echelonlove: (Default)
Pairing: Johnlock
Rating: G
Summary: Sherlock studies John's scar.
Word Count: 591
Author's Note: Written for the "Scars" square of my
Cotton Candy Bingo card. Also, this isn't brit-picked, so if there are any glaring Americanisms, please point them out to me...thanks! :D



Sherlock had scrutinized and memorized and categorized every inch of John’s body.  Every sensitive spot.  Every ticklish corner.  And every erogenous area.  Everything had been recorded and filed away in the “John Watson” section of his brain.  That is, every area except for the scar high on John’s left shoulder.  The one he had received in Afghanistan.  Try as Sherlock might, he couldn’t ever convince John to let him study it.

“No,” John said firmly once again.

“But John,” Sherlock countered.  “I know almost every inch of you.  I just need to study this last...”

“I’m not a bloody lab subject to be studied, Sherlock,” John burst.  “You can’t just go around asking people to show you their every flaw.”

“Ahh!  So you’re ashamed of your scar.  But why?”  He paced up and down the living room sorting through all of his John files.  “Your relationships haven’t been lasting very long, with the exception of ours of course.  They used to be longer, but something made you stop.  The one after the Sarah, what was her name?  Three years ago.  The one with the nose?  That was your last serious relationship before me.  I didn’t like her, why didn’t I like her?”

John rolled his eyes.  “You didn’t like her because she drew my attention away from you, you vain prick.”

“No, that’s not it.”  Sherlock sat down with a flourish.  “Ahh yes!” he exclaimed in discovery.  “She was too neat.  Any imperfection perturbed her.  Though she tolerated imperfections in herself, judging by her nose.”

“Sherlock!”

“She hated imperfection, and she viewed that scar on your shoulder as imperfect.  She pointed out its ugliness to you and you’ve been ashamed of it ever since.”

John stared angrily at Sherlock.  “Yes Sherlock.  And you’ve just said the same thing about it that she did.  Why can’t you just leave me alone?”  John stormed out of the room to their bedroom.

Sherlock chased after him and just barely managed to avoid the door hitting him in the face.  “John,” he pacified.  “I was merely pointing out what she thought of your scar.  Not my thoughts on the matter.”

John sat on the bed and glared.  “What are your thoughts on the matter, then?  It’s an imperfection?  Something to experimented on and studied?  A...”

“A part of you,” Sherlock interrupted.  “That’s all it really is about, John.  I want to know every part of you.  And your scar is one of your best parts.”

John stared at Sherlock dumbfounded.  “That’s really why you want to see it?  You’re not just saying what you think I want to hear?”

“Of course I’m not,” Sherlock scoffed.

“All right then.”  John lifted his shirt off and threw it to the side.  “Get on with it.”

Sherlock sat down next to John and lightly brushed his fingers over puckered skin.  John recoiled slightly on instinct, but managed to pull himself together to sit still under Sherlock’s examination.  “Do you know what this symbolizes, John?” Sherlock quietly asked.

John shook his head.

“This scar is your honor.  Your valor.  Your kindness.”  Sherlock leaned in and kissed the scar lightly.  “It symbolizes everything you are and everything that was absent in me, before you.  You manage to bring out the best in everyone around you.  So your scar,” Sherlock trace it again.  “Is everything I love about you.”

Overwhelmed, John leaned down and kissed Sherlock gently.  “I love you too.”
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