Hey, I feel dreadful cos I've worked too hard this week and made myself really ill so here is a oneshot I wrote while lying on the sofa, feeling like shit🤣🤣. This is based off a prompt Lee_13_ gave me when I asked for some in an announcement so thank you, you wonderful human. I hope this is something like how you pictured. I didn't include the "and helps them get together" part as I wanted to have them already married but apart from that:). Ok, I hope you enjoy. I hope that I portrayed this identity ok (trying to say this without giving spoilers), I am not this myself but I tried to write it how I've heard others talk about it and with a little bit of artistic licence. Not everyone's experience is the same so this is just how I imagined this person's experience to go. I really hope you enjoy it and it's not too far out. Let me know if I've done anything wrong and I'll correct it.

Warnings: dysphoria, feelings of isolation, I'm pretty sure some of it could be classed as angst but it ends super fluffy, dont worry:) as always, let me know in the comments if there are any I've missed:)

Word count: 2700

Rosie's pov

I sat with my head in my hands and thought. I had been thinking a lot lately and I was struggling. Nothing felt quite right. I had tried to bring it up with my friends quite a few times but I had never been able to find quite the right words to express how I'm feeling. It was a heavy feeling that started in my toes and ended in the tips of my long blonde hair. It was itchy and hot. It trapped me in a place that I was unsure of. The ever constant feeling that I was falling and couldn't find a hand hold. I have found it though. After hours of searching on the internet I have finally found a word to make me feel better. And it is a relief but actually, it makes me feel more anxious than before. Because now I have a word for it, it feels more real. The unknown is scarier than truth but truth is more intense and leaves only one option. And I'm not sure that I'm ready for that.

I groan and roll off my bed, landing on the floor with an oof. I lie there for a minute, just staring up at my white ceiling that still has blue tack traces from the glow in the dark stars I used to have stuck on it. Papa had wanted me to learn about the solar system so had perfectly arranged them into constellations. All three of us used to lie on my bed and talk about the different planets we were going to visit. I smile softly at the memory then purse my lips. I wish I hadn't taken them down, they were really very cool.

It was after papa had spilled chemicals on my completed English homework that had taken 2 hours and I had stormed in here and ripped them off in anger. He had appeared an hour later with a typed up version after scrutinizing the smudged work and using logic to work out the words that had become unreadable. He gave me a hug and I had cried for a bit before him and dad took me out for icecream in the park. He had been upset to discover that I had removed the stars, I could see that in the way he scrunched his nose slightly when he had seen the pile in the corner but he hadn't said anything about it. Dad did though, he promised that we would put them back up when we had a chance. It was a big task to rearrange the stars though and they had both been super busy recently what with the new baby and shower still haven't done anything about it. I love Hamish and all but it sucks that I didn't get to see my dads so much anymore. He is 4 now and he's amazing and spending time with him is great and all but I do miss when we used to spend time together, just us 3.

When I was 3, they finally admitted their feelings for each other and became a couple (even though I am told by everyone that they already acted like one before). When I was 6, I was a bridesmaid at their wedding. I remember wearing a little pink dress with flowers on it and holding onto the corner of papas train with auntie Molly holding the other side and marma Hudson trying to help me with my side and crying the whole way down the aisle. It is one of my favourite memories and I look at the picture of papa in his white tuxedo dress with  flowers in his hair and a long train (he always did have a flamboyant streak and insisted that one of them had to wear a dress and there was no way dad would wear one so he had got one specially made and grinned the whole day when he was wearing it) and dad in his black suit. I am stood in front of them in my puffy dress and my dinosaur wellies, that I insisted on wearing as a compromise for being stuffed into a princess dress, poking out the bottom. Auntie Molly and Marma Hudson are crouched down next to me, (marma had insisted on it, despite her hip as the photos had to be symmetrical and dad had found a chair for her to sit in). Uncle Greg and Uncle Mycroft are stood beside dad, arm in arm, Greg smiling like an idiot and Myc trying to look serious and cool but the corner of his lips being unable to help turning up slightly in happiness. Grandma and Grandpa are stood at papas elbow looking more pleased than seems humanly possible and Harry and Clara (who sorted out their differences and decided to give it another try and are expecting there second child in this picture, as evidenced by Clara's intensely large belly), are stood on the steps behind them, accompanied by an elderly woman who I vaguely remember as Nana but who had died a year later. I never met dads father as he had died before I was born but by all accounts that was probably for the best as he wasn't the most pleasant of men. Major Sholto had made another appearance and was stood with them, standing to attention. Auntie Irene was sat, crossed legged, on the grass next to auntie Molly and she was winking at the camera (which auntie Molly had protested to when she saw the photos later. "I told you to stop flirting with that photographer!" She had said.
"I only do it to make you jealous dear." She had laughed and pecked Molly's cheek which made her blush and giggle.) There were bubbles filling the air in the picture and I have never seen so much joy on a group of people's faces than there was in this picture.

