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Sherlock was less than thrilled to know that his mate was going to have a meeting with his brother’s. It wasn’t that he had anything against Lestrade, quite the contrary. He actually liked the man. Greg had been the first one to give him a chance back when he was trying to prove he could do a good job as a detective. A consulting detective he had said when others asked him why he didn’t join the force or try to actually make a living from it. Moreover, the yarder had proven to be a good person who actually cared for him. He had tried to make him stop using drugs. He’d even taken him to lunch in those days before John when he didn’t pay enough attention to his body. Of course, he couldn’t know that it wasn’t normal food that Sherlock was forbidding himself, but it was the thought that counted.
Also, the detective inspector had been good to Mycroft and had helped his sibling to focus on being more than just the British Government and preparing to take over Mummy’s position if the day ever came. He’d shown the older Holmes that he was more than just the heir to the incubi throne and that there was more to life than just politics. That was something he would always be grateful for. Greg had also managed to make the ginger haired man give him a little space, since the taller one was always so overprotective of him.
Still, he’d found out that the man had a positive talent for sharing things with John that he didn’t want the doctor to know, at least not yet. Like that time during the “Study in Pink”, as his lover had named their first case together on that blog of his, when he’d brought up the ‘recreational drug use’ bit. He would have killed the man right that instant if not for him being his sibling’s mate.
The brunette managed to make John stay home and reschedule with the detective inspector for few days. But in the end Mycroft had threaten that if he didn’t let the doctor meet with Gregory he would take matters into his own hands. Sherlock knew better than to fight the inevitable, since he couldn’t quite predict his sibling’s actions as he could do others.
“You know you’re pouting, right?” the former soldier said with a knowing smile while watching out the window for his now brother–in–law’s car to appear. Slowly, things seemed to be falling back in place and returning to what could be considered as almost normal for them; which meant that the consulting detective acted like a child now and then, capricious and volatile. Yet, some things were completely different. The brunette had stopped pretending he didn’t care for sexuality or even affection; the man was a love hound! Always demanding to be petted, caressed and taken care of… and it melted the blond’s heart every time.
He had used that knowledge to make John skip the first three meetings with the yarder who, to his amazement, was the British Government’s mate. When he had asked about it, Sherlock had just shrugged his shoulders and asked how he had been able to ignore the facts. The taller one said that Lestrade and his brother had been together for some years now and he was sure Watson had seen the signs; and then had refused to keep talking about it anymore. But, since he had kissed John with that deep, slow-burning fire that was a prelude to more… passionate activities, the good natured man had let it slip.
“I don’t want you going to that little… get together that Mycroft has cooked up!” Sherlock said at last, annoyed, not turning to see his lover, but instead talking to the wall while bringing his knees to his chin.
The good doctor had gathered that much from his—previously successful—attempts of preventing him from going out. But he’d failed to find a true motive for his resistance. They had already had quite a row after the little detour John had been forced to take thanks to the umbrella carrying man some days before.
*****
Apparently—as Sherlock had explained after a not so nice conversation about secrets and not telling his mate the things that he should know about having a very committed relationship with an incubus—the fact that John had been able to bite and draw blood meant that they were bonded now, which was as good as being married. He hadn’t said anything before because accidental biting was prone to happen during intense sex and most of the time it didn’t end up in a bonding, he had added all but shouting. It wasn’t like he had wanted to hide some potentially life-changing information.
Watson had been so taken aback by the confession that he’d forgotten how to speak and kept silent as he tried to assimilate the news and deal with the joy and the enormity of the step they had just taken. The brunette had looked crestfallen for a brief moment and, confusing John’s shock for rejection and anger, had stormed out of their living room. After taking a deep breath and putting his thoughts in order he followed the brunette. He could deal with his own confusion later, but right now he had to reassure his idiot of a bonded. He entered the bedroom and found his flat mate on the bed, curled in a fetal position and looking devastated. It broke John’s heart seeing his mate so miserable and he felt responsible for it. So he went to the man and caressed his black curls and the strong back slowly, but the taller one refused to acknowledge his presence.
