling Sherlock ugly names and threatening his man-bits.

Once again riled up, Mary ranted as she got dressed to go check on the Omega.

"I love him John, I do, but we put up with a lot, ya know," Mary shouted. "All because he's so misunderstood- so damaged. All because of what he's done for you- for us! What about the damage he causes? Look at poor Molly. Look at everything she's done for him and now this? For fuck's sake John!" She pulled on a jumper the grabbed a pair of trainers. "You go talk to him, make him understand what he's done. She's crushed. Worse than crushed, I've never heard someone sound so broken." Then she rushed out the door.

John had known the Omega a lot longer than his wife had, he knew the kind of person she was. Molly Hooper was strong. She had dated Moriarty, she had helped Sherlock fake his death, she had kept his secret for two years and she had slapped the ever living shit out of the man when he had started using again. Yes, Sherlock's behavior was beyond disgusting, but even considering that, John was having a hard time believing that this had broken the her.

The more he thought about it, the more pissed off he became. Also he wasn't looking forward to playing mediator between an Alpha and an Omega. By the time he had dropped Abby off at the sitter's and finally reached his best friend, he was ready to throttle the man. He wasn't, however, prepared to find Sherlock looking half dead himself.

After hearing about Sherlock's 'illness', then the phone call from Mary hearing about Molly's physical as well as emotional state, everything started coming together for the doctor. He picked up Sherlock's laptop and started searching.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. His suspicions confirmed, he called his wife to let her know what he had discovered. When he hung up he decided to let Sherlock sleep for a while longer before he woke him with the news.

Two hours later, as he was making some fresh tea, John heard a strange noise coming from the bedroom. Is Sherlock... crying? he puzzled. John finished making his tea (including a cup for Sherlock) then nudged the bedroom door opened. The sight that greeted him was strange to say the least.

His friend - the man who abhorred sentiment and feelings - the man who never showed weakness or let his defenses down - was curled up in the fetal position, clutching... his scarf? And yes, John's original assumption was correct: Sherlock Holmes was crying. Okay, this is new. Though, given what he had discovered, it wasn't entirely surprising.

"I made you tea," John said as he placed the mug on the bedside table.

Sherlock didn't respond just sat up, wiped his face and picked up his mug.

"I – ah... look, we need to talk. Do you feel up to talking, Sherlock?"

The detective nodded, still not making eye contact, got up and walked out of the room. He had the mug in one hand and the scarf in the other.

Once settled in their respective chairs John decided to get right to the point, or try to. "So," he started. "I believe I may know what's going on here."

"What are you talking about John?" Sherlock asked, barely above a whisper. He was slumped in his chair looking like a grumpy teenager.

"I have to ask you for some, ah, details about your encounter with Molly."

Sherlock sat up and looked at John as if he were insane. "Are you... wh-what do you... why?"

"Sherlock," He leaned his elbows on his knees and moved closer toward his friend. "I believe that there's a chance that you and Molly have Bonded." He was sure of it actually, but he needed to ease Sherlock into the notion.

He shook his head, his eyes wide and instantly panicked. "No, no-no, you saw my arm, John. I didn't... not even when I went back. Not even when... no! I didn't. I-I wanted to... I-I did... but she..." He swallowed hard. "She begged me not to."

"That's not what I'm saying, Sherlock." He took another deep breath. Nothing in his personal life or medical career had prepared him for the next question he had to ask his best friend. "Did you perform oral sex on Molly before knotting her?"

As the realisation washed over Sherlock's face, John breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he wouldn't have to go any further with his inquiry. Once again, he knew from the information that he'd gotten from Mary what had taken place during the first encounter, but he had to make the Alpha understand.

"NO!" Sherlock shouted. "It takes more than... I mean, just because a small amount of my..." He stood up and started frantically pacing the room. "No!"

John jumped up and followed. "You're right in most cases, it takes an actual bite and forcing saliva into the wound. But if you think about it, that's what you did... in reverse."

Sherlock continued pacing and shaking his head. "No, it's not enough. That's not how it works." He stopped and looked at John. "You're a doctor for fuck's sake. How can you think that... how can you believe that we could have Bonded this way?"

