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Mycroft never thought he would ever have a niece or a nephew. His brother being who he was it was hard to imagine him settle down and have children. Then John Watson came in the picture and he started to reconsider. John was the kind of man who would eventually want a child and Mycroft doubted that his brother would be able to refuse him.
Things however didn’t happen as he had predicted and John ended up marrying someone else, breaking his brother’s heart. The idiot. Granted Sherlock had faked his death for two years, but still. Fortunately everything had turned out fine in the end and John had left his murderer of a wife and gone back to Sherlock.
Only now there was a baby with John. His baby. It didn’t take long for the two men to finally admit their feelings for each other, become a couple and subsequently make of Mycroft an uncle. It only became official at John and Sherlock wedding, but just like Sherlock already considered himself the father of Rachel, Mycroft already considered himself her uncle. By some miracle Mycroft had become an uncle. It was still a fact that frequently amazed him.
To Sherlock damn and Mycroft incomprehension the child loved him from the first moment. As she grew up Mycroft often found himself babysitting for John and Sherlock when they needed time alone or had a case out of London. He loved to teach her things and watch her evolve. She was constantly changing and it was fascinating. Nevertheless, there was one change he had not expected to see when first meeting his niece.
When she came to see him after school on Monday he was slightly surprised. His niece was thirteen and she would come to his house at least once a month in the week-end spend a couple of hours with him. She was not however in the habit of coming after school. She had texted him asking if she could come by to talk to him about something and worried it might be something serious he had automatically agreed and cleared his schedule for the night.
She sat in front of him in the living room and told him everything. She was not a she, but a he. He didn’t have a niece, but a nephew. Mycroft could not say he was especially surprised, but it was still not something you heard every day. He didn’t ask him if he was sure. If he was telling him he was. He had no doubts about that.
Instead the first thing he asked was:
“What shall I call you from now on?”
His nephew looked a bit conflicted.
“I actually don’t know yet.”
“Then I shall not use your birth name until you decide.”
The teenage boy smiled.
“Did your fathers bring you to buy new clothes yet?”
*(As of right now I am going to use Oliver’s name in narration even if the characters don’t know the name yet. Otherwise it will be very confusing.)
Oliver didn’t have very feminine clothes to begin with, but Mycroft sensed that somehow the act of buying new clothes would be important in the boy transition.
“Dad said he would bring me Saturday.”
“You know I have the upmost respect for you father, but we both know his taste in clothing is not the most developed.”
Oliver gave a quick laugh.
“Yes, he does love his jumper.”
“What do you say I buy you some clothes too?”
The boy looked taken aback.
“I.... When?”
“Well, right now of course.”
He had cleared his night he might as well use it.
“Aren’t you busy or something?”
“Do I look busy to you?”
“You always look busy.”
Mycroft smiled a little.
“Well, I am not right now. Tell your fathers you will be back around 8. We are going shopping.”
Oliver texted John in front of him in the car as they went to a shop Mycroft was sure would have clothes for the boy age and size. The thirteen years old eyes went big when he first saw the price on some of the shirts. There was nothing under a hundred pound.
When one of the sales assistant came to asks what they were looking for Mycroft said they needed help to find some new clothes for his nephew. Oliver blushed with pleasure. If the man had doubts that Oliver was really a boy the warning glare Mycroft gave him made him keep it to himself. Two hours later they had a new suit that would be adjusted in the week, a couple of very pricy jeans (If he was going to wear jeans at least they were going be good quality), a couple of equally pricy shirt and two sleeveless suit jacket that Oliver seemed to love very much. Thankfully Oliver had not inherited John sense of fashion and took more after Sherlock and Mycroft than his biological father.
Back in the car Mycroft commented on Oliver new haircut for the first time, saying it fitted him very well. It was John’s length and Mycroft had to admit that he looked a lot more like his father like this. He also asked casually how Sherlock and John had reacted to the news. Sherlock had apparently said: “Oh... Ok” and that meant that he had understood everything and had no problem with it. John on the other hand had been a little more confused and before he could asks any questions Sherlock would deem stupid his husband had cut him.
“Wait I want to be sure I under...”
“Our son was very clear John. He is a boy who was assigned female at birth. He now wishes to correct that and start going by male pronouns, a male name and be seen as the boy that he is.”
Oliver commented that he personally didn’t think he had been that clear considering how nervous he was. Mycroft nodded and the boy continued his tale.
After Sherlock speech John had been shocked into silence for a very long minute according to Oliver. Then he had said:
“If you are sure that’s how you feel.”
“Yes.”
“Then we will respect your wishes and help you the best that we can. We love you very much.”
