Omega Refuge

Chapter 7 - Looking after Lily

BBC Sherlock fanfiction, no copyright infringement intended.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Warnings: Slash, Omegaverse, Angst

Sherlock had no cases on at the moment, and was bored. The entire morning he had dissected the flat of any distraction and fiddled with ongoing experiments, but when that had exhausted itself he had sulked about in his pajamas. Not even Lily had been awake to provide a distraction from the abyss of boredom.

At some point, John had discovered there was no milk, and no Mrs. Hudson to borrow a pint from. Sherlock had probably never set foot in the closest Tesco, that went beyond any levels of tediousness Sherlock was willing to subject himself to. It was up to John if anyone wanted a cup of tea, but when the doctor had started looking for the baby carrier to put Lily in Sherlock had plucked her away from his arms and informed her father that the milk errand would be much more efficient if she stayed here with him. Sherlock held her tightly to his chest daring John to take his distraction from him. He'd been waiting all morning for her to wake up.

After a promise that Sherlock would not leave the flat, John had put his own jacket on saying he would be back soon, and to call if anything happened.

Sherlock had waved away John's unnecessary fretting, but was secretly pleased John had let him babysit. Over the past two months he'd managed to ingrain enough trust to look after the baby on his own, even if only for an hour.

He stood at the window with Lily still held close to him, watching John throw a few worried glances back up at them as he walked down Baker street. "There's Daddy. Don't worry he'll be back soon," he assured her, and when John was out of sight he spun with Lily a few times, giddy with delight to have her. There were always experiments he could try on her.

Looking for his stop watch in the clutter around his desk Sherlock didn't hear the door unlock, but when he heard the footsteps on the stairs he stopped and scowled. It was too early for John to be returning with milk, and the slow precise pace indicated it was the most unwelcome visitor.

"Go away," Sherlock growled, his mood instantly souring again, and dropped himself down into his armchair, pointedly not looking towards the door so he would not see the visitor enter the haven of the flat. Holding Lily protectively against his chest, she tugged at the collar of his dressing gown.

"I just thought I'd come to see you playing happy families," rich oily tones replied from the direction of the door before the insufferable figure of his brother Mycroft came into view as he took the armchair opposite; the armchair which John had, since moving in, unofficially claimed as his own. Sherlock wanted to pull the fat oaf out of it, he was messing up the scent of John which had settled into the plush velvet. But he didn't want to give Mycroft the satisfaction of such a reaction that would so easily show his hand, so instead he scowled and remained silent.

His brother infuriatingly took his time to take in the changes to the flat, the additional clutter of baby things and toys, their bright garish colours standing out like a sore thumb against the muted earth tones of the flat. There was an undeniable look of distaste from his sensible older brother.

Mycroft let his expression fall into a fake half-smile when he finally laid eyes on Sherlock and Lily. "I must say I had always hoped for such a scene, he nodded his chin to the baby and gave the appearance of a pleasant smile, but disapproval hardened in his eyes, "but not under these circumstances, that's for sure."

"Piss off," Sherlock spat back. Lily was started by the harshness of his tone and started to make whining noises of distress that could easily turn into full-blown crying. This would not look good if John returned. Internally Sherlock panicked, trying to calm her by stroking her cheek, and she grasped his fingers to comfort herself by sucking on his finger.

Mycroft was watching them with an expression somewhere between confusion and disgust.

"What do you want Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, wanting to hasten his brother's departure.

Mycroft sank lower into the chair, his thin lips pursing together before speaking. "I never thought you foolish enough to allow yourself to be imprinted on an unbonded omega, to allow your hormones to trick you into raising a cuckoo."

Sherlock fought hard to keep his voice steady and calm, "Don't be so ludicrous. I do not need to explain my reasons to you."

"I fear that this unconventional living arrangement will prevent you from finding your own bond mate," Mycroft let out a little sigh and fought the urge to roll his eyes before continuing, "even if that was only a remote possibility to start with."

Sherlock gave a snort. "That was never going to happen and you know it."

"It isn't now you've got yourself attached to this stray and its whelp. Really, was it so much for you to find a bond mate in a conventional manner?"

Sherlock fixed a scowl on his brother, but before he could reply Mycroft continued. "As a fertile alpha you have a duty not only to the Holmes linage but to the country. Even you must be aware of the population crisis."

