John Watson had been worried about Sherlock. He only knew Sherlock had been injured, he barely knew what else his friend had been through.
"Sherlock?" He walked in. "Are you awake?" He had been visting him everyday. It was morning now. He tried to leave Sherlock alone at night so he could rest.
Entering that morning, he knew Sherlock wasn't himself. He just didn't know why or if Sherlock would even say. "How are you feeling?"
It was true to say Sherlock annoyed John sometimes. But it didn't mean he hated Sherlock. He wondered if Sherlock had been eating anything, he knew the strong medication would probably be making him feel sick though. He knew Sherlock hardly ate as it was and never liked admiting much.