Just Some Johnlock Oneshots

Scars

Just so you know, Mary doesn't exist in this oneshot. I have a love/hate relationship with her. Like she's a badass but super caring but also makes me really sad at the same time.

I also couldn't remember if Sherlock was gone for two or three years, so I put two. 

John was running across the battlefield, panting for breath. He'd be safe if he ran just another mile. His camp was finally in sight but never seemed to get closer. Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him call his name. Sherlock. He turned his face to see Sherlock running next to him, the man's face and hair covered in dust and dirt. Sherlock ran fast, quickly gaining a few yards on John. Sherlock turned to check on him when a shot rang out. John felt the heat of the bullet whiz past his ear. It landed in Sherlock's chest. Instantly Sherlock began to fall backwards. Behind Sherlock, John could see the London skyline. He was on top of a building. The building. Sherlock fell backwards and backwards, off the edge of the building. Sherlock reached out for John, and John did the same.

Sherlock!

John's eyes flung open. He sat up and wiped his eyes then ran a hand across his face, trying to wipe away the pain in his mind. He took a moment to calm his racing breath before sliding his legs out from under the covers. He couldn't stay in bed.

John trudged down the stairs leading to the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Sherlock sitting at the table. From his view, John could see Sherlock hunched over himself, hands over his face, quietly sobbing. John took a step forward to reassure his flatmate but paused when the wooden step creaked.

Sherlock's curly head flung up, his eyes wide, and John could see Sherlock was feeling the same emptiness he was. The poor man's eyes were bloodshot and tears were streaming down his face like rivers. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and John could see goosebumps across his bare arms and chest.

"Oh, Sherlock," John whispered before rushing forward and bringing his flatmate against his chest. Sherlock's sobs didn't stop, instead he clung to John, burying his face in John's t-shirt. John ran a hand over Sherlock's curls and stroked the man's shoulder. Without a second thought, he pressed a kiss into Sherlock's mop of chocolate hair.

While John was surprised to see his friend in such a state, it also made sense considering what he had gone through the past two years. Mycroft wouldn't even tell him all of it. Just that Sherlock had gone on secret missions after faking his death. He got caught and was imprisoned in another country for a while before coming back home a few days ago.

Sherlock wouldn't say anything about his time away. But he had definitely changed. While John was absolutely furious at the detective for making him believe he was dead for two whole years, John loved the man. He couldn't leave him. Sherlock moved back into the apartment, not even having to get furniture , because John couldn't bring himself to move it. Not even the science equipment scattered over the table. 

Things hadn't returned to normal. John finally started to understand why Sherlock lied after the first days back together, but he was still so upset. He went through hell while Sherlock was gone. He apologized for losing his cool at the restaurant and punching Sherlock, but that didn't mean he wasn't over the emotional rollercoaster that was finding out his best friend was alive.

But now John didn't see Sherlock as his best friend. During those two years, John spent a lot of time thinking. He realized that his feelings toward Sherlock were deeply rooted in his soul. They were deeper than a platonic love. John loved Sherlock.

The emotions swirled through John as he held the man he loved against his chest. He pressed his cheek against the top of Sherlock's head and moved his hand to stroke Sherlock's back.

Both men recoiled at the action. Sherlock with a grunt of pain and John with a gasp of shock. John knew that feeling. He had treated men with the same injuries before.

"Sherlock," John breathed.

Sherlock shook his head, his eyes pooling with fresh tears. The man jumped out of the chair and turned to run away to his room.

John's heart dropped. "Oh my God," he whispered. At his words Sherlock paused.

His back was full of horrible long welts and scars. Some extremely deep, others just cutting though the first layer of skin. His normally pale white back was black and blue, mixed with the terrifying shade of blood. They were still healing. Some were weeks, if not months old. Others looked like they happened the week prior.

"Sherlock," John spoke again, his voice breaking.

Sherlock began to move. "No, please don't leave me. Not again." he whispered and took a few steps closer to the other man.

John could see Sherlock's chest heaving. John's heart broke. Once again he pulled Sherlock into his arms, holding him tighter but more gently than before. After a few seconds of standing motionless, Sherlock brought his arms around John's back, pressing them together without an inch between them.

John suddenly pulled his face back. "Oh my God, I pushed you on your back," John whimpered, a few tears escaping his overfilling eyes.

"Shh," Sherlock muttered and brought his hand behind John's neck, pulling him close again.

"I'm so sorry," John whispered into Sherlock's lean neck.

"I know," John could feel Sherlock's deep voice rumble through his chest, finding himself comforted by the feeling.

After a few minutes, John braved himself to speak up. "Will you ever tell me what happened?"

After a few moments of silence Sherlock answered. "I don't know," He sighed. John nodded and pressed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's neck.

"I love you."

Sherlock tensed and John felt his stomach drop. Sherlock brought his hands to cup John's face, leaning down to look him in the eyes. "Do you really?"

John's heart burst at the beautiful smile that graced Sherlock's face. John nodded. Sherlock wasted no time bringing their lips together in a soft and experimental kiss. These new emotions were terrifying but wonderful for the both of them. After a few gentle kisses, John pulled back. His stomach was filled with warmth, and the feeling grew with Sherlock's next words.

"I love you too." A soft laugh escaped John's throat and he grabbed Sherlock by the waist, lifting the taller man up so his legs were wrapped around John's middle. Sherlock let out an uncharacteristic but incredibly adorable giggle at the action. John carried his love into Sherlock's bedroom. He only released Sherlock once they reached the bed. Leaving the lamp on the nightstand turned on to ward off any dark thoughts, the two curled up together and eventually fell into a pleasant sleep.