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Sacrificed For The Holmes Name

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It was the strangest feeling. He closed his eyes and opened them immediately, yet he was now in an entirely different place. One second the Vulcan had been pinching him and he had been futilely struggling to get away and, now, here he was standing in a room that looked shockingly like twentieth century Earth.

“So now, Sherlock, you understand what I’m saying. You will do your duty or I will send you back there. I’m sure, in one of those parallel universes there is a version of you who isn’t so resolutely asexual. Have I made myself clear? Or would you like another demonstration?”

A fat, ginger haired man sat in front of him, idly toying with a device that could easily be a type of weapon that he didn’t recognise. His body felt different, weaker; in his current state, he couldn’t be sure that he could overpower this man.

So, he had switched places with an alternate version of himself. This stranger had the ability to send him back, but there was nothing to go back to. He had lost to the Vulcan and Starfleet would return his body to cryogenic sleep.

Khan made a quick decision; he wanted to remain here. He might be entirely alone now that his crew were gone, but at least he was free.

“I think we understand each other,” the man said, standing and pocketing the device that had summoned him here.

As the stranger left what appeared to be Khan’s new home, Khan examined his new body. He was no longer an augment. He felt thinner and his sense of smell had increased considerably. The entire flat smelled strongly of what he already recognised as his own scent, under that there was a faint whiff of something else, something tantalising.

The key turned in the front door, Khan prepared himself for an attack; despite the ease with which he seemed to be fitting into this universe, he could not be sure what to expect in this strange, new place.

The door swung open to reveal a short, blond man laden down with plastic grocery bags. Khan relaxed slightly, letting his body lean elegantly against the wall. He could kill this stranger in seconds.

The man burst into a grin as soon as he saw Khan, but made no effort to hand him any of the bags.

“Sherlock! You’re up!”

The little man was the source of the delicious smell that pervaded the whole flat. Khan wanted to hold him down and sniff him. It was a disquieting thought. Something in his biology had changed. This body was different, inferior, from his own in ways that were frankly bizarre. He had never been sexually attracted to a scent before, but this urge was so powerful that he could barely contain himself.

“Was that Mycroft’s car I saw leaving?” the man asked, barely glancing at Khan as he unpacked the bags. An answer was obviously not expected, so Khan remained silent.

“I swear your brother is getting worse. What did he want this time?” the man looked up at him, pausing to give Khan his complete attention. Khan shrugged.

“What does he always want?” Khan asked, the question far more genuine than the little man realised. He received another grin in answer; it had been such a long time since someone had smiled at him like that. It was a fond smile that spoke of the ease of friendship between the two of them. Here was a man who was loyal to Khan, or rather, to Sherlock.

“Did you even look at any of his cases? Tea?” the man asked, although two tea cups had already been taken out of the cupboard. Khan could not be entirely sure what he meant by cases; he assumed investigations. What job did Sherlock hold? The eclectic flat spoke of a man who was independently wealthy, who pursued a cerebral career based almost entirely from home. What did he investigate?

He still hadn’t answered the little man, but this has elicited no reaction. Sherlock was a man of uncertain temperament, for which Khan was unfeasibly grateful; it would make impersonating him so much easier.

Sitting on the desk in the sitting room was an old fashioned laptop. Khan smiled thinly, as long as he had access to his predecessor’s computer then he could learn everything about the man. His disguise would be perfect.


His name was Sherlock Holmes and he was a consulting detective. The leaps of logic that he appeared to use to solve crimes seemed ridiculously easy, that would not pose a problem. His flatmate was Dr. John Watson. It was good to finally learn the blond’s name, but he still lacked so much information. Who was John Watson to him? Why did John smile so happily at Khan? Why was he so accommodating? But most of all, why did John smell so delicious?

John’s blog was a mine of information. There was also a clue to this strange society there. Next to the name of everyone that John wrote about was a Greek symbol that labelled everyone as an alpha, beta or omega. What could that possibly mean?

Khan picked up Sherlock’s phone and read through the messages he found there. John brought him a cup of tea, putting it down silently before wandering away without expecting any acknowledgement.

Most of the messages were nonsensical, obviously related to whichever case Sherlock had been immersed in at the time. Some, however were truly enlightening.

