Author Notes: I don't want any readers to be disappointed so I will say it right away: This story is Sheriarty. There won't be any Johnlock in this story. If you don't like this pairing, don't read this story.

I will write more Johnlock stories in the future, so don't worry. ^^

This story is completely written, I only need to go through it for edits. I will post a chapter every Friday.

That's all. Now enjoy the story and let me know what you think. :)

Trigger Warning: Transphobic language!

The End of Something

He hurt.

It was the first conscious thought that came to his mind upon waking up. Sherlock suppressed a pained groan and instead forced himself to stay completely still and silent. There was no way that he would give away that he was awake before he hadn't assessed the situation he was in. In his line of work there was always the chance that he had been kidnapped and if that was the case then he didn't want to give away that he was awake too soon.

Sherlock focused all of his senses to concentrate on his surroundings. He was lying down on his back. The soft underground suggested that he was lying in a bed. Neither his hands nor legs were restrained which could either be good or bad. Good because it either meant that he wasn't held as a prisoner or that he had at least a chance to escape or bad because his kidnappers didn't believe he was capable of running away. Judging from the pain that radiated from Sherlock's stomach that seemed to be a sound assessment. He withstood the temptation to open his eyes and check his stomach for injuries and instead sniffed the air. It smelled clean and of antiseptics. A hospital, his mind suggested but Sherlock wasn't so easily convinced. There was a real chance that someone like Moriarty had caught him and was trying to confuse him.

"Or maybe you were hurt and have been brought to a hospital to be treated. Don't always try to be clever, Sherlock!"

Sherlock was about to roll his eyes at the annoying voice in his head when a memory surfaced from the depths of his Mind Palace.

Pierson was getting away.

Sherlock ignored John's calls as he chased after the murderer. The case had been a five at most but a chase through the streets of London should at least make it worth his while. Besides if he didn't catch Pierson than no one would seeing as Lestrade and his men were probably still standing in the street and staring at thin air.

Sherlock heard steps behind him and grinned as he realised that at least John had followed him. He knew that he could always rely on his blogger.

Pierson turned into a narrow street that Sherlock knew to be a dead end. A triumphant smirk turned up his lips as he increased his speed to end this chase. Maybe Pierson would still offer resistance. In fact Sherlock hoped that the young man would try to fight him. It had been ages since he had got the chance to use his martial art skills anywhere else than at the dojo.

Sherlock rounded the corner at full speed and realised that he had miscalculated when a piercing pain shot through his middle. His eyes flickered from the knife that was stuck to the hilt in his stomach to the triumphant gleam in Pierson's eyes. For a second Sherlock was stunned while his mind tried to process the pain and formulate a defence strategy at once. This moment of indecision could have very well been his last if it hadn't been for John.

"You motherfucker!"

Sherlock registered the cracking of bones and screams of pain as John made sure that Pierson wasn't a threat anymore. Under any other circumstances Sherlock would have smiled proudly at John's anger at his behalf but that seemed like too much effort right now. Actually even standing upright was too much. Not to speak of keeping his eyes open.

Sherlock felt himself dip forward when his legs buckled from pain - and probably blood loss. There was a scream - different from the ones before - and strong arms and a warm body that kept him from falling to the ground and then... Nothing.

Sherlock blinked his eyes open and groaned at the fluorescent lights that tried to blind him. If he ever found out who had got the idea to install these lamps in hospital rooms he would make sure to hunt them down.

When his eyes had stopped watering and he was able to see clearly again Sherlock swiftly took in his surroundings. The room he was in was of medium size. There was a wardrobe to his right and a window on the far wall to his left. Judging from the noise of the street below and how the sun filtered through the thin curtains Sherlock assumed that it was late afternoon. Considering that they had chased Pierson at night that meant that he had spent at least half a day sleeping. It couldn't have been much longer than this seeing as he was in a normal hospital room and not stationed in the intensive care unit. This also meant that Pierson hadn't managed to stab any major organs or else Sherlock would be in even more pain than he was right now. Or maybe he wouldn't be in any pain at all seeing as they would have given him something stronger than whatever was dripping from the IV bags into his veins at the moment.

