A Man .

chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes, a name that's traveled centuries, that's been moured and loved and related to, a name that does not need definition for in itself is Sherlock Holmes and that is all it needs to be.

So we follow this story now from the perspective of Sherlock Holmes.

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Age 16
School prom, I refuse to go, Mummy's  bought a dress for me and I tried it on and it's just wrong, I asked if I could wear jeans but that was a no.

Mycroft went to his prom years ago. I don't really remember it, but Mummy won't let me wear his old tuxedo, it would fit nicely too, at least I think it would. It would elongate my legs, broaden my shoulders. I'd look strong and independent.

Victor is going to prom too, I wonder if perhaps I'll see my only friend if I do decide to go, but I refuse, there's no point going to a torture chamber for one person.

Victor is tall and handsome, Mummy thinks i have a crush, I don't, something pitiful about girls liking boys, weird words, weird lives...maybe I'm the weird one.

I get out of bed and head to the mirror, glancing away from my form, I'll look again later when I can recognise the person who looks back.

I don't think people understand. Myc didn't understand. I said I couldn't recognise myself in the mirror, which is true, I have this image of myself and when I see my reflection it's all wrong, I imagine high angles cheekbones and slender arms, thin hips and gangly legs and then when I look in the mirror I see gentle curves and flowing curls down past my shoulders, I see feminine lips and soft features.

But its not me.

Mycroft thinks I'm an idiot.

I've tried to flatten my chest, tried to ignore it as I grew older, I've tried wearing several crop tops, at one point wearing five in one go but it just didn't work enough, I've tried bandages tied tight across my ribs and I've tried surgical tape but it always leaves bulges at the sides. Everything I try is wrong and I still need to be mummy's perfect little girl. The perfect daughter, sister, future wife. Mother.

Which was when I decided, a month or two back to make a small purchase online. Bought using the account not monitored by mummy with money from newspaper rounds and gardening for the neighbours that I'd managed to save.
I was weary and scared and I bought it second hand clearly worn past its best but I was terrified of being found out or discovering it didn't work.

But I bought it, a second hand binder, once white but now a odd shade of grey and got it delivered to victor with the excuse it was a present for mummy and managed to get it off him less than a week later.

Taking it home once I'd removed the packaging and details that would imply anything of the contents I had bought and took it to my bedroom lovking the door behind me and making sure there was a chair also blocking the door before I stripped my shirt and bra and looked at the person in the mirror that was apparently me before I tried to pull the binder on like a tshirt befire realising my mistake and getting my arms trapped.

It took several attempts before I managed to pull it over my chest and tug the elasticated back down over my shoulder blades and tugged my chest just in place for a moment and then I looked in the mirror...

And I saw myself looking back at me.