Author's Note:

I think as a PWP, this may be a flop. I had intended to write it 'down and dirty'; instead it developed a bit of a plot against my will. It was meant to be a writing exercise to help me get over my problems with writing sex scenes. I tend to produce a fair amount of "fade to black" stuff, but I'm not going to do that here. Nevertheless, this story has way more plot than I had intended. *sigh*

Because this story is also posted and complete on AO3, I am uploading the whole thing here at once.

My beta really dislikes Omegaverse, so double thanks to my Britpicker johnsarmylady for stepping in and filling both roles!

CHAPTER 1: VATICAN CAMEOS

A high, sing-song voice crooned, "Hello, gorgeous," in his ear.

A frisson of discomfort ran down Sherlock's spine. "Go away, Moriarty," he said, and clutched a chemistry textbook to his chest as though shielding himself from the Alpha's unwelcome advances.

Jim Moriarty feigned hurt. "Oh, darling, is that any way to greet your future bond-mate?"

"You are not my future bond-mate," Sherlock said firmly.

"I could be," replied Moriarty suggestively.

"No, you really couldn't," Sherlock snapped.

"I know what's happening to you, Sherlock Holmes; I can smell those lovely Omega pheromones working their way through your system. I was starting to think that you might turn out to be a late bloomer, but now it is clear you will be presenting very close to the usual time," the sixteen-year-old continued conversationally.

Sherlock looked annoyed at the thought of doing anything the usual way until he remembered that he would be an adult legally as soon as he presented, even if he was only fifteen. But he said nothing.

"Your time will come very soon now, and when it does, I intend to be right there," Moriarty went on.

"Then you'll have to get in line," Sherlock said flatly. "Every Alpha at this boarding school who has already presented has expressed interest in being there to 'help' me through my first heat, even the day students. However, out of the 800 pupils in attendance at Greencoat's, you are my choice number 801. In case you didn't pick up on it, that puts you behind every student in the entire school whether Alpha, Omega or Beta—behind even the primary school students, not one of whom has presented as yet."

"I would be deeply hurt by your words, but I don't want to help you. I want to bond with you."

Sherlock felt the creepy frisson yet again. "Go away, Moriarty. I have a class now."

"I'll walk you there, shall I, dearest," Moriarty said. It didn't sound like an offer.

Sherlock could think of no way to decline without revealing how nervous Moriarty was making him, so he acquiesced with extremely bad grace. He remained silent the entire way even though the older boy chatted casually the whole time. To other students passing them in the hallways they must have looked simply like two friends making their way to class together, but that could not have been further from the truth.

Thanks to the breakneck pace set by Sherlock, they arrived at the classroom so early that it was still empty. Moriarty held the door open with ironic courtesy and then attempted to snap his teeth down on the younger boy's neck as he walked in, but Sherlock slipped past him too quickly, slamming the door shut right in that smug face. He waited tensely in the room by himself until several other students arrived for class, then peered out into the hallway. Moriarty was gone. Sherlock stepped back into the corridor, pulled out his mobile phone and texted his elder brother.

Vatican cameos. SH

ETA 10 minutes. Driver will greet you 'solitary cyclist'. I shall inform parents that an immediate family meeting is crucial. M

Sherlock hurried to the front entrance, rushing past everyone in his path whether they were trying to start a conversation with him or simply calling out a greeting. He sat out on the front steps, shivering in spite of the warm spring weather. Greencoat Collegiate School was the best he'd ever attended, and he had got along well enough with his fellow pupils in the short time he'd been here. But now it looked like everything was going to be ruined thanks to Moriarty, who was totally focussed on becoming his bond-mate. As the underhanded attempt to mark Sherlock proved, the Year 11 Alpha would have no problem behaving immorally to achieve his goal.

All the standard DNA tests had been performed soon after Sherlock's birth. Ever since he could remember, he had known that he was going to present as an Omega. He didn't think he would mind being an Omega at all, as long as no one tried to force him into some kind of ridiculously stereotypical Alpha-Omega relationship—the way Moriarty clearly meant to. Sherlock did not intend to let anyone force him into anything. He was going to be an equal partner with his mate and he had an exciting vision for his future. He planned to be a detective, something he had already proved he was good at. The Year 10 had helped his fellow students solve quite a few mysteries around the school—thefts and the like—and he was becoming known as someone to come to with problems large or small. The abilities that made him seem like a freak at several other schools when he was younger were considered helpful here (except by those responsible for the problems he had solved). He liked it at Greencoat's.