Sherlock glared at the clear liquid and clenched his teeth as a stab of pain surged through his abdomen. Maybe he could convince a doctor to give him a dose of morphine to dull the pain to a more bearable level. It was either that or leave the hospital in the next hour. After all if they couldn't give him the good stuff then there was no use in staying here at all. Not when Sherlock had his own personal doctor at home. John would huff and complain but in the end he would look after Sherlock. And between him and Mrs. Hudson's cooking Sherlock would make a faster recovery than if he stayed at the hospital for longer than necessary.

Sherlock nodded to himself after he had formulated the argument in his mind. No doctor could say anything against this logic and if they did Sherlock could still deduce with which nurse they had an affair to get them to discharge him. Just when he had made this decision voices sounded in front of his door and Sherlock perked up when he recognized John's amongst them. Not long now and he would be free to go home.

Sherlock just had enough time to sit up a little straighter before the door burst open and three people walked in. He only spared a brief glance for Lestrade and Sally and instead focused all of his attention on John. His best friend who... looked absolutely furious. Sherlock frowned when John marched over to stand beside his bed and glared down at him.

"Tell me this isn't true!"

The frown between Sherlock's eyes deepened even as he forced himself not to flinch away from the pure anger that was radiating in waves off his friend. His usually calm blue eyes looked like the sky right before a thunderstorm and the air was charged with tension between them.

"Tell me you didn't lie to me for over a year!"

Sherlock could only stare dumbfounded at his friend. He didn't have the first clue what John was talking about. There was no way - even for him - that he had done anything to warrant this kind of anger from John while he had been sleeping. Besides John was accusing him of having lied to him since they had moved in together and not of making some nurses cry. But while Sherlock admitted that he had lied to his friend on occasion he couldn't think of anything that he had told John upon moving in together that hadn't been true. At least nothing that would make John look at him like this.

"I don't understand what you are on about." Sherlock threw a confused look at Lestrade and barely had the time to register the nervous look in the DI's eyes before John all but exploded.

"You don't know what I am talking about?!" John's hands clenched and unclenched angrily at his sides. "So it's really just some big misunderstanding that your surgeon just told us that you were damn lucky because the knife missed all your major organs and only nicked your uterus?!"

All the colour drained from Sherlock's face. He opened his mouth to reply but no words would come out and he could only helplessly stare at his friend who's eyes turned to steel.

"So, it's true? You pretended to be a man all this time but you are actually a woman."

Sherlock couldn't suppress his flinch at the accusation and the hateful tone of John's voice.

"Now John, calm down. Sherlock needs to rest and," Lestrade tried to defuse the situation but was interrupted by John's angry voice.

"He can rest after I have got my answers. Well?"

The last part was directed at Sherlock who had to call on all his remaining strength to meet John's gaze instead of turning his head away. He hadn't wanted to do it this way but his friend didn't leave him any other choice. "I am not a woman. I am a man." Sherlock congratulated himself to how steady his voice sounded although his insides were quivering with nerves.

Something in John's eyes shifted. Sherlock couldn't exactly place what it was but they appeared softer all of a sudden. His heart jumped in his chest as he allowed himself to hope that John would come around and that his anger had just stemmed from his initial shock about the revelation.

"You are intersexual then?"

The hope died at the simple question as fast as it had started to grow. Sherlock could clearly see how this would play out. There were two options left to him. Two paths that led into completely different futures. He could lie to John by telling him that he was intersexual. In this case Sherlock was certain that John would be understanding. His friend would accept that Sherlock had been born with this condition and accept that he had chosen to live as a man. For a second Sherlock considered to go ahead with that lie but then thought better of it. It wasn't only that he would have to make up the exact symptoms of his condition - as John would certainly have questions - but also that he didn't want to build their friendship on such a fundament. Sherlock took a deep breath and prepared himself to lose his only friend as he shook his head. "No, I am transgender."

As Sherlock had predicted John's eyes grew hard at the admission. "That's a fancy way of saying that you are a woman playing at being a man."

Sherlock gulped down some air and pressed his lips together into a thin line to keep himself from reacting to the hurtful words. People had hurled much worse insults at him in the past but this was different because this was John. His friend whom Sherlock trusted with his life. The one person he had believed accepted him just the way he was. But now... John was looking at Sherlock with such anger and hate that it was hard to believed that they had giggled at a crime scene not even twenty-four hours ago.

"I am not pretending to be a man. I am one."

John's harsh laugh cut deeper than Pierson's knife as it twisted directly in Sherlock's heart.