Mycroft had a little smile. He knew from years of observation that John had developed the habit saying “We love you” instead of “I love you” to compensate for Sherlock who nearly never said it. It was not that he didn’t feel it, but he had never been really good at talking about his emotions.
Oliver ended his story by saying how lucky he had been compared to many people and how happy he was. Mycroft agreed that he was lucky and he kept his worries about the future for himself. Discrimination against transgender peoples was not a thing from the past. It was still very present and could easily hurt his nephew many times in his life.
When they arrived in front of 221B Oliver said goodbye to him.
“Thank you uncle Mycroft.”
He then hugged him and before Mycroft could really return the hug was out of the car. Mycroft didn’t usually like physical affection very much, but for his nephew he always made an exception. That still didn’t mean that it happened very often.
“You should come eat with me Sunday.” Mycroft proposed before the car door was closed.
Oliver smiled at him and nodded.
“Ok. I will text you.”
***
Oliver arrived at two in the afternoon. Mycroft announced that they would cook together their meal and Oliver warned him that if it tasted like dead rat it would be his own fault for letting him cook. Mycroft still made him cook.
As they started cooking he asked Oliver if they still ate as much takeaway as they used to at home.
“Dad tries to cook more often, but papa always complains that it takes too much time and to be fair dad is not the best cook for things other than breakfast.”
“In other words you eat Chinese and Indian far more often than is healthy.”
“We get delivery from Angelo’s too.” Oliver protested.
Mycroft smiled and gave Oliver vegetable to cuts as he worked on preparing the sauce for the rabbit.
“Have you thought about a name?”
“Well... I narrowed my choices to a short list, but I’m still not sure. I asked dad opinion, but he didn’t have any idea and papa only gave me really weird names like Sherringford, Ferdinand and Scott.”
Mycroft had to hide his amusement at his brother trying to push his son to choose one of his own names. Sherringford had been the name of their paternal great grandfather and Ferdinand was a famous scientific.
“I can see how that would not be the best choice. Tell me, what is on your list?”
“I have Brandon, Jasper, Oliver, Cedric, Thomas and Liam.
“I believe you could not have made a more English list.” Mycroft commented making his nephew laugh.
“I like those names.” He added. “Some of them would suit you very well.”
“That’s mainly why I chose them. I don’t want to just pick a cool name. I want it to sound like me. You know what I mean?”
“I think I understand. Is there one that you think sound most like you?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
“What do you say we try names for the rest of the day?”
“What do you mean try?”
“I will call you different names and you can see which one sound the more natural to you.”
Oliver looked thoughtful.
“Yeah, I think that could help.”
“Well then, could you pass me the salad Jasper?”
The game went on for the rest of the afternoon and during supper. After having tested Oliver’s list two times Mycroft decided to test some idea of his own. He could see immediately how Oliver felt about a name just by the expression on his face. At some point, he started throwing really ridiculous names just to see his reaction and made his nephew burst out into laughter more than once.
When they were clearing the table he called him Oliver for the fourth time that night and saw on his face that he liked it. He barely reacted when Mycroft used it again two minutes later to tell him to leave the dishes in the sink. It seemed they had a winner.
“When are you parent supposed to come and get you?” Mycroft asked.
Oliver looked at his phone.
“Dad just texted me. They should be there in an hour.”
“What do you wish to do until then?”
“We could play chess? I have been practicing on the computer. I’m getting better.”
“You do not love playing chess very much as I recall.” Mycroft remarked confused.
Why was his nephew proposing to play a game that he didn’t like?
“No, but I know you do and you don’t often get to play.”
Mycroft felt something squeeze in his chest. He was silent for a moment trying to hide his emotion. He loved that boy very much.
“I accept, but only one game. After that we will do something that you enjoy.”
“Deal!”
They were sat in the library playing when Mycroft finally asked:
“So have you made up your mind yet?”
Oliver looked lost in deep thought.
“You called me Oliver a couple of times. You didn’t use the other names as much.”
“I noticed you seemed to like it.”
“Yes, I did. It felt right somehow.”
“Well, then...”
Oliver nodded and stated seriously:
“My name is going to be Chad.”
Mycroft made a surprised and slightly disgusted face. It made Oliver burst out laughing.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Oh my god your face!”
Mycroft sighed, relieved.
“No seriously, I’m pretty sure my name is going to be Mike.”
Mycroft glared at his nephew and the boy laughed again.
“Sorry, sorry, I could not resist.”
“What are you really going to be called?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you already guessed.”
“Indeed, I have, but just to be sure do tell me.”
“From now on I’m Oliver.” The boy said with an enthusiastic smile.
It was obvious from his face that he could not quite yet believe that it was true. That he had just chose the name he would use for the rest of his life.
