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It was an unusually hot July, and the smell of decay from the corpses was making everyone heave. Everyone except Sherlock, who walked in with only a wrinkling of his nose as a sign there was anything wrong. He put a hand to the small of his back as he surveyed the scene.
"Who found them?"
Greg cleared his throat and went over, ignoring to the best of his ability both the stench and the neat sliver of baby bump sticking out from under Sherlock's maternity shirt. "Bunch of kids. Poor buggers."
"Indeed," Sherlock peered to see closer, parting his legs to steady himself.
John covered his mouth to hide a smile as Greg didn't know where to look or how to help, choosing to wander away. Pregnant omegas didn't frequent crime scenes. And Sherlock was still at uni, to boot. Newly bonded, pregnant and beautiful... What was he doing squinting down at dead bodies?
The truth was, Sherlock was rapidly becoming extremely valuable to Greg, as well as John. His keen eye and quick mind worked wonders with the police force, his establishment of himself as a private detective working well.
Sherlock went to get a pair of gloves and tweezers, and John leaned on the wall beside Greg.
"So… How're things going with Mycroft?"
Greg turned red at the ears. "Wh-what?"
"Come on, don't act coy. I am bonded to his brother, you know."
"Yes, well..." Greg scratched the back of his head, watching Sherlock settle cross-legged beside the first corpse and start to collect tissue samples. "It's not simple as all that. You must know what the Holmes family are like? I mean... You know Sherlock and I were once -"
John growled possessively.
"Yeah. Sorry. You know we never - anyway," Greg looked away from John's 'I will murder you' stare. "Anyway, it turns out Mycroft was engaged, too. To some alpha who didn't follow through on his arrangement."
"Oh," John squeaked out, his voice rather high-pitched.
"I know. I can hardly talk, with my track record, but to leave Mycroft like that... I don't understand it. How could anyone do that?"
"They're probably a real bastard," John said miserably.
“Must be. Anyway, the family want Sherlock to have his baby – your baby, sorry – and then get into negotiations, but… We’ve kind of started courting, and you know what that’s like.”
“Not really,” John admitted. “I sort of courted Sherlock by accident. Not that I didn’t want to, but… it was complicated. By the time I realised… Sherlock was playing the game straight away, of course.”
“Naturally,” Greg smiled, watching the pregnant omega hand the samples to a waiting officer, put a hand to his back and puff out a breath. “He looks well.”
“He’s done nothing but complain since he started showing,” John smiled softly. “He’s worried about losing his figure… he’s terrified about the birth.”
“Poor kid,” Greg winced in sympathy. “Epidural, then?”
“Sherlock says he wants to be unconscious, but I’m trying to convince him that’s not the way to go,” John laughed. “Keep reminding him that once it’s over he’ll have a little baby to hold, and to love. But then he starts moaning about feeding it, so I can’t win.”
“You’ll never win an argument against a hormonal omega,” Greg folded his arms. “He’ll be grand, though. I bet he’s reading all the books.”
“Reading and criticising,” John said. “But it’s something.”
“What are you two gurning about?” Sherlock waddled over, frowning.
“Talking about you,” John kissed him on the top of his head. “I can’t take my eyes off you, you look so beautiful. You’re distracting everyone from their work.”
“I look like I’m smuggling a beach ball,” Sherlock said miserably. “She’s kicking me in the ribs again, too.”
John pulled face, and so did Greg. “Do you want to go sit somewhere?”
“And get some lunch,” Sherlock nodded. “Something warm usually makes her stop digging her feet into my bones for a few minutes.”
“No problem,” John stroked his hand down his mate’s arm. “You finished here, lovely?”
“Yes. Lestrade, it’s a simple drugs debt murder. Get your men to the bottom of the problem and you’ll stop finding the bodies, ok?”
“Sure,” Greg rolled his eyes. “If only it were that simple.”
“Compared to courting my brother, I’m sure anything is simple,” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “John didn’t manage it.”
John froze.
Greg frowned, looking between the two of them. “Wait. What?”
John looked up, guiltily. Sherlock pressed his lips together, a pink blush creeping up his neck.
“Wait… you?” Greg stared at John. “You’re the alpha… you left Mycroft… for Sherlock?”
“It’s not that simple…” John tried to speak up.
“They were arranged,” Sherlock said, trying to be helpful. “But they never did anything. John didn’t fancy him.”
“But he broke Mycroft’s heart?” Greg’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve heard the story from your parents, Sherlock.”
“Mycroft’s big enough and ugly enough to know he and John were a poor match,” Sherlock sighed. “John and I met and fell in love. It was just bad luck that he happened to be engaged to my brother. It was broken off.”
“What – before you started courting?”
“Not exactly,” John admitted.
Greg went red. “You – you two had an affair?!”
“You’re making it sound worse than it was,” Sherlock put a hand to his stomach. “It was just…”
“Just what, Sherlock?” Greg snarled. John bared his teeth, drawing Sherlock close, growling lowly.
“Leave it, Greg. You were arranged to Sherlock. I was arranged to Mycroft. We’ve swapped. We’re getting what we want, not what we were told to have. Grow up.”
“You hurt him,” Greg’s eyes rolled to John’s. “You really hurt him.”
“I know. And I’m sorry,” John said, alpha defences still up. “But I’m mated to Sherlock. I don’t want Mycroft. All I want is for Mycroft is for him to be happy. And you can give him that. Yes?”
Greg straightened up, adjusting his collar. “Yes. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” John relaxed his grip on Sherlock. “Just… Think about what you’re doing before you snarl at my pregnant mate, yeah?”
“Sorry, Sherlock,” Greg said immediately. “Are you ok?”
“Obviously,” Sherlock snorted. He looked at John. “Can we go? I’m starving to death.”
“No problem. See you, Lestrade,” John nodded politely and steered his mate through the wandering police officers. Sherlock hung onto his arm. “Are you ok?” John asked him. “Where’d you want to eat?”
“Eating be damned,” Sherlock grinned. “We’re going home. You can’t expect me to stand and feel nothing when you defend me and our baby like that, can you?”
“You’re honestly turned on by that?” John asked, voice soft.
“Take me home and find out.”
“Jesus, Sherlock.”
“Indeed. Come on, hail a cab. I want to catch another ride before this afternoon.”