Sherlock was simply minding his business, reading a book silently. He hardly notices the time pass by until he hears you waltz in. You tend to pop in almost every other day to check up on him and John. He never did anything about it but he had grown quite fond of you.

“Good evening Sherlock,” you greeted with a small smile. Your voice was soothing and warm, something he didn’t realize he missed when you weren’t here. He watched as you wandered to the kitchen, putting what looked like a tray of some type of meal away. More importantly, he noticed the way you shifted most of your weight into your right leg instead of your left.

“You’re limping.” He immediately stood up, closing his book and setting it aside. He made his way towards you, his eyes glancing towards where he guessed your injury might be. Before you could even utter the words ’how did you know?’ he’s already speaking.

“Your favoring your right leg.” He states curtly, quite used to your surprised reactions by now. He’s quick to usher you over to the couch, his palm over the small of your back as a gentle guidance.

Sherlock might’ve not been emotional or caring like most, but he did have subtle ways he displayed his affection for his friends.