I guess I must be feeling more stressed than I thought as I always find myself thinking about that day when I'm trying to distract myself from something else. Now how did I get there? Oh yes, I was detailing my parents relationship to the point of Hamish. When I was 7, they started talking about how they wanted another child. It had taken three years to work everything out and in the end, Molly had carried the baby. It seemed only right considering how much time she spent with me. Hamish spent a lot of his weekends with her and Irene and played with their little girls Annabeth and Jemima, who were twins that Irene had had a year after Molly had Hamish. I often go too but not as often. It felt slightly awkward and I prefer going out on cases with papa and dad. Although, there had been less of that recently. I know that our family is not exactly what you would describe as normal but it is ours and I love it.

But lately I have been feeling off. I had started my period last year and puberty sucked. I know its cliche but I mean seriously. It's not that being a teenager is necessarily bad but I didn't like how my body was changing. Suddenly, i had these things on my chest that changed the way people spoke to me. And everyone was always talking about boys or girls and wearing tight skirts and lots of makeup. And all I wanted to do was wear baggy shirts and make things explode like I always have. I wanted to run about London with my dads, solving cases and climbing trees but every movement I make reminds me of how feminine my body is. And I don't like it. I feel uncomfortable when I run because my chest bounces. I can't climb trees because it makes me really aware of how wide my hips are and I don't want to hang out with my friends because they wear makeup and talk about crushes and it makes me feel like an outsider. And I didn't want to say anything to my dads because they are already so busy trying to balance looking after Hamish and catching criminals and I don't want to be a burden. Also, I don't know what I would say. I don't even really understand what I'm going through myself so how am I supposed to explain it to them. All I know is that everytime someone calls me pretty, I hate myself more. Everytime someone says she it feels like a kick to the stomach. Everytime I look down and see my chest I feel trapped and cold. Everytime I get my period I feel more and more disconnected from my body.

And so I have shut myself away from it all. I spend hours looking through the internet to find what's wrong with me. And I've found out. And apparently there is nothing wrong with me. This is ok.

This IS ok. But its not. Not really because I still feel trapped. I still can't find the words or the courage to tell anyone, not even the two people who i know would love me no matter what. Not because I'm scared of how they will react because I know that nothing I could ever do or say would make them love me any less. The reason I haven't told them is because i know that if i do then it will make it feel real. I will be admitting it to myself that this is who i am and I can't do that. Not yet because I'm scared. I'm so scared because this is something I am going to have to deal with everyday for the rest of my life and I'm not sure I have the strength to do that.

So, now I'm sitting here. At my desk in my yellow room with posters of musicals and paintings of landscapes that I made with great joy and pictures of me and my crazy family and wonderful friends on the walls, writing in a journal. Because I'm too scared to tell these amazing people that I am so lucky to have in my life, who I really am. But I need to tell someone so I'm writing it down. And im crying. Oh fuck, im crying. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. I have to do this. I have to just say it. Just write it down. It's just one word and yet it's so scary. Ok, here goes:

I'm Nonbinary.