"You hypocrite. I am not a race horse. Don't pretend I am anything to do with your attempts at social engineering through legislature."

Mycroft averted his gaze down and flicked an invisible speck of dust from his bespoke suit. "You know that it is not possible for me to provide the heir, Sherlock. the Holmes name will die with you. Do not be under the impression that you can circumvent the messy biology necessities and can pass anything onto this bastard you have informally adopted. This is not enough to say you have done your duty to your birthright. I will not allow it to get anything, I will ensure that."

"I would not want her cursed with the Holmes legacy. Now, are you done?" Sherlock said sharply, unmoved by Mycroft's threats. He stood, still holding Lily protectively against him, indicating his brother should go.

Mycroft stood tugging at the bottom of his waistcoat before making to leave, but as he passed Sherlock the taller man leaned in close to his brother. "Her name is Lily," he said lowly, "You will never refer to her as a bastard again."

The threatening tone his brother had taken took Mycroft aback for a moment, and he regarded him closely before letting out a huff of breath of amusement. "Those Alpha hormones..." he said with a shake of his head. "This will so disappoint Mummy if she ever finds out," Mycroft warned before leaving the flat.

oOo

John trudged up the seventeen steps to the Baker Street flat, carrying a plastic shopping bag of milk and a few other impulse purchases that would do for their tea. Truthfully it felt a relief to be out of the flat. He had spent more time than strictly necessary in the supermarket, and he shuffled slowly home to prolong his alone time.

There was no wailing that could be heard from the landing, which was a good indication that things had gone smoothly with Lily for Sherlock. He pushed his way into the main flat and scanned for them, quickly spotting the tall alpha stretched out on the sofa, with Lily sound asleep on his chest. Sherlock was clearly lost in some deep thought as his fingers stroked absently at the fine hair behind an ear.

It was a very sweet scene to behold, one that he never would have imagined from the acerbic alpha. John felt he did not belong in this picture, and swallowed hard before greeting Sherlock with a quiet `hey,` which was ignored anyway.

John left them and busied himself in the kitchen, putting things away as he waited for the kettle to boil. He made two cups of tea and took them into the living room, placing one by Sherlock and taking his own to his chair where he could watch them from a distance. "Were you both ok?" he asked, unnerved by the unusual silence of both his daughter and his flat mate.

"Fine," Sherlock replied without taking his eyes off some spot on the ceiling. His long fingers indicated the sleeping baby. "Familiar scents trigger an emotional response," he said as if that was the logical explanation for the rather cozy scene between them.

Without waiting for a response, Sherlock removed the baby from her position with a confident ease that John envied and got up from the sofa to deposit her in the Moses basket that was near John. "I'm going out," he informed the doctor.

"Oh, okay," John quietly acknowledged, watching Sherlock disappear into his bedroom, and within a few minutes appearing again in one of his impeccable suits. The detective offered neither an explanation as to where he was going or a goodbye before the door slammed on his way out.

John jumped slightly at the noise and glanced worriedly at Lily, relieved to see she was still asleep and there would be no need to pick her up to settle her.

How could Sherlock, the self proclaimed sociopath, get on with her so effortlessly? He had no genetic stake in her, but that didn't seem to matter to him.

John thought that Sherlock would avoid any attachment because neither of them had made moves to becoming bond mates, or maybe just the hormonal effect of having spent time together in John's last few months of pregnancy was enough? But if hormones could have such an effect on someone she was merely living with, why did they not have a similar effect on her biological father?

The pang of guilt deepened and tightened around his chest as he admitted to himself that looking at Lily was like looking at a stranger. This unknown person who had invaded his life, and where he expected the swell of love to grow had remained empty.

Lily chose that precise moment to stir, and John scrunched his eyes closed to try and block it out for a few seconds, to hold onto the peace a bit longer before the avalanche started.

But it did, and John set his tea to the side to get cold and crouched down to pick her up out the basket and cuddle her. "Hey Lily, what's wrong?" he asked as he petted and cuddled her like Sherlock would have done, but to no avail.

She knew didn't she? John shook off the thoughts. "You're just hungry aren't you?" He reasoned, and hoped to God that was the case because Sherlock was not here to offer the comfort she could not find with him.