Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Sherlock the BBC show OR the characters found therein or from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novels. This is purely a fun idea I had which was inspired by a Merthur story I read, and it's just for fun. This is a non-profit fic.

ENJOY!!!

NOTE: The section(s) in italics are flashbacks of the past.

A Study in the Unexpected

Chapter 1: Pilot

"Be still, damn you!" snarled a brute of a man as he roughly pressed his grotesque bulk into the much thinner frame of one Captain Dr. John Hamish Watson, who was struggling with what little strength he had left after days of little food, little sunlight, scarce water, and torture. "I can see you've not been broken yet, omega, but not to worry, the Professor has asked specifically for you tonight. He'll fix you soon enough," the man said lowly as he pressed one hugely muscled forearm to the weakened doctor's throat, effectively ending any biting remark he could fire back before the words had a chance to form on his tongue. "I can't wait to see how those defiant eyes will dim when you finally submit." He leaned his poorly-shaven face with menacing brown eyes and jagged, discolored teeth closer to John's until the abused blonde could practically taste the horrid words coming from his alcohol-tainted mouth. "Maybe I'll get the chance to have you," he muttered dangerously aroused against a bruised cheek before delivering a sickening lick from jaw to ear, the arm which had previously been pressed into John's throat, eased it's heavy pressure slightly.

John took in as much air as his restricted lungs could take in beneath the crushing weight of the massive brunette pinning him to the ground. He glared defiant, steel-blue eyes up to his captor and spat directly into his face, successfully fighting off the urge to wretch at the feel of the other man's drying saliva upon his cheek. "I would n... ne-never sub-," he gasped for more air as the arm pressed into his throat even harder than before, "-ver s-submit... t-to the li... likes o' you... Beta," he growled.

The man above him pulled his head back as if slapped and let out an outraged, animalistic roar as he reared the arm not pressed to the doctor's throat back, ready to deal a heavy blow to John's already bruised cheek. John watched the man's hair-covered knuckles twitch, like the tail of a snake before it strikes, and readied himself for the inevitable pain that would soon assault him. He would not close his eyes in fear, and he would not flinch. He was a doctor- an army doctor, and a damned good one at that. So, no matter what his captor or the so-called 'Professor' thought of him and his status as an omega, he was a soldier. He was a soldier trained to endure torture for hours on end to protect his comrades and country; so, little food and water, punches, kicks, threats: they were child's play. He could handle the pain, and he could do it with a straight face and an unwavering gaze.

However, the sure-to-be-deadly blow never came.

"Tsk. Tsk, Urich" came a voice John had yet to hear in his three weeks of imprisonment; it was slightly higher in pitch than all of the betas who had been handling John. "The good doctor is my guest. I need him in mint condition if he's going to be any value to me."

"Yes, Professor," the brute Urich said as he lowered his arm, harshly getting up and pulling John with him. He grabbed his shaggy blonde hair and yanked it hard as he turned John to face the owner of the previously unknown voice. Standing before them in the empty concrete cell he'd been holed up in was a man of equal height to him, a good five foot eight inches. The 'Professor' looked to be no older than twenty-eight while John was just pushing thirty-three. He had short, cleanly cut brown hair, coldly calculating brown eyes, pale skin hidden beneath an expensive suit tailored to fit impeccably, and the eeriest smirk John had ever seen. The doctor could not fight the cold shiver that shot down his spine at the absolute coldness and cruelty written in every pore of the other's thin body. It was then that John finally caught the new scent that accompanied the Professor.

"A-an omega?" he asked around the large hand that had found its way around his throat.

"You know, Johnny Boy," the Professor said as he moved closer, "I just love surprise twists." The man held out one perfectly manicured, soft-looking hand to John. "Every good story should have at least one. Professor James Moriarty," he said in way of introduction. John stared at the offered hand for a brief moment before glaring darkly at its owner. "You can call me Jim," he said with a sick twinkle in his eyes as he lowered his hand. "I'd be willing to bet a mountain of gold that you were more than likely expecting the great 'Professor' to be an alpha, or at least a beta." He let out a dark chuckle, spinning in a slow circle with his arms raised out parallel to the ground. "But alas, I'm just a lowly omega, like you."

"W-why...?" John started to ask until the hand tightened its hold on his throat and cut him off.