“I’m sorry, Sherlock, I was quite surprised, that’s all,” the blond said very softly, trying to coax the young man into speaking to him again. “I mean… why would someone like you want to be tied to me for… how long does an incubus live?” he asked the last part half–curious.
That made the other man turn around and fix his so beautiful, so surreal orbs on the man.
“For a long time…” the other said darkly, voice hoarse.
The smaller one could see the angst and the unshed tears that the consulting detective had forced back with his usual willpower and the former soldier felt like a bastard. Even if the younger Holmes had been—and still would be—a cruel, insensitive person John was supposed to be the heart, the one who protected the brunette.
“Well, that’s good to know actually… with the kind of life we have…” he said once more with a soft smile, taking the chance to sit down on the bed and taking the other’s pale, elegant hand.
The taller one didn’t try to take it away, so the doctor decided to count that as a little victory. The consulting detective seemed more intrigued than mad at John’s present action, so he decided to examine the skin, caressing it slowly with a feather-like touch. Watson was trying to think of a way to address the issue once more without any more misconceptions, but it was proving to be a bit difficult.
Something, probably the way John looked so lost made Sherlock realize that, as he had said so long ago, he always got something wrong. And this time it wasn’t a little thing. He felt the need to make amends, and soon. He was beginning to understand why most incubi didn’t mate or bond. It was so much easier to have preys and donors! With them, he wouldn’t be so exposed to the suffering or to the emotional tides that were creating havoc within him!
Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to really regret having this man as his bonded one. He had been so overjoyed when John had bit down and the mark had appeared on his skin. He didn’t want to explain how rare it was for a human to be able to do that, how he hadn’t said anything because he wasn’t sure if it would stay, but he knew it would be the only way the other would understand.
“Most of my kind doesn’t…” he began to say, and stopped to breathe deeply to gather his courage.
Green orbs turned to him and he found himself trapped in them—as he had always been, as he would ever be—yet, he hadn’t had to explain these things to anyone before, and he didn’t really know how to do it in the right way. However, he had the doctor’s full attention, so he had to do his best; because those eyes told him that John wanted so much to adore Sherlock’s mind, his cleverness… even if this time it wasn’t so much about detective work as about them.
“…Incubi usually don’t bond because it’s difficult for us. It’s not just the mate’s biting down our necks… it has to stay, to show…” he muttered looking at John with his black orbs shinning. “Most of us, we can find prey, partners, even a mate or two during our lifespan… but a bonded one… there’s close to a zero chance of that happening.”
Watson smiled, completely astounded first and then so very happy it was radiating off him.
“And as always you beat the odds,” he said, pleased.
The younger Holmes was awed by the man’s reaction. He would never understand John H. Watson’s depths.
“Still, you have to tell me these things, Sherlock!” the blond said trying for his most firm voice. “I don’t like having to learn of them through your brother!”
The brunette nodded, even if he was conscious that it would be difficult for him to stick to it. Then, following a sudden impulse, the consulting detective turned to kiss the tempting lips of his lover. The smaller one found himself unable to resist the other’s seduction and they had ended up having their first make-up sex ever. He definitely liked that way of ending a fight. He liked it a lot…
*****
Having had enough of his flat mate sulking, the former soldier turned from the window and looked at his partner, trying to assess the mood that seemed to have befallen him. This was going beyond ridiculous. And he really wanted to understand why the man seemed so intent on keeping him from meeting with Lestrade, so he decided he’d just have to force it out of Sherlock.
“Why?” he asked seriously into the other’s nape.
“Because we’ve just bonded and you shouldn’t want to go to another man so badly!” the younger Holmes protested at once, turning his head around to let the other see his stormy gaze, not ready to address his real worry.
The doctor sighed, resigned. He had lived with Sherlock long enough to start noticing the little things. Like how his voice dropped just a fraction when he was insecure, or how his body seemed to vibrate when he was anxious about something. The man was a collection of tiny gestures waiting for someone to read them just right.
