The taxi journey had passed in total silence. Neither could think of a word to say to the other- Sherlock, a man of extreme intellect, could not decipher the meaning behind John's words. He had defended him, of course, but it felt like more of a duty than anything else.

They entered the flat together, Sherlock hanging up his coat whilst John angrily climbed the stairs two at a time. By the time Sherlock reached the flat, John was in the kitchen with his back to him, making a cup of tea.

"John," Sherlock began.

"Want some tea?" John said flatly, messing with the cutlery drawer.

"Er, sure. But, John, I-"

"Milk?"

Sherlock frowned. He knew how he liked his tea, it seemed pointless to ask. "Fine. I'll get the mugs."

John, still with his back to him, shook his head. "I'll get them."

Sherlock grabbed the handle of the cupboard, just a little above John's head. "It's no trouble."

John turned and saw Sherlock next to him. In a moment that felt like years, he flinched.

Sherlock shrunk backwards, clutching a mug to his chest. It hurt more every time it happened, it was almost a physical wound now, getting deeper and deeper.

"Actually," he said quietly. "Forget the tea."

"Sherlock," John said, a little hoarsely. "I didn't-"

"What, John?" Sherlock retorted, suddenly angry. "You didn't mean to give away the fact I'm grotesque? Because believe me, I've heard worse, so go ahead."

"I don't think you're ugly, Sherlock!" John protested.

Sherlock laughed derisively. "Whatever. I'd prefer you didn't lie to me."

John took a step closer to him. "I'm not lying. And it wouldn't matter if you were ugly, Sherlock, I'd still-"

"Oh yeah, 'Beauty's only skin deep', right? Don't feed me that bullshit."

John slammed the kettle down onto the kitchen side, trapping Sherlock in the corner of the units with his arm. "You know what? That is bullshit. Because beauty isn't skin deep, it goes right to the core of your soul. People are beautiful on the inside, whatever you say."

Sherlock tried to speak, but found himself strangely gagged.

"And if you ever think that I find you disgusting, you'd be wrong." John clutched his left hand to the back of his head. "Jesus Christ, Sherlock, it's the other way around. I wouldn't take that scar away if I could!"

He took a step closer still. "Before, Sherlock, you were so… impossible. Like you were made of marble, like you were sculpted by an artist. You were perfection."

"That's supposed to make me feel better, is it?" Sherlock mumbled.

John sighed. "What's interesting about perfection, Sherlock? There's nowhere to go from there, nothing to improve on. It made you unattainable Sherlock. And that, that mark on your face, that's an imperfection, yes, but it's one that's useful."

Sherlock laughed coldly. "How, exactly?"

John bit his lip. "Because it makes you human. It reminds me that you can be hurt, you can be damaged, and best of all, you can be loved. By me, Sherlock. And I shouldn't find that attractive, I really shouldn't, but the fact that you are human makes you so much more beautiful. I flinch because I'm surprised someone so brilliant wants to be around me."

Sherlock's mouth went dry. "Really?"

John looked down. "Yes." He scratched the back of his head, seemingly realising what he had just said. "You probably won't want me around anymore. I'll start looking for flats tom-"

Sherlock couldn't help himself. He grabbed the collar of John's jumper and pulled him closer, pressing his mouth gently against his. He was relieved to find John reciprocating, and suddenly there was nothing that could separate him from this glorious, foolish man.

Except, perhaps, his need for oxygen. Gasping, he eventually relinquished John from their embrace. Breathing was always so boring.

"Mr Holmes," John said in a low voice. "We simply must do that more often."

Scars are marks of separation, they're the ghosts of past divisions. But occasionally, scars can bring people together. And for the first time in his life, Sherlock felt whole.

So that's the end! The real end this time. This'll be the last thing I'll post for a week or so- I'm off to Berlin in about twenty minutes! Must dash!