Just thought I'd say, this is gonna be weird and funny, so don't be mean if you don't like it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and it belongs to its rightful owners. This is a figment of my imagination.
The sun rays started peering out from the shades in the bedroom, shining directly on John's face. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and threw his hand over Sherlock's body. It was a sunny Sunday morning, and Sherlock and John were still in bed. Sherlock was sleeping on his side, his back facing John's back. He sighed softly in his sleep and grasped the sheets in his hands, drawing them closer to his body and off of John.
"Hmm...good morning Sherlock," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.
Sherlock moved and turned around to face John's back. He lazily opened one eye and smiled. "Good morning John."
John smiled contently and intended to catch a few more minutes of sleep, until he stopped dead in his tracks.
That voice... that voice was not Sherlock's. It was soft and feminine, and it belonged to a woman.
"Oh my God," John screamed, jumping up from the bed and clutching the bed sheets around his body. "Oh my God, oh my God. No. I did not cheat on Sherlock. How much did I drink last night?"
The lady in his bed turned around and frowned. She was about to speak up, before John interrupted.
"No, you have to leave. I don't know what happened last night, let's forget about okay? Please just get out."
"...John?" she gasped, tears in her eyes. "John? What's wrong with my voice?!"
John stared. "...Sherlock, is that you? What the fuck?!"
Sherlock sat up on the bed and screamed. He screamed and screamed for about 2 minutes, until his voice started breaking. His voice was high and quite feminine. He started hyperventilating, looking down at his body and back at John, his eyes bulging with pure terror. John, on the other hand, stood transfixed by the bedside table. He stared at Sherlock, wondering what the hell happened.
Sherlock was a girl.
A woman, to be exact. This woman, Sherlock, was the exact female version of his real body. She was tall and slender, her dark curly hair hung up to her shoulders; she had the same jaw and piercing eyes, her nose was smaller, she still had that soft, creamy skin and her lips were pink.
"John?" Sherlock finally croaked. "John, what happened to me? What's going on? Why am I...a female? Tell me I'm dreaming. Please tell me this is probably one of those crazy realistic dreams. Okay. Alright."
John stared again and finally shook his head. He carefully approached Sherlock and stood next to him.
"Um," he managed to say. "You're not dreaming. You're a girl. Ah. Okay."
He reached out uncertainly and touched Sherlock's hair. His hands ran up to touch her face, lightly touching her nose and eyes. He shook his head again, not believing what he saw.
"Stand up then," he said to Sherlock.
Sherlock paled, threw off the covers and stood up.
Oh, yes.
Sherlock was definitely a girl.
She had long, slender limbs and a flat stomach. Her figure was slender yet curvy, her creamy skin was untouched by any blemishes, and she was tall. Not taller than John (for once), but definitely tall.
Sherlock made a strangled noise in her throat and ran her hands down her body, pinching, feeling, and poking. Her face stayed blank and unresponsive, occasionally glancing back at John.
"John," she finally said, poking at her chest. "What are these?"
John gulped and managed to roll his eyes. "Sherlock, you know what these are. Those are, um, breasts."
"I have breasts," came Sherlock's calm reply. She cupped them, poking and balancing them in her hands. To John, it was embarrassing to watch, but to Sherlock, it was...fun. New. Interesting.
"They're soft," she said, giggling. "And bouncy. And kind of heavy. They feel weird, I'm not used to having a weight on my chest. Wanna feel?"
John chocked on his own saliva and shook his head. "Uh, no? I'm good, thanks."
"Suit yourself," she responded, feeling down her body again. She stopped moving when her hands ventured below the waist. "Hey, John?"
"Hmm?" he replied, forcing his eyes off of her body.
"I don't have testicles anymore," she whispered. She felt around again, gasped and looked up. "Oh my God. Well this is definitely different."
"Uh huh," John agreed, his face and neck turning a lovely shade of pink. "Look, Sherlock, can you not touch yourself in the middle of the room? It's embarrassing."
Sherlock scoffed but did as she was told anyway. "It's not like my female body disgusts you, I know very well you're bisexual, John. My body never repulsed you when I was male, and it sure doesn't repulse you now," she said, eying his pants.
John blushed again and cleared his throat. "No, it doesn't repulse me. But it's a little strange, okay? Last night we went to sleep and I'm pretty sure you were still a man. This morning I wake up and you've turned into a lady. Isn't it a little strange to you?"
Sherlock poked and prodded at her chest and nodded. "Well, of course. We'll find out the meaning of this later. But now, I need clothes."
