While toddling around his room, and humming along to Mindless Self Indulgence's infamous "Get It Up", the young man discarded the letters surrounding him which were addressed to a previous, unwanted was fully aware that the loud bassline from his speakers would be drumming on the walls of the next dormitory room and subsequently irritating the residents, Molly and Irene. He didn't care however, as they were only acquaintances.
He tightened his grip on the bed sheet around his chest. The boy scoffed at the memory of being told his chest wouldn't grow any further after puberty, obviously proven not to be true, as he was now twenty years of age and growing out of his favourite binder. He wished it would just stop for a while. Just be himself physically and mentally. Of course, the physical transition wasn't as important to him as the social transition he was planning to do.
He began rummaging desperately through his post, looking for the one letter that will legally rid him of his previous name. Others called it his "birth name." He, however, only referred to it as his dead name. Finally he found the letter titled to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and smiled to himself before ripping it open and reading over the words:
I, Sherly HOLMES of Oxford University have given up my name Sherly HOLMES and have adopted, for all purposes, the name Sherlock HOLMES. Signed as a deed on 22.4.15 as Sherly HOLMES and Sherlock HOLMES in the presence of Kai ALDER of Oxford University.
Sherlock read the words aloud, and repeated them over and over. He looked over the written confirmation and smiled, attempting to ignore the dull pain throbbing in his right rib cage. He delicately pressured the pointy bone slightly back into place and began to organise his once tidy desk. He found the spare frame from his drawer, saved for this purpose, and hung the letter proudly over his desk, clearly displaying the change of name.
Kai, his roommate and only real friend, would be so happy when he returned home.
Sherlock moved himself in front of the long view mirror and began playing at with his matted hair with one hand. He was always unhappy with his appearance, but he had just always assumed that he had to lose weight and become more manly. You wouldn't believe that the young man was transgender as everyone had always just assumed he was a cisgendered male. Sherlock didn't believe that he 'passed'. Although, he knew that he didn't need to pass to be himself, but once or twice wouldn't hurt. His hair, which was flopped over one side of his head in a tangle, made him smile to himself. It was finally growing to how he wanted it.
Sherlock was still closeted to his family and friends except two people; Kai and Molly. He was incredibly thankful that Kai had accepted him. He had always secretly wished that Kai would end up liking him the way he liked Kai. Sherlock never had liked 'pop-punk' bands like MSI, or Fall Out Boy until he met Kai in University. It's still not his taste but he would do anything for that scrawny boy. Kai was five foot seven, fairly androgynous, and dressed like he was trying to disappoint his parents. Sherlock, however, dressed almost permanently in a white shirt, black slacks and a tight fit blazer and was a good few inches taller than him.
After wriggling into his tri-top binder, Sherlock threw on his loosest shirt and boxers. There was a knock at the door. He ignored it; it was probably just next door complaining about the obscenely loud music, which made him consider turning it up. The knocking grew into banging. Flicking off his music, Sherlock sulkily dragged himself to the door, straightened his hair and looked through the peep hole.
"What?" He huffed, his pale legs defined by muscle tone. He saw two police officers, one male, one female. Probably his brother, Myctoft's people. He turned to walk away.
"Sherly Holmes?" The police officer stared, confused at the masculinity of the voice. Not Mycroft's then; Sherlock was convinced that Mycroft knew about him. that man knew everything. They looked towards the little hole in the door. "Does she live here?"
"Um… yeah… that's me," Sherlock sighed, accepting defeat and not bothering to fight back. He opened the door. The voice at the back of his mind menacingly recited the name and pronoun the officer had used. He promptly hushed it.
"Oh, sorry Miss. May we come in?" Officer Smith said, and walked into the room before Sherlock could respond. She scanned the room, staring with distaste at the sellotaped posters of 'Mindless Self Indulgence' and 'My Chemical Romance' - bands she deemed to be 'outrageous'. She turned her gaze to the the stacks of paperwork lining the skirting boards of the floor. Her eyes glided over the Deed Poll but continued on; Sherlock realised she was preoccupied. He flicked his eyes around his small room, eyeing the posters and suddenly feeling oddly childish.
"What is it? Speak quickly," Sherlock pressured them. He began to become worried at their absence of authority. It wasn't like the police to remain docile if an urgent matter is afoot.
"I'm afraid we have some bad news, Miss. Perhaps you should sit down for this." she said in a solemn tone.
Sherlock slipped into some of Kai's loose Marvel sloggies, and slumped against his bed. He attempted to dull out the dysphoria at the back of his head, which danced around his thoughts menacingly.
"Your friend," started the other officer before noticing the Deed Poll on the wall. "Sorry, is your name Sherlock?" He corrected himself in embarrassment before pressing on after the boy gave a feeble nod, "Your friend, Kai Adler...I'm very sorry to tell you this, but...he was found dead at seven thirty three yesterday morning. Since then we have identified him and -" he stopped. The room began to blur. Sherlock tried to stand up but his legs wouldn't move. He felt crippled under the blow of the news.
Are you alright, Sherly?" The female officer asked. But she sounded sincere. "We understand that it is a shock, but we are going to have to take a few details. Is that OK with you?"
"Yeah, I guess." Sherlock's mind raced.
"First things first, can you confirm your name?"
"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock whispered, pointing to the Deed Poll freshly hung on the wall. He felt sick. He could feel a weight against his torso like he was being held down. He checked and nothing was there.
"Okay, lets start. What was your relationship with the deceased?" she asked. Sherlock whimpered.
"Just roommates," he said sullenly. He would never be anything more to Kai again. There was a pause before the officer spoke again.
"We could come back this time tomorrow? If you don't feel up to it now. How about four thirty tomorrow afternoon?" said the man.
"Thank you," Sherlock breathed. "What case though?"
"We'll explain tomorrow. Take care of yourself, son." Sherlock smiled weakly as he heard the footsteps fade and the final slam of the door.
In the next dormitory room, Molly held Sherlock close to her chest. He had rushed over to see Irene and Molly after the officers left. Irene stared blankly at the wall of her dorm room; she was told about her brother's death an hour before Sherlock.
Sherlock's heart felt like it had been ripped in two. Kai was gone. That thought rung in his head. The grief-stricken man held the young woman close, hoping he would somehow wake up from what was just a horrible nightmare.
"Irene-" Sherlock started.
"Tell me what they said, Sherly," Irene pressed, her face blank. Sherlock winced at the name internally. He kept forgetting he wasn't out as transgender yet. It wasn't what he needed right now. His mind raced back to the police officers, forcing his mind to remember the finer details.
"There was a case. I don't know what for. They are-" he sniffled, "I'm sorry - they're meeting me again tomorrow." This was followed by a long exhale from Irene as she slumped back down on her bed. She didn't believe him. Sherlock could read that from her body language but decided to let it go. She had lost her brother after all, whereas Sherlock only lost a loved friend. "Why, what did they say to you?"
"Possible suicide." Irene stated. Sherlock and molly gasped. Kai wasn't depressed, Sherlock thought to himself. He analyzed all the times that he had seen Kai in the last two months or so, there were no visible symptoms of depression.
"It's ok," Molly consoled Sherlock, before kindly whispering his name in his ear. Molly tried to reassure Sherlock that Kai was in a 'better place', although he didn't believe her and sat twiddling his thumbs as she spoke. She was one of two people that knew about Sherlock. Well- the only one, now. He hadn't thought of Molly as a friend. Was she? Or was Sherlock just misinterpreting human contact? He did that a lot. He once believed that Kai loved him back.
The usually bold young man slunk silently in the corner of a dull lecture room. How dare he be thinking about his dysphoria at a time like this? Sherlock had his arm slung over his shoulder, using his elbow to hide the bulge, that only he could see. His shirt was wearing thin and his black binder was clearly visible through it. How selfish it was of him to think of anything but his roommate's death. He had only been told ninety minutes ago, now it was six o'clock and he was stranded in the last lecture of the day.
Shock, grief, and disbelief was drowning out the sound of the lecture. Professor Lestrade stood in front of the projector, a shadow cast over his eyes. The mumbling of sullen students sank the lecture's atmosphere like a lead balloon. The news of Kai's death had spread around the campus like wildfire.
Sherlock tapped his foot nervously, he felt the atmosphere of the room slowly swallow him, suffocating him. He felt like he was drowning in the anxiety that had built up in his throat. Sherlock's mind raced about the death. He blamed himself - he should've seen the signs! How could he have not noticed Kai was depressed?
The university of Oxford is globally recognised as one of the best educational institutes of the world; the students on the other hand don't mirror that. At least half the students were paid into the university by rich family members, and the minority actually cared about their higher education. Future doctors, lawyers, and politicians studied together, partied together, and slept around together. Sherlock wasn't one for these 'formalities'.
His only friend was Kai. Now who does he have? Had he killed Kai? Like the rumors were saying? He pounded his head. He pounded his foot against the floor trying to ground himself.
"Miss Holmes?" Professor Lestrade piped up in annoyance. Giggles scattered around the room as Sherlock realised that he was bouncing his leg off the floor like a lunatic and hitting his head with the palm of his hand. The chair beneath him rattled. Twelve minutes past six. There was a red area on his temple and palm.
"Sorry," replied Sherlock uncharacteristically. Lestrade disregarded him and carried on teaching. Lestrade and Sherlock were relatively close as Lestrade had been the only lecturer not to call Sherlock a 'freak' due to his deduction skills.
"I will talk to you at the end, please," he stated before returning to droning on about the lymphatic system. Sherlock straightened himself out, and rearranged his chest binder underneath his shirt. There was a whisper to his left about how 'washboard-like' he was. Even though this was meant as an insult from one of his peers, he smiled and returned to taking notes.
Sherlock's mind was back to focusing on Kai's death. Forty five past six, he noted to himself. He signalled the time to Lestrade, and he wrapped up his class accordingly. Thankfully, late classes were only fifty minutes long due to the excessive amounts of homework the students received. Sherlock's arm began to itch as he walked up to the lecturer and he felt himself sweating profusely. The few remaining students filtered out the door.
"Listen, I am doing this because I'm worried about you… I overheard a conversation between you and Molly the other day," Oh shit. "Sherlock? Is that your name now?" Sherlock began to panic.
The colour drained out of his face as he started to recede into himself. "It's ok, honestly. I want to help you with this, you just have to tell me how I can."
"Th-thank you, Sir," Sherlock's eyes welled up. He never cried, today was an exception though. In fairness to him, Kai had died and he had been outed, all within the space of three hours; he allowed himself one tear. Wiping it away, he said, "I got my Deed Poll today, I am going to come out to people tomorrow… When things have died -" he sniffed, "died down a little."
"That's ok, Sherlock. Let me know if you need any help. And good luck with that! It was hard for me to come out as gay alone, so it must be unbearable for you as a transgender person."
"You're gay Sir?" Sherlock seemed shocked at the news which amused Lestrade. The man nodded and made a hushing motion. Lecturers weren't meant to talk about their personal lives.
"You should be going now," Lestrade beamed kindly at the young man. "Straighten yourself out though, you're a mess." A rare smile appeared on Sherlock's face. It felt wrong to smile.
"Thank you again, Sir," he turned to walk out.
"It's Greg - please."