Sherlock Preferences

Small Injury (Him)

  *a small, most likely not near fatal injury (unless the injury were to get infected, then it's life threatening)*  

Sherlock

You frowned and crossed your arms and, despite Sherlock's innocent expression, tutted.

"How did you manage to fall down the stairs?" How could someone as graceful and majestic as himself fumble his feet and go crashing down the many steps at 6 in the morning?

"I told you, (Y/N), it was John's fault." He said.

"John was asleep."

"Yes, he set up his plan last night when he was awake."

"That may be true, but how did you not see that coming?" This was Sherlock for crying out loud!

"Do you expect me to be perfect?"

"I expect you to know when John plans on beating you up like this." He was bleeding in a couple spots and you had no doubt there would be bruises everywhere tomorrow. John wouldn't do stuff like this, either, so Sherlock would probably notice if he started acting suspicious.

"I what?" The little hedgehog himself walked in, confused.

"I'll go clean up." Sherlock was out of the room in a second. You sighed and sent an apologetic look at John, because obviously he wasn't at fault, and followed your boyfriend. He probably just tripped but didn't want to admit it.  

John

John's cry of pain made you jump and look over, eyes wide in alarm and breathing rate increasing. John looked down at his finger with a grimace and cursed under his breath. You moved closer to him, taking careful footsteps before stopping to examine what was wrong. A thin line of red was across a straight line on the pad of his index finger. He groaned.

"Papercut." He looked up at you. You hissed. Being a librarian, you had your fair share of paper cuts, and you never found a way to avoid getting one for over a week. You started heading back to your room to see if you had any bandaids.

"You want-"

"No thanks."

You stopped. "Sure?"

"I'm a man, (Y/N)." He inhaled and set his shoulders back, going back to looking through books for a case. You stood there for a moment to make sure he was serious before going about your business. Regardless if you're a man papercuts are the worst of all kinds of injuries.  

Greg

You heard Greg groaning and walked out of the small kitchen in your home to see him sitting on a couch, rolling his shoulders. You watched for a little bit, trying to figure out what was wrong without him telling you, and once you thought you had an idea, walked over next to where he sat.

"Back hurting?" He glanced up at you and nodded, almost surprised you could think of that. He wouldn't have been able to do that. "Do you want a massage?" His eyes lit up.

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah. But fair warning, I'm not the best. My mom, however," you laughed. "I don't know anybody better than her." He lay on his stomach on the couch with his arms by his sides and you stood by his side, your hands working his back once he was ready to go.

This continued for a while, the room quiet while you made his tense muscles relax and unknot. Because of the fact that he was wearing a casual t-shirt you didn't have to make him remove any layers. You wondered if you should ask him to take off his shirt so you could 'get a particular knot' but decided not to.

That's also when you realized that the thing you had been doing in the kitchen needed your attention. The noodles, which you had put in the pot to boil, were most definitely boiling. You sprinted into the kitchen as the bubbles in the water started popping and getting hot water everywhere.

"Thanks (Y/N)!" Greg shouted from the other room. You didn't have the chance to reply, as you were attempting to stop a catastrophe.  

Mycroft

You watched in amusement as the young child stormed right up to Mycroft and kicked him in the shin. Mycroft winced but kept his expression otherwise unreadable at the temperamental child. Your boyfriend had said the sand castle the boy was building was unstable, that was all, and the boy had taken offense to it somehow.

"You should try reinforcing the walls." Mycroft added. The boy kicked sand at the two of you before sticking out his tongue and marching off. You let out a laugh as Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes. "Kids."

"Essentially." You nodded. "But you did provoke him."

"That act was on his own, not my fault in the slightest." He stubbornly tilted his chin up.

"Is your ankle okay? That looked painful." You were going to check his lower leg but he stopped you.

"No need, I'm alright."

"You sure?"

"Yes (Y/N)." He nodded curtly.

"Okay sweetie." You leaned back in your spot. You tapped your foot lightly against the spot the boy kicked and Mycroft winced again. "Ya know, it wouldn't hurt for me to-"

"Leave it."  

James

You tried your best to pick the splinter out of your boyfriend's finger but it wasn't turning out very well. You kept shying away from hurting him too much, so whenever he showed any visual signs of pain you backed off. Although you weren't real sure how the small wood piece could get there, you still tried your best.

"You can hurt me." James finally stated.

"Are you sure?" You asked timidly. Causing pain to people that mattered didn't sound good to you.

"It'll hurt more if it stays there." He sang. You sighed and tilted your head down so you couldn't see his face and dug in, grabbing the wood chunk with the tweezers. Then you yanked it out and it came in one piece, thankfully not breaking off. "See? That wasn't so hard." He grinned.

"Did it hurt?" You asked, setting the tweezers aside.

"Yes."

"Oh." You were hoping he'd say 'no', or 'not a lot' even if that was just sugar coating it.