John peered at her naked figure and reluctantly agreed. He walked over to his closet and took one of his shirts out and handed it to her. "This'll do for now." He rummaged in the closet again and came up with one of Sherlock's boxers. "And this will, too. Here you go."
Sherlock took the clothes, thanked him, and looked at him expectantly.
"What?" John asked.
Sherlock rolled her eyes. "Turn around, don't look at me. Be a gentleman."
John sighed and turned around, waiting for Sherlock to dress. "There isn't anything I haven't seen before,"
"Yes, there is. Well. Not really, but you know what I mean."
John's face flushed again.
"I'm done, you can look now." Sherlock announced, turning around. "How do I look?"
John stared again. Sherlock was wearing one of John's button down shirts and boxers. She looked like...Sherlock. Herself. (Himself?) In a sense.
"You look like yourself, but, um, curvier. And feminine." he said truthfully.
"Do I look pretty, John?" Sherlock asked, grinning.
"Uh, yes. Very pretty. Argh, don't make me do this, Sherlock."
Sherlock smiled again and started walking out of the room. "Well John, I know you liked my body before, so why not now? Anyway, come make me food, I'm hungry."
John quickly made toast and jam for breakfast, and he and Sherlock sat down to eat. Sherlock ate her toast very daintily, her fingers gracefully buttering the toast and her hand elegantly brought the toast to her mouth, where she chewed slowly.
"Well, at least your manners didn't change at all," John remarked, sipping his tea.
"Really?" Sherlock said. "Maybe not. Do I always eat like this?"
John nodded. "Of course. You haven't noticed?"
The detective shook her head. "No, not really."
They continued eating in silence. When they were done, Sherlock pushed his plate away and dabbed at her lips with a napkin.
"That was delicious, thanks."
"You're welcome,"
John stood to clear the table, while Sherlock brushed her fingers in her mop of curls.
"It's so hot," she complained, holding her hair up. "And this hair is making it no better. You have a rubber band, John?"
He nodded and rummaged in the kitchen cupboards. "Here's one,"
Sherlock expertly put her hair up in a bun and sighed contently. "That's better. Let's go shopping now,"
John stopped dead in his tracks. "Shopping?"
"Yes, shopping. At the mall."
"Why?"
It was Sherlock's turn to roll her eyes. "Let's see. I need clothes, and underwear, and makeup, and hair-things, and deodorant, and perfume...oh, and I need a bra."
John blushed and held his head in his hands. "You need undergarments?"
"Well of course, these ladies here aren't going to hold themselves up."
"Sherlock, I don't know how to do this. Are you planning on staying a woman?"
"No, of course not! I don't even know why I'm one in the first place, but I might as well make myself comfortable. Let's go shopping, please?"
"...Fine. I'll uh, how about you go back to our room and find something acceptable to wear, hmm?"
Sherlock happily obliged and skipped off to the bedroom. John sighed once again and quickly finished the dishes; and then, as he was about to put his shoes and coat on, the doorbell rung.
"Shit," John cursed, running to the door. "No no no no!"
The bell rung again, and John rushed to open it. Outside stood Mycroft, with his umbrella. He stared distastefully back at John and wrinkled his nose.
"Um, hello Mycroft," John said.
"John," Mycroft acknowledged. "I came to see Sherlock. Is he here?" He let himself in, and John followed after him.
"I, uh, no he is not."
Mycroft frowned and sat down on a couch. "Well where is he then?"
John touched the back of his neck nervously. "He went...on a...trip. Ah, yes. A trip."
"Where to?"
"Where to? Funny question. Uh, he went...on a trip...somewhere, he didn't tell me."
"Jaaaaaaaaaaaawn," a soft feminine voice rung out. "Who's here?"
"Oh," Mycroft's eyebrows rose. "I didn't know you had a lady friend over."
As if on cue, Sherlock padded into the living room. She had found a pair of jeans that fitted snugly (mind you, Sherlock's clothes were always tight) and was still wearing John's button down shirt. Her hair was neatly put into a bun and her face was clean and pink. She looked acceptable; she managed to look classy, even.
Mycroft stared at her. "Ah, okay. Pardon my staring, miss. You look...strangely familiar."
"Oh, really?" came Sherlock's reply. She smirked, twirled one strand of hair around a finger and smiled innocently.
Mycroft gulped and looked away. "Well, I didn't know John had any lady friends over, so I'll just-"
"Oh, no," Sherlock purred. "Please stay. I'd love to meet John's friends! Any friend of John is a friend of mine. I'm...Cindy, by the way."
