John was feeling a little… different, of late. He had noticed that his clothes were fitting him somehow uncomfortably for a while, but now, staring at his reflection in the mirror, he simply had to admit that he was looking positively plump. He had lifted his shirt to get a full view of his belly; it was a lot rounder and softer than he remembered. John was aware that Sherlock had put on some weight too, but on him it wasn't so evident. Sherlock had always been extremely tall and thin, and some added weight only made him look healthier. John, on the other hand, simply looked chubby. He sighed and walked away from the mirror, covering his belly up before going out of his bedroom and having to face his roommate.
Sherlock was sitting on the table, reading the paper and chewing on something that, even from afar, certainly looked delicious. He looked up to meet John's gaze.

-John, you need to try these.

Sherlock declared, while taking a considerable bite off his éclair.

-Mrs. Hudson bought pastries from that place around the corner again.

John silently cursed at his inexistent will-power and grabbed a huge cream puff off the plate.

-Since when do you get so excited about food?

-Since I became aware of the existence of these.

He joyfully lifted the rest of his éclair in the air and, immediately after, he made it disappear into his mouth. He then grabbed something else from the plate.

-Oh, I'll leave you the jam tart, I know you like those…

John bit his lower lip, torn between ignoring Sherlock's offer and finishing that entire plate in a split of a second. He took the tart in his hands but didn't dare to try it.

-I don't know, Sherlock, maybe I should give it a rest for a while.

-What do you mean?

Sherlock wasn't paying much attention; he was apparently analyzing the contents of the plate with scientific rigor before making his next choice.
John didn't want to tell Sherlock he was feeling insecure about his weight, so he quickly changed the subject.

-Why do you think Mrs. Hudson keeps leaving so much food in our fridge? She has being buying from the pastry shop almost every day now, and this week only she has cooked us dinner three times. Don't you think it's a little weird?

Sherlock lifted his eyes from the chocolate covered cookie he had chosen and looked at him with such intensity John believed he could read his thoughts. He probably could.

-Why does it matter?

John was almost certain that Sherlock knew exactly what was going through his mind, and couldn't help but turn bright red with shame.

-It doesn't. I just…

-Is this about you gaining weight?

John was befuddled for a second. He knew Sherlock was… honest, to say the least, but he wasn't expecting such a direct statement. For a moment he didn't know what to say. Sherlock took his silence as a sign to continue talking.

-You are being ridiculous, John, you can afford a couple of pounds.

John crossed his arms around his chest, partly in anger, partly in a desperate attempt to cover his midsection.

-Maybe you can, Sherlock, but I certainly cannot. I've been packing on like crazy and I need to stop.

Sherlock chuckled in amusement.

-So what? So have I.

John wasn't sure of what to answer. It was true that Sherlock had gained quite a bit too, but he didn't want to tell him to lose it; as absurd as it sounded, John liked seeing Sherlock's small belly poking out of his pants most of the time.
Sherlock finished his cookie in one bite and resumed the conversation.

-To be quite honest, I think you look better this way.

John snickered

-How? Fat?

-Yes.

Sherlock smiled. John wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt a familiar warmth in his lower belly.

-Now if you please…

Sherlock motioned him to keep eating; his eyes fixated on John.
John complied; he took a large bite off his tart with the certainty that he liked where this whole situation was heading.