“I’m glad to hear it. Let me know when you wish to change your name legally. I will make sure things go smoothly.”
“You mean you will bypass the official channel so I don’t have to wait for months?”
“Yes.”
Well, it was true after all.
“Thank you.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
They finished their game of chess and focussed more on the game. It was true that Oliver had gotten better at it. Never enough to beat Mycroft of course, but nobody could beat Mycroft at chess except Sherlock and he had only done it once at twenty two. They had not played together since then, Sherlock claiming that playing with Mycroft was boring and too easy. Mycroft knew very well that it was false, but he never insisted to play again.
Sherlock had never been a fan of chess in the first place and Mycroft suspected he had only learned it as a child because at the time everything Mycroft did he wanted to do. Then he had only kept at it in the hope of one day beating him.
After his game of chess with Oliver they went to the library and found a history book about the communist and Anarchist regimes in Italy. Contrary to Sherlock Oliver didn’t have an aversion for everything that concerned history and political science. At twelve he had asked Mycroft his first question about it after reading animal farm and his interest had only grown since then. He didn’t understand everything yet, but with Mycroft help and some reading he suggested to the boy he quickly became very well versed in the subject. More than John and Sherlock had ever been anyway.
So they read one of Mycroft book and Oliver asked him some questions about the things he didn’t understand. Mycroft suspected he was pretending to understand less than he actually did because he knew how much Mycroft loved to teach him. He didn’t mind.
The door bell rang interrupting them and they went to open the door. Sherlock and John were both well in their fifties and they still looked like excited children almost everytime they came back from a complicated case. They entered the house and Oliver looked at them happily.
“I chose my name.” He exclaimed.
Sherlock side eyes Mycroft.
“Did you help him chose it?”
“Well, it’s not as if he could count on you considering you seriously suggested Sherringford and Ferdinand.”
John looked at his husband surprised and then broke into laugher.
“Did you really suggest those names?”
Sherlock mumbled something that sounded like a “yes, I don’t see what’s wrong with them” and John laughed even more.
“What did you suggest to him then?” Sherlock asked Mycroft sounding accusatory.
“I did not suggest any names to him. I simply helped him decide which name he loved the most.”
Oliver chose this moment to speak.
“I chose Oliver.”
Sherlock looked pleasantly surprised and John had a soft smile.
“I can’t deny that it is a good name.” Sherlock said and John hit him on the arm.
“Shut up git. It’s a great name. I love it.”
“Mycroft even told me he would help to make my legal name change faster.” Oliver explained sounding like his uncle had promised to buy him an attraction park.
“If he had not proposed I would have forced him.” Sherlock admitted.
John smiled at his husband and he made those same heart eyes that used to annoy Mycroft so much thirteen years ago.
“Go get your coat Oliver. Mycroft car is waiting for us.” Sherlock said, testing his new son’s name. Of course he didn’t even ask for Mycroft to lend him a car. He just knew Mycroft had texted his chauffeur the minute the door bell had rang.
Just as they were about to leave John face changed.
“I just realized... have you thought about telling your grandparents?” He asked in to his son.
From the look on the boy’s face he had not thought about them yet.
Sherlock parents had considered Oliver their grandchild since the first time they had seen him at five months. John and Sherlock were not even officially together yet (although everyone knew it was just a question of time) and they were saying how happy they were to finally be grandparents. They had probably lost any hope of it happening before that and with reasons. Oliver saw them around four times a year. Mainly at Christmas and various celebrations. They loved their grandson and Oliver loved them equally.
Mycroft knew his parents were open minded. Sherlock never even had to officially tell them he was gay. He just mentioned he preferred boys in answer to a comment from his mother as a teenager and that had been that. His parents had barely reacted.
Mycroft had told his mother he was bisexual at 18 when she had asked in passing, but her only reaction had been to say: “I’m glad to finally know. I had been wondering.” She had then kissed his head and gone on with her day.
He really was not worried in the least about their reaction. Oliver and John however did look worried. Sherlock noticed it too and he tried to calm them.
“Don’t worry. They will not react badly. It won’t matter to them.” He said to his son.
“Sherlock is right” he added. “The worst thing they will do is tell you they love you very much multiple times the first day to reassure you.”
Oliver smiled and looked at John for a moment. Mycroft guessed it was exactly what John had done the first day.
“In that case, that’s settled. We will call them as soon as you’re ready.” John said and Oliver nodded. “Bye Mycroft and thank you for everything.”
Sherlock grunted something that meant he agreed with his husband.
“It was my pleasure. Goodbye Oliver.”
“Bye uncle Mycroft.”
The boy had a big smile on his face as he left and even after thirteen years Mycroft still could not believe how lucky he was to have such a wonderful boy call him uncle.