Plot: Meet Dr. John Watson, MD. Only he's not actually John Watson, he's Joan Watson, who's spent nearly her entire life pretending to be a man just to get through med school, the army, etc. She knows it's a really, really bad idea to move in with a man who can tell someone's life story in a glance, but she does it anyway.

The Setting: Alternate universe where woman are nothing more than a body, no voice, no freedoms. In this male dominate society, all is ruled by men, but there are whispers of a Woman's Underground. A legend of a brave woman who will brave the man's world to bring women to light.

Prompt from sherlockbbc_fic . livejournal . com


Prologue

That was the day.

The day that changed my life forever.

I was only 5, just a child, but it is a day I will never forget.

Daddy told me to hide in a closet and not to come out unless the house was empty.

I didn't argue with him. I can't argue with Dad. He's in charge and I love him.

As soon as I was safely tucked into the closet, a loud crash was heard from outside.

"Police! Open up!"

Dad must have let them in because I later found the door intact.

I could hear shouting from down stairs.

"Henry Watson, you are under arrest." I heard a male voice say.

"On what charges?" My mother called out, followed shortly by what sounded like a slap.

"Silence, woman," Another man said.

It took all my self-control to stay within the closet, my ear pressed against the door, trying to hear what was going on outside.

It sounded like struggling. And crying. Mummy was crying…

And then, I heard my father's voice, singing. Singing the lullaby that will forever remain in my mind.

And then there is a slam…followed by silence.

I don't know how long I remained in that closet for…

Harry found me. My big sister.

"Joan." She said when she opened the door to the closet, her tall, womanly form towering over my cowering one. She had just turned 17.

I looked up at her, and I just knew. I knew Mum and Dad were gone forever.

Harry took me home that night, her home, the one I would call home for many years.

And that night, Joan Watson died. And in her place came John H. Watson.