"Why have I taken you?" Moriarty finished with a raised eyebrow, his smirk dark and ominous. "I thought it might be quite obvious, dear doctor." He stepped even closer and ran a cold finger across the bruise on John's cheek, over his split lip, and then down to the few bruises adorning John's uncovered chest. (The only article of clothing he'd been allowed to keep upon his arrest was a pair of thin black sweat pants- which were now no more than a pair of severely tattered and torn faded black shorts.) "You may have noticed that you're only ever attended by my betas, and surely your army-trained senses have picked up on multiple scents coming through here every day- all beta and omega." The doctor hadn't even noticed the lack of domineering alpha presences because he'd been so focused on trying to come up with a way out. "I can't have those alpha brutes manhandling my merchandise, and in further regards to your previous question, I did not take you- you were given to me; and at a very good price I might add." He slapped the blonde's face gently once on each cheek, "And now, of course, I will be selling you to the highest bidder."

Moriarty turned around to face the only door leading out of the barren cell, before turning sharply on his heel. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the doctor. "But wait! How could I have forgotten?" he asked. "You've got to be broken first. I can't- in good conscience- sell an omega who is as wildly defiant as you are, and your next heat isn't for another three weeks. However, I simply do not have the time or the patience to wait that long." He turned to Urich. "I'm bored anyway. Urich, escort our dear doctor to my lab."

"Yes, Professor," Urich said with a nod. He roughly pulled John along with him as he brushed past the shorter brunette.

"And kindly assist the doctor in getting ready for examination!" Moriarty called with a low chuckle and dark smirk.

"Yes, Professor," Urich breathed huskily against the shell of John's ear. The blonde kept his jaw set firmly, ignoring the heavy feeling of dread settling into his otherwise empty stomach. He raised his chin and kept his head up even as he felt the entire world crashing down around him. After three weeks of capture and torture, he was to be sold to the highest bidder?! He had certainly heard of the illegal market that specialized in the buying and selling of unclaimed omegas and betas, but never in his entire thirty-three years of life had he ever fathomed being sold in the Ring.

What had he done to deserve such a fate?

DrarryTLA

"Mycroft, what in the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock Holmes barked as he entered his flat and took off his heavy black coat, unwrapping the scarf from his pale neck.

"Honestly, Sherlock," Mycroft Holmes frowned as he tapped his black umbrella indignantly against the slightly cluttered floor, the only sign he would give to show his younger brother just how perturbed he was at being treated so rudely. "If you don't want visitors to show up unannounced, use the mobile phone I got for you and communicate with the outside world for a change."

"I told you, Mycroft," the tall, younger Holmes brother spat, "that the damned thing is a hindrance to me." He spared a scathing look at his older brother, noting the slightly creased sleeves of his suit jacket: he had obviously been in a situation that required the removal of the extra layer of clothing multiple times- he'd been away from home and a fresh suit for at least seventy-two hours if the faint scent of a familiar roast was anything to judge by. Mycroft never ate roast unless it was a Wednesday- and it was Saturday. The next thing Sherlock noticed was the slight discoloration around his brother's dark eyes- the elder Holmes was obviously getting even less sleep than he usually did, which was already very little, so the problem keeping his brother away from home was obviously much more dire than the other Holmes was willing to let on. After all, it was a dire matter indeed that could cause such unease in Mycroft, or as he was more commonly known as: the British Government. In conclusion, Mycroft was not merely paying his little brother a friendly visit to catch up since their last encounter. If Mycroft did have the time to spare he would not have been wasting it on Sherlock. "What's the case, and why must I be involved?" Sherlock finally asked, locking eyes with his brother. He did not fail to catch the relief that lit up his brother's eyes at the question.

"I've already made you a copy of the entire report," Mycroft said as he finally stood from the couch, pulling a very thick black folder from seemingly no where. "I'll send a car for you within the hour to escort you to each of the scenes- nothing's been moved or altered since the photographs in that file were taken, I assure you." Mycroft headed to the door without another word. "And do bring the hindrance I got you along so as to make everyone's life easier."

Sherlock, who had already situated himself at the kitchen table just beyond the couch that was covered and surrounded by his various experiments and books, merely grunted in response as his grey eyes began scanning over each page at incredible speed. "I've nothing better to do anyway," he said off-handedly, not even noticing that his brother was already gone.