Mycroft shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you. And you are John's-?"
"Oh," she giggled. "I'm John's niece."
"I didn't know he had any nieces," Mycroft turned to look at John.
"I have nieces? I mean, yes, I have nieces. Her name is Cindy. She's visiting from...Hungary! Ah, yes. Hungary. She just arrived last night, and we were on our way to the mall." John said, staring ferociously at Sherlock's direction.
"The mall, I see," Mycroft cocked his head. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. It was nice to meet you, Cindy. My name is Mycroft Holmes, in case you were wondering."
Sherlock pursed her lips and nodded. "Nice to meet you, Mycroft. Such a strange name...sounds so lovely."
Mycroft visibly blushed; and muttered a quick goodbye before dashing out.
When he was gone, Sherlock erupted in laughter.
"What was that?!" John asked, letting his breath go. He didn't realize he was holding his breath in until now.
"That was so fun!" Sherlock snickered. "I love this. Did you see the way he blushed? Foolish man! Oh, I love flirting, let's do it again!"
"No, we're going shopping. You obviously need clothes. And undergarments." John said, pulling Sherlock out the door.
"It was obvious the way he stared at my chest, hmm John? Jealous?"
John rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Sherlock."
3 hours later, Sherlock found herself in a fitting room stall, trying on dresses and clothes. John waited outside sheepishly, like a father might do for his daughter.
Except John wasn't Sherlock's father. He was Sherlock's boyfriend; his lover.
"Ohhh, John!" Sherlock squealed. "I love this shirt! And I have to get the matching skirt."
She came out of the stall and handed John dozens of clothes, then marched off to the perfume department.
"John, what do you think would suit me better? Sun-kissed apple cherry, or Vanilla Bubblegum?" she asked, smelling the samples.
John hummed for a while and then said, "Um, well, I like apples. And cherries, so I guess you should pick the first one. Which ever one you like."
Sherlock nodded her agreement and picked up a bottle of sun-kissed perfume, dropping it in the cart. She walked over to the lingerie department and winked at John.
"Hey, Jaaaawn!"
John sighed and muttered, "What?"
"Which color would you like on me?"
"Sherlock, not so loud!" John yelled-whispered. "There are other people in this store!"
She scoffed. "So what? Would you prefer this in black," she held up a black lingerie set. "Or in red?"
"In black," came John's muffled reply, as he rushed to the cash register. "Please, let's just go."
So they quickly rung up the items and left the store with Sherlock's new clothes. She talked all the way home; in the cab, in the street, and outside their flat.
When she had put her clothes in her closet, and picked out an outfit to wear, John was already in the living room about to take a nap.
"John?" she whispered, creeping closer. He turned around to look at her.
"Yeah?"
"I need to urinate," she said, moving on her feet uncomfortably.
"So, pee." came John's reply.
"I...don't know how to."
"Sherlock, come on. You know how to pee!"
"Yes, but not sitting down! I only pee standing up! Well, sometimes I sit down, but that's in the morning when you know...things are not so flexible."
John chocked back a chuckle and they walked to the bathroom. "Just sit down and, uh, relax your muscles." He turned around while Sherlock sat down on the seat.
"Ew, I feel weird," she said, wrinkling her nose. After a few seconds, she sighed happily. "But at least I peed. Thanks." She quickly washed her hands.
"I'm going to go take a nap," came John's reply. He walked to the bedroom, Sherlock in tow. John settled himself on their bed and turned off the light.
"I'll take one as well," she said, settling herself on the other side of the bed. She snuggled up to the man; John tensed up momentarily and then loosened up.
"Do I make you uncomfortable, John?" she asked, a hint of sadness in her voice. "You know it's not my fault I'm like this."
John hushed her and kissed the top of her head. "No, not at all. I'm just not used to having you like this, you know? How do you feel?"
Sherlock thought for a while before replying. "I feel...soft. And really light, I'm not as heavy as I used to be."
John scoffed and started laughing. "Sherlock, you were a twig back then as you are now!"
"Well," she said, grinning. "I feel different. There's this massive weight on my chest, and my boxers feel really loose, and I feel so small and fragile. My hair's soft and long and too hot on my neck...but other than that, I'm fine."
"We'll get to the bottom of this, alright?" John promised. "Go to sleep."
Sherlock snuggled closer to John, closed her eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.
Please read and review, I want to hear your comments! Nothing mean, please! And lol of course it's supposed to be weird and awkward and funny! It's not a serious fic! :) Chapter Two coming soon!