But now it appeared he'd have to change schools yet again. Moriarty was quite determined and clever. They had a lot in common, and Sherlock was interested in spite of himself. But he also knew somewhere deep inside that Moriarty was completely wrong for him.

The car arrived, the driver gave the correct password, and Sherlock nearly wept with relief as the car door closed behind him. The man got back behind the wheel, the door locks clicked firmly shut, and they were off.

ooOOoo

By the time Sherlock arrived at the house, Mycroft and Father were already there, waiting along with Mummy. His parents were terribly upset when they heard what he had to say.

"Why didn't you tell us about this earlier?" asked Crispin Holmes, every inch the concerned father.

Sherlock squirmed with discomfort. Discuss presenting and first heat with his parents? Bad enough he was forced to confide in Mycroft. He had only turned to his brother when he had begun to realise that he was not going to be able to handle Moriarty on his own, and it was true that Mycroft had come through admirably when needed. Sherlock suspected he would never be able to repay this debt to his elder brother and the thought rankled.

Forcing his mind back to the present, Sherlock explained, "Until recently I felt quite confident of my ability to handle anyone in the school who might try to take advantage of me as I go into my first heat. But not Moriarty. He has an interesting mind. He's almost as smart as I am and very determined to get his way. And he's clever, very clever."

"If that's how you feel about him, perhaps he is meant to be your bond-mate," Mummy suggested.

"No," Sherlock said, shuddering a bit. "His mind attracts me, but the pheromones he puts out do not. In fact, they make me highly uncomfortable."

His father came straight to the point. "What can we do to help, Sherlock?"

"I can think of three possibilities right off the top of my head. Get me a private tutor and keep me home until I present, then let me apply for early entrance to uni next year. Or send me to a school where I can be a day student, giving me a better chance of being home when I present. I would even be willing to enroll in an all-Omega school. Anything—just get me away from Moriarty. I don't like the way I feel when I'm around him. If he manages to force a bond with me, I have no doubt I will regret it the rest of my life even if I work out a way to break the bond somehow."

Mummy frowned. "Your father and I hesitate to take you out of school, Sherlock. You need to be around people your own age. You are so extraordinary that it is vital for you have as many normal cultural and social experiences as possible in order to be better able to relate to your peers."

"I have no peers in that school except possibly Moriarty. He is the closest to me in intellect and I cannot deny that he intrigues me, but there's just something wrong with him."

"You, Father and I should discuss this, Mummy," said Mycroft pompously. "Sherlock, why don't you go to the kitchen for a snack." It wasn't a question.

"In other words, get lost," Sherlock said bitterly. But he did as he was told. He hadn't presented yet; he would not legally be considered an adult until he did. So unless he went into heat in the next half hour, he probably wasn't going to get a lot of say in how this problem might be settled. He stomped off, having already deleted his earlier gratitude for Mycroft's timely help.

After Sherlock left the room his mother said, "Of course I don't want him forced into a nonconsensual bond, but he's been doing so well since he transferred to Greencoat's. The work is not advanced enough to truly hold his interest, yet he seems to like it there well enough to keep him from engineering constant disruptions. Should we just call the headmaster and tell him what's going on? Maybe he can arrange for some kind of special protection for Sherlock."

"Arranging for some kind of 'special protection' would guarantee him no possibility whatever of fitting in with his fellow students ever again," Mycroft pointed out. "It might actually be better to keep him home until he presents. He's obviously getting very close; all the signs are there. He is my brother so I am unaffected, but he is beginning to smell like an unbonded Omega."

As they discussed possible solutions, Crispin Holmes suddenly spoke up. "Perhaps it would be worth it to go back to the old ways. Should we consider setting up a pre-bond agreement for Sherlock? Once it becomes known that he is spoken for, everyone at the school should leave him alone."

