Various x Ftm Reader

Don't Mind the Needles ||Ftm!Sherlock Holmes||

Cw: mentions of being on HRT, mentions of needles, T shots, forgetting doses 
reads more like a headcanon 

Your shared flat was messy. It was an organized chaos you learned to live with—being able to navigate it with relative ease. You were usually able to find things, or at the very least ask Sherlock who usually knew. One of the few things that never got mixed up in the mess was your prescriptions. 

At first, Sherlock hid the fact that he was trans—despite deducing the same of yourself, he didn't think it any of your business until the two of you started dating. You understood, of course, but you were still surprised when you found out. After a while, though, it made sense why he seemed a little more understanding and accepting than most. 

He relaxed a little more once you moved in together—it was difficult to keep things from each other after all. But, while he used to clean up the mess of needles distributed throughout the flat before he confided in you, he was now more lax about it. He thought you wouldn't mind. You did understand his condition, after all. Now, he didn't care so much that you would come across the evidence of his medication. As a result, he often left needles lying around as he discarded them once he finished injecting the medication, and his brain quickly moved from one task to another. 

He would leave them out on the desk, the bedside table, the arm of his chair, and the kitchen and bathroom countertops. You were almost always picking up needles, especially if neither of you were expecting company. You didn't want either of you to accidentally prick yourself or mistake a used one for a new one. Not that Sherlock would ever admit to being careless or unaware of his surroundings on the rare occasion. 

It got to the point where you were able to notice a pattern in the litter—his schedule more or less. 

You noticed when he occasionally missed a dose—too wrapped up in his work to notice or care initially, just for the frustration with himself to set in later. You took it upon yourself to remind him when he needed to take a dose—gently interrupting him when he was zoned out or getting his attention when he was on a case. 

You usually gently tapped the sofa or chair he was zoning out in, then placed the testosterone and needle near his side within his reach. 

"Oh...thank you." He'd murmur before preparing to take the shot. He'd set the needle back down, then continue thinking. He'd occasionally get frustrated with you if a case was particularly difficult. But he knew what you were doing and why you were doing it. He appreciated it and was flattered that you knew his schedule, so he always tried making it up to you by playing violin or getting back home as soon as possible just to spend time with you.