"What the hell is going on?!" John ran up the stairs to his flat. He had been chatting with Mrs. Hudson when there came an explosion from upstairs. He burst through the door and immediately started coughing from the smoke and debris in the air.
The kitchen was a wreck. Fragments of the cabinets lay on the ground, some on fire. The dishes were broken, shards of glass were blasted across the room, the table was all but gone, and the refrigerator was in bad shape.
Sherlock was picking himself up off of the ground, covered in black soot and remains of what was once the kitchen.
John ran to his aid, helping the taller man to his feet. He had gashes on his face and was bleeding profusely.
"What did you do!" John yelled at him, taking him to the couch and setting him down gently. Sherlock paled. "I was gone five bloody minutes and you blew up the damn kitchen!"
He assessed Sherlock's wounds and got the first aid kit from the bathroom. "You're lucky you didn't get blown apart, you stupid git!"
John started cleaning Sherlock's wounds, all the while cursing under his breath.
"You're going to need stitches," John told him. "These cuts are too deep."
He got out his medical bag and gathered his supplies.
"This isn't going to be pleasant."
He was as gentle as he could be. He took his time. Sherlock sat there, eyes closed and didn't move.
"What am I going to do with you Sherlock?" He asked, working on one of his worst wounds. "This is the third time you've blown up our flat! You play that damned violin of yours at all sorts of ungodly hours, you keep severed body parts in the fridge, you insult me constantly, you're a smartass and make everyone around you either pissed off or upset and somehow I can't imagine life without you!"
He finished on the last one and snipped the end off. "There you go. Now can you manage to keep the rest of the flat intact?"
Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at the blond, speaking for the first time since he'd blown up the kitchen. "For what it's worth John, I couldn't imagine life without you either."
John smiled as he snapped his bag closed and said, "I don't reckon Mrs. Hudson is going to feel the same."