Slowly, he walked away from the window and to his lover. Sherlock looked so vulnerable that it brought out his patient and protective side. Sometimes the blond suspected the consulting detective knew the effect his little act had on him, but that was something to consider at another time. Watson simply dropped to his knees in front of the man and looked in his eyes.
“What do you think Greg will tell me that has you so bothered?” he asked softly. “We’re already as good as married, Sherlock... and if I didn’t leave you the first few days of living with you…” He went on.
“I still don’t like it!” the brunette yelled, refusing to answer the question.
He was about to say something to the consulting detective when a text came through on his mobile and he knew it was time to get going. He looked at it and then at his lover who was still pouting.
“Look, we both know that your brother will get what he wants one way or another, so it’s better if we deal with this now... since I’m not really looking forward to another kidnapping of his,” he explained trying to sound rational. He moved to kiss the other’s soft lips and then stood up. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.
With his usual speed, the brunette let his legs unfold. Planting his feet firmly on the floor and using his position to envelope the smaller one’s waist with his arms, he effectively kept John in place while he moved up to trap him in a heated kiss. His hand soon slipped under the awful jumper that the doctor still insisted on wearing, and ran a fingernail over his spine, making his smaller lover shiver. If he could only engage the former soldier in some much needed sex he would be obliged to cancel that blasted meeting once more, and surely the older Holmes would finally get the message. He wasn’t letting his meddling sibling ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him with his usual tricks!
Once again, the blond began to feel his resolution crumble. It couldn’t be so bad to ask Lestrade to meet him another day… especially since he surely understood how a newly mated pair had to feel about being apart?
Soon, the sound of a throat being cleared forced them to separate.
“There is a car waiting for you outside, John,” Mycroft said with that deceptive softness that made him such a dangerous adversary. “I’ll stay here and keep my brother company until you and my mate return,” the man offered with an edgy smirk.
The doctor turned red at being interrupted by the ginger haired man since he had been pretty close to letting Sherlock get his way… again.
*****
On his way down to meet the detective inspector, somewhere around the sixteenth step, the former soldier realized that the older Holmes had used his given name instead of his usual, formal greeting. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but somehow he was convinced it was a good thing. So, with a smile, he got inside the parked black car.
Greg was already waiting for him. The pink color on his face and the way he was still trying to control his breathing told the doctor that the man had been indulging in some similar activities he had been about to begin with his own partner. But it was clear he had managed to go a little further than he and his. It made Watson look around a little uncomfortable. He really, really, didn’t need the image of Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade performing any kind of sexual activity where he was sitting.
“Good to see you, John! Congratulations on your bonding!” the man said with a big smile, having regained some composure.
“Ummm… Thank you…” he said, still shifting in his seat; trying so hard not to think on his friend and his brother–in–law together.
“What’s wrong mate?” the silver haired man asked, studying him intensely.
“Nothing it’s just…” the former soldier knew he couldn’t say what was on his mind. He wasn’t the consulting detective who didn’t care about people’s feelings and social boundaries. “I left Mycroft and Sherlock alone back in the flat,” he said at last.
The yarder smiled amicably.
“Don’t sweat over it… those two… they actually care a lot for each other,” the man said with a dismissive gesture.
“Do tell,” he answered, with a mischievous glint in his green orbs which put the yarder on alert. “Maybe that’s why Sherlock was so worried about us meeting… you telling me some of those things he thinks he has kept so well hidden.”
The silver haired man studied the other man, and he soon realized that John wasn’t bragging but telling the pure, unadulterated truth. The yarder laughed hard and good naturedly.
“You’re one of a kind, Doctor Watson!”
“Said the man who mated the incubus running the British Government!” he answered with a big grin.
“You mated one too…”
“Mine is only focused on running from one place to another solving mysterious crimes and preventing I meet with my brother–in–law’s partner!” he kept jesting while the car came to a sudden stop.
So, they weren’t going that far from Baker Street. That was probably a good thing, the former soldier thought.
“Yours tends to be a lot of trouble, too,” the brown eyed man answered.
