I've been writing so much Destiel lately, I thought I'd do a few oneshots for one of my other major ships: JOHNLOCK!

Warning- The beginning is a little depressing. I promise it gets better.

Tattoo

The divorce with Mary had been hard. John had loved her, he really had.

But Moriarty came back, and he and Sherlock knew they weren't safe. John tried to protect Mary as best he could, but she still got hurt. She healed, but their unborn child was lost.

After that, their relationship slowly spiraled downward. They were both angry and grieving, but while it made John lonely and in need of company, it made Mary reclusive and withdrawn. They spent less and less time together, John spending nearly all of his time with Sherlock. Finally, after a fight about something he couldn't quite remember, John moved out of their house and back into 221B. It was only a few weeks after that John proposed divorce. He'd made it a sort of ultimatum, as in if you don't want to fix this, I want a divorce.

The truth was, he'd started to forget why he'd loved her, and why he'd taken her back even when he discovered she'd been lying to him the whole time they were together. Apparently, Mary felt John had changed and was no longer the man she married, the man she once loved.

So, long story short, they got a divorce.

Sherlock didn't seem to understand completely, likely because he'd never loved and lost, or even loved at all. Still, John was happy to have him, if for nothing else than to be a distraction. Sherlock always had a new case for him. Moriarty was still on the loose, so they were rarely bored.

John was sitting at home, mulling over those recent events. It had been about two weeks since the divorce had been finalized, and it was also John and Mary's wedding anniversary. Or, it would have been. It was hard to believe they hadn't even made it one year.

He was lying in bed, in him and Sherlock's flat, feeling miserable. He spent most of the day that way, and then finally decided that he was being pathetic and it had to stop.

John hauled himself out of bed and went out, wandering around somewhat aimlessly. After some while, he found himself in front of a tattoo shop.

Well, he was looking for something new. This was new.

John walked in and greeted the attendant.

"What are you looking for?" she asked good-naturedly.

John shrugged. "Something new."

Sherlock was getting worried. John had been particularly mopey today, likely as a result of it being him and Mary's wedding anniversary. But then John had unexpectedly left the flat, without so much as a word to either him or Miss Hudson.

Sherlock hadn't heard anything from his flatmate, and it had been hours.

When John did walk in the door, it was with a strange expression on his face. He didn't seem as depressed as he'd been earlier.

"John, where on earth have you been?"

John shrugged. "Not important. I'm starving- do we have anything to eat?"

Sherlock squinted at John.

Interesting.

John's left shoulder was at a slight angle, as though it pained him. His left hand was shoved in his front pants pocket, but was obviously balled in a fist. His shirt was also a bit rumpled, as if it had been pulled off and folded temporarily before he put it back on.

"Are you deducing me?"

Sherlock's attention snapped back to reality.

"What? Oh… No. Of course not."

John looked skeptical.

"Right. Well, I'm going to fix dinner. Do you want anything?"

Sherlock shook his head and watched John depart with immense curiosity.

It couldn't have been a fistfight, because while that would explain the pain, it wouldn't explain the shirt creases. Nor could it have been a love affair, as he wouldn't have had time to fold his shirt.

There was only one thing that fit.

The doctor had gotten a tattoo.

That would explain the way the shirt was folded, and the length of the man's absence. And, taking the man's pain into consideration, the tattoo was likely on John's left shoulder.

It made sense. John was emotionally unstable, in need of a release. It wasn't uncommon for that to result in irrational behavior like this.

Sherlock didn't comment on John's new tattoo, deeming it unnecessary.

But then, John was missing the next day for another few hours. And the next day. And the next.

Sherlock was dying of curiosity. He had to know what John's tattoo looked like. Finally, after a week, he just asked.

"John, what is your tattoo?"

John looked taken aback.

"How did you…" He paused, and then a knowing look crossed his face. Instead, he asked, "How long have you known?"

"Since the first time," Sherlock answered. "You didn't go yesterday, which was a Wednesday, so the shop wouldn't have been closed. And you didn't go today. Therefore, it must be finished. I want to know what it looks like."

John shook his head, still somehow surprised by Sherlock's deductions.

"Alright," he said, before beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Sherlock's eyes followed John's fingers as he carefully undid each button. Sherlock was feeling hot, and had the sudden desire to help John take off his shirt. He restrained himself and waited.

