Hey guys, my first new story since... last year, I think? Anyways, I hope you enjoy! -Chelsea

Sherlock lay in the hospital bed, sheet pulled over his face. He refused to let anyone see him, especially John, who had tried to fight his way into his room multiple times.

He couldn't say no to his brother though, being the British Government and all, Mycroft swept into the room to bring Sherlock his cell phone and to comment snidely on the situation the detective was in.

He was to be released in a day or two, after the doctor was sure that his stitches wouldn't break on the account of Sherlock messing with them.

He was bored, and nothing was on the telly. He had already deduced the nurses, so he was twice as bored. He ignored all the texts he was getting from John and Molly, both who were overcome with worry.

He knew he couldn't avoid John long though, he knew John would see him eventually and that thought bothered him immensely because he didn't want anyone, not even the nurses, to see him in this state.

It was around four pm on a Thursday when the doctor released him.

He shrugged on his coat and put on his scarf and a hat he had stolen from someone. At least that would cover some of his scars.

He then took a deep breath and walked outside to get a cab.

Sherlock had texted John and asked him to stay home, that he could easily get a cab himself. So he hopped in and told the cabbie, "221B Baker Street," and he was standing at the front door before he knew it.

He took his time walking up the stairs, savoring the silence he knew would come to an end as soon as he walked into the flat where he knew John was probably sitting in his chair, pecking away on his laptop about some case they had solved a while back.

As soon as he swung the door open, there was a flurry of movement and John was in front of him, pulling him into the living room and sitting him on the sofa.

Sherlock avoided John's eyes, instead, staring at the coffee table that he guessed John had spilled tea on earlier.

"Sherlock, look at me," John pleaded, a warm hand wrapping around Sherlock's cold one.

Sherlock slowly raised his head to look at the shorter man who was kneeling by him.

His eyes locked with John's and Sherlock felt something drop in his chest.

John studied his face, took off the hat, then looked at the scarf wrapped around the detective's neck. He reached out and tugged it off, revealing more of Sherlock's pale skin.

Eyes traveled down his neck and back to his face, John's eyes swelling with tears.

"Is this why you didn't want me to see you?" he whispered, his clammy hand tightening around Sherlock's.

Sherlock nodded, breaking eye contact with John and looking away.

"Did you think I wouldn't love you anymore if I saw you like this?"

He nodded again.

John touched Sherlock's face and Sherlock snapped his eyes back to dark blue ones that were glistening from un-fallen tears.

"How could you even think something like that? You are beautiful Sherlock. Scars and all. You are and always will be perfect to me."

"How can you still love me? I'm hideous. They had to shave part of my hair off to get to the wounds, my face has been mauled by some animal but yet, here you are. How are you not repulsed, John?"

"Because I see beyond the scars and stitches and bruises. Those are your warrior marks. Something you got in battle, not unlike me and my scar. I see past all the imperfections you think you have. Those scars are not anything, anything to me. Do you understand?"

Sherlock nodded yet again and pressed his forehead against John's shoulder and the shorter man wrapped his arms around Sherlock.

"Incase I don't tell you enough John, I love you. I love you with every ounce of my being and I will do what I can to be the best person I can for you. I may not have much, but my heart belongs to you."

John smiled and whispered, "That's all I need."