In fact, he was so caught up in his reading that he failed to notice the hour his brother had given him to read was already over. The sound of someone knocking on the door was what finally pulled his focus from the file- which he had read through four times already, hundreds of possible scenarios coming to mind. When his escort knocked again Sherlock slammed the file shut and huffed in annoyance. "I'm coming!"

Sherlock stood from the table and grabbed his coat and scarf from where he'd discarded them earlier and opened the door before the man on the other side could knock for a third time. With one look- noticing the thin layer of cooling sweat upon the man's brow, a faint red smear on the side of his neck where his pulse was notably faster than it should have been, and the poor state of his belt, which was fastened into the notch next to the one he usually used. Sherlock scoffed as he brushed past the man. "Does Mycroft know you like to meet your girlfriend on the job?" The neat state of his tie, though obviously tied by someone else's hands, suggested that it had been well taken care of, most likely a gift of some sort- suggesting that the man's encounter had not been some lude, one-time affair.

"Boyfriend, sir," the man corrected with a fond smile on his face. Sherlock frowned slightly at the obvious affection. He sniffed the air a bit more closely, taking in the overbearing scent of spent arousal on the Alpha before him and then the faint scent of vanilla and oranges which did little to cover the underlying scent of an omega, who- Sherlock deduced- was recovering from his most recent heat.

"A male omega with a fondness for wearing 715 Ruby red lipstick," Sherlock scoffed. "There's always something."

The guard just chuckled and followed Sherlock to the black SUV waiting idly for their arrival.

DrarryTLA

"John!" screamed a thankfully familiar voice as John was doubled over in pain, knees screaming for relief as sand and rock dug into them through the torn fabric of his fatigues. A searing burn and the sickening feeling of blood running down his back were the only things keeping John from falling into unconsciousness. It hurt so bad and giving in to the darkness would probably offer him some relief, but he was a doctor and knew the dangers of succumbing to such distress. He'd suffered a blow to the head before the bullet tore into his shoulder, and he was having trouble focusing on the blurry figure approaching him. The faint scent of the other man barely breached his nose over the smell of his own blood and burning flesh, but it was a smell he knew and trusted even though his injured body was telling him to get up and run before the man could become a new threat.

"Mike?" he asked as he tried to lift his head. A loud explosion covered the approaching man's words and the ground shook beneath them. John nearly tumbled over from the force, but a pair of strong arms quickly steadied him just before John heard a sharp intake of breath.

"John, you're an omega!?" Mike growled in disbelief as the unmistakable scent of an injured omega filled his nostrils so strongly that the air was roughly pushed out of his lungs.

The bloodied doctor chuckled pathetically as he allowed the Beta to help him stand. "I'm still a soldier, Mike."

"I know that!" Mike snapped as he took the majority of John's weight as they started walking away from the pile of debris that had once been the medical tent where John was stationed. The attack had been so sudden. But despite the explosions and gunfire and both enemies' and comrades' bodies piling up around them, Mike knew that he needed to get John away- far away- before any of the other Betas or Alphas from their unit realized the truth about their beloved doctor- who they had all believed to be a Beta since they were all required to wear scent neutralizers and suppressants since enrolling. While Mike had been fooled just like the rest of them, he was not angry at John for hiding his true gender, but he could not account for the rest of their unit. John- the insufferable, lying, idiotic omega that he is- was worth more than the entire unit combined times twenty. He was the best soldier, the best doctor, and the best... friend, Mike had ever known, or ever would know. Oddly, now that he thought about it, the fact that John was an omega probably should have surprised him more than it did.

"John, what have you done?" Mike said with a shake of his head. Omegas weren't allowed to serve in the army, and the much taller man was shocked that the blonde doctor against his side had even gotten past training! He felt the blonde stiffen next to him. "I'm not going to turn you in!" he immediately promised. "You're a better soldier and doctor than those knot-heads back there." He pulled John along faster, already hearing the sounds of approaching feet and shouts- something about an omega reaching his ears. "Bugger," he mumbles as he eyes the debris they pass in the hopes of finding any usable supplies. "You're scent's coming on too strong."

"The gunshot wound," John spits as even more pain shoots through him at being jostled when Mike suddenly bends down to pick up some uncharred gauze.

"We need to cover that wound before-"

"Captain John Watson... How could I have guessed that the Omega I was sent to collect would be you? What a honor!" calls out a thick, husky voice that neither man had heard in months- not since the owner had been dishonorably discharged for unjustified killing, insubordination, and inner unit assault.

