Title a modified quote from Orlando Gibbons 1583-1625

Here we go folks, the much anticipated (ok by like TWO people) answers about what is all going on! Ok not really ALL, but at least the big ones ;P

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Sherlock calmly waits till after John has taken his medication and eaten at least a tiny bit before starting slowly, "You have known Clara since you were quite young..." Deliberately wording the phrase so John feels the need to correct or validate his statement.

"Yes, I was 12, I think, when she and Harry started up."

Nodding Sherlock prepares to speak again, "So what ever this is, it is long reaching and began at the very latest when you were on the cusp of becoming a teenager." His eyes track to the paper bag for a moment, "Why does the chemist think you have a wife?"

John closes his eyes for a brief spate, then clearly trying to get his throat to work he's interrupted by Sherlock taking up the narrative. "You were very clear to me when I left to ask after the 'Watson" script, not 'J. Watson' or anything of the sort, so that the chemist would jump to her own conclusions." He watches as John's hand starts trembling a touch. "The scrip is made out to an 'H' Watson, which I assume is you using Harry as a front to get this drug, but the question remains, why would you maintain the fiction of a wife and be collecting medication intended for females."

John just wordlessly opens the paper bag and hands it to him. His eyes on John, Sherlock is taking in the sorrow 'Why sorrow?' and shame that cry out from his friend, whilst his fingers reach inside and pluck out the 21 day long packets. His forehead furrows a bit as he looks first at the blister packs and then at John, he's in a loop of this for a few minutes. "You don't suffer from migraines or severe acne, both of which would require you to be female anyw..."

His voice breaks off half way through the thought, seeing his friend flinch and look away from him. His mind races ahead to all sorts of conclusions, yet non of them make sense. "But John, if you were trans you'd be taking the opposite of this drug, so your not... But your far too masculine to have been suffering the long term effects of taking this medication."

John clears his throat and fiddling with the spoon lying on the tray beside the sugar bowl, "If you look at the dosage you'll see it is a micro dose meant only to keep my body in line."

Sherlock picks up the tray and places it on the coffee table removing the obstacle between them. He then slides closer and picks up John's hand taking the spoon out of that hand, as well transferring it to his left hand with out dropping John's in his right and placing the spoon on the tray. He uses his left hand to turn John's face towards him. Remembering Clara's admonishments he makes his face calm, reasonable, but not overly sympathetic, as John will more than likely think that is rooted in pity and be angry with him.

"I am not 'freaking out' nor am I inclined to jump onboard with any line of logic that says you are a different person than you were before I noticed these things." Looking from eye to eye frenetically, he searches for an increase in anxiety in his friend, "You are MY John Watson, the same person who threw over a marriage to nurse me."

At that reminder the stress in the room fractures, much like a long ago chat about a murderous cabby and John half laughs, "Yeah, it was a pretty crap marriage though."

Sherlock smiles, dropping his hand and leaning back away from John a touch, "And the infidelity just wasn't enough for you to leave her."

John blinks in a mildly startled manner, as though thinking of it for the first time, "Apparently not. Huh." and they both dissolve into giggles.

As their giggles taper off Sherlock's curiosity begins to grow and after a few moments of his eyes glazing over in contemplation John, shaking his head, opens up again. "Right, you STILL have questions, go on then."

"Alright... I'd really rather you told me your story." His expression one of chagrin, "I admit you pulled some spectacular wool over my eyes and I'm loath to dig myself further into failure."

Patting his (still!) best friend on the knee John smiles even wider, "You figured quite a bit out, many people would have dismissed the chemist as confusing my story with another 'Watson' instead of following the bizarre clues my life affords to it's mad conclusion."

Looking as though he's thinking carefully about what he's about to say John Watson prepares to tell his tale of woe. A deep sigh issues from him before he takes in a new breath to speak, "I was born a true hermaphrodite skewing heavily to the male side, 96% apparently, a result of two fertilised eggs combining into one zygote which developed separately for a while, my twin sister takes up a portion of my body which includes the female reproductive system."

Sherlock nods, "When did your parents tell you?"

Looking a bit conflicted John shrugs his right shoulder, "Well they told me I was different from day one I think, a special boy that had more 'bits' than others, but it wasn't until my 'sister' exerted her biology on me that they came clean about the rest."

The detective's gaze sharpens, his eyes closing to slits, "This is the revelation Clara overheard, that makes her so defensive of you."

John nods emphatically, "Yes, her and Harry were hiding out from my parents snogging on the roof and overheard the whole, 'well parts of you are interested in becoming a lady now so you'll have cramps, tenderness and maybe even bleeding." Shaking his head in amazement he continues, "Hell Clara was the one who went with me to the sexual health clinic when I was 14 to see exactly what was going on with my uterus."

His eyes widening in a Van Gogh moment, Sherlock almost trips over himself to spit out the deduction, "You said you couldn't 'have kids that way' and penetration would 'lead to naught' as far as having a child was concerned. You used the same carefully constructed statements as when you sent me for the script."

John is nodding, "Yes I did, though at that time I had rather hoped you'd never know this secret."

Now it is time for Sherlock to be confused, "But why John, the fact that you gender identify as male, born out by 96% of your genetic make-up, but could - if you chose to - give birth to a child isn't an issue." The clear pale eyes scan his flatmate reading the relief and guilt in his friend's posture and even the way his shoulders tilt towards Sherlock. "You are still you, nothing can change that, I should also hope that knowing me you could have guessed this would make no difference to me."

"Yes, well, not everyone is understanding Sherlock, and believe it or not I have never willingly told anyone."

"Well then, thank you for telling me and not saying 'bugger off Sherlock, it's my private life.' Can I possibly, I think it's the appropriate time, to give you a hug?"

John looks at him in a confused manner, eventually seeing his flatmate is trying to be supportive, something he'd never thought would happen. So John decides to go with it, "It is, yeah, thanks." and leans into his friends long limbed embrace. For a long moment they stay that way enjoying the comfort they each had to offer, then, "Wait, you said not everyone, what did you mean?"

John shakes his head, "Forget it Sherlock, it was a one night stand in my last tour, last night actually and I'll never see her again."

Sherlock nods once, securing this information away forever, in his mind palace. At his nearest convenience he'd get to the bottom of it; John has clearly been negatively effected by that liaison and a stop has to be put to that.