'That really wasn't quite the reunion I had in mind,' Sherlock has the grace to look shamefaced as he throws the ruined pan in the bin and then starts to open all the windows.
'No, I don't imagine it was,' John says from the kitchen where he's scrubbing vigorously at the soot on the cooker splash back. 'Although you setting things on fire isn't exactly new.'
'No, but … will you please sit down and let me do that!'
'I want to,' John says quickly, holding the Brillo pad away from Sherlock, 'it's helping my back.'
Sherlock snorts and wraps his arms around John, tugging him away from the stove and into the living room, 'I made the mess, I have to clean it up. You were the one who made that rule.'
'Yes but … I want to clean.'
'I don't care,' Sherlock slides his hand under John's chin and tilts his head up, 'You look tired. Have you been resting properly?'
'As much as anyone suffering heartburn and persistent Braxton Hicks can rest, yes.'
Sherlock kisses him, sweet and slow, fingers kneading the knots of tension in John's shoulders and spine. 'Better?' he asks when he finally pulls back.
'Yeah,' John's face is beatific for a moment but then he sighs, 'If only it were that easy to fix my bladder.'
