Various x FtM Reader (Parent Preferences & One Shots)

Home For the Holidays ||Sherlock Holmes & John Watson + Reader||

Requested by  @Adhd_sucks 

Cw: mentions of adoption, biological family, transphobia, deadnaming & misgendering, and being given "feminine compliments" (pretty, beautiful, etc.)

He/they pronouns used for reader

Additional information: you call both John and Sherlock 'dad'. for the most part, I refer to the biological parents as bio mom/dad for the most part to keep it separate

Word count: 2229

D/n= deadname

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The car idled in front of a flat you had never seen before. There was a green wreath hanging on the door, with various red leaves and faux berries weaved within. It was more decoration than the 221 flat generally had—wreaths were usually knocked off halfway through the season, burned sometime before, or otherwise destroyed, so your adoptive parents didn't even bother. You could see a tree in the window you knew belonged to your biological parents—even from the ground, you could tell it was embellished with fairy lights and ornaments.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears—Sherlock and John adopted you when you were a teenager, but this was your first time meeting your biological family. You found out who they were recently, and asked to spend Christmas with them. John seemed taken aback, while Sherlock was more interested in how you found them, but in the end, they both agreed to let you spend the holiday with them.

Of course, John and Sherlock treated you as if you were their own child. While they respected any time you needed to adjust to your living situation, it didn't make them any less protective or caring.

You decided to go alone—they offered to accompany you, even in the car, but you declined. You contacted them asking if you could celebrate Christmas, and they agreed—seeming eager to meet you. The only problem was you had to use your deadname, refer to yourself as their daughter...the whole bit. John and Sherlock knew...even Mycroft referred to you as his nephew, but your biological parents had no way of knowing.

You paid the cabbie, and took a deep breath before stepping out onto the pavement. The chilly December air hit your cheeks, combating the warmth of the car. You shivered, but closed the car door, and made your way up to the door. You heard the car pull away once you reached the door, and felt the nerves spike. You closed your eyes, remembering the weight of your phone in your pocket, as well as your wallet—you could call John and Sherlock if you needed, and you had money.

You opened your eyes again, looking up at the big wreath. You rang the doorbell, and heard voices inside after its chime died down.

A man wearing a jumper opened the door.

"D/n?" He asked.

You nodded, and smiled.

"Yes, hello." You smiled, realizing you didn't know how you were supposed to introduce yourself. You could barely get your deadname off your tongue, so the vague greeting would have to do.

"Wow, I suppose it has been a long time, hasn't it? You've grown so much!" The man beamed. "Come in, we're upstairs. Your mother is making supper."

He stepped aside, allowing you to step through the threshold. The layout wasn't too different from that of Baker Street—there was an entrance, with a set of stairs going up on one side, and a door separating the entryway from the stairs on the other.

He went up first, allowing you to follow. He led you into the kitchen, where he announced your presence to a woman standing over a variety of pots and pans.