“That’s true… but he’s worth it,” Watson said softly.
“And that’s why Mycroft and I are so glad you chose to bond with him,” the yarder said firmly.
“Well… it wasn’t as much a planned thing as it just happened, not that I regret it, mind you,” he explained while getting out of the vehicle a little too fast, feeling oddly relieved. The idea of the other two men getting hot and heavy in there still made it a little difficult for him to stay still for long.
The detective inspector appeared at his side and showed him the way to a very inconspicuous little house. It was a nice, cozy, place; painted in soft colors and decorated impeccably. Watson stood there admiring it from the doorway before sitting down at a very visible table, where a tea set had been prepared beforehand.
“It wouldn’t have if you really didn’t want it…” the silver haired man said at least while they both got comfortable. “A bond is a very rare thing among incubi and humans because it means that the souls get entangled… And there are very few people who can… well, be strong enough to actually make that connection with a demon,” the man explained carefully, watching the doctor closely while he began to pour the hot beverage into the delicate pottery.
“What do you mean by ‘entangled’?” John asked, intrigued and a little worried.
The silver haired man smiled knowingly.
“It means you’ll live for as long as he does since his feeding from you won’t be as debilitating as it is for donors and even mates. Both of you will be more attuned to each other’s needs, more than you are already were, anyways…” he spoke calmly, letting the information sink into the other man. “You’ll find yourself craving more sex, and I mean more than you seemed to when you were big into denial…” the yarder said with a teasing smile, which made the smaller man smirk. He had learnt it was the only way to deal with such taunts from the people who were convinced that he had been refusing to acknowledge his attraction for his flatmate instead of refusing to accept that he had been led to believe by the same man that such interest was impossible to be corresponded. “And I suspect you already deduced this… you have just become a prince’s consort.”
“Yeah, Mycroft’s little comment about Sherlock being second in line to their Mummy’s place was the key to that,” he said with a grin, and both men laughed.
When they regained their composure Watson decided that since he was already there, he could as answer another question that had been plaguing his mind lately.
“So… what’s your story with the British Government?”
The detective inspector smiled and took another sip of his tea. For a moment, he considered lying but decided against it. This man was family now. Moreover, he had been the only who was able to tame the younger Holmes, so much that the other had not only claimed him as a mate but allowed the bond tying them together to stabilize beyond any chance of being broken. He somewhat suspected that was what the lanky consulting detective was trying to prevent John from knowing, as if he would tell the man such a thing! John Watson belonged to Sherlock Holmes and there was nothing else to say. Still, being the honorable person that he was, there was the remote chance that the blond wouldn’t feel so thrilled to know that the decision about his future had been taken from his hands, and not his ginger haired lover nor him, would risk such a thing happening.
Having made up his mind, he began his story.
“We actually met some years ago, long before Sherlock decided that he wanted to be a consulting detective…” he said.
That seemed to surprise the smaller man, who’d have bet on the two men meeting because of Sherlock.
“Let me see… it was three long, peaceful, years before that major event on our lives,” he said, seeing the man’s stunned expression and finishing the sentence with a smirk.
“I can imagine,” he added nodding slowly with a knowing smile of his own.
“Well, as I was saying, I met Mycroft one day when a case brought me to his office at Whitehall…”
Watson raised an eyebrow at that; he had never imagined that Lestrade had actually been the one who approached the older Holmes!
The silver haired gave him a strange smirk before going on.
“There was this really complicated case, not high profile or anything, a seemingly domestic gone bad and turning into murder, but then the boyfriend who had all but confessed turned out to have some ‘ties’ to the secret service and soon enough there was an order to stop all investigation and present the man to his superiors…” The yarder stopped to drink another sip and try to control his voice and corporal language, his blood still boiled when he remembered that case, even if it had lead to the most wonderful thing in his life. Not wanting to tell the particulars of the murder, he decided to move forward on the story, to the part that mattered at that moment.
The former solider observed his friend, the way he seemed to be putting his act together and knew that the investigation had been especially heinous if the almost ever controlled police officer still sounded so mad over it but he knew better than to prod.