"No, you certainly aren't a man. A man doesn't have an uterus. You are just a woman who wants to play with the guys or like Sergeant Donovan has said before: You are a Freak."

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply. Everything in him screamed to throw as many hurtful deductions in John's direction as he could think of but he realised that he couldn't do that. If he started to speak now his voice would break and the tears that were just hovering at the edge of his eyes would spill over. And Sherlock refused to cry in front of anyone. When he had started to transition he had sworn to himself that he would never give anyone the satisfaction of showing weakness to them. He wouldn't break this vow now. Nevermind that it felt like someone had sliced him open and was proceeding by ripping his heart out as John smashed their whole friendship to pieces.

"I thought we could be friends but..."

"That's quite enough, Doctor Watson!"

Sherlock's head snapped up to Sally who had gripped John's left arm while Lestrade took hold of his other shoulder.

"Yes, that's enough out of you," Lestrade's voice held a barely concealed anger as he drew John away from Sherlock's bed. "Get lost!"

John stared in bewilderment at the DI. "But didn't you hear what she..."

"Listen John," Lestrade hissed quietly, "I have always thought you were a nice guy but obviously I have been wrong. I won't stand by and listen to you insulting and misgendering Sherlock after everything he has done for you."

"He hasn't done anything," John started but stopped as Lestrade's grip on his arm tightened.

"Don't you dare!" Lestrade all but growled. "I might not be as observant as Sherlock is but even I notice when someone is miserable. You were as far down as a man could get when Sherlock found you. He helped you back on your feet and you thank him by being a fucking wanker."

"But... he is a fucking tranny!"

Sherlock flinched at the slur against his will and turned his head away. He had stopped counting how often it had been hurled at him at school and at university but he was certain that it had never hit him like this. There was no way that he would have survived all these years if it had felt like someone had crashed his ribcage every time someone had insulted him.

"You!"

A muffled scream followed the exclamation and Sherlock turned back towards the scene just in time to deduce that Sally had twisted John's arm more than necessary. He blinked in surprise at her even as Lestrade stopped her with a shake of his head before Sally could get in any trouble.

"You will fuck off now," Lestrade all but dragged John in the direction of the door. "Go home and pack your things."

"You can't just throw me out of my flat. If anyone should go it should be this little..."

"Don't try my patience, Doctor Watson!" Lestrade's voice was like ice. "You can do it the easy way or you can do it with the help of the British Government."

Sherlock held his breath when John opened his mouth as if to protest but then snapped it shut and gave a tight nod. The door closed with a bang behind him.

Sherlock sagged back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. It was either that or curl into a tight ball and give in to the tears that threatened to fall. Seeing as this wasn't an option with Sally and Lestrade still in the room Sherlock forced himself to take deep, measured breaths in order to hold it together for a while longer.

"I am sorry, Sherlock." Lestrade's hand was a warm and comforting weight on his shoulder as he patted him gently. "When you came out of the operating theatre John pestered the doctor until she told us how the surgery went and..."

"She informed you that my uterus had been nicked by the knife but that this was the extent of my injury and John," Sherlock gulped against the lump in his throat, "Reacted accordingly."

"Don't you dare take to heart what he just said. He is an arsehole and he doesn't deserve you as a friend."

Sherlock's lips quirked up into a bitter smile at that but he refrained from pointing out to the DI that John had been his only friend. He didn't want to be pitied on top of everything. Instead he nodded in the direction of the door.

"You should still call Mycroft and let him know that John should be supervised while moving out. I would like my violin and microscope to still be intact when I get home."

Lestrade's expression hardened at that and he hurried out of the room with his phone in hand without another word. Sherlock inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he was grateful for the DI's support he couldn't stand much more of his sympathy at the moment. His eyes flickered to Sally who stood casually at the foot of his bed and pretended to inspect her nails. Now there was a small puzzle to solve to keep his mind from focusing on John's betrayal.

"Why did you defend me? I would have assumed that you would have enjoyed to rip me a new one?"

The angry expression wasn't what Sherlock had expected to see when Sally lifted her head and glared at him. "I know that we have never seen eye to eye but I thought that you knew me better than to believe that I would sink so low."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "You never had any qualms about calling me a freak before."

Sally didn't flinch but only shrugged at the statement. "Yes, because you are an arrogant jerk that treats crime solving like a game and who gets off on playing with serial killers."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest - he didn't get off on the Work - but Sally wasn't finished yet.