Omega murdered his alpha, that interesting enough for you? GL

I see your new flatmate is an omega, should I be expecting some good news? Mycroft

It is your duty as an alpha and a Holmes. The consequences of refusal will be unpleasant. Mycroft

Khan smirked in understanding. These humans had three genders. Sherlock had refused to mate and pass on the Holmes name and Mycroft had gone to extreme lengths to find a way to propagate his family's precious genes.

Of course, the labels themselves said a lot about what each gender was like. If it was odd for an omega to kill their alpha then that spoke of a certain degree of loyalty, of submission. That was who John Watson was, he was his unclaimed omega.


His phone pinged with two new text messages in quick succession.

Take this one. Mycroft

Suicide. 135 Greensmith Gardens. Fancy it? GL

“John! We have a case,” Khan called out, watching John closely to see what he did. There didn’t seem to be any special reaction, John just put his jacket on and waited by the front door.

“You’re going out like that?” John asked with a frown. Khan followed his gaze and saw a heavy woollen coat hanging up on the rack. He quickly pulled it on, but John was still frowning. Then John chuckled and handed him a blue scarf.

“It wouldn’t be a crime scene without you stalking around in that thing,” John chuckled softly. Khan smiled back at him. It felt like it had been so long since he’d genuinely smiled, but there was something so irresistible about the calm domesticity that John seemed to exude.


“Hey, Sherlock! John! Come on through!” a silver haired man yelled at them. Khan let John lead the way through the small crowd, under the police barricade and into the terraced house. The corpse was in the front room and two policemen were standing next to the man still dangling by a noose.

Lestrade must be the silver haired man. The name had been frequently mentioned in John’s blog and he matched the physical description. The other man was a mystery.

“So, you’re letting your omega lead you around now?” the unidentified man said with a sneer. “I’m surprised you bothered with this one, it’s just a suicide; hardly anything worth bothering your majesty with!”

Khan found himself letting out a low growl without conscious thought. No-one reacted. This must be normal behaviour for these strange humans.

“You sure it’s suicide, Anderson?” Lestrade asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Khan said, amazed that people who were paid to be policeman had missed such obvious clues. The man’s belt was on backwards, thin scratches on his neck had flecks of green powder in them and his fingertips had traces of glitter on them.

“Auto-erotic asphyxiation,” Khan stated impatiently, for this he had got a taxi halfway across London. “You should arrest the prostitute with the green nail varnish who’s in the crowd outside. Come on, John, we’re leaving.”

“Fuck,” Lestrade whispered, “Sherlock, are you sure? How can you possibly know that?”

Khan shrugged, although this was apparently enough of a reaction for Lestrade, who nodded and went off to organise his men.

With no other reason to stay, and rather annoyed at wasting so much time, Khan stalked from the house, John trailing behind him with a look of awe on his face.


“That was amazing, I mean, I know I’ve said it before, but..And all those times when you refuse a case because you think it’ll be boring, my God, thats actually true,” John carried on, as if unable to stop praising Khan. Of course, Khan always knew that he was superior to those around him, but it was surprisingly pleasant to learn that he was brilliant even without augmentation. People rarely admired his genius; it usually scared them. John’s appreciation was refreshing.

The cab ride home wasn’t long, but the taxi was filled with John’s delicious scent by the time they got to Baker Street.


Khan found a wallet in his pocket and stepped up to pay the cabbie. John gave him a shocked look and Khan made a note to never pay for a taxi again.

He shoved a note at the driver, but the man grabbed his wrist. The hold wasn’t strong and Khan was satisfied that even in this inferior, unaugmented body he could break this man’s wrist with ease, that he could still kill him in seconds.

“Listen, mate, you can’t let your omega out smelling like that. No offense, but any old alpha could jump him. You gotta claim him properly, you know what I mean?” the cabbie flashed him a toothy, lecherous grin and handed him his change.


John’s sweet scent was different, it seemed stronger than before. When Khan stepped in to the flat, the scent was almost overwhelming.

“You’re scent has changed,” Khan said, following John into the kitchen and leaning casually in the doorway as John put the kettle on. John blushed prettily.

“Yeah, NHS suppressants aren’t as strong as the army ones. That’s not a problem, is it? It’s like you said, we’re more than our biology.”

“Hmm, and sometimes our biology is what makes us superior,” Khan thought longing of his augmented body, probably rotting away in some Starfleet freezer. John frowned up at him.

“I... I’ve always been so sure that I didn’t want some Alpha knot-head, you know?”