"Moran!" Mike growls as he roughly places John behind him. John, while he appreciates the gesture, knows that Mike is a strong beta and an even stronger medical expert, but he still had no chance at surviving a one-on-one with the crazed alpha before them...

With a start, John opens his eyes and immediately tries to sit up; however, thick leather restraints hold him in place. He resists his first instinct to struggle- the haunting dream he'd had was making that extremely difficult. He knew that his attempts to break free would just deplete what little strength he'd managed to gather from resting. It took a few more minutes for him to be able to focus on his surroundings. He was still in the lab, a stark white room lined with shelves full to overflowing of medical journals, encyclopedias covering different plant and animal life, jars of petrified specimens from small animals to human body parts, and dusty, discarded medical tools and microscopes. To John's left he noted the large examination table that matched his own except for the fact that it had no occupant and the stiff, white sheets were left folded atop the loosely fastened leather straps thrown over the cool metal top.

John grimaced as his shoulder twinged when he craned his neck to look behind him, seeing the door he vaguely remembered being dragged through earlier- whether it had been hours, minutes, or days before, John wasn't sure. He supposed he had had blood taken some time while he was asleep if the dull throb in the crook of his left arm was anything to judge by, and he could vaguely feel the pull of a band-aid as he flexed said arm. But before he could assess himself further, the door behind him opened.

"Good morning, pet," sang Moriarty as he shut the door behind him. He bounced over to the side of John's bed in a much too big lab coat covering the same suit he'd been wearing before John had been brought down here. Obviously, he hadn't been in the lab for more than a few hours. "You've been sleeping for about three hours, doctor." He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in mock disappointment, "I was a little put out that you'd fallen asleep so quickly." He rubbed John's roughly shaven head, the dark blonde hair had regrown at odd, uneven angles. "But, I suppose you'll be needing all the rest you can get before tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" John asked through his dry throat as he turned his head away from the sickening feel of the other omega's hands touching him.

"While you were napping, I took some blood to play around with and finished up my special serum," Moriarty said as he patted John's cheek roughly before pacing at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his back, looking every bit like a petulant child who had been told to quit playing with his father's work supplies. "It was quite dull, actually. I had so hoped for a challenge from the omega who could get past the British Government. The most successful infiltration of an omega into the army in decades." He turned cold eyes to John with a disapproving sneer. "But, I was mistaken. The same biology that makes up the sniveling, needy omega two rooms over is exactly the same as yours. I thought you'd at least be made of finer stuff, but you're just as boring as every other omega I've worked on." He pulls a vial of bright purple liquid from the front pocket of his lab coat, which John finally notices has a name on it: Dr. Mike Stamford.

"Finally caught that, did you?" Moriarty laughs as he runs the end of the vial over the name like a pointer. "Not to worry, that Beta is still alive and well. His hospital just happened to be the one we gathered a few supplies from, but I thought it amusing to have since you two know each other. This though," he begins as he walks around to the head of the bed and dangles the vial in front of John's eyes, "is what you should really be worried about." John resisted the urge to bite as pale fingers traced over his cheek and then lips. "But since I know how much fun surprises can be, I've decided to just leave you in suspense until tomorrow."

"You're planning to put me into some chemically induced heat and sell me off in the Ring!" John growled. "What's the surprise?" He couldn't help but begin struggling against the restraints. He wanted to rip that smug smile off the other omega's face with his bare hands.

"You've never been to the Ring, silly doctor," Moriarty smiled. He carefully placed the purple vial back into his pocket. "You'd be surprised at exactly what else I'm going to do to you," he purred against the shell of John's ear.

John felt a sickening chill run down his spine at the ominous words. The dread didn't settle when Moriarty left, the echo of his laugh being the last thing John heard when he was pulled back into unconsciousness.

DrarryTLA

"Mycroft! You're not seriously letting this happen!?" Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade exclaimed in disbelief as his tired brown eyes shot frantically from one Holmes brother to the other and back again.

"It is a well thought out plan, and Sherlock has my complete confidence, Gregory," Mycroft says as he taps his umbrella impatiently on the floor. "Neither you nor I can infiltrate the Ring and have even a quarter of the chance of success that Sherlock will have by going in undercover."

