Chapter Text
The second Sherlock left Barts a black car pulled up. He briefly considers on ignoring it but then slides in next to his brother. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Do you really think it's wise of you to share a flat with an omega, Sherlock?" Mycroft sounds simultaneously bored and superior.
”I fail to see how that’s any of your concern Mycroft.” Sherlock snaps and notices a file next to his brother and picks it up. “I assume this contain whatever information you have on John Watson?”
“You know I only have your best at interest” Mycroft says and then frowns when Sherlock snorts. “Quite the career for an omega I must admit” He nods towards the file that now is spread out in Sherlock’s lap and indeed contains information on Captain John Watson. Sherlock hums an agreement and continue reading about the unusual omega. “He should be able to handle some of your… eccentric behaviours but surely him being an omega is an unnecessary risk? Why don’t I find you someone to share a flat with?”
Sherlock snorts again. “Yes, because that worked out so well with.. what’s his name? Adam? How is dear Adam, still in ICU?”
“Eric was able to leave the hospital last week, and the doctors believe that he’ll fully recover. Your concern is overwhelming dear brother, but this time I might..”
“The man, whatever his name was, was an imbecile, he clearly shouldn’t have disrupted my experiment.” Sherlock interrupts. “I will not require your help, the only thing I’m interested in sharing with John is the rent. I have no intentions what so ever to find an omega and bond as you’re well aware, so please spare me this concern of yours.”
Mycroft quietly observes his little brother before straightening up and knock on the glass towards the chauffeur with the handle of his umbrella, “As you wish, I’ll have my people transport your things to your new address, Baker Street was it?”
Not bothering to answer Sherlock leaves the car and pulls his coat closer to himself as he watches the car disappear down the street.
When Sherlock had realized that he’d need to find a flatmate to be able to move from the godforsaken area he currently lived in he had never expected he would even consider an omega. Being an alpha himself and a rather territorial one he knew that there was no way he’d be able to share with another alpha. Just having Mycroft on his little (unwelcome) visits in his flat would make him feel on edge. So he’d been certain that he would have to find a beta that would be able to put up with him, which would’ve been hard enough as an unbounded alphas still in this day and age was generally considered somewhat of testosterone fuelled savages. An omega had never even crossed his mind (or of course it had. Everything has, he’s Sherlock Holmes, but he’d never considered it) but John Watson seemed different, he hadn’t lived his life on a cushion as most omegas did waiting for an alpha to provide for them, he had worked hard for a medical degree (obvious since he studied at Barts) and then worked his way up in the military. And as if that wasn’t enough the omega was close to forty and unbounded which instantly had made Sherlock curious. Most omegas found a mate in their early twenties, sometimes as early as in their teens and Sherlock had never meet an omega over 30 that didn’t have a mate. Clearly John wasn’t a traditional omega and therefore he might actually be acceptable to live with. Sherlock despised people that always did what was expected of them and followed traditions and expectations without hesitation, he surely hadn’t and it seemed like neither had John Watson. Suddenly Sherlock couldn’t wait to meet the doctor again and find out more about him.
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When Sherlock got back to his place all of his belongings apart from one was already gone (he was mildly impressed that even the acid stain on the ceiling was missing). Left was a little black wooden box on the coffee table, It was beautifully carved and had a golden lock with the key in it on the front. Sherlock opened the box and as suspected the box was empty, clearly Mycroft’s minions had found and confiscated the last of his cocaine and left the box to inform him of it. Annoyed Sherlock threw away the box, he’d been clean for two years (four months and three days) now and that Mycroft still felt the need to remind him of that part of his life was frustrating. Just like the scars on his arms Mycroft’s concern would always be there, a constant reminder of him losing control of himself. And even though Sherlock would get frustrated and fed up with Mycroft he knew that it was justified and that he had no one to blame but himself. Memories started to resurface and in search for a distraction Sherlock left the poor excuse of a flat for the last time.
He ended up on Baker Street having tea and biscuits in Mrs Hudson’s kitchen. She was going on about how nice it was that Sherlock had found someone and potential improvements of the flat upstairs. Sherlock wasn’t paying much attention and hummed agreeably whenever Mrs Hudson seemed to paus for him to comment on something. After four pieces of lemon cake and far too much small talk (was it really necessary to talk that much about nieces and nephews?) Sherlock headed upstairs to spend his first night at Baker Street. The flat seemed awfully quiet after Mrs Hudson’s constant chatting and Sherlock wondered if this always would be the case. Was John a quiet flatmate? Or maybe he was like Mrs Hudson and didn’t know how to enjoy a good silence, Sherlock shuddered at the thought. He thought back at their meeting at Barts, John didn’t seem like a loud person but one never knew (not even Sherlock, John was as said not very typical) so Sherlock decided not to dwell on it and to get some sleep, he’d be able to deduce more about John the following day.