Just a heads up, this story begins in A Study in Pink but it will be slightly different, also I'm going to skip over bits of the case. It wont effect the story and I assume if you are reading this you have seen the episode.

Added Note: It has come to my attention there is something called the omegaverse in Sherlock fanfiction and its got something to do with slash. While I can read slash, I don't write it this fic is purely friendship. If you wanna read it as more, go ahead, but its not slash in my eyes.

I chose the whole alpha and omega names because of wolves.

It took ever ounce of his self-control not to leap to his feet in shock, even more to stop himself running toward the man who had just entered the lab.

It was John.

He looked almost exactly the same, his hair was short, his skin slightly darker but it was John, without a doubt. He turned away letting the shock show on his face for a few seconds before turning back to face Mike and John with his emotionless mask back in place.

"Bit different to my day." John mused. Sherlock felt his fingers grip the desk. That was such a lie.

When he'd told Mike he needed a flat mate he'd not expected this. What were the odds the man he'd been searching for was here after all this time? Well, technically he'd spent a year looking for John before realising he may never find him and throwing himself into work to drown in grief. Now he was here, right in front of him all this time later.

"Mike can I borrow your phone?" Sherlock asked between his teeth, he couldn't appear to know John.

"Sorry I left it in my jacket." Mike sighed.

"Here, use mine." John offered handing out his phone, he was so different and yet exactly the same.

He looked down at the man's wrists, the tan line that had appeared there. Sherlock knew most of John's 'back story' due to his spying; they made him into a solider. A good choice for John, little did John know that tan was most likely made by a sunbed. Or at least it had at first.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked quietly.

"Sorry, what?"

"You've been invalided back from war, so Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock repeated as he inspected the phone. The engraving confused him, who was Clara? Who was Harry? Obviously they were part of John's new 'history', a part Sherlock hadn't managed to figure out. No matter, with his genius to wouldn't take long.

He was more focused on the fact that John now used a cane, he'd been hurt at war. Of course the leg wasn't injured but he was hurt, somewhere. Somebody had hurt John. Most likely he'd been shot. That made Sherlock's blood boil. If he'd of been there that would never of happened.

"You told him about me?" John gaped at Mike.

"Not a word." The man grinned.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked quickly walking away from John once he'd sent his text.

You don't know him. You don't know him. Don't be too friendly.

"The violin?"

"Yes, I like to play it when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?" Sherlock asked.

His chest hurt slightly having to tell things John had known for years as if it was new information. Well, in a way it was. At least to John.

"Uh, it's fine." He stammered, he seemed shocked by Sherlock abruptness, it made Sherlock heart clench.

"Potential flat mate should know the worst of each other." He added.

"Flat mates?" John questioned, "Who said anything about flat mates?"

"I did." Sherlock said matter-o-factly, "I was just telling Mike here how'd I'd be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. Here he is, just after lunch with an army friend, recently invalided home. I made the jump."

John looked on wide eyes and obviously impressed but trying to keep it reigned in.

"I've got my eye on a nice place in central London, together we should be able to afford it." Sherlock gave John a small grin.

"That's it then?" John said as I went to leave, "We've only just met and we're going to look at a flat?"

Only just met… Oh John you have no idea!

Sherlock took a breath and began to recite John's 'past' to him, it was a mixture of things he'd learnt through his spying and what he'd deduced now.

"I know you're an army doctor recently invalided back from Afghanistan. You need money and a place to stay, you've got a brother but you won't go to him for help. Possibly because he's an alcoholic, but more likely because he just walked out on his wife. And I know your psychiatrist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid."

John blinked at him in shock.

"Shall we meet at say, 11am tomorrow?" Sherlock suggested, eager to leave the room before his emotions gave him away.

"I don't know where we are meeting." John pointed out, "I don't even know your name."

Sherlock paused, taking a deep breath in an effort to keep himself neutral.

"The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street."

-oOo-

Sherlock managed to walk for about ten minutes before he had to stop. He chose to dive into a toilet, not even bothering to check if it was the mens. He was always in control, calm, unemotional. John had always been the emotional one, not him, he was a cold fish, at least he had been.

That year spent searching for John had been one of the most emotional of his life, he'd never felt such rage or sorrow before in his life. Then, when he'd stopped searching he'd closed himself off completely, he'd become even colder than he had been in the past. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled, really smiled. Oh he'd fake smiles and tears to get what he needed but he hadn't felt genuine emotion for years.

He'd been numb.

He thought John dead until a few minutes ago. It was the most likely scenario, especially since they made him into a solider. So he'd given up, he felt foolish. Perhaps, if he'd kept searching he'd have found him sooner.

Now he was in a new situation, could he tell John about their past? Should he say goodbye and continue to live his numb, boring life when the only distraction was cocaine and the occasional case from Lestrade?

No.

He'd found John now and he intended to keep him by his side as it should be.

The question was, did they start again?

Did they build up a new friendship, could he do it? This John was different but it was the same man, perhaps he could be happy with this friendship. He would have to be, after all, John would never believe the truth, not this John. He'd leave; this time on his own free will and that might just break the detective completely.

He would have to be careful, he couldn't do anything to arouse John's suspicions. He had to pretend he'd never met John Watson before in his life and that he just needed somebody to pay the rent.

Finally he got a hold of his breathing, he hoped nobody had been in here when he arrived. His ragged breaths would certainly sound suspect. Now that the initial shock was over and his thoughts organised, Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the joy blossoming in his chest.

John was back.

His Omega was still alive!

Oh mystery! The whole Alpha and Omega thing will be explained soon enough. And this story isn't slash, if you feel like reading as slash then go ahead but I'm not writing it.

I told myself over and over again I wasn't going to write another Sherlock story until I finished my Merlin one but I couldn't help myself!