[ John clears his throat roughly. ]

We have to kiss.

[ He repeats, lowering his hand to look up at Sherlock's face and -- oh god, he can't. He doesn't know how Sherlock does it, going from sinister, cynical genius to innocent child in a second flat. John can't look at him, so he turns his head slightly and addresses what appears to be an umbrella stand nearby. ]

Seven minutes in Heaven? Throw you in a closet for seven minutes and have you kiss to get out again.

[ Awkward. ]