“And now?” Khan asked, stepping closer to the omega. He wanted to touch him, to smell him properly, to taste him. There must be some sort of pheromone in John’s scent because Khan felt himself incredibly aroused. John gulped helplessly.

“Sherlock..Don’t tease. My heat’s starting, and I should go. This isn’t what you want!”

Khan took the final step towards John, he was close enough now that he could touch him. He had been designed to be perfect, but he had never had any need to study seduction before. Laying his hands gently on John’s hips, he pulled him closer so that their bodies were pressed together. John, he noted happily, was already hard.

“You are exactly what I want,” Khan told him, gazing into the omega’s eyes he saw John’s resistance crumble. Khan leant down and pressed his lips against John’s, who moaned flatteringly. His open mouth was an invitation and Khan pushed his tongue into John. He was aroused, he was flooded with desire, he had his first erection in hundreds of years; but most of all he felt the need to dominate this man, to push his way into John’s body until John knew that he had been utterly possessed.

The violence with which he ripped John’s clothes off surprised even Khan. The sudden expanse of skin available to him sent him into a frenzy as he kissed and licked at John’s neck and chest. He wanted John to smell of him, to be covered in marks that Khan gave him as he fucked him.

“Fuck, Sherlock! ‘m so wet!” John called out, toeing off his shoes and kicking off the trousers that Khan had already undone. Khan paused, pulling back from John. He couldn’t see anywhere that John was wet. His small cock was hard, but there was no precome on it. John put an arm behind his own back, touching his own arse. When he brought his finger up to Khan’s face, he saw the finger glistening with fluid. John wiped his fingertip across Khan’s bottom lip.

“Need you,” John moaned as Khan licked his lower lip. The liquid tasted just like John smelled, it was delicious and addictive. He needed more.

Pushing John down onto the kitchen table and sending a jar of eyeballs flying, Khan pulled John’s legs apart and attacked his arse with his mouth. John’s hole was dripping wet, the rim loose and ready to be fucked. Khan took another rough swipe with his tongue through John’s cleft, gathering more and more of his omega’s sweet lube until he couldn’t taste it anymore. This man would be his, the need to mark him, to show who owned him was intense. Khan turned and bit John’s inner thigh, his teeth breaking the skin and blood filling his mouth. John screamed in pain.

“NO! Not there! Not there!” John screamed, pulling at Khan desperately. He noted with amusement how weak the omega was, how futile his struggles. Nevertheless, Khan let himself be dragged up John’s beautiful body, until his mouth rested against the omega’s shoulder.

“Sherlock, we can’t! I don’t understand! You said...What about the Work?” John whined. There was some new quirk of this species’ biology at work here, but before Khan could analyse it further, John bared his neck for Khan. The instinct to bite, to claim John as his filled him and he bit into the the shoulder beneath him.

Instantly, he knew something was wrong. He should have bitten into muscle, but he had not. There was an unexpected gland here, that felt too soft between his teeth.

“Fuck, Sherlock!” John screamed, although Khan had no idea whether it was in pain or pleasure. “You did it! Oh God! Oh God!”

Khan drew back to look into John’s face. His eyes were screwed shut, although he slowly opened them as Khan waited impatiently. He wanted to know what was in John’s shoulder, what had he just bitten into?

“Sherlock, please don’t stop, I need you!” John whimpered, wrapping his legs around Khan’s waist so that his cock smeared against John’s hole. Now was not the time to question biology, now was the time to fuck John as he begged so desperately for Khan.

He pushed roughly into John, making the omega scream in pleasure. John felt tight, the wet heat grasping his cock greedily. Khan pulled out slowly, before thrusting back into John, trying to work his way as far and deep inside his omega as he could get. The table wobbled dangerously.

Khan unhooked John’s legs and, holding him behind the knees, pushed John’s legs up to his chest. He felt his cock slide a little deeper and grunted in satisfaction. John was still crying out with each thrust into him, babbling an inarticulate string of words.

His orgasm was approaching and his thrusts became even more brutal until, with one great, final push, he emptied himself into the man beneath him. Exhausted, he managed to stop himself collapsing onto John. Instead he finally touched John’s prick, wanking him only a few times before John came, his spunk clear and barely enough to wet Khan’s hand.

Khan’s cock was still hard inside John and, when he moved to pull out, he felt something was terribly wrong. He felt swollen, and although it was still pleasurable, it was terrifying to have his cock suddenly behave so strangely.