"I researched it, Sherlock. It can happen." He grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders. "In some cases- in these cases it seems that a Bond can form with a small amount of saliva and a minor wound. As I said before, you two seem ideally matched. It wouldn't have been possible otherwise. You..." He steadied himself. "Tore her when you knotted her, forcing your saliva, that was already there, into the tears in her vagina." He paused letting it all sink in. "You and Molly are displaying signs of a newly Bonded pair."

Fear flashed in the Alpha's eyes. "Molly? What's wrong with Molly? What do you mean?"

"Mary says she's in a lot of pain, been vomiting. And she's crying... uncontrollably. She's completely inconsolable. Does that sound like the Molly Hooper you know?"

"Oh my God, what have I done?" Sherlock seemed lost for a moment, his eyes unfocused, he raised his hands to his mouth. He appeared to be searching for an answer. "John, she doesn't want this..."

John hadn't let go of his friend but his head dropped, he gathered his strength and looked back up. "For God's sake Sherlock, will you two just stop! What's done is done!"

Sherlock jerked out of John's grasp and paced to the window. "No! You don't know... I- I..."

"I do, actually."

Sherlock visibly shuttered. "Well then you can understand why she'd never want to see me again, so..."

"No! Look, this has been an emotionally charged couple of days. You and Molly simply need to talk, honestly for once, about your actual feelings. Yes I said feelings! Your feelings for one another."

The detective slowly turned and looked at the shorter man. "Feelings?" he said, the word dripping with disdain. "Feelings got us into this mess. Me giving into my feelings- my wants, my desires, hurt Molly and bound her to me. Are you insane? We can't just talk this out." His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm a monster John. I knew I was hurting her, distantly, but I knew. I'm one of those Alphas that can't control their own need to concur, to take what they want. And Molly... sweet, kind Molly. She's not in love with me anymore John. Hasn't been for quite some time. I just used her body because I wanted it."

His eyes filled with tears. "She doesn't love me, but now she's stuck with me. It's all my fault. The only thing she'll ever feel for me is contempt and repulsion... fear." He looked back up at his best friend. "Do you know what's ironic?"

John helplessly shook his head and waited for an answer but his best friend just stared at him. He was certain that Sherlock was speaking, just not out loud. His phone rang, but he ignored it. "Sher..."

"No, John. Consider hurting Mary like that. Think about it, for just one moment. Think about doing to your Mary what I did to Molly." The room was silent as the men stared at each other, then Sherlock finally spoke. "It's like I... r..."

"Stop!" the doctor shouted holding up his hands. "For God's sake don't say that. Mary told me what happened. Molly explained everything to her. Mary isn't your biggest fan right now, so I very much doubt she was sugar coating anything. As I..." He drew a deep breath. "... understand it, Molly consented to it. To everything." He turned away from his friend, needing to gather himself. Jesus, if Sherlock is really under the impression that he raped Molly...

"John, I hurt her."

He turned back around. "No one's denying that! But she, according to Mary, Molly is more upset about the fact that you fucking bit yourself, then couldn't get away fast enough!" He heard his phone ping as a text came in and threw his hands up in the air. "Why are we going about this like we're in high school? You have to talk to her, yourself!" he said as he pulled out his mobile.

Sherlock just stared ahead not focused on anything.

The text was from Mary. 'Call me- NOW' it read. He immediately rang his wife.

"John! What the hell?" she answered.

"Sorry, I was talking to Sherlock. What's wrong?" The detective was suddenly pulled out of his stupor and was now staring daggers at his friend.

"Well, Mycroft sent a doctor."

"Mycroft? You called Mycroft?" John asked, bewildered.

"No, of course I didn't. He has his ways."

Sherlock spoke up in a bored tone. "You used my laptop to research our... condition." Then gave him a look. "He still monitors my internet usage."

John sighed. "Got it. Go on. What'd this doctor do?"

"Anyway, he gave Molly some medication. And now she's acting very strange."

"What medication? And strange, how?" John asked.

"Co-Dydramol. She went from crying and hating Sherlock to asking for him- begging really. Ask him if she's allergic to anything. Cause she's high off her arse."

