I am under no meaning trying to disencourage people from dieting and excercising healthly, I just think you should never make food the centre of your universe.
Despite his mostly negative experience after his first training and the incredible soreness of what felt like every single muscle string John continued his efforts after a few days. This happened much to the disdain of his companion who thought it was a waste of time.
"You know, you could join me." John suggested one morning without thinking about it.
Sherlock huffed. "The thought of entering a room full of sweating and grunting people just to show of my physical abilities disdains me. I don't understand how you can actually go there. You didn't want to enter the Red Club with, although the concept was the same and it was for a case."
"The Red Club was a swinger club if I recall correctly. How is that the same?" John snorted.
"Sweating and grinding people showing off with their physical abilities. I can't see the difference."
"Nobody touches your junk at the gym, Sherlock!"
"Technicalities! I still don't see the point of you going."
John simply sighed and went to grab his trainers. He knew the conversation with Sherlock about this subject was pointless but he still kept on trying. Since he was not really intending to get Sherlock to come with him, he was secretly consent that he resented the idea so much. The thought of not only having to compare himself to Sherlock's brilliant mind but also to a trained body was to frustrating. Knowing Sherlock he assumed that the detective would, once started, put all his effort in exceeding in this category as well just like he did in anything he touched. John chuckled, Sherlock's comparison with the disturbing image of the Red Club was not exactly off. Yet he would rather go every day for the rest of his life to the gym than entering that particular BDSM sex club with Sherlock again just once. He was not prude but he believed that some parts of his life should always be private and sex was definitely one of them. He had been secretly glad to find out that Sherlock didn't care much for being spanked since his meeting with The Woman had intrigued him so much. But to Sherlock it was just another fascinating façade of the average man to escape his boring and tedious life, thanks for that.
Sherlock had dropped the subject of John's gym activity for a while due to an extraordinary interesting murder case where in the end the dog was found guilty. It was a complicated story anyway. Only after the case he realized that John's physical work-out did also have an effect on his own life. After finishing the case he had wanted to celebrate the solution the same way they had always since they had confessed their feelings for each other one freakishly cold night at 221B Baker Street where the heating had stopped. Admittedly Sherlock had shot it but that was a different story. Ever since that night they had gone out to dinner after Sherlock solved the case and while John was eating his whole portion and Sherlock ate at least a little bit of his food, he had shown John proudly all the details of the case that no one else could have noticed. Then they would always proceed to go home and have the craved sex that Sherlock had denied them during the case.
So when Sherlock came home after having wrapped up the case with Lestrade at Scotland Yard expecting John to wait for him. But John was not home. A look in the fridge told him that he had already been to the shop to buy groceries and a look in the living room assured him that he had paused there for a while after returning from his work. A final look in John's old bedroom made sure that John had taking his work-out clothes with him. Sherlock was sincerely annoyed. John must have known that he would wrap up the case today. It never took him more than five days unless it was particularly difficult and this one hadn't been. John must have also heard him playing the violin late at night to sort out his thoughts and heard him stopping when he had finally solved the riddle. John always paid attention to that! Yet, he was not home to celebrate the victory.
John came home an hour later and greeted Sherlock, who was sulking on the couch, in a nonchalant way not indicating with a single notion that he remembered their victory celebration. After hearing John rumbling in the kitchen for a few more moments Sherlock called out: "It was the dog."
John stopped for a moment and then entered the living room.
"Ah, good to know. Are you hungry?"
Sherlock frowned. "We are going out. We always go out after I have solved a case."
John sighed. "Sherlock, I am really tired. My work-out was really hard today and I have been at the surgery the whole day. Can we just not go out tonight but another night? I'll make us some food and then we can go to bed. You look like you could use some sleep and I am absolutely exhausted."
Sherlock's face had lit up for a second at the word "bed" only to darken again at the thought of sleep. This was not how this was supposed to go. He might not have an average man's sex drive but he still enjoyed it and wanted to have sex tonight like they always did after a case. He sulked which John couldn't see since he had already returned to the kitchen. Well, maybe after having eaten John would change his opinion about the sleep. Out of experience and observing he knew that a hungry John was many times also a cranky John. He would just wait the sixteen point thirty-five minutes that it usually took John to make them dinner.
He was startled when John entered the room already after twelve point twenty-four seconds caring a tray with dinner. He was even more surprised to find his plate full with food including beans and other nutritious food while John's was significantly smaller and contained what looked like a poor attempt at making salad and a small slice of fried chicken. He watched John wrinkle his forehead and then dive in half-hearted with his fork into the salad.
"John, since when do you make the effort to make two different kinds of food?"
John let out a frustrated breath. "Sherlock, I have been having dinner like this for two weeks now, you just didn't notice. You are not supposed to eat so many carbohydrates before going to bed. They will turn into fat overnight. It is part of my work-out plan."
Sherlock looked at him like he had gone mad. "But we were supposed to celebrate tonight! How can I celebrate when you and your healthy, fat-free, carbohydrate-free food are looking like they want to cry out for help? This is not fair John! If you want to suffer than don't drag me into it."
"I am not dragging you into this. I gave you real food."
"Ha," interrupted Sherlock "so you don't think that this real food but you still eat it? What has benn socially compelling you to do that?"
"Look," John raised his voice now as well "it is already difficult to live with you and love you never being able to outsmart. Let me at least compete on a physical with all you. I should be in much better shape considering my age and my military background. Now eat!" Again he took a bite of his salad.
"I am not hungry now. Maybe if you stop being so grumpy I will start eating again but now I am going to bed, sleeping just like you proposed. I assume your muscles are too sore to do anything that would capture my interest in you for a longer time tonight. Good night, John!"
He jumped up from the sofa, leaving his plate on the table and stormed off into the bedroom. John sighed again. "Of course, now all of this is my fault!"
Sherlock could not sleep that night. Even after John entered their bed and whispered his name he didn't show any sign of being awake but his mind was working. What had happened to John? Why was he suddenly so self-conscious of his body? He scanned back the past months but nothing came to his mind that could have changed John's attitude. He had never cared about his looks before but something must have changed. Unfortunately Sherlock couldn't imagine what it had been and John was probably not going to tell him this easily. Next time the latter was sleeping and taking deep steady breaths. He was not dreaming yet which Sherlock always found fascinating to watch. Sometimes he tried to guess what John was dreaming about but unless it was post-case, war or sexual dreams, those were pretty easy to stop, he hardly ever guessed right. Although he would never admit it he thought it was wonderful that there would always be a part of John that he could not immediately deduce leaving always one last mystery around the man. Right now John entered the dream world noticeable by his small frown and the muttered words: "Oh, Sherlock!" But it sounded more like frustration than desire which annoyed Sherlock again. Despite the tone of his voice John rolled closer to him until the top of his head was touching the upper side of Sherlock's s shoulder and let out another sigh. This one sounded more contempt. Maybe, Sherlock thought, this is just a phase that will pass. He fell asleep with that reassuring thought and the even more reassuring breath of John Watson next to him.
Writing this so many small stories came into my mind (the red club, the shooting of the heating, the story of the deadly dog). I might write them myself but if anybody is interested in writing them please show me afterwards. I would be very curious for your ideas.