“Well I took it personal, I shouldn’t have, but I did…” he confessed lowering his voice. “The poor girl was only seventeen, after all, and being treated like that…!” Some of the anger showed clearly in voice, and when he realized he made an effort to subside it, they were getting off track fast once more.
“So you went to the only man who could possibly reverse the order and turn the man over again… But, how did you know of him?” John asked curious.
The other man smiled.
“You know… people talk…” he said making a non-committal gesture.
“Come on!” he insisted.
The silver haired studied the other, trying to decide if he could risk telling him, since he was pretty sure they were being monitored by their mates. At the end, he decided he had enjoyed his little triumph long enough.
“Fine, but you have to promise me you won’t breath a word of it to Mycroft… he has been trying to know for certain for years!” the yarder said conspiratorially.
“Cross to my heart!” the doctor promised, with a grin that only people who had interacted with the older Holmes could understand. It was a gesture of satisfaction at being able to pull one over the proud man.
“I dated a very promising politician when I was young. She was a wonderful woman but had some nasty habits, nothing dangerous or illegal, but the kind of thing that can quite bury a career where you have to keep an image… So when things got that bad I went to see her, we talked for a bit and then I asked her to do me this favor and I promised never appear in her sight again,” he said simply. He had known, back then that he was burning his ‘get out of jail free’ card once and for all but couldn’t find it in himself to care then and didn’t now.
The blond look at him with admiration; it was obvious he had just gone several steps up in Watson’s regards, and all because he had cared for one case more than was healthy for anybody.
“So, she referred you to him?” he asked trying to get to the important bit.
“Not at first. You see, she was one of those people who likes to show off, so she looked at me and called someone right there in front of me… and I swear, John, I never saw someone look more ready to commit a crime than my ex girlfriend when her order was rejected!” he had felt some evil pleasure at her failure, even if things had just gotten more complex. “She hang up and looked at me furious. ‘That bloody arrogant Mycroft Holmes! How dare he…’ and then she seemed to compose herself, but I already had what I needed: the name of the person in charge. I was about to go and try to meet the man on my own when she told me to sit down, she call her secretary and muttered something to her… the woman appeared again and I had an appointed with our ‘minor civil servant’ twelve minutes later. They may or may not have said something to an unknown number of people about national security to make it happen...” he finished and they laughed hard again.
Once they had cleared their throats and taken some more tea, the yarder went on with the story.
“So, ten minutes after leaving my former girl’s office I was sat in front of the most incredible sexy man I had ever seen.”
“Whoa Greg, that sounds… fast,” he said trying not to sound judgmental.
“No, making love over his desk not twenty minutes later is fast,” the silver haired man provided.
John looked at him shell-shocked.
“Well, he was charming, intelligent and so damn condescending… He got me lusting after him almost immediately,” he went on with a naughty smile on his face.
“So… mmm… who topped?” John asked turning a bit red.
“He did,” Lestrade provided simply.
*****
The ginger haired man was a man that inspired respect, not because he was physically impressive but because of his regal air. This was a man used to having his way, to giving orders and expected them to be obeyed. He was also the hottest thing the detective inspector had had the chance to encounter in his life; it was just his luck that he was cold and completely unattainable. Greg had learnt after his little affair with Mary, that politicians weren’t date material for him. For some reason he couldn’t put up with some of their less than respectable behavior.
Still, the man hadn’t kicked him out of his office immediately after his arrival, when it had to be obvious he wasn’t who he was supposed to be. And even after he introduced himself, completely destroying the charade, the taller one had been polite enough to hear him out.
A few minutes later, while they were discussing his petition to get the murdering spy returned to the police the yarder began to notice that the other seemed to be… flirting with him. There were the little gestures: licking his lips, showing his wrists, and even the almost imperceptive way he had managed to unbutton his shirt’s first few buttons, showing a fraction more of that pale, perfect, skin.
Lestrade found himself responding almost unconsciously while his mind tried to make him focus on the matter at hand. He wasn’t there to have sex, he kept telling himself! He didn’t even know the man, for crying out loud! And yet, his own body betrayed him.