"I would never call you a freak for being transgender. It might be the only thing about you that makes you even slightly likeable."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at that. "Because you think of me as a former woman and..."

"Oh for Pete's sake, Holmes! For a supposed genius you are especially slow today. You are a little more likable because it means that you know what it means to belong to a discriminated minority."

Sherlock blinked and then it finally clicked - he really was slow today. "Oh, because you are..."

"Yes, because I am a black woman on the police force who has made it Sergeant." Sally sighed in exasperation even though the look in her eyes softened. "Look, can we stop this now? If we continue in this fashion it will feel like we have a bonding moment or some other nonsense."

Sherlock grinned and some of the tension left his body and he relaxed back against the horrible hospital issued pillow. "I agree we can't have that."

Silence fell over the room. If it hadn't been for the constant low-level pain that was coursing through his body Sherlock might have fallen asleep. The recent events had drained him of more of his energy than he had expected. Maybe if he charmed one of the nurses he might get a hit of morphine that would allow him to fall asleep.

"You know you could press charges against him."

Sherlock peeled his eyes open again - he hadn't realised he had closed them - and looked up at Sally who stood with crossed arms at the foot of his bed. "Whom?"

God, but he was slow today. If he at least was on the good painkillers the benefits would compensate for it. As it was, Sherlock was just exhausted enough to not work at his usual speed but not quite enough to knock him out for a few hours of much needed sleep. This was pure torture.

Sally didn't comment on his obvious question although the look in her eyes told Sherlock that it was a close thing. Instead she only sighed and nodded towards the door to his room. "Doctor Watson, of course."

Sherlock snorted and regretted it a second later as more pain flared up in his stomach. "For what? He was only stating what he was thinking of me."

Sherlock hoped that he had managed to keep the hurt and bitterness out of his voice but from the sympathetic look Sally gave him he hadn't succeeded.

"He insulted you and you have two police officers on your side that will back up your statement."

Sherlock swallowed the harsh retort that sprang to his mind when he noticed the earnest expression in Sally's eyes. She was only trying to help him and as much as Sherlock resented any form of sympathy he wouldn't gain anything from snapping at her. "It would lead to nothing. In the best case scenario the judges would only laugh their arses off before throwing the plaint into the bin. If I was especially unlucky word about it would get to the media and everyone would suddenly be private to my gender identity."

Sherlock couldn't help the shudder that ran down his spine at the thought. Everything he had built up in years of hard work would be destroyed overnight if people learned that he was transgender. They wouldn't see the detective in him anymore and only focus on his gender identity. A lot of people would judge and misgender him while just as many would defend him and hail him a brave hero of the transgender community. Every last one of them would only ever focus on his transition and what he had and hadn't done. No one would care anymore that he had solved dozens of cases or that he had composed his first piece of violin music at the age of twelve. All his accomplishments would be overshadowed by the simple fact that he had falsely been assigned female at birth. Sherlock took a deep breath and pushed the horrible thoughts away. It wouldn't come to that. There was no way that the public would learn of his best hidden secret. No way...

"You aren't factoring John Watson's wrath into this equation of yours," a tiny voice reminded him, "He doesn't only feel betrayed but he also believes that his anger is righteous. He could look for a way to get back at you."

Sherlock gaped as if someone had punched him on his stab wound. How could he have forgotten that?! John's stupid blog had at least two thousand followers - if not more. One post from him in which he revealed what he had learned about Sherlock would be enough to make the news spread like wildfire.

"Holmes?" Sally's face came into view as she leaned over him. "Are you alright? You look like you are going to pass out."

"No, I... John's blog." Sherlock knew that he wasn't making much sense as he pressed the words out while simultaneously trying to calm his racing heart as cold sweat broke out all over his body. Somehow though Sally seemed to get what he was on about as understanding entered her eyes before they turned to steel. Sherlock should give her more credit in the future.

"I am sure Greg has already thought of that but I will let him know just to be on the safe side." She turned to leave but then halted in front of the door and looked back at him over her shoulder. "If this fucker outs you to the whole world I will personally pile up as many complaints against him as possible."

Sherlock smiled weakly at that but nodded. "Thank you, Sergeant."

Surprise flickered over Sally's before she nodded back at him. "You're welcome, Holmes."

Sherlock waited until the door had closed behind her and only then allowed his face to crumple and his tears to fall as he was truly left alone with his sorrow and pain.