Mycroft was taken by surprise. "Is that tradition not almost dead? I thought that only the very high born still promoted pre-bonding."

"But there's no law," Mummy said thoughtfully. "Let's suggest it to Sherlock and see what he thinks."

ooOOoo

"You're going to pick a potential mate for me?" was Sherlock's dismayed response. "That wasn't even one of the three perfectly logical options I gave you!" Sherlock hated coming home. At school he was always the smartest person in the room; at home he was considered the baby.

"It wouldn't be binding," his mother pointed out. "Either of you would be free to change your mind should you meet your true bond-mate before you have to make a final decision. But, no, Sherlock; of course we would allow you the dignity of selecting someone yourself. If you choose well, it's possible that the two of you might actually decide to bond at some point in future."

"Whom would I choose? I do not have the faintest interest in bonding with anyone I know."

"We would contact the Unbonded Alpha Registry on your behalf," said his mother.

"Ugh, Mummy, only losers sign up with the UAR!" Sherlock whined. Sometimes he wondered how he could be related to these people. He could feel himself losing brain cells whenever he was around them.

Mummy frowned. "That attitude is exactly why I think you need better socialisation, Sherlock," she said. "The UAR lists unbonded Alphas of all ages. Of course I would not request the name of anyone who is, say, 50 years old and has not been able to find himself a mate in all that time. However, we feel a pre-bond would be a better solution than leaving school."

"Well," Sherlock said dubiously, "I'm not totally convinced that Moriarty would honour a pre-bond, but it might be enough to cause him to re-think the situation. After all, if he forced me into a bond, he would be enraging another Alpha."

"Exactly. We're hoping he won't see you as such an easy target anymore," agreed his father. "Greencoat's is the first school you've been to that you actually seem to like; we would hate to take you out."

Mummy nodded decisively and went off to call the Alpha Registry to give them her exact specifications as to potential candidates for her son. After that she dialled Greencoat Collegiate, mendaciously explaining that Sherlock had been called home suddenly because of a death in the family, and more truthfully, that he probably would not be back for at least a week. Sherlock's father and brother returned to work, pleased (and relieved) to place everything in Mummy's capable hands.

Sherlock slept late the next morning, and when he finally dragged himself to the kitchen for breakfast, Mummy handed him a stack of photographs that had been delivered earlier from the Unbonded Alpha Registry. He waited until he was alone to look them over, and when he did so, it was obvious these were men his parents would consider a good catch (or possibly a successful business merger). They were all at least ten years his senior, and not one of them interested him in the slightest. Later Mummy found the pictures still in a neat pile looking completely untouched, but she knew better. She went to the phone to call the UAR again, requesting Alphas with slightly different qualifications this time.

Bright and early the next day there were new photographs. These were young men closer to Sherlock's age, all looking very posh and totally uninteresting. Well, if he wanted that, any Alpha from the Sixth Form at his own boarding school would do, at least theoretically. Later Mummy found these pictures also seemingly undisturbed.

On the third morning the candidates did not look quite so determinedly public school to Sherlock. He riffled through them distinterestedly, but for the first time someone caught his eye. When Mummy later came across the photos, there was a different one at the top than when she had left the pile for her son in the first place.

She flipped the photo and read the back. John H. Watson, age 17. Year 12. Five feet, six inches tall. Top marks science student with the intention of going to uni and studying medicine. Captain of the championship rugby team at his state-run school. He appeared sturdy and capable, but he was such a totally normal-looking boy! Mummy was slightly dismayed, but she had assured Sherlock that he would be able to make his own choice. It was just a pre-bond after all. She phoned the UAR to request the Watson boy's contact information.

The UAR counsellor sounded puzzled. "John H. Watson? John Hamish Watson? There must be some mistake. His picture was not supposed to be included with those sent to your son. His family have expressed a preference for a female Omega."

Mummy was not going to take no for an answer. "Give me the address and let it be the Watson boy's decision."

"I'm very sorry, but we can't do that. It goes against the family's express wishes."

"I wonder which would be worse, to inconvenience the Watsons a bit, or to have it leaked to the press that the UAR made a mistake which broke my son's heart?"

As soon as she received the boy's address, she sat down to write a letter.