"He's your kid brother, Myc!" Greg exclaims, making the two Holmes brothers flinch. "This is the Ring- the bloody fucking Ring! And your master plan is to send him in unguarded, unarmed, alone, and... and tonight?!" Greg pulls at his salt-and-pepper hair and feels the slight tremble in his hands as he grips his scalp, feeling the light throb of what promises to be one hell of a headache just below his fingertips. Then, just as suddenly as his outburst had come on, he deflated in defeat under the intense gazes of the two Alphas before him. "Just," he started with an exasperated sigh as he opened the car door to make his grand exit, "make sure he gets out okay." And then the next words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, "I'm sorry your uncle and father are psychopaths..."

"I'm a high-functioning sociopa-" the brothers said in unison before silence fell suddenly in the car. Greg could only hear the thundering of his own heartbeat in his ears as the hand he hadn't consciously placed over his still-flat stomach clenched into a fist, his eyes widening at the bomb he had unintentionally just dropped. He turned back to face the two Alphas, and any hope he had that his slip had gone unnoticed shattered into a million tiny pieces at the looks both Sherlock and Mycroft were giving him.

Of course they'd heard him. They were Holmeses. Greg closed the door from where he'd been trying to leave and calmly settled back into his seat across from the two brothers.

"Father?"

"Uncle?"

Greg tried not to feel self-conscious at the intense, all-seeing stares he was receiving from Mycroft and Sherlock. He was used to their deductions, their blatant disregard for his privacy both at home and at work, and he'd never expected to keep this a secret for long, but he felt fear grip his heart in an icy grasp as he placed his hands protectively over his abdomen. "I'm... sorry for just blurting that out," he mumbled avoiding eye contact with either brother. "I've taken to talking to the- um... to myself when I'm stressed."

"Gregory?" Mycroft asked softly as the prematurely grey-haired Detective Inspector felt a cool hand grab his chin and tilt his face upwards to look into concerned blue-grey eyes.

Greg could see the unasked 'What's wrong?' in those warm eyes. He took a deep breath. "I just... hadn't planned on saying anything for a few more weeks... just... in case something happened." He vaguely caught the sight of Sherlock stepping out of the SUV from his peripherals, no doubt he wanted to give them a few minutes alone. "We've been trying for so long, and it's so early that I was afraid to tell you right away in case something went wrong. Neither of us are as young as we used to be and both of our jobs are full of stress and dangerous unknowns and-" Greg knew he was beginning to sound slightly panicked as he finally voiced the list of things that could negatively affect the miracle he had growing inside of him, a list he had made two weeks earlier when he'd gotten the good news. "I couldn't tell you before because I couldn't bear the thought of giving you hope with the possibility of having it taken from you," he finished lamely, his chin still being held by Mycroft or he would have let it flop down in guilt. There were still three more weeks left before the doctor said they'd be in the clear, an extra week added to the usual four that held the most risk for a pregnant Omega to miscarry because Greg was already thirty-six and it was his first pregnancy.

"Gregory," Mycroft said softly, his lips barely turning up into a smile to match the excited brightness in his eyes, "Even from my minor position in the British Government, I can assure you that everything is going to be fine." The elder Holmes leaned forward, briefly pressing his lips to the Omega's forehead, then nose, and then lips; it was a small gesture that Mycroft had favored ever since he and Greg had fully bonded ten years earlier. It did wonders to calm Greg's presently frazzled nerves and he chuckled softly at the notion that Mycroft only occupied a 'minor role' in the British Government. Mycroft was the bloody British Government.

Mycroft visibly relaxed at the sound of Greg's light laughter. He released the D.I.'s chin and smiled, one of those rare smiles he only allowed Greg to see, especially in public. "This whole business with Sherlock will be over soon, and we'll talk more at home. I shouldn't be back too late. You can rest until I return."

Greg gave the Alpha a pointed glare. "If you think I'm going home to sit around and do nothing, then you're daft." He nodded his head towards the window where they could make out the faint outline of Sherlock through the heavily tinted glass. "He's going to need all the help he can get if he's going to infiltrate the Ring and have any chance of success- I don't care how brilliant he is. One slip of the tongue or in his behavior, and it's over."

"I know that," Mycroft said going back to his usual business tone and stature. "Sherlock knows the risks, and his skill with disguises is quite uncanny," he offered in an attempt to soothe his mate's unease, but then sighs when he notices the stubborn tic in Greg's jaw and the slightly darker shade of brown his eyes had become. "But if you insist on being involved, you can equip Sherlock with whatever gadgets or weapons you deem necessary for his assured success."