After John's shirt was off, he folded it over his left forearm and turned so that Sherlock could see the tattoo.

"Oh," Sherlock breathed, surprised.

John's entire upper arm was covered in ink, as well as some of his chest and shoulder blade. Sherlock took a step forward to examine it.

Near John's elbow, there were dark, hooded figures holding spears. Above them were white-robed figures with wings, who fought the spears with elegant swords. There was one hooded figure larger than the rest, whose spear crossed the scene to meet the sword of a larger robed figure, whose wings extended off John's arm all the way to his shoulder blade. At the bottom of the image were flames, licking up around the hooded figures. At the top, an arrangement of rays extended out from behind the robed figures, going onto John's chest and past his shoulder blades on his back.

"Angels?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John held out his right arm, palm up. There were words tattooed on his wrist in simple script.

On the side of the angels.

"I forgot I told you about that," Sherlock murmured, though it wasn't exactly true. He just hadn't thought it was significant at the time.

John grinned at Sherlock. "You did. I think about it a lot, actually."

"Oh."

Sherlock's eyes roamed over John's tattoo, and over his chest as well. He swallowed thickly.

Oh dear. His pants were tight now.

Sherlock stiffened.

"OH. I should… go…"

John raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

He stepped toward Sherlock and peered up at him, concerned.

Sherlock looked down and tried not to stare at John's lips.

"I'm perfectly fine. I'm…" he trailed off, too distracted by John's very kissable lips.

It wasn't like he hadn't thought about John this way before. Usually, however, it was less extreme. Sherlock wasn't used to this level of attraction. He couldn't find a rationale for the sudden peak in his interest, either. He'd seen John shirtless plenty of times, and they'd stood rather close together as well.

Could it be the tattoo?

Sherlock supposed that was the outlier, so it must be because of that. Still, he didn't know how a bit of ink in John's skin could be so enticing.

"Fuck it," he said, moving forward to press his lips to the shorter man's.

John pulled back almost immediately, their lips barely brushing.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Sherlock straightened a bit and said matter-of-factly, "I'm just trying to make you feel better. Good night, Watson."

John's eyes drew together, clearly confused. Sherlock continued to his room, where he stared at a wall for the next hour and tried to will away his attraction.

It didn't work.

John had been taken by complete surprise when Sherlock kissed him. But he'd been even more surprised to discover that he wanted to continue it. Just the small hint of a kiss he'd gotten left him wanting more.

The next day, when Sherlock came down for breakfast, John asked bluntly, "Do you like me?"

Sherlock considered the question. "Of course I do. Otherwise, why would you be living with me?"

"NO. I mean, do you… are you attracted to me?"

"Oh. Yes."

John hadn't really expected such a direct response from Sherlock, but the detective was full of surprises.

"Then… Care for another kiss?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I distinctly remember you insisting on several occasions that you are not gay."

John shrugged. "Call it curiosity."

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, then said, "Okay."

He moved forward with amazing speed, shoving John against the wall and pressing their lips together.

The action sent an electric spark up John's spine. He didn't want to enjoy it, after all, they were both men, but he couldn't help the way he was feeling. Especially when Sherlock licked his way into John's mouth, making the shorter man moan involuntarily.

Sherlock's hands crept toward the hem of John's white t-shirt. He lifted it over John's head, their lips separating for only a moment. Then their mouths crashed back together.

John's felt Sherlock run his hands over his chest, and then begin tracing over his new tattoos. John shivered; they were still tender. Sherlock pulled away and began kissing John's arm, where the tattoo was. John sucked in a breath. It was one of the most arousing things he'd ever seen.

Finally, Sherlock stopped and let go of John entirely.

"Was that to your satisfaction?" he asked nonchalantly. However, John could see his eyes were dark with desire.

"I am…" John hesitated, "…possibly a little bit gay."

Sherlock nodded. "Bisexual."

"Perhaps."

"So then… fancy a snog?" Sherlock asked, blushing uncharacteristically.

"God, yes."

REVIEW!

I have a thing for tattoos, so this just sort of popped into my head. I'd love to get wings tattooed on my shoulders and upper arms, but my parents would be pissed, and I kind of need their financial support right now because… well, college. Maybe one day I'll do it.