Sherlock moved closer. "What John? What's wrong with Molly?"

"Is she allergic to any medicine?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Did the idiot doctor give her Co-Dydramol?"

"How'd you know?"

"Is she stoned out of her mind?"

"Yes."

The detective jumped up and ran toward the bathroom and shouted, "Tell Mary I'm on my way."


After the world's fastest shower John and Sherlock were in the back of a cab on their way to Molly's. Sherlock had a brief moment of joy unleashing some of his rage upon his brother. Mycroft made his half-hearted apologies. He had no idea that Molly had a sensitivity to dihydrocodeine and neither had the doctor. If Molly had only mentioned it... blah, blah, blah! Finally he just hung up on him. If Mycroft could only mind his own business... ever!

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" Johns voice got his attention.

"What John?" he snapped back.

"What's the plan?"

"Plan? I have no plan other than to make sure Molly doesn't try to fly off of her balcony."

"This has happened before?" John asked.

"Yes. She had oral surgery whilst I was staying with her," He cut his friend a sideways look. "Once." Trying to skirt the topic of the Fall. "At any rate, she was prescribed Co-Dydramol. I don't know if I've ever seen anyone quite so loaded in my life." He smiled at the memory. "This doctor presumably thought it would ease her pain and knock her out for the duration of her heat. It has the opposite effect on Molly. Makes her hyper and giddy until she passes out for a little while. Your wife must have her hands full."

John grinned. "But what about... everything else?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, well I have no plan there whatsoever." He heard John huff but couldn't worry about his best friend at the moment. They rode in silence the rest of the way.

Mary let them into the flat with a hug and a kiss for her husband and a harsh glare for Sherlock. "Where is she?" he asked.

"She's reorganizing her drawers," Mary said with an exasperated sigh.

Sherlock moved toward the bedroom but the Beta stopped him. "John, will you go check on her, please."

The doctor glanced between his wife and his best friend. "Molly's still in heat, Mary. Don't do anything..." John started, obviously worried about leaving his wife alone with an Alpha while his mate was in heat a few feet away.

"A quick chat, love." She kissed her husband before he slowly walked through the doorway to check on the Omega.

Mary turned back to the detective. "Here's what... She's not herself right now, so you have a chance to explain the last couple of days. I would do some very fast talking if I were you."

Sherlock tried to speak up but he was stopped by the former assassin. "Listen, I'm still pissed about this whole thing, however, I don't think you intended to hurt Molly Hooper. I think you're selfish and completely ignorant of human emotions." She moved closer. "But, I'm also aware of your little secret. It's the only reason I haven't brained you yet." Moving back she folded her arms across her chest. "It can't be easy being here with her in heat."

Sherlock shook his head.

"Hmm." She started to walk away but turned back. "I didn't tell John everything."

"Keeping secrets again, Mrs. Watson?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Cute. This one's not mine. Your brother mentioned a procedure."

"What?"

"This can be undone," she explained.

-In The Bedroom-

"...so that's when I said to Jenkins 'No, that's not a tumor, it's my thumb!'" Molly started laughing uncontrollably as she refolded a jumper then put it back in the drawer in the exact same place from which she'd just removed it.

It was the third 'story' she'd shared since he'd arrived, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Thankfully Sherlock opened the door and gave him a knowing look.

"Okay, well, I'm passing this off to you," he stood up as Molly jumped up and threw herself around his best friend.

"Thank God you're finally here. I need you Sherlock!" She started kissing his neck as John beat a hasty retreat.

The Alpha took a deep breath as he, with great reluctance, pulled Molly's hands away from his shoulders. "Molly, how many pills did you take?"

She pouted but moved to sit on the bed. She was wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a singlet... nothing else. Though he understood why, he'd felt how warm she was for that brief moment of their embrace. And God help him did she smell good. He had no choice but to control himself, they had to talk first.

"Doctor whats-his-name gave me one and I took another right after he left."

Sherlock did the math quickly in his head and decided that she'd be crashing in about thirty minutes. Too damn long. "Okay, I'm going to stay with you until the medication wears off and then we'll talk. You should get sleepy soon-ish..." he said with a roll of his eyes. "...if your past reaction is anything to go by."

