#tfw when trans sherlock

[mychem1calbr0mance]

TRANS SHERLOCK BECAUSE FUCK YEAH.

you can read it on ao3 here, or you can read it here on tumblr!

Fire-Hazard Secret

Can be read as gen, pre-slash, or slash, whatever floats your boat honestly

2k+ word count

Rated Teen and up for depictions of unsafe binding and gender dysphoria (very self indulgent lmfao)

Yes, he was trans. He was certain he always had been. The term “female” never really felt right, nor did his mother calling him “my little girl.” The term "girl" felt like a sweater- a giant, itchy, sweater, that he just wanted to rip off, toss in a bin, and never wear again. He'd grown up, dreaming of being recognized for who he was, asking that people refer to him as "Sherlock" instead of the awful name he had been assigned at birth. Dreaming of being socially recognized as a boy, a man. Being referred to as "mister" or "sir". The small things like that.

He told his dear mother and father about this, who simply waved it off with a smile and said "It's merely a phase, my dear [???]. It'll pass." His parents meant well, he was quite aware of that, but those words stuck with him, long throughout his childhood. Maybe- maybe it all was just a phase.

The only one who had ever accepted him for who he was, was Victor. Oh, his dear Victor. Victor had been the first he trusted with this information, treating it like a fatal secret that would one day spark into a flame and burn down his world. You could call Victor the water in this metaphor, he'd put out the flames. Keep him safe.

At least, that was the plan.

Victor, one day, just.. stopped showing up. Disappeared. 

"Kidnapped," the police said. "Victor has been kidnapped."

Weeks turned into months as each day dragged by heavily, most days consisted of something related to Victor's sudden disappearance, whether it would be he would taken in to be questioned (there it was again- that word. The officers would refer to him as "Miss Holmes". Blegh. Made his skin crawl uncontrollably. "It's Mister Holmes." He wanted to say.), or there would be a detective out in his yard, searching for any possible clues or connections as to what happened to the young boy. His best friend. Victor. Oh God.

Hope rant out quickly. His dearest friend had vanished without a trace- and his sister kept singing the same, dumb song.

It changed him. Showed him the cruelties of the world. If Victor could be taken, who else could be taken? His brother? His sister? His beloved mother and father?

So, he shut himself away. Cut his hair. Changed his name. Changed the way he dressed. Changed himself. Changed in order to survive. He was a child, after all, and the brain adapts to change in its own ways. So, this was his brain's way of surviving, then. Hmm. Not all bad. It had its advantages. He was himself now, for better or worse.

His parents recognized how serious he was about it, correcting them whenever they would call him by his dreaded deadname. Mycroft caught on, surprisingly quick. Didn't even think about it twice, often correcting his parents whenever they used the wrong name or called him a "she" instead of "he". It made him feel warm, welcomed, and safe. Similar to how Victor Redbeard had made him feel.

Over time, he managed to force his awful deadname out of his mind palace, out of his memory. He was Sherlock Holmes. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing else. He considered throwing out his knowledge of being assigned female at birth, but he preferred to keep that knowledge. Made him feel something, a certain... certain itch in his brain. Motivated him, somehow. There weren't words for it...

There were few in the world that knew he was trans besides his siblings brother and parents. Mrs. Hudson knew, and so did Lestrade. He trusted them both enough with his fire-hazard secret, trusted that they would keep it for him, and support him. Even put out the flames if ever necessary.

The testosterone was bearable. Had it in the form of patches, and if anyone questioned, he'd say it was a nicotine patch. He preferred them to injections. Injections only reminded him of his uni days. The unbearable blur of drugs and sweat.. made him shiver just at the pure thought of it. Brought back too many memories. Threatened relapse. That's why he did this whole crime solving thing, anyway. To keep his mind clear. A natural high. Not one that needed to be forced. Those had the worst hangovers. Made it hard for his brain to work. 

Work rarely paid the bills- Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to give him a surprising discount, it was the least he could do- and he couldn't stand the idea of working a regular job. Stuck in some stupid chair at some stupid desk working for a stupid, greedy corporation for the rest of his stupid days. A flatmate was the next best thing. He didn't fancy the idea of sharing his space with a stranger, but if it gave him a place to sleep at night, he could work with it. Tolerate it, even.

John Watson, was his name. Seemed alright. Doctor. Military. Hard around the edges. Subtle anger issues- branching from his father. Ooh, his father. Best not go down that road yet.

He would do.

John was an interesting man. Heart of pure gold, with a few layers of dust. He was a good man, Sherlock could tell. He had seen some things, enough for a lifetime- yet he still craved more. Sherlock somehow understood it all, the "crazed adrenaline junkie" he was, as Donovan had so colorfully put it. Danger was hardwired into him. Always had been. Perhaps the two would get along someday.

The sudden praise he had gotten was a benefit- nobody admired his genius, or even said a word, occasionally Lestrade would clap him on the back, and tell him a job well done, but that was the closest he had ever got. Finally, someone who recognized his talents, and acted on it verbally.

He could get used to it.

John added a new.. texture to the case. Things felt alive, fresh, different. The typical routine of showing up at the crime scene was even changed. The simplest of investigations turned into thrilling adventures.

Maybe having a companion wasn't the worst thing.

His medical intelligence came in handy a great deal. Most of the cases he dealt with were more on the violent side of things -lots of murders and assaults- and it was nice to have someone there who understood things as well as he did- well, on some levels.