There, I did it. I said it. And now I realise I have to tell you. So I guess this journal entry is turning into a coming out letter. Hi, dad, papa. It's me.

I am your child and I love science and criminology like papa and bad romance films and writing like dad. I sing songs from bad musicals at the top of my lungs when we are driving home from uncle Greg and Mycrofts house and eat junk food while playing charades. I play dragons and pirates with Hamish. I paint decent pictures. I read shit gay stories. Me and papa once exploded the kitchen when an experiment went wrong (sorry about that again dad). I wore a pink dress and dinosaur wellies at your wedding. I want to teach chemistry when I'm older to uncaring teenagers and catch criminals with my insane parents in my spare time. My mother was a badass assassin and every story I hear about her makes me like her more. It sucks she died and I never really met her but then again, I wouldn't have Sherlock, the crazy, ridiculous asexual detective who fell in love with a danger loving ex army doctor with a thing for insanely wonderful people as a papa so I guess it all worked out. I am the big sister to a curly haired pirate. I am the child of two mental men who run around solving crime and stopping parliament from exploding. I have been chasing criminals as long as I can walk, before even. I have been making deductions since I could talk. I have been exploding things and seeing dead bodies and shooting the walls for as long as I can remember, and yet this is the scariest thing I have ever done. I am all of this and I'm also the person who is coming out in a letter/ journal entry sheepishly handed to you.

So, hi dad. Hi papa. I love you. And this is me telling you that I'm not Rosamund Mary Watson Holmes. Instead, I am Bee Mary Watson Holmes and my pronouns are they/ them. Surprise!!

**********

3rd person pov

Sherlock looked up from the last page of this letter at his child who was standing awkwardly, watching them read the outpouring of their soul. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and instead strode over to Bee and pulled them into a hug. John attempted to wipe away his tears on the sleeve of his jumper before joining the hug and kissing his child's head over and over.

"God we love you baby, you know that, don't you."
They nodded, their own tears falling freely down their face now.
"My little irregular. All grown up. You, Bee Mary Watson Holmes, are the best, most beautiful, brilliant and brave person I have ever met, other than your dad of course." Sherlock's voice was thick with emotion.
Bee laughed through their tears, "Did you use alliteration on purpose?" They asked, using their least squashed hand to try and wipe away some of their tears.
"Maybe, my brain is very quick you know."
All three of them chuckled slightly.
"Right then Bee," John pulled away slightly and ruffled his child's hair, "what would you like to do now as your first out and proud nonbinary action?"
"How about we get some icecream? Like we used to whenever one of us was upset?" Suggested Sherlock.
"Yes, icecream. That sounds wonderful." Agreed Bee, "but there is one thing I would like to do first."
"Whatever you like darling." Smiled John.
"Could we possibly go to the barbers and get my hair cut short first? All this hair really does get in the way of properly enjoying mint choc chip creaminess."
Sherlock laughed and nodded.
"I know just the person who would be more than happy to see us."
"Let me guess, you found out his sisters killer and he is forever in your debt?" Smiled Bee.
"Actually, if he's the one I think you mean, I helped him set up his website while on a train to Carlisle and he said that I could drop by anytime if I needed something. I've been getting my hair cut there ever since." John grinned and picked up his wallet from the dresser.
"He sounds perfect."
"Come on then Bee, husband." John held out one hand to each and they took them, "Let's go and start the rest of our lives with our wonderful nonbinary child who we couldn't be prouder of."

The end

I hoped you enjoyed that. Again, I'm not nonbinary so I really hope I did this identity justice in my writing of it. To all my nonbinary friends, you are valid, amazing and beautiful, inside and out! My parents just got home with the tea so ima go now, I would usually write a longer an but oh well.
Bye guys, love you all
Isabella
🐹🐹❤🧡💛💚💙💜