Molly got up on her knees on the bed and smiled. "What should we do in the meantime?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and shook himself. "Not that," he said even though everything in his mind and body was telling him otherwise.

Chapter Text

Sherlock kept himself near the perimeter of the room as Molly giggled and chatted. She told a couple of bad jokes (worse than normal) and only tried to take off her top once (thankfully). He was ready for her behaviour, but her scent and general loveliness was not doing him or his nature any favours. Finally she curled up and dozed off about twenty-five minutes after he entered.

He stayed long enough to make sure she was sleeping soundly then went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea. He removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, trying to make himself more comfortable. After pacing the length of her flat several times he took out his phone and decided to kill two birds with one stone. A call to his brother would get him answers about this procedure and take care of the raging erection that he'd had since almost the moment he'd entered Molly's home.

An hour and forty-three minutes later, Sherlock had a plan, of sorts. He at least understood that they had real options, or rather Molly did. Now all he had to do was have a terribly uncomfortable conversation with her. There would be apologising and talking about... feelings. "Oh, this is going to be awful," he muttered to himself.

Any other situation he'd just let the chips fall as they may. He'd made plenty of mistakes in his life and hadn't exactly always cleaned up after himself, so to speak. But this was Molly and this was the rest of their lives. There was literally no way around it. John was right. I hate it when he's right. Smug, short, little Beta...

A light thud coming from Molly's bedroom pulled Sherlock from his thoughts and he opened the door to find her getting up on shaky legs.

As he reached for her she said, "I'm okay... I'm o-kay. Just a bit... wobbly." She steadied herself on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'll let you know when I can feel again," she said as she straightened up. "Bathroom."

He moved out of her way. "I'll go make you some tea."

"Thanks."

The tea was finished by the time she got to the kitchen. She came in looking a bit more like herself; her hair brushed, her face freshly-washed and carrying a wet flannel. She sat down in front of her mug and winced slightly, no doubt she'd injured her hip when she'd fallen out of bed. "Okay, Sherlock. Let's talk." She placed the flannel on the back of her neck and sighed loudly in relief.

The sound went straight to Sherlock's groin. This isn't helping, he thought. I have to stay focused. He quickly untucked his shirt to try and hide the evidence that he was enjoying her presence as much as he was, then sat down next to her and took a deep, steadying breath. Her heat, he could tell, was still in stage one. He'd been wondering how that was possible. "Your heat, how..."

Molly interrupted. "I called my doctor this morning after Mary explained what was going on- what John had theorized. I wanted it confirmed, no offense to John. My doctor agreed that we'd most likely..." She paused, playing with the frayed edge of the flannel for a moment. "And he suggested that I take one of my suppressants. Said there was at least a chance it would keep me in stage one. It seems to be working, for now, but I have no idea how long it'll last."

"Of course."

Molly took a deep breath before speaking again. "So we're Bond Mates," she said flatly, looking him in the eyes for the first time since she entered the kitchen.

"Apparently."

After taking a drink of her tea, she made a face. "Tea's too hot." She stood up and poured herself a glass of water then, drank it standing at the sink. "Look, I need to say some things and you need to listen." She took another drink.

Stage one was certainly better than stage two, but she was clearly uncomfortable.

"We've both said some things and done some things, that I'm sure we wish we could take back- undo. But we can't. I- I... know you think you forced me into something that night. But the fact is, you didn't." She put the glass on the counter and picked up the flannel, rubbing against her neck. "I knew what I was agreeing to. As a matter of fact..." She closed her eyes and tipped her head up towards the ceiling. "From the moment we started I wanted you to..." Folding her arms across her chest she mumbled, "God, this is humiliating." Then she cleared her throat. "I wanted your knot. And when you asked if I wanted... it," She sighed and redirected her gazed at the floor. "I had a very fleeting though that you'd... Bond with me as a result of... knotting me." Tossing the flannel back onto the table she walked to the farthest corner of the kitchen and huffed. "Ironic, isn't it?"

