Sherlock Isn't a Girl's Name (Formerly Some Assembly Required)

Part 1

Sherlock is only eight years old when he first tries to convince himself that he doesn't care what people think, what they say.

People refuse to believe what he knows is true.

He isn't a sweet, adorable little girl. He is a boy.

~~~

''Andrea Celeste, what have you done to your beautiful hair!'' His mother shrieks

Sherlock simply stands there, scissors in hand. He won't hide it from his mother, it is impossible to. Long, dark ringlets are scattered on the bathroom floor, and the hair that once reached his mid-back now curls around his ears in a boyish way.

Sherlock likes it. It just seems right.

His mother doesn't think so.

''I cut it like it's supposed to be, Mummy.'' He sets the scissors on the sink, running his fingers through his newly short hair.

''Young lady.'' It doesn't take much for Mummy to be scary, and hands placed on her hips means Sherlock will probably be in trouble for a good long time. ''People are going to think you're a boy, and I don't want that.''

Never mind what Sherlock wants, it is all about Mummy. Sherlock's eyes are piercing as he glares at the floor. He isn't stupid. Glaring at Mummy will not make things any better.

''You clean this up, now. No chemistry set until we get you looking like a proper young lady again.''

Sherlock doesn't get the chance to reply before Mummy turns and leaves the room.

With a sigh, Sherlock fetches a broom to sweep it all up. It gives him a bit of pleasure to see all of his hated hair on the floor, in a pile, and finally in the bin where he can forget it ever existed.

Now he'll just have to do something about these stupid dresses his mother insists he always wear.

With a smirk that seems a little too mature for his small, round face, he picks up the scissors again. He can do without his chemistry set for a while.