Random Sherlock Oneshots

Scars

Sherlock was once again, famously wrapped up in a sheet, lying on the couch, softly snoring. John looked over at him, slightly annoyed and even more so amused. He stopped mid-smile and gaped.

Sherlock's back was marred with scars, some of which were still slightly purple. It was painful even to look at.

"Oh, my god." John said. When did this happen? Last week? Last month? He remembered a few of them, one long one that stretched from his right shoulder to the middle of his back. That was from one time when Sherlock had pushed John out of the way and had taken a knife to the back.

Another one was from a crazy man who tried to push Sherlock into the path of his friend, and he landed on the ground, and a narrow, neat, clean cut marked his lower back.

But the rest of them? He had no clue. Sherlock was back from the 'dead', but that was three weeks ago. When in the world could this have happened? While Sherlock was 'dead'? Or after?

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Those...on your back...how?" John asked, trying to whisper out a broken apology, not quite knowing what to say, but wanting to say something, anything to help Sherlock, to say that he was sorry.

"It wasn't your fault." Sherlock said, turning around, wrapping the sheet around him and looking at John. "There's no reason you should say sorry."

"I-I..." John tried to stutter, but Sherlock stood up and tried to reassure him as much as he could. John was starting to tear up.

"Don't worry, please don't cry, please don't." Sherlock said, starting to panic, not knowing what to say.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, don't be."