“Sherlock! Stop! For fuck’s sake, stop!” John cried out desperately. Khan stilled, realising that he must be hurting John when he tried to pull out.

“Haven’t you ever....Have you ever knotted someone before?” John asked gently, reaching up to stroke Khan’s face. The act was oddly more intimate than the sex. Khan shook his head, apparently this was a reasonable explanation for his earlier panic.

“It’ll go down soon, just give it a minute,” John said, smiling in a way that looked fond, rather than condescending. Khan smiled back at him, then stretched down and kissed this man who smiled so readily at him. As soon as their lips touched, Khan felt himself coming again. It wasn’t as strong as his first orgasm, it was strange to come without any movement beforehand. John gasped too, Khan’s orgasm obviously giving him pleasure too.

This time, when he finished, he felt his cock soften. He pulled out and stood back to watch as his come and John’s lube dribbled out of John’s puffy red hole.

John looked up at him determinedly as he lay still naked and sprawled across the kitchen table.

“It might not take,” the omega said, clearly uncomfortable but brave nonetheless, “If you’re..if you don’t want the bond, then that’s ok. I don’t think it took actually.”

Khan regarded the omega carefully. This universe was a strange place and the idea of being alone in it did not appeal. Especially when he could live here in the company of his John; indeed, he could have his own family here.

“And if I did want the bond?”

John tried to hide his grin, but failed miserably.

“I think, just a bit more saliva in my iugus,” John said, turning his head to the side and exposing the place that Khan had bitten into earlier.

Khan slowly lowered himself onto John, until the table creaked slightly as it took the extra weight. He gave a lazy lick to the bloody bite mark on John’s shoulder.

“Yes,” John gasped, spreading his hips wider, “God, Sherlock, I can feel my heat starting again!”

Khan smiled as he pushed his saliva into John’s neck. This body had one definite advantage over his augmented one; he felt himself harden, already able to fuck John again.

As he pounded John into the kitchen table, and then later when they finally moved to the bedroom, Khan knew, with absolute certainty, that he would do anything to stay here with his beautiful omega.


John ran his hand’s through the hair on Khan’s chest, his little body snuggled against Khan despite the sweat and semen that clung, stickily, to both of them.

“We don’t have to keep it.” John whispered. Khan raised an eyebrow, he was still not sure about Sherlock’s speech patterns and John responded so well to his body language that it was easiest to be silent.

“Sherlock, there’s no way I’m not pregnant. You were so sure you didn’t want to bond, that the Work came before anything else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy, but..” John inched away slightly, his fear of rejection palpable.

Khan pondered how he could get John to start calling him by his real name; perhaps he could tell him Khan was a childhood nickname and John should use it to show their new intimacy. Or perhaps his middle name.

“John, we shall keep the baby; I’ve never wanted anything more,” he said, surprised to realise how true his words were as he pulled his omega closer. John clung to him; his scent was changing again, this time Khan could smell himself in John’s scent. The little omega truly was his.

John’s heat had barely finished when Mycroft knocked on the front door. Khan threw on his dressing gown angrily, determined to get rid of this inconvenience as quickly as possible. John, embarrassed, buried himself under the duvet.


“Did you truly think that I would not recognise my own brother?” Mycroft asked, cocking his head condescendingly.

“I think that this situation can be arranged to our mutual advantage,” Khan countered smoothly.

“You wish to stay? Leave Sherlock there? You can hardly expect me to do something so decidedly unfraternal.”

“Sherlock would be perfectly content in my universe, instead consider how will you explain John’s pregnancy to Sherlock, if you brought him back? Do you think that he will become more malleable after he learns what you have done? He would never take another case for you again, he would never let you see him again, he would tell John the truth, he might even force him to get rid of the child; your heir. Whereas, if I stay here, everything would be substantially easier. I am perfectly happy to solve your cases for you, and I find that the idea of having numerous children with John is really quite appealing.”

Mycroft stared at him, his face was struggling to remain expressionless but Khan could see the debate that waged in the man’s head.

“And of course, Mycroft, you would gain a brother. Not, perhaps, the one that you grew up with - he is safe, elsewhere. Sherlock loathed the way you used your power to manipulate his life; I however, am forever grateful for it.”

Those were the words that persuaded him. Mycroft smiled and held his hand out.

“Brother,” Mycroft said warmly as Khan reached out and they shook hands. Khan returned his smile. His old life was gone but, here, he had a new family and his own pregnant little omega, his John.