"Good," Greg said with a smile. He patted Mycroft's knee before leaning over to knock on the window as a sign for Sherlock to come back in. "I'll head up undercover surveillance and protection. Anderson's got a few new wires he's been dying to try out for an undercover and Donovan recently acquired a few street-level handguns from her last drugs bust that Sherlock can use..."

DrarryTLA

"You clean up rather nicely," breathes the disgusting guard who had been handling him all day. John feels repulsed at the feel of the wet breath against his neck, wishing that he hadn't been bathed yet. And no matter how humiliating it had been to be bathed by some strange, Beta woman, John absolutely hated the feel of the guard's breath, voice, presence, and scent being anywhere near him or on his skin, especially after every speck of dirt, dried blood, and assaulting scents he'd been stained with had been scrubbed off not twenty minutes before.

In fact, John had been scrubbed, poked, prodded, healed, shaved, clothed, and fed in the hours since Moriarty had left him in the lab the day before. Urich, the disgusting Beta before him had come into the barren room he'd been moved to with a small black duffle bag and a matching black garment bag. He threw them onto a small table next to door before he came over to John with a single key dangling around his wrist. It fit the locks on the restraints that kept John securely trapped on top of the simple mattress and sheet that made up the bed, four metal rods placed at the corners to serve as bedposts.

"We're not freeing your hands just yet, doctor," Urich said pulling his face away from John's neck, his rough hands trailing slowly down his chest and then legs before settling on the restraints at his ankles. "First, we've got to get you out of these restraints and situated in a more appropriate position."

"Position for what?" John growled, kicking out as soon as his first leg was free.

"Uh, uh, uh," Urich tsked as he grabbed John's leg firmly. "You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?" He pulled a long sash from the black duffle bag and tied one end to the leg he still held firmly in his grasp. Then, he repeated the process with the other leg and proceeded to tie each of the sashes to a post at the foot of the bed, leaving John completely spread open. The white towel that had been wrapped around his waist loosened and began to fall open as a rough pillow was placed under his hips. "This needs to go," Urich breathed out huskily as he reached up to pull the towel away. John immediately bristled and tried to struggle against his restraints.

Urich merely laughed at John's attempts and dropped the towel onto the floor. "The Alpha who claims you will be a lucky bastard indeed," he said leaning down to nip at John's hip. "But first, I've got to prepare you." He reached back into the black duffle bag. John felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of the item Urich pulled out; it was a rather large, bright purple plug. Urich laughed darkly as he held the plug in his hand. "You know what this is? Where it goes?" he asked, the tone of his voice making John feel sick.

"Keep that away from me," John growled in response, struggling once again to break free.

"The Professor has very unique ways of getting things done," Urich said as he adjusted himself between John's legs. "Now, don't struggle, and I'll try to be gentle..."

DrarryTLA

"Sherlock, do you see them yet?"

Said Alpha rolled his eyes at the sound of Lestrade's voice coming in through the earpiece the D.I. had insisted he put in. "Honestly, how am I to apprehend any suspects with you lot chattering away in my ear?" Sherlock mumbled under his breath. He adjusted his black silk tie and straightened out his lapels. In his own, highly educated opinion, he felt that he fit in perfectly amongst the other Alphas scattered around the lobby of the very elegant hotel. There were aristocrats, old money, new money, a few politicians and magistrates, and even a few elite gang leaders who were always one step above New Scotland Yard because they had no tangible ties to whatever crimes their men committed; it was one of these elite crime syndicates that Lestrade and Mycroft had sent him in after. "I don't see him yet," Sherlock said lowly as his eyes locked onto the bar just across the lobby.

Swiftly and confidently, Sherlock strode across the lobby. The other patrons were all having a drink while they waited so he would too. "Two clovers," he demanded in a bored tone. He'd never been a fan of absinthe, but it seemed to be the drink of choice of his latest target. The bartender- Beta, bonded happily for three-no- four years- gave Sherlock a speculative once over. Seemingly appeased, he obediently prepared Sherlock's drink; however, when he reached towards the ice tray, Sherlock held up a hand. "No ice." The bartender's eyebrows slightly rose in shock before he obliged and handed Sherlock the half-full glass of un-iced absinthe. Sherlock took the drink and gave it an experimental sniff before raising it to his lips. He tossed back the glass's contents and set the empty cup down with a nod of approval, which would be the only gratitude he would show the Beta bartender, as per Alpha custom.

