[Oxytocin] Sherlock Holmes x FTM!Reader

Chapter One-Who are you?

TW-Slurs against trans, gays, and neurodivergents.

I was never good at introductions, and neither was Sherlock, so we were both kind of screwed in that category. I would mumble, and stumble, and Sherlock would insult, and verbally assault. The words we got called were of clear ill intent, but you get used to being called slurs after a while. Like my older sister always used to say. "Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". Though let's be honest, words hurt, sometimes even more than breaking bones. How exactly did I meet Sherlock? It's something I ask myself everyday... How did I meet the high-functioning sociopath, Sherlock Holmes?...

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[Y/N] ran down the hallways of his local school. He wasn't late or anything, in fact, school had just now ended. Instead, he was chasing someone as they had stolen his shoes, and since he only had one pair of shoes, he really needed them back. If not obvious enough, he was currently running on his socks, which meant he had slipped a decent amount of times now, leaving multiple bruises on his already bruised up legs. Along with the bruises, his ankles would randomly start hurting really bad if he ran on his tip toes, which he did far too often.
"Give them back now!," [Y/N] yelled as he started running even faster. He often had a habit of running until he couldn't anymore, which is why he usually walked around with ankle braces, and a cane. In response to [Y/N]'s yelling, the person gave them back, but not in a normal way. He threw them straight at [Y/N]'s face. [Y/N] groaned and moaned for a minute, holding his nose, then quickly put his shoes back on. "Bloody asshole...," he mumbled. He attempted to get up, but was met with the unpleasant feeling of pain after running on weak ankles. "I forgot I'm practically disabled...," [Y/N] mumbled as he struggled to get up.
At the age of ten, [Y/N] suffered a motor vehicle accident that caused him to permanently limp. He didn't know why his ankles were like this though, all he knew was that they had always been like this. To help even just a little, he wore ankle braces, carried a cane, and enough painkillers to be considered a drug addict.
Well anyways, [Y/N] slipped his shoes on, and quickly got out of the school. He didn't have any homework, and his family didn't come pick him up, so most of the time he went to the local park, which had a bunch of little ducks, which [Y/N] loved to feed. So he did exactly that. He currently sat perched upon a small yellow bridge, throwing some bread crumbs to the ducks. Suddenly, there was a light rustling in the trees, followed by a yelp, and a very bewildered [Y/N].
"What the- Where did you come from!?," [Y/N] yelled as he looked at the random boy who had just fallen from a tree onto him.
"Where did that looking glass go, I just had it?," the other boy murmured, still on [Y/N].
"If you're gonna ignore me, at least get off of me!," [Y/N] scowled as he pushed the boy off of him, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in.
"You! Help me back up onto that tree?," the boy semi-asked. [Y/N] blinked for a bit, but then decided "Why not?". He grabbed the boy by his torso, and lifted him up, letting him climb onto his shoulders. The boy grabbed onto a very sturdy branch, and climbed onto the tree. He found his looking glass, and quite literally jumped down, making [Y/N] catch him.
"Maybe give me a warning before you decide to jump next time. What is your name anyways?"
"Sherlock Holmes. We have the same science class, how do you not know my name?"
"Because I don't pay attention to people. [D/N] [L/N] by the way," [Y/N] said as he placed Sherlock's feet back on the ground.
"Isn't [D/N] too much of a girly name for someone like you? You are a boy are you not?," Sherlock asked.
"I wish I was a boy. I don't go by [D/N], I go by [Y/N]," He responded.
"Just say that the first time. I don't care what your gender identity is, it doesn't bother me. That's your business, not mine," Sherlock cleaned his looking glass. "Anyways, thanks for the help, I've got things to do, farewell." With that, [Y/N] was once again alone.

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The following day, [Y/N] paid a lot more attention to the people in his class, trying to spot Sherlock to make sure he wasn't being schizophrenic yesterday.
"Looking for me, are you?," Sherlock whispered into [Y/N]'s ear. He squeaked, and turned around. "Jumpy I see. I sit right next to you by the way, so you can see why I was surprised when you said you didn't know who I was."
"I told you I didn't pay attention to people," [Y/N] mumbled.
"Fair enough, I don't either."
"Hey I've been wondering something. I asked about you this morning, and people told me you can tell someone their whole life story with just a look. Is that true?"
"You walk with a cane due to a motor vehicle. You also wear ankle braces due to your ankles being naturally weak-"
"How can you even tell I'm wearing ankle braces, I wear them under my trousers?"
"Your American, I can tell due to your accent, and also the way your pronounce certain words-"
"Well you are correct about that."
"You also want to be a scientist. You only seem to really pay attention to this class, and art. I know because I have the same schedule as you. But how does that make me know that you want to be a scientist? Because you wrote it on your "get to know me" page on the first day of school."
"Clever boy!," [Y/N] praised. Sherlock wasn't used to praise, most people would be annoyed, but this boy didn't seem annoyed, he seemed in awe.
"Tha-Thank you, I think..."

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[Y/N] sat in front of a gravestone, the only sound being heard was crows, and [Y/N]'s peaceful breathing. He didn't have any dead family members, but yet he found the graveyard so deeply comforting. Maybe it was the peaceful quiet, or the gloomy vibe, or maybe it was the fact that [Y/N] himself wished he was part of the world of the dead. His parents wouldn't be there to force him to be a girl. His classmates wouldn't be there to call him a "tranny", or a "retard", or even a "faggot". And most of all, he would be alone, with only the bugs there to consume him. He suddenly heard a few gentle taps on the pavement, and immediately knew who it was.
"Tell me, Holmes. What is it that's so enticing about following me around?," he asked as he opened an eye to look at Sherlock.
"The real question here is what is so enticing about a graveyard?," Sherlock asked as he stood in front of [Y/N].
"It's romantic. The very most romantic place ever, my friend."
"Friend?"
"What, don't like being called such a friendly term? You prefer "genius", or "The Wonderful Holmes"?
"No. I'm just surprised you consider me a friend."
"You don't?"
"Not until now."

A/N-This was just an info chapter, next chapter will be in the present→