Sherlock Gender Headcanons

The title describes it perfectly, Send in your gender headcanons about any Sherlock character from any au you like!

[sherlockgenderheadcanons-blog]

Life is but a dream

Sherlock yawned and swung her feet, frustrated that they didn't reach the floor. "How much longer Myc?" Her brother responded with a disinterested grunt as he ran the brush through her hair, which was slowly getting longer now that she pitched a fit whenever her mother or father tried to cut it, stating "A gentleman's hair should never look so messy!" She liked her hair messy, and she wasn't a gentleman.

   She sighed heavily and kicked her feet harder, whining under her breath until Mycroft finally snapped. "You were the one who asked me to help you in the first place Sherlock!" She turned her head to smile at him, she was glad that he was here with her, being less than perfect.

    "Sing me a song!" She demanded, looking at herself in the mirror that Mycroft had given to her the last time they were alone. "And you're not doing it right, that's a ponytail not a braid!" Her brother rolled his eyes and undid his work, starting over again. He waited a few moments before choosing a song to sing.

   "Row, row, row, your boat gently down the stream..." He ran a brush through her hair, working out any tangles that may still be present after the last round. "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream." He began to weave his younger sister's hair together into a loose braid, knowing that she liked it to look messy. She complained about it hurting if it was too tight and would make him do it again. "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream..." He started to sing again, smirking. "If you see an alligator don't forget to scream!" He finished, reaching to tickle the little girl.

    Sherlock shrieked and fell out of her chair, Mycroft following to tickle her on the floor. "Mycroft stop! Stoppit, I-I can't!" She managed to choke out the words between giggles, kicking at him to try to get him off of her. "No faaaiir!" She whined once he stopped tickling her, looking proud of himself. "That's not part of the song!"

  "Consider it punishment for making me redo your hair three times." He stated, standing up and brushing himself off. "Now, I have to go see father and talk to him about something." Sherlock frowned as she watched him head for the door, stopping him by grabbing his shirt sleeve and glaring up at him. "Sherlock I have to-"

   "Play pirates with me instead! I'll let you be the captain this time if you do!" She pleaded with him, her voice getting high pitched as she tugged on his sleeve. "Please?" Mycroft stared at her for a moment, debating with himself before visibly giving in, his posture relaxing.

   "I suppose so, but Sherlock?" She paused her celebratory dance when she saw the grave look on Mycroft's face. Tilting her head and wondering if she did something wrong.

   "What?" Mycroft smiled and tussled her hair, to which she protested loudly.

   "I'd be a terrible captain."

[sherlockgenderheadcanons-blog]

A Waltz for One

Mycroft liked being alone. It was the only time he- they could really be...true, could be who they really were without having to hold back or hide the parts that were upsetting. After a long day of being being "Sir" and "Mister Holmes" and "Sherlock's brother" they could finally just be...Mycroft, and all that that entails.

Behind closed (and locked) doors Mycroft slid off all their masculine clothes, surveying the closet for something more fitting for their particular mood. They choose a deep blue button up and a long skirt, they were slightly embarrassed about it, the reason they had brought the skirt. It reminded them of a princess, how it billowed when they twirled. They didn't think of themselves as a princess of course! A queen if they were in a particularly femme mood and all other times a ruler, never a king. Never an ice man. 

    After they were dressed they felt more relaxed, putting on a record and dancing alone. It was a waltz for one, their arms in the air as if dancing with a partner, switching between leading and following. They had decided on the Detective Inspector for this night's imagined partner, he had seemed to take a liking to them lately...In their fantasy he asked them to dance with a shy smile on his face and they accepted courteously. Greg would be a clumsy dancer, two left feet, and he would laugh apologetically. they could almost feel Greg's hands on their waist, their shoulders....Greg's stubble brushing against their cheek, his breath in their ear...they quickly scolded themselves for such thoughts. He was interested in Mycroft Holmes, the ice man, the all powerful man who could have you killed with the snap of his fingers. Not this Mycroft, the one who read poetry and sang themselves to sleep with love songs and danced alone.

                                       The record stopped.

    They stood there for a moment, in a daze. In their mind Greg had ceased dancing with them and pushed away, looking revolted, disgusted by what Mycroft was. They took a few steadying breathes and turned away, starting the song over again.

   This time they didn't dance, they sat on the floor, skirt pooled around them like a black puddle, and cried.