Authors note: ok hi I'm starting this story and I hope ppl like it.

Summary: William (Sherlock) is a closeted and not yet transitioned trans woman who wants to transition but lacks the support of those she cares about. She has given up all hope of ever being herself. That is, until she meets Jim Moriarty. A successful man that seems to be able to make all her dreams come true. Trans!Sherlock. Trans!Jim. (Sheriarty AU)




You See Right Through Me.

William felt sick. She always felt sick. It never ended. Every moment she caught so much as a glimpse of her own reflection staring back at her, it was sickening. She died both inside and also a bit more on the outside. She hated the way she looked, the way she sounded, how she was forced to carry herself.

She had always felt like a woman. She was a bloody woman. Only her body did not reflect it. Nothing about her reflected it at the moment.

How she dreamed of being able to be herself. To be free of her cage. She did not want to be a man. She was not a man. She wanted breasts and long hair. She already kept her hair as long as she dared. Any longer than this and people would talk. Idiots.

She yearned to have curvature on her body. She wanted a clitoris and not this massive thing between her legs. She wanted a period. She wanted an endowed and striking man to be able to spread her and sink deep into her core. Not from behind and anally. Vaginally.

She was unsure whether or not she would have been able to bring a child into the world if she had been born cisgender. She was not the most nurturing person in the world but the dream of the situation gave her so much euphoria. Also her genetic code was very impressive. She would have carried beautiful children to term. It was a shame really.

William wanted to transition like the many others she had seen do so. Sadly she did not have the means nor support to do that. She was a consulting detective. The only one in the world. She observed many other transgender people in her line of work and also on the streets in her more darker years.

Many ended up happy, fully transitioned and living fulfilling lives as their true selves. However many unfortunate people ended up dead by suicide and murder or overdosing in drug dens from lack of support. She knew. She was very lucky to survive all three situations for as many different times as they happened. Her brother was to thank as much as she hated to admit it.

Mycroft knew about her desire to be a woman. He had advised her against it time and time again. He instructed her to wait. He said that the time wasn't yet right. Yet she had been waiting all of her lifetime now. She voiced her wishes long ago at age two. Nothing had changed since then.

It would probably never happen now. She would have to live her life as a man and die as one it seemed. How she wished she could speed up the latter of the two.

"William, are you alright?" John interrupted her train of self destructive thought.

William tore her eyes from what she had been staring at. A women's boutique with the most beautiful gowns. The way she stood in front of the window made it look as if the sequin dress was on her body in the reflective surface. It looked so right. Her pressed button down was suffocating and so very wrong...

"A woman?" asked John.

William's eyes widened and she snapped her head quickly towards John. She searched his eyes for recognition, hoping that finally someone understood or knew. "Pardon?"

"The suspect in these cases. Is it a woman? You're looking very hard at those gowns."

William breathed out a sigh, letting her eyes roam over the bright fabric once more before turning away. It would have been too easy and far too good to be true. John obviously suspected nothing about her true gender identity. He never would. "No." She said. "It is a man. It is always a man." She continued walking down the sidewalk.

Watson followed his best friend close behind, raising an eyebrow even though William couldn't see it. "Well why can't it be a woman?"

William clenched her jaw, staring straight ahead as she walked. "Sentiment." She told him.

John accepted that answer, knowing he was not going to get a more detailed one. He knew William like the back of his hand. Or so he thought.

As they walked through the streets of London, William wondered what it would be like not to live a lie. She would never have the fortune of knowing for sure. Or so she thought.

She went back to the case at hand. Her only source of distraction and peace of mind. A coping mechanism if you will. It was all she had to express herself in this world. It seemed as if that was all she would ever have...

William did not notice the handsome Irishman watching her with interest from across the street.

The stranger watched her until she disappeared into the busy London crowd with John desperately trying to keep up with her. Then the mystery man turned on his heel and entered the pharmacy to pick up his prescription of syringes.