Not two minutes after the man had informed him that his request was going to be denied, once he used the appropriate channels that was, and while he was still trying to make him reconsider, the ginger haired man seemed to have had enough and standing up walked to his side, leaving a solitary umbrella resting against the side of his comfortable looking chair.
Mycroft didn’t say a word but took him by the nape and pulled him to his body to kiss him, forcefully. Part of him tried to remind Gregory that he was suppose to resist the contact, to push the other away and tell him he was there on business matters. Yet, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had simply taken his mouth with such force and passion…
Up to the present, Lestrade still didn’t know who moved first, but soon he was sprawled on the ridiculously expensive desk. The man he had been discussing the case with was opening his shirt with expert fingers and the darkest eyes he had seen on anyone were fixed on his face as if they could read his very soul.
The detective inspector’s blood was boiling and his hands soon joined to help the older Holmes in the task of removing their clothes. He couldn’t think of anything anymore, their conversation forgotten, the desire overriding everything else.
Many years later, his mate would confess that he had actually used a little of his power to make it happen so fast, to heighten his want, since he had felt an overwhelming desire to possess him from the moment he had passed through his door. But then, he had never imagined how it would end up. Not that he would change a thing of it, as he had said reassuringly.
“Mycroft!” he exclaimed, not quite sure what he wanted to say.
The other smiled and moved to his unguarded neck, where he proceeded to bite down on the vulnerable skin between neck and shoulder. The silver haired man yelled half in pain and half in ecstasy. His whole body shivered and soon his fingers were pressing the ginger haired head to the place, to keep him firmly there, licking and marking the skin.
A moment later, the taller one seemed to regain some self-control and moved away. The sudden lack of weight alerted him that something was wrong and the brown eyed man focused on his partner, who had stepped back a bit and seemed to be trembling. He rose from his place on the desk and tried to go to the man to help him, but he made a gesture to stop him.
“I’m so sorry, detective inspector… I had never… I never act in such a way…”
There was something in the ginger haired man’s tone that made the smaller one believe him and nod.
“It’s okay, I don’t either…” he said, ashamed of his own reaction to the sensual assault. He should have known better than to let things get hot and heavy between them, he thought a little disappointed with himself.
Mycroft shook his head and looked at him, there was still hunger in those eyes... and Lestrade found himself thinking that either the other was a tease or he really wanted to continue their earlier activities but thought he shouldn’t because of time and place. Maybe, he found himself thinking, he should help Holmes make up his mind… they could deal with consequences later...
“Please, detective inspector, stop tempting me… if you want to leave this office with no more than my mark on your neck,” the taller said huskily.
The words and the tone alone where enough to rekindle Greg’s never completely subsided craving and he began to walk back towards the man, ready to pin him to the wall and take him then and there… Or be taken by him, he didn’t have a preference as long as he could have the marvelous one in front of him.
“And if I don’t want to leave… just yet?” the yarder said trying to sound seductive. “Or with just your teeth on my skin to remind me this was real? That a beautiful ginger fox like you actually wanted an ordinary man like me?”
It was almost magical, at his words the other had launched at him, making him step back until he was once more on the desk. The man’s eyes seemed to eat him up, they were dark, completely dark, Lestrade’s brain provided.
“What are…?” he began to ask but a kiss effectively silenced him. And he decided that the mystery could wait for a couple of hours.
“You… are… not… an… ordinary… man, detective inspector!” the taller one said punctuating each word with a kiss and a lick to his mouth, neck, earlobes and collarbone.
“Greg, please, and such a sweet liar you are…” he whispered, while the man kept travelling down his body, biting, kissing, teasing and caressing his skin.
Soon enough his manhood was dripping precum and he was begging to be allowed to come. He couldn’t how he had been able to resist so long without losing it, but the man would have none of it.
“You won’t come until I’m deep inside of you…” he whispered hotly in his ear, and the silver haired man arched his back.
“Please, Mycroft!” he begged again.