Sherlock took a step back from the bar, preparing to explore the rest of the lobby and gather as much information as he could while he wasted time waiting, but instead he felt a shorter figure crash into his back. He turned around as a tray crashed to the floor with the... Omega, on the verge of heat, doctor, but not just any doctor... "Afghanistan or Iraq?" he questioned as he bent down to help the shaking omega gather the dropped tray and glasses.

However, at his whispered question, Sherlock was rewarded with a pair of strikingly curious blue-grey eyes. "H-h...?" the stuttering blonde tried to ask before he suddenly closed his eyes tightly and swayed where he was kneeling down. The spell, no doubt a small bought of cramps from his imposing heat, lasted a brief second and he reopened his eyes. "How d-did you know?" he asked. He stood on slightly trembling legs and Sherlock studied him again.

"While faded, your tan lines are obviously not from London, the way you're favoring your left shoulder suggests that you've been wounded- probably a bullet wound, and you've got no problem making eye contact with an unbonded Alpha even though you've got a heat coming on- which means you've been lucky in gaining some position of rank, probably colonel or major- you're not particularly accustomed to being submissive despite your status as an Omega." His cool eyes scanned the doctor's face, then traveled down to his slightly trembling hands. "And given that you're getting on well with trembling hands, I'll bet you're used to carrying out tedious tasks with them, suggesting you're also a doctor. Am I wrong?" he asked even though he knew he wasn't.

The blonde army doctor before him merely stared at him with wide blue eyes as he stood. He set the tray onto the bar as if on autopilot, his lips slightly parted in concentration. After a few seconds, his eyes brightened and he laughed, an oddly pleasant sound. "Wow... That was-" he shook his head, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes, waiting for the doctor's inevitable disdain and annoyance to take form in insults and scathing remarks at being read so clearly. It was the same with everyone; no one appreciated the art of deduction. "That was absolutely-"

"Dreadful? Insensitive?" Sherlock supplied.

"-Amazing!" the doctor said smiling. "Bloody brilliant!" Before he could go on, he closed his eyes again, placing a hand over his abdomen with a slight grimace. "Though, there was one thing you got wrong," he said after he reopened his eyes.

"Oh really?" Sherlock asked skeptically.

"It was Captain," the blonde said.

Sherlock smiled down at the shorter man despite his deduction having been slightly off. An Omega Captain? Interesting. Very interesting. "There's always something," he said, oddly pleased when the blonde chuckled.

"I'm J-"

But before the blonde could finish giving his name, his back straightened suddenly, one eye closing in an effort to control the sensation of being shocked. Sherlock noticed then that the blonde soldier was wearing a collar- obviously with some sort of shocking mechanism. How had he missed it before?

"You know the rules, Johnny Boy," Urich said through the earpiece John had in his left ear.

John glared angrily at the ground for a minute before he looked back up at the tall Alpha, "I'm Number 13."

John felt another uncomfortable shock emanating from his neck and at the same time another cramp struck his lower abdomen. "What else?" Urich asked darkly. John exhaled slowly through the painful sensations wracking his body and then added, "If... If you liked what you've seen-"

"Keep going," Urich said with a chuckle, as if listening to John humiliate himself was like his favorite show on the telly.

"Then imagine what else... I can do for you if you p-purchase me in the auction," he finished lowly. He could not meet the tall Alpha's eyes. "Get going," Urich ordered, "There are plenty more patrons for you to mingle with before the night is over."

"It was a pleasure," John said through gritted teeth as he turned abruptly and walked off.

Sherlock watched the blonde walk off, his brilliant mind unable to comprehend the interaction that had just taken place and failing to recognize the heavy feeling settling low in his stomach. Anger, perhaps rage. But for what? The blonde, while interesting, was only an Omega.

But he wasn't just any Omega, was he? There was much more to that blonde soldier than what meets the eye. Sherlock's interest was definitely piqued...

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Greg asked through his earpiece.

"Thinking," Sherlock responded. "Tell my brother that I'll pay him back."

"Pay him back?" Greg asked. "Sherlock, you're not making any sense! Pay him back for what?"

"I'm going to purchase an Omega."