Chapter 18 Revere
CHAPTER 18. Revere
John readied for bed after showering and making sure Sherlock had eaten something. He left the Alpha to his own musings in the man's usual spot, striking his usual pose. John knew by now the man was lost in his mind palace and there was no interrupting him.
So the Omega headed off to bed finishing his tea, he settled in, glad to be done with the long day. He'd been sure to call Sarah and let her know what was going on as well as give her a heads up about Toby and perhaps other homeless Omegas.
John hated the idea that Toby and the others were out there blaming themselves for the abuse they endured at the hands of those that were supposed to protect them, to love them, those they had trusted. This was why John found trusting anyone difficult, especially Alphas, one simply couldn't trust an Alpha.
Well strike that, Sherlock seemed trustworthy, he had stopped when John had slammed on the brakes yesterday. Sherlock didn't look all too excited about the idea but the Alpha had simply pulled away and started up the cold water in the shower. He hadn't even brought up the embarrassing situation. Then again, Sherlock wasn't the sentimental type.
John sighed, rubbing his temples turning over on his side, he pushed the thoughts away and allowed himself to drift off into exhaustion.
Sherlock tried to review the situation once more and once again his actions came back illogical and without thought. There was no mistaking it, he, Sherlock Alcott Holmes, had acted on instinct.
Now that rather left a rather foul taste in his mouth, but it was true. Why, though, why had he acted without rational thought? If he would have reviewed the footage once more of John's supposed abduction he would have caught the simple details. This wasnt like him, he must be coming down with something. Perhaps a cold? The flu? Some degenerativedisease that affects the mind?
The gun! The bloody gun! It wasn't even real! He missed that, somehow? It was all so frustrating. Why was he so eager to find John,when the man was in no real danger?
Well, that hadn't been true had it?
John wasn't in any danger from his would be kidnappers, that young teen was hardly a man, he was just a boy really. And as John explained he was a boy trying to help his brother. Something Sherlock would never truly understand, he never had a cause to help Fatcroft. His brother was manipulative, cunning and domineering. Then again, Sherlock's brother was an Alpha.A puppet master. The man loved nothing and cared for nothing other than furthering his own causes.
Even now Mycroft wanted to control Sherlock's situation with John, and was no doubt only calling a temporary truce due to the fact that the Hill's were showing interest in John as becoming apart of their family. Rather than become a Holmes, they saw the qualities that John presented. No not qualities of a good man, saw John as a specimen perfect for breeding. Well over Sherlock's dead body!
John was no brood mare, he was intelligent and strong, the man had fought to defend Sherlock, and then tonight himself as well as that teenager. A doctor, a military doctor at that, knowledgeable and skilled in his field. There was a vulnerability there but it was rare to see, and Sherlock wished to shield John from the world at large. No one needed to know John's fears, John would of course never admit it, but to a skilled consulting detective like Sherlock it was easy enough to read.
John's biggest fear, perhaps his only one, was to be useless and weak. To be overpowered and dominated by an Alpha. John wasn't the usual submissive type and Sherlock found himself responding to this with enthusiasm if that shower yesterday had been any indication.
However John had called a halt to their rather pleasurable actions and Sherlock had been angry with himself for letting things get so far out of hand. He wasn't particularly attracted to Omegas as a rule, not wishing to be forced into a relationship, however, John had understood that there was nothing between them and such acts. Yes, it was all a way to blow off steam. Still there had been fear in John's body language, his blue eyes had refused to meet Sherlock's and the man nearly fell out of the shower trying to put distance between them. It was confusing to say the very least.
The sound of whimpering from the next room brought Sherlock out of his mind palace. Once more the usually stoic Alpha found himself reacting without thought but rather on instinct.
Sherlock entered his room finding the lamp was still switched on, he growled territorially his narrowed eyes sweeping the room. One sniff informed him there was only John here, he approached the bed finding the source of John's distress was nothing tangible just a bad dream.
The Omega had managed to kick off the sheets and duvet with his tossing and turning, his night shirt had come up to expose his rather muscular abdomen and even his pajama bottoms were riding rather low on the smaller man's hips.
Sherlock found his attention drawn to this part of the Omega, recalling just how good the Omega had felt when he was taken into hand. Another whimper snapped the Alpha from his day dreaming.
John had almost forgotten how terrible his nightmares could be. After moving in with Sherlock and sleeping in the Alpha's warm bed, John found himself free of the night terrors that usually plagued him.
However, the scent of distress and the helplessness the Omega, Toby, had expressed seemed to haunt John. Reminding him of his own childhood the fighting, his uncle's abusive hands. His father's angry words and the loss of his mother. All of this pulled at him and kept him locked in a feeling helpless distress. Unable to wake from the nightmare of it.
Then gentle hands, warm and secure were pulling him close, a familiar scent broke through the sour of his imagination. It covered the pungent reek of his alcoholic uncle and father's overwhelming stink and the dream was breaking apart like a stone disturbing still waters. The ripples of the dream started to stretch and thin. John found himself turning into the offered security of arms.
The deep honeyed voice offering calming words and John, without opening his eyes, drifted into a more pleasant dream. A dream with laughter and chasing a mad man in a long coat down alleys and into the moonlit streets.
Agent Beamen held the well worn leather wallet in his hands, opening the soft leather once more to stare at the picture within. His calloused thumb ran over the picture of the blond Omega. Reading the name once more his eyes narrowed and lips thinned.
"John Hamish Watson. Omega. And a Doctor. I bet you think yourself high above the rest of us. Well it will be your turn soon Doctor. Time to bring you down a notch, I think." Agent Beamen brought the wallet to his nose and took a deep breath memorizing the Omega's scent.
He then glanced down at yet another body left for the police to clean up. The Alpha had once more taught an Omega a lesson, this one was an architect. He thought himself better than Beamen, just as Liam had. Just like that bitch from the bar a week ago.
The agent was sure to leave nothing behind, that Holmes was on the case and he would be a force to be reckoned with if he caught scent of Beamen's plans. After all, the agent was doing this to help the young Alpha see. He needed to see that Omega's in high positions needed to know their place. They weren't to be revered but to be condemned for forgetting their place.
A trap needed to be laid, and soon, before the young Alpha allowed himself to be further ensnared in the spider's web. For now he could keep the younger Holmes busy with the clean up. He would understand in the end and they would thank the agent for everything he was doing.
All of this was really charity work, he was doing the Alpha's that were engaged to these whores a service. They should thank him but for now he would remain in shadow. After all the older Holmes had ordered him to abort the original mission of wooing the good doctor. Holmes was busy with the whole Moriarty thing, he had no idea what Beaman was up to. No one would know what he'd done, after all they hadn't even solved Liam's murder. That's right, Beaman was untouchable and damn near invincible at this point. He, however, did need to find a new dealer for heat inducers, that damn younger Holmes had shut down several of the top sellers and it was becoming harder to find the stuff.
"Soon. John H. Watson. Soon." Beaman whispered to the wallet in his hands, placing it back in his pocket he stepped over the dead blond,left like trash in yet another alley behind yet another bar. He paused arranging the man's arms seductively opening the bruised legs wantonly. That would give a good show for the idiot Yarders that would be called.