No wonder she'd been so upset about him biting himself. Sherlock's insides twisted. He was sure that her admission was meant to alleviate his guilt, but it only worsened it. He was confused. And there was a very good reason for his confusion. He could just ask her outright, but he was still Sherlock Holmes, for God's sake, so he'd be avoiding that question at all cost.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why, what?"

"Why did you- why would you want... me?" he asked, staring into his mug of tea. "Or did you? Was it just a heat of the moment sort of thing?"

A moment passed. "Doesn't matter now, does it? We need to figure out how to deal with our current situation. Try to figure out how we'll do... this."

"It matters."

She laughed bitterly. "It really doesn't."

He sighed. She wasn't going to say it and he couldn't feel it, not yet at least. Their Bond was too weak. Mycroft's words kept playing in his mind, mocking him. Tenuous, incomplete. But he needed to know, which meant he needed to explain things to her. Everything.

"I have things to say and I need you to listen as well." He stood up and pushed his chair under the table, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. "First of all, I'm so sorry for trying to manipulate you into a sexual relationship." Molly sat down. "I didn't... I wasn't thinking clearly. Also, I'm sorry for losing control that night."

"You went into a rut..."

He looked up at her. "Still, it's no excuse." She nodded. "I don't know how..." He swallowed hard. The Bond, however weak, was making him emotional and no matter how much he tried not to, thinking of hurting her tore him apart. An Alpha's instincts were to protect his Omega, not harm her... never harm her. "I don't know how to apologise for hurting you, Molly. I can't... find the right words." Suddenly overcome with emotions he turned around to keep her from seeing how affected he was.

"Do you want to take a break?"

He shook his head, took a deep breath and turned around. "I did want to bite you." Well, that's something I suppose.

"But you bit yourself instead. Then insulted me and left."

"You hit me and told me to leave."

"You deserved that. Besides, you had one foot out the door. You were terrified, Sherlock."

She was right. She was always right. "I was a coward."

Molly stood up and walked over to him. "So, we've rehashed everything. Now what?"

Even though all of that had been painful, telling Molly that she could be rid of him was the thing he was dreading the most. Would she do it? Would she leave him? Their conversation had revealed almost nothing to him. He had hoped for some kind of clue. Even the admission of her wanting him to Bond with her during sex didn't necessarily mean anything... did it? Molly could be an open book sometimes and then she'd suddenly turn into the greatest mystery he'd ever faced. He wasn't sure he could bear her answer, especially knowing the consequences for himself. But he had no choice.

"I've spoken with my brother. It seems there is a procedure. You can sever the Bond," he explained, then turned and walked away from her.

"What?"

With his back still turned, he continued, "It's experimental, but effective. And since our Bond is considered... tenuous, there's no reason to think it won't work." He faced her and forced himself to smile.

"I've never heard..."

"You wouldn't have. Government scientist have been working on this for some time, it seems." He took a deep breath. "Is that what you'd like to do, Molly? I can contact Mycroft and it can be done as soon as your heat is over."

Molly walked into the sitting room. Sherlock followed and held his breath. Several moments passed.

She turned and looked at him. "Are there risks?"

"None, other than the possibility of it not working. But like I said, in our case it should."

She nodded and continued to consider it. Then suddenly she looked up. "Wait. You said... you can sever the Bond."

Damn. Why do I constantly underestimate her?

Her eyes grew wide. "It doesn't work both ways, does it?"

He sighed. "They're still working on a solution for the Alphas. It's why they haven't gone public."

"So, I wouldn't feel the Bond, but..."

Sherlock nodded his head.

"Oh my God." She looked down.

"It doesn't matter, Molly. You have to make this decision based on what's best for you. What do you want?"

When she looked back up she had tears in her eyes. "How can you say that? You'll always feel... I don't even know what you feel. I don't know how Alphas..." She walked over to the window then turned to face him. "I know what I've felt, but I've been in heat this whole time and I already..."

He rushed over to stand in front of her. Oh God just say it! "What? You already what?"

"What you do want?" she asked frantically.

He shook his head. "I can't make this decision for you."

"That's not what I'm asking, Sherlock. What. Do. You. Want?" She was crying and shaking. "You said you wanted to bite me? Then tell me why. Instinct? The rut? Or was it something else? I can't make this decision unless you tell me."

