#ftmsherlock

“Okay,” John replied calmly, combing his fingers lightly through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock frowned a moment. That was it? While he expected John to understand, he expected... more something. Questions at the very least.

“That’s it?” John giggled, not harsh or rude, simply finding it entertaining Sherlock would expect something else.

“While I appreciate the fact you trust me so much, I’m not exactly cis either.” Sherlock’s eyes widened in surprise. John smiled. “Be a little hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?” he said jokingly.

 “You’re not-” he started, eyes flicking over John. “You’re weren’t determined female at birth...” he said, part of him annoyed with the fact that he’s still able to tell, even with hormones and surgery, no matter how well someone’s able to pass he can still tell, and what if there was someone else like him, someone who could look at him and see it?

“No. Nonbinary. Still though.” Sherlock smiled and curled closer into John who started giggling “How did we even find each other?”

“What is it?” he asked as he rounded the corner into their now shared room. John was already inside, their med class getting out an hour and a half before his chemistry. Often times John would wait for him, sitting in the library or a cafe for him to get out, but not today. On the bed next to them sat a box opened with a pair of scissors, a layer of grey paper and a crisp white tank top on their lap.

“When did-” he licked his lips, staring at the package on John’s lap. “I was hoping to watch you open it...” He had ordered it just recently, thought he had more time, that it would come some time when John was out and he could hide it and surprise them with it, watch their reaction as they realized what it was.

“It had my name on it. Is it- I mean is this-?” They picked it up and held it in their hands, rubbing their thumbs against the fabric before gently tugging on it to feel it stretch.

“Try it on. I had to estimate but I believe I got the sizing right. And before you protest you needed one. You’ve complained about them more than once, and besides you shouldn’t be using those bandages.” John blushed red and looked down, embarrassed at being caught, busying themself instead with putting on the binder. They hadn’t used bandages much, only or twice and only when Sherlock wasn’t around to criticize them about how unsafe it was, but apparently that alone did not mean Sherlock was unaware.

They turned their back (not as if Sherlock hasn’t seen, as if he didn’t have the same exact things he was plotting to get rid of, but it still felt like the right thing to do), slipping their shirt off and grabbing the binder to put on instead. It slipped easily over their head and arms but bunched up high on their chest above their boobs. They reached down, struggling to find the bottom and untangle it.

“Here.” Sherlock reached around and found the bottom, grabbing it and pulling it down over there chest for them. He pressed a light kiss to their cheek as he stood back up. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. How does it feel? Not too tight? If it’s too small there’s no point, it’s just as bad as those bandages you use.”

John chuckled and turned around to face Sherlock, hand smoothing down their sides before moving up to feel how flat their chest was. “It’s fine. Perfect. Can I look?”