A/N: Thanks for the encouragement everyone! If you've read The Ink and the Reaction then this is what happened right before John came home from his date with Sarah. It could be considered a prequel to that story.

John and Sarah

The kisses were sweet and languid. Her soft hands roamed across his chest, and he felt her unbutton his shirt. She slipped it if off of his arms and threw it off the bed. He had left his jumper in the hall along with Sarah's shirt and her skirt. He smirked into the kiss while he remembered his own anxious fumbling fingers from earlier. John's eyes opened as she roamed her hands all over his chest. He felt this nagging in the back of his mind that he should be more worried about this. Even so, he couldn't quite put his finger on what was worrying him while Sarah's mouth was on his. The fuzzy feeling from the wine from dinner wasn't helping his memory either.

Normally when he went home with someone he was extremely self-conscious about his body. Between tattoos and scars, his body was his life's story laid out in the open. He thought of his body art as a very private thing. He rarely showed the designs to anyone, and some of his scars held just as much meaning to him. Not even his closest friend, Sherlock Holmes, knew that John had tattoos all across his body.

Sarah had found out about John's tattoos the last time they had dated. He wasn't worried about her having an adverse reaction to them. She had been fine with them last time. For once, it seemed as though he had nothing to worry about. Of course, he was forgetting a certain tattoo that occupied the space right over his heart.

The kisses were getting more heated when she broke the kiss and her eyes flittered down to his chest. He saw her smile fade and her eyebrows knit together in confusion and anger flashed in her eyes when she looked up at him. It was only then that he remembered what her sweet kisses and wine had made him forget. The violin! Damn it the violin! The whole atmosphere of the room changed in an instant. All the romance and heat vanished and was replaced by an awkward distance. He knew this was more than a bit not good.

The violin was a tribute to Sherlock when John thought he was dead and doubted in the detective. Instead of fighting with himself constantly, both while he was awake and in his dreams, John tattooed a violin with Sherlock's name spelled out with strings on his chest. The tattoo wasn't supposed to represent their relationship in any special way other than it was important for John to remember what Sherlock meant to him as a friend. John had to convince himself that Sherlock had been lying during that last phone call. As long as he had faith in the detective and knew Moriarty was real, John could hold his life together after Sherlock's jumped. It had even given him strength when Sherlock came back from the dead after destroying Moriarty's web.

"John I think you should go." Sarah said quietly. She pulled away from him and grabbed a big t-shirt from the end of the bed. She slipped it over her head.

"Sarah…" John slid off the bed and grabbed her hand. Her expression hardened when she looked at him.

"How are you going to explain then, John?"

"I have to explain?" John growled defensively and pulled back his hands as he clenched his fists at his sides and looked at the floor. "I've told you before that my tattoos are my business."

"When you're sharing my bed, I think it's partially my business. Especially if you are devoted to someone else, while you are sleeping with me." Sarah said as she waved her hands at John's chest.

"Jesus, Sarah." John snapped not knowing what to say. Sarah falling into hysterics and getting angry hadn't been the plan for the night. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh so you didn't put a tattoo of your formally dead flatmate's name on your chest? Over your heart, the most intimate place? You think it I can't see what this is?" she scoffed at him and John shook his head. She stood with her hands on her hips.

"But Sarah it doesn't mean what you think!" John exclaimed while he took a step toward her.

"It doesn't? Did you know that since he came back you don't object to people assuming you are together? Why not when you used to? What does it mean if it doesn't mean what I think? It doesn't mean you're using me to pretend you aren't with him or attracted to him? Because that is what it feels like John. Did you get it before or after he jumped?" she suddenly stopped her rant to ask. He hesitated before telling her.

"After while I thought he was…you know"

"Jesus John, can you be even more morbid?" John's head snapped up. He was angry and annoyed at her now.

"Sarah, you've seen my other tattoos before. You know they have deeper meaning than that. This wasn't some kind of romantic gesture for Sherlock. He doesn't even know I have tattoos. He couldn't..."he trailed off as he buttoned his shirt and Sarah glared at him.

"Somehow knowing that tattoo has a meaning is supposed to make me feel better? Were you a couple John? I never actually thought you were but this puts things in a different light." Sarah asked still fuming.

"No we weren't a couple."

"Then why is his name resting over your heart!? Go ahead, explain it!" she shouted at him. He sat down on the bed with his head between his hands. Sarah leaned against the doorframe.

"Sarah when Sherlock faked his death, he made me watch him jump. I didn't handle it well. It was like the nightmares about the war were starting all over, but Sherlock was the only person in them and he died every time. I needed to have faith in him even when no one else did. " John continued to try and explain, but he could tell she was barely listening. Sarah was still scowling from the doorway of the bed room. She wasn't even trying to understand what this tattoo meant to him. She was just angry.

"It was hard enough when you kept running away to chase him all over London, and he interrupted our dates. John I cannot look at his name every time you come to bed with me. I will not do that and you should not ask me to!" her voice rose almost to a screech. John looked at her for a few moments. The words stung like a slap and he knew she would never understand. The tats were his and his alone. They were his life's story written across his body. If she could not try to understand any part of his life, she could not be part of it. Maybe no one could understand and he was meant to be alone with his story inked on his body.

"You are right, I suppose... I guess it was asking too much." Sarcasm laced the words that he forced out.

John nodded defeated. He walked out of Sarah's bedroom. This was why he never showed off his tattoos. Every time he faced rejection. They were so important to him, but they often destroyed his relationships. The tattoos were like a big warning sign that everyone ignored until they couldn't anymore. They were just something on his skin until people realized they represented the very core of who he was.

The violin was perhaps the most important tattoo he had ever etched onto his skin. His loyalty, devotion and faith in Sherlock were tattooed on his chest. Sarah thought it was a romantic gesture, but it meant so much more than that to John. Sherlock had pulled his world back together after the war, and that rock of support had been ripped away. John had to still believe in the man in order to keep his world from falling down around him.

John gathered his jumper off the floor and zipped up his jacket. He closed the door and was half way down the hall when he heard the door open again.

"John wait," Sarah's voice called after him. He turned hoping that she was going to try and understand what he had been trying to tell her. Instead she handed him small box that would fit under his arm. He mouth was in a tight line. "These are your things."

"I don't think I have anything of yours to return since you didn't spend much time at our flat. So I guess this is goodbye," John pushed the words out barely keeping a lid on his anger and frustration.

"Yes… Goodbye then." Sarah smiled thinly, turned around, and closed the door to her flat one last time. He sighed. It was going to be a long walk home.

John left Sarah's flat and turned toward 221B. He needed the time that it would take him to walk home to decide what to say to Sherlock. He had planned on being at Sarah's all night, and a few of Sherlock's comments from before John left indicated that he knew John's intentions for the evening. Now he had to come up with an excuse for coming home, one that didn't involve telling Sherlock about his tattoos. Sherlock did not understand sentiment and John knew sentiment was what his tattoos were made out of.

The long walk in the cold made him even more brisk and angry when he arrived home. Instead of coming up with an excuse, he had gone over the events with Sarah several times. Each time he was much more upset with her and the way she assumed things about his life. Even so, the things she said bothered him. He knew he cared for Sherlock, but what kind of caring was it and did it matter? Would any woman be ok with the violin being tattooed on his heart? He doubted it. He was worked up till he made it back to the flat.

When he unlocked the door to the building, he was still frustrated and he would have to try and lie to Sherlock. Lying to Sherlock rarely worked out for John. Even so, he would have to try because he knew it would be even more difficult to explain why Sherlock's name was tattooed across his chest. Just when he had decided on a plan, John tripped up the stairs of 221B and slammed his bad shoulder in to the steps. He growled a few curses and gathered himself together a little before he stomped up the rest of the steps and slammed the door. Before the fall, he had decided to say as little to Sherlock as possible, make a cup of tea and turn in for the night. Unfortunately now he had Sherlock's full attention. How well can you lie John Watson?

A/N: Input is appreciated! I'm still working on a situation for Anderson/Donovan and Mycroft. Other suggestions are welcome these are fun to write!