Title: Red John

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Summary: John notices Sherlock's self harm scars and confronts Sherlock who is more than willing to put his past behind him forever.

The warmth of your embrace
Melts my frostbitten spirit
You speak the truth and I hear it
The words are I love you
And I have to believe in you
Red Sam-Flyleaf

When John noticed the scars on Sherlock's upper thigh for the first time, he knew right away that they weren't ordinary scars. Not the usual scars Sherlock had when he gains them from a fight with a scoundrel or from a car accident or from hurting himself during one of his silly experiments (John remembered very well when Sherlock was experimenting what would happen if you put Chlorine Gas in a microwave...Mrs Hudson was more than horrified to say in the least and repeated to Sherlock a numerous times that she was not their house keeper to clean up the mess).

They were self-harm scars that were cut so deep into the skin that they never truly faded away. A reminder that Sherlock's past was always with him whether he went no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

They were sitting comfortably in their bed naked one day and John had his head rested against Sherlock's chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of Sherlock's heart.

"You know about them don't you?" Sherlock drawled.

John looked up, frowning. "Know about what?"

"Don't patronize me John. You know about the scars on my left upper thigh don't you?" He looked deeply into John's eyes, as it trying to see into his soul.

He sighed. "Yes I know about them." He finally admitted. He was going to tell Sherlock soon anyway.

"When did you find out?"

"After you came in from Scotland Yard from that Russian case and you were soaking wet so you stripped off your trousers and I knew at once they weren't the scars that you get from your usual injuries. The scars from your injuries would fade within a matter of days,"

Sherlock gave a slight snort. "My past wasn't a pretty one,"

"Neither was mine," John replied, giving a slight smile.

Yes, John had a difficult past but he couldn't begin to imagine what Sherlock must of gone through that caused him to self-harm. Before John met Sherlock, he had met many people with self-harm scars and with a disturbing past. But John never dared to raise the blade onto his own skin...mainly afraid that he would become addicted to the pain like Harriet is addicted to drinking.

Sherlock gave a sly smile. "Yet you never touched the blade..."

"Only because I was afraid of becoming addicted to the pain." John said defensively. "Besides I have enough scars on my body."

They dared not speak for a few minutes, both too wrapped up in their own thoughts and the noise of the silence was deafening to John.

After ten minutes of complete silence, John spoke. "What made you cut?"

Sherlock turned his head slightly to the side to face him. His thin and pale cheekbones looked even thinner from the angle John was in. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sherlock you know nearly everything about me yet I hardly know anything about you. About your past, about what you did before we met..." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was true, he hardly knew a thing about Sherlock's child hood apart from the obvious facts from Mycroft. "Don't you trust me anymore?"

"John you remember what I said when I don't have friends?" John nodded. Of course he remembered. "I was right I only have the one." Sherlock snuggled deeper into the pillows as though trying to bury himself into the past. "I trust you with my life John, you must believe me. However I am not an easy man to talk about my history to anyone..."

John was about to say something when Sherlock took both of his arms out and turned them up so the palms were facing upwards. Up towards his shoulders, there were faded criss-crossed scars that looked like they had been cut open more than once. "Oh Sherlock," He whispered.

Sherlock's eyes darted downwards. "You're ashamed of me aren't you? I can see it in your eyes," He was about to hide his arms again when John held them firmly by the wrist. "John? Wha-" Before he could say anything else, John began to kiss the scars gently one by one. Starting from the bottom and Sherlock closed his eyes in anticipation.

"I'm not ashamed of you Sherlock," He said between breaths. "Never."

"Why?" Sherlock's voice was a whisper, sounding so fragile and vulnerable it was almost out of character.

"Because all that matters is what's in the past is in the past and right now we focus on the present and right now all I really care about is you," John kissed the last scar.

For a moment, Sherlock blinked rapidly but quickly composed himself. "I..."

"You don't have to say anything." John interrupted him.

Sherlock stubbornly shook his head. "No John. Just hear me out," He held up his hands to silence John as he was about to protest. "I will tell you my tale of all of my scars but right now it is not the time to tell but I will not break my promise. I'm a man of my word,"

John kissed him longingly on the lips, suppressing as much love into the kiss as he could muster. "I'm ready to listen when the story is told."

Sherlock smiled.