"Jam tastes better on toast."
Sherlock and John were sitting at their kitchen table (for a change, and it was gloriously free of laboratory equipment), each with a slice of toasted bread in their hands, and each with an open jar in front of them.
"I contest that accusation. Nutella tastes much better on toast. Obviously." This last part was said in such a condescending manner, even for Sherlock, than John raised his eyebrows.
"And how, pray tell, do you back this statement?" John asked imperiously. "Jam is beheld at far higher esteem than Nutella! Jam wins on popularity vote!"
Sherlock scoffed. "Nutella, John! Nutella! Who doesn't like Nutella? It's like chocolate...on your bread!"
John pulled a distasteful face. "That is so wrong."
Sherlock sniffed. "You're just jealous because jam lost."
"Jam did not lose!" John spluttered indignantly. "Jam wins! Jam always wins! Nutella just...just...doesn't spread right, and gets on your hands, and everything goes sticky, and it's hard to clean up afterwards, when it wasn't even that pleasurable in the first place!"
Sherlock snorted. "Maybe you're not doing it right, John. Look."
And he picked up the knife that was sitting next to the jar of Nutella, and scooped some out, and hastily dropped it onto the remains of his toast before it would spill onto the table. He smeared a thick layer of the spread onto the toast, evenly and to all the corners, and around the crescent shapes of where he had already bitten into the bread.
"Got enough toast with your Nutella?" John asked sarcastically.
Sherlock smirked, and bit into the Nutella-ry toast. "Mmmmm oh yes!"
John blushed at the practically pornographic noise that came out of his flatmate, as Sherlock threw his head back and munched gratifyingly, his eyes closed in contentment. John noticed little spots of chocolate in the corners of his mouth, and looked away determinedly.
"You cannot beat that, John. This is the best thing. Ever," Sherlock said, recