You lucky unicorns. Two chapters in one day. Enjoy! X

Day 14 – Genderswapped

A dream. Yes, it must be a dream. Sherlock couldn't possibly… could he? Probably. Would he? No. No, he wouldn't. But then again… John screamed at the top of his voice when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the inside of his bedroom's door. Stop. His bedroom? Hadn't it been transformed into something some time ago by someone? John tried to remember but failed miserably. Can't… concentrate….

Breasts. That's all he had in his head. Breasts. And a vagina. He opened his door and stepped right under the spray of an ice cold shower. Maybe the water will make it disappear. Please, please, please, pretty please.

All of this wouldn't have happened if Sherlock… Sherlock! He won't love me anymore, will he? Won't want to touch me, won't want to make love to me anymore… Silent tears felt down his cheeks and pooled along with the shower water down at his feet, blue and green water mingling together.

John stepped out of the shower and was immediately dressed in a nice wedding dress, long, white, with lace and silk. He looked in the mirror and screamed again. His long blonde curls (curls? long?) were pinned up neatly on his head. His face looked… strange. He turned around and found himself in Mrs Hudson's kitchen, their landlady dressed in a light blue costume. "Oh you look gorgeous. You're such a pretty lady!"

John wanted to reply something, ask something, scream something. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"Don't look so frightened, love." Sherlock stood behind him and lay one arm around his curvy waist. Curvy waist? "It's just a marriage. It will hardly kill you."

John's mouth fell open. He turned around just to see Sherlock in a black tuxedo, smiling down at him. "M… marriage?" It seemed to make sense but somewhere back in his mind, he knew that this was wrong, oh so wrong.

"Hence this beautiful dress you're wearing. You look marvellous." Sherlock kissed him and grabbed his hand. They turned around and walked down the aisle, out of a chapel full of the people they loved. Everyone was there, everyone cheered and most ladies cried, including John himself.

Did I just refer to myself as a lady? The rice fell down at them and doves flew up in the sky. Sherlock still held onto one of his hands, but the other one felt as if it was on fire. John looked down to his right hand where he could see two slim silver bands on his annular. When did he and Sherlock get engaged? Through his left hand, he could feel Sherlock's single ring. Sherlock proposed, then. But when? And how? John couldn't remember, no matter how hard he tried. And the biggest of all the questions – even bigger than the one about the breasts and the vagina – was: How come he said yes? He always thought that if – IF – he'd ever get married, he'd be the one to propose. But marriage had never been something he'd honestly considered. Dreamed of, yes of course. Especially during his army days, when the nights were long and lonely. He never thought he'd meet someone, he never thought he'd be that lucky… he sat down and closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he sat on their sofa. As he attempted to get up, a sharp pain rolled through his back. His hand flew forward on his belly – his pregnant belly! He wasn't really surprised when he fainted.

John's alarm went off at 8 am precisely. He slammed it silent and turned to roll into a sitting position. Only then, he noticed that his pregnant belly had gone missing. Just like his boobs. One firm grip down under the blanket confirmed it: Jup, he was John again. He sighed in relief and fell back on his pillow. The rings on his hand were gone as well, thank god. John stretched out and hugged his still sleeping lover (not husband or fiancé, just for the record!). "Sherlock! Get up." He peppered his neck with soft kisses.

Sherlock stretched under John's touches like a lanky cat. He cracked his eyes open and sent a loving glance up towards John. He yawned. "Jaaawn. Morning…" He pulled the doctor down and captured his lips with his own. Only then he opened his eyes fully and looked at John's face. He deduced him.

John squirmed uncomfortably under Sherlock's scan. "Sherlock! Stop deducing me!"

"You had a dream – a nightmare? It was about us… but we didn't die… no, you would have woken up and screamed. oh. You did scream – in your dream, did you? What could it have been… I did something… an exper-"

"STOP IT, Sherlock!" John jumped up. "It doesn't matter; I've already forgotten half of it." He left the bedroom, highly embarrassed and confused. Sherlock lay back down on his pillow and closed his eyes.

What had John dreamed about? He kept asking him all day, both subtle and not so subtle until finally late that night, when John stood under the shower, attempting to wash off the residues of a corpse him and Sherlock had pulled out of the mud earlier that evening, John gave up. He drew the shower curtains away and stared angrily at the detective who sat on the rug in the middle of the bedroom. "I woke up and was a woman, okay? And we married and I was pregnant. Are you happy now?" He turned off the tabs and grabbed his towel, hastily drying himself off.

"And that was so horrifying that you couldn't tell me?" Sherlock got up and followed John into their bathroom.

"No, love. God, no. " John hugged his detective and kissed him softly. "Not horrible, just… disturbing. I don't know. Let's just go to bed now, okay?" He let his towel fall to the floor and pulled Sherlock to the bed in order to distract him from the thoughts and questions he could practically see forming behind the beautiful light creases on his forehead.

Marriage. Interesting.

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