“Not yet.” The man said in that commanding tone that would never fail to turn him on.
“Just take me already then!” he almost howled.
With an evil smile, the man stretched an arm to recover something from nearby and soon a finger was fighting his body for access. It took a little time, but eventually he relaxed and his partner could finally penetrate him for the first time, with his finger.
The smaller one moaned and yelled, pleading for more, asking to come, to be taken, to stop the torture…
Eventually, after what seemed to him like a lot of unnecessary, wasted time, but was really the bare minimum of preparation, the older Holmes entered his body.
It was an incredible sensation, being so filled, so owned… He had never felt such an intense emotion before and he came, his body enveloped in a white fire that seemed to run through the whole of his body.
*****
“So, you had sex with him in his office, and then what? Did he give you the murderer as an engagement gift?” Watson’s voice brought Lestrade back from his memories.
He hoped that the man didn’t notice he had been so lost in his reverie that he had stopped paying attention to him or how the memory had affected his body.
“Well…” the man said, trying to get focused once more on the present. “No, he didn’t, he just promised me the man wouldn’t survive his next assignment while he help me dress. Told me we were going to move this to his house as soon as I was properly covered and he’d explain things on the ride home, if he could manage to keep his hands off me for that long.”
John gave him a comprehensive smile at that, his own mating fresh enough in his mind.
“Once out of the office he told some woman that he was going to be otherwise engaged for the next few days, so they had to implement protocol five whatever the hell that was, and to call a moving company for my things to be delivered to his place no later than the next day!” he finished with a laugh.
The doctor nodded, being able to imagine the older Holmes arranging his lover’s life just as easily as he dealt with everything else, efficiently and not caring at all about asking anybody else’s opinion.
“Well, I was about to protest, when he put his hand over my mouth, told me this was not the time, and to get moving… We were inside the car not a minute later and then he began to give me the most ridiculous story about being an incubus and how my energy had attracted him to me… I was about to call for help when his eyes went completely dark and I felt him change, his whole body seemed to be different… You know how it is.”
The former soldier acquiesced.
“He told me about the mating two days after the fact, when I was beginning to think we were about to die from all the sex we were having…”
“And how did you react?” the former soldier asked more and more curious.
“I laughed at first, and then, when he explained to me how important it was, how vulnerable it made him… I knew he was talking seriously and it scared me, a lot.”
The doctor fixed his gaze on him, waiting for the man to continue.
“I mean, being the sole provider for a man like Mycroft Holmes? And then, it was the other part, the folklore stuff about people dying from bedding an incubus.”
“Yeah, I asked Sherlock about the same thing and he explained to me that it had occurred but it wasn’t something usual.”
“Mycroft didn’t, he just chuckled and said it was a childish rumor,” he said matter of factly. “It took me a week to stop resisting my mate’s advances and begin trying to find a way to break it.”
“You tried to…” he sputtered
“Hey, it wasn’t like I had been living with the man or even knew him before he marked me and pronounced us mated!”
“How’d Mycroft dealt with it? I mean, you trying to keep him away and everything else?”
“He spent a lot of time seducing me, showing me his good traits and at last he came to me and told me how to do what I had been trying to find in all the wrong books and on the worst internet pages.”
The blond looked at him with the biggest eyes.
“He told me he would guide me step by step if I really couldn’t bear the idea of being his mate. So I told him, it wasn’t that. He was the most amazing, beautiful, complex person I had ever known, he was just short of perfect… But it was my life I was risking and for someone I didn’t even know,” the other continued, trying to explain his feelings at the time to John. “Mycroft said he didn’t understand, since being his mate meant that I was safer than common prey or even a donor… And that’s when the big idiot realized he hadn’t explained the important things to me.”
“So he told you…” the doctor provided.
“In so many words…” the officer said with a smile. “I’ve never seen my mate look so lost and helpless than when he was trying to be open with me… You could say that was the moment I realized I’d never sever our mating.”
“And when did you find out you were in love with him?” Watson asked interested.
“That would be a year later… when he proposed.”