John didn't know his secret. No, not yet. Best to keep that under wraps for now. Never know how it'll turn out. John seemed friendly, seemed like he'd be alright with that sort of thing, but you never really know someone's true colors. Not until the paint has chipped away. 

Just give it time.

Binding was something he had never given a lot of thought. He had a fund set aside, slowly saving up for top surgery. He'd just have to live with himself until he was able to afford it. His body never really bothered him. Not in this way. He only ever binded to help make himself present better.

But now.. something had flipped in his brain. He had outgrown his previous binder, and God, he couldn't stand the sight of his chest. Made his skin crawl the same way it had crawled all those years ago, when the officers had called him "Miss." He wanted to forget it, and tried his damned hardest to forget that feeling, but it was the one thing he couldn't shake. Could never forget.

There was one solution. Didn't they keep some medical tape under the sink? In case something went wrong while on the job? Maybe.. maybe that could be a proper substitute. He had ordered a new binder- set to deliver in a week- so maybe this would have to do for now?

He turned to the side, raising his shoulders and sucking in his breath, flattening out his body, staring in the mirror to see if it helped him appear flatter.

It.. it was uncomfortable, but- it got the job done. It would do for now. The tape tugged at his skin, and itched all over.. but the flatness of his chest soothed him. Made things feel better.

The bathroom door opened, to his surprise. (Hadn't he locked it?)

"Oh! My bad, I'm sorry to..." John trailed off, his eyes trailing to the tape that was wrapped tightly around his flatmate's chest. "May I uhm, may I ask what you're doing?"

The paint began to chip away. Flames hid behind them.

Sherlock flushed, aware of his vulnerability, crossing his arms across his torso. "It's- It's nothing, John.. just.. got injured on our previous case, that's all." He lied, refusing to make eye contact with the doctor. This probably wasn't the best or safest option, he was aware of it, but it was one week- he's done worse to himself.

"Want me to.. to take a look for you, then? I could help-"

"No thank you, John. I.. I don't require any assistance."

John nodded, but remained still.

"Turn around." The doctor said softly. "Please."

No fire extinguisher in sight. No water.

But he did so anyway.

Damn the flames.

"Oh.."

Sherlock drew his arms closer to his body, still avoiding eye contact. "Are.. are you happy now?"

John took a step forward, cautiously. "Not really.."

"Why.. Why is that?" He gulped.

"This is.. incredibly unsafe. Good God, Sherlock, please tell me you haven't been.. been doing this the entire time we've known each other."

Sherlock's shoulders relaxed, allowing himself to look at John. "No.. this is just a.. a temporary solution, until my new.. binder.. comes in." The word hung heavily on his tongue.

"Thank goodness. You have no idea the risks, do you?"

"Oh, I'm aware. But, it was only for a week. I've been through worse. Done worse, even.."

John frowned. "Please.. please take that off. It's not safe. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Fine. Just- just for now.. I suppose my body could use a break."

The doctor's frown faded, replaced by a light grin with his hand on the doorknob. "Thank you."

The door shut with a soft click, and it was Sherlock's turn to frown. Tearing off the tape with a wince, he tossed his shirt back on- a plain, white button up shirt- refusing to look in the mirror. He felt sick enough as it was.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he made his way towards the living area, his feet getting heavier with each step. Dreadful thoughts and scenarios filled his brain.

This was the first time he had been seen without a binder on for quite some time. Always made sure his chest looked flat before he left the house- didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea.

He found himself standing in front of the fireplace, gazing at himself. The testosterone had done its job, yes, but there were still traces of his former self lingering there. His arms were too- thin, and his face was too soft. His lips, they were... they're.. they're not right.

Gentle, short arms wrapped around his torso as a face buried itself into his back. 

"Don't." John mumbled against the fabric of his clothing. "Don't do this to yourself."

"Do what?" He rested his arms against John's. 

"Overanalyze everything.. ruin yourself.. You look fine just the way you are."

Sherlock ran his thumb over John's knuckles, leaning into the touch. "Force of habit, my apologies. Sorry for not telling you sooner. I.. I wasn't sure when would be the right time."

His flatmate shook his head, pulling the detective closer. "You don't have to apologize for things like that, I understand why. It's- It's personal. You don't owe me this information."

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "So you don't.. you don't think of me any differently?" He tensed, bracing for all kinds of responses.

"Not in the slightest. You are the great Sherlock Holmes, you are you, I only admire you for how you've managed to figure yourself out. That takes great strength, which I don't doubt you have."

Sherlock turned himself around, so he was no longer facing the mirror, instead facing John. "I.. Thank you, for your.. support. This has been sudden, and I couldn't ask for a better friend."

John only hugged him tighter in response. "Of course.. I'm here if you need anything."

Sherlock smiled, reciprocating the hug and resting cheek on John's head. "I may have an idea."

His friend chuckled. "Which is?"

It turned out to be a day spent lounging on the couch in each other's arms, watching crap telly until they drifted off into a bliss, peaceful sleep.

tysm for reading mwah mwah <3

#man i love writing #trans sherlock #trans sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #john watson #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fic #them <3 #hurt/comfort #majorly self indulgent #not beta read #no beta we die like mary #IM SORRY HGEHGEHIGE #tfw when trans sherlock #this is gonna be living rent free in my head now lolol