"You won't believe me."

"Why?"

"You'll blame the Bond. You'll... cite my past behaviour. You'll call me a liar. Maybe even say that I just don't want to be one half of a broken Pair."

"What are you saying?"

He hesitated once again as he looked down into Molly's eyes. This wasn't a place he ever thought he'd be; completely out of his depth and very nearly terrified of what was to come. No, he'd avoided it long enough. He had to say it even if her reaction was less than favorable. "I love you." Molly stood staring at him for so long he was sure that something was terribly wrong. "Say something."

"I can feel it," she whispered, as tears started pouring out of her eyes.

"What?"

"I thought I could feel it, but I've been a mess, so I couldn't be certain. And, of course, it was you, so I told myself that it was just the heat. Now I know. I don't think that you're lying, Sherlock. I believe you."

He paced away from her trying to steady himself, then he turned to face her. "Well then that begs the question as to why I can't," Sherlock said trying to hold himself together. She can feel it and I can't... fuck, I can't do this.

Molly smiled. "Because I need to bite you. Did you delete all of your biology lessons or just the Alpha/Omega bits?"

Of course he was getting Molly's emotions but they were jumbled and confused because the Bond was incomplete. Once they were fully Bonded... "Molly, do you love me?"

"You really don't know, do you?" She nodded. "Yes I do. I love you, Sherlock. I always have. Even when you're acting like an complete idiot."

Sherlock barely registered what she said after the words I love you left her mouth. He took hold of his shirt and ripped it apart, buttons flying across the room. He tossed it away and was rid of the thing by the time he'd reached her. As he captured her face in his hands he whispered, "I need you to bite me." He lowered his head until their lips met in a kiss so passionate that he was momentarily afraid he was once again in a rut. But no, as he explored the depths of Molly's mouth and listened to her soft moans, he realised that he was much more in control than he had been during their previous encounters.

Molly was clawing at his shoulders and pulling him closer, which was when he saw the problem: he was too tall. He picked her up easily and she hooked her legs around his narrow hips, locking herself in place. Her lips were instantly on his neck, licking and sucking. He carried her into the bedroom and sat down on the bed with her straddling his lap. Sherlock noticed that something had changed, something vital. "Molly..."

"I spiked," she growled then continued to work the flesh of his throat.

He eased them down on the bed until he was lying on his back, Molly still on top of him, then he slipped his hand into her sleep shorts and cursed loudly when he found her already soaking wet. "I'm going to make you come, Molly. Would you like that?"

She whined and lifted her head for just a moment. "God yes, Sherlock. Fuck, I need it. Please."

As he dipped two fingers into her channel, Molly bucked against his hand calling out for him, begging him not to stop. Oh God she was so tight, yet so soft. His cock was twitching and aching as he roughly fingered her.

Her mouth traveled back to his throat. She moaned out her orgasm as she tore at his flesh. He held her head firmly in place while she lapped at the gash and her body shook, almost violently against his.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. Sherlock felt a surge through his body, something he couldn't possibly name. It caused his hands to shake and mind to reel. Like a bow string pulled tight, once he opened his eyes and saw Molly hovering over him, licking his blood from her mouth, he snapped. He switched their positions and very quickly removed her clothing, ripping her pants to shreds in the process. Molly's hands were on his trousers, working furiously at the fastenings. She had his cock out in no time, seemingly unconcerned with the actual removal of his clothing. But he certainly was. It was as if Molly's heat was seeping into him. He also desperately needed to feel her skin next his.

He pushed off of the bed and stood up. Molly looked affronted and immediately started to protest.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Sherlock shook his head. "You are no normal Omega, are you darling?" He smiled as he divested himself of his remaining clothes.

"I need you. Last night was hell, Sherlock. Don't make me wait!" she pleaded.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said as he returned to the bed. His mouth went to her throat that she had instinctively bared to him. The taste of her... it was like something he'd been searching for his entire life. It was sweet and salty. It was musky and heady. It was Omega. His Omega! "You're mine!" he growled. "This is mine." He rubbed the heel of his hand down on her swollen sex, coating his hand once again in her essence. He felt his control slipping as he licked and sucked on her neck. Soon, he told himself.

"Fuck yes! I'm yours!" Molly answered. "Now I need your cock!"

He brought his hand, now covered in her sweet Omega juices, up her body and rubbed it over both breasts. Leaving her neck, he bent down to capture one of her dark pink nipples into his mouth thoroughly, enjoying the taste of her sex mixed with her skin and sweat. Though frenzied, he was careful not to be too rough knowing how sensitive she was at this point. He took a moment to appreciate that his control was somewhat intact before switching breasts.

"Oh God, now Sherlock! Now! I need it! Please!" she begged.

He couldn't allow his Omega to suffer any longer. It was too much to watch. Also he wanted to fuck her so badly that he ached. He thrust his cock into her in one clean motion causing Molly to arch towards him as her breath caught. "Breathe, my love." He pulled out almost completely.

"It feels different," she whispered after taking a couple shallow breaths.

"It's the Bond. I imagine it will feel even better after."

He slowly filled her again, watching as Molly's eyes fluttered shut and her mouth form a perfect 'o'. Her arms were limp at her sides. Her demeanor had completely changed; she was suddenly the submissive Omega from their first encounter. No longer demanding him or his cock. She was right, he thought as he continued to pump into her tight heat. It was different. Feeling not only Molly's body but her emotions during this coupling, was something Sherlock couldn't begin to put into words. Different, would have to do for the moment as he concentrated on bringing her pleasure.

"Molly," he said in a voice even deeper than normal. "Look at me, my Mate." Her eyes opened up. "I'm going to knot you soon. And I'm going to bite you." He never stopped his movements as he spoke.

"Ahhh, but we're already..."

"I need to do this properly, Molly. But I'll never do anything again without your express consent or request. Do you understand?" His body wanted to finish, he was holding off, just barely.

"Sh-Sherlock. I love you. You're my Bond Mate. There's- ahhh, oh God... there's nothing..."

He silenced her with a kiss. "Never say that, Molly." He rested his forehead on hers as he felt his knot starting to form. "Oh fuck!"

Molly threw her head back and gripped his shoulders as she started coming.

"I love you so fucking much!" Sherlock said just before his teeth took the delicate flesh of her throat and he bit down. Her blood rushed into his mouth and he felt... everything. He was hyper-aware of every sensation, every sound and smell. Molly's body shuddering through her orgasm, his seed gushing into her womb, her nails in his shoulders, ripping gashes. But what he felt above everything else, above all the physical sensations, was love. The connection of two souls. Souls...

He rolled them to their sides, trying to make Molly comfortable as they waited for his knot to recede. He continued to lick at the wound as she sighed and rested her forehead against his shoulder. They enjoyed the multiple after-shocks that followed for the twenty minutes after their first official coupling as a Bonded Pair. When his knot was finally gone neither felt like moving to the bathroom for a much needed shower. They just held each other, gently stroking whatever skin they could reach with little effort.

Molly's hand raked over his shoulders and she must have suddenly remembered that she had scratched him. "Oh my God! You're hurt!" she said sitting up and pushing Sherlock onto his stomach to inspect the injuries.

"It's fine!" he said into the pillows as he was being man-handled by his Omega.

"No it's not! I drew blood!" She gently touched him. "I need to clean and bandage these. As a matter of fact we..."

Sherlock sat up. "Yes, we both have gashes that need some attention." He pulled her into his arms. "But I don't feel like getting up."

Molly gave in and laid back, allowing Sherlock to rest his head on her chest. After a few minutes he said, "You know you're most likely already pregnant, or will be soon."

"Yes, I know."

He rubbed his hand over her stomach. "How do you feel about that?"

Several moments passed. "I know we're bound to screw this up, Sherlock. But, selfishly, I want this. I want your child."

Sherlock released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Me too. God help them..." He bent his head and kissed her flat belly. "But I want this too. And I didn't even realise that I did until now," he said, then he looked up at Molly to find her crying and smiling.

"Don't look at me like that. You're eyes are a bit misty too." She laughed.

"Absurd," he said just before kissed her sweet lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He pulled her into his chest and wiped his eyes before she noticed that she was right. She was always right.