Sherlock

The sky was the color of John's eyes, and his hair was the color of gold in the dark.

Sherlock couldn't feel pain in John's arms. John didn't numb him - the deliverance wasn't temporary - pain wasn't hidden in the darkness, waiting to come out again. It just ceased to exist. John killed the darkness inside.

And nothing was dirty with John. Nothing was shameful.

Because John was the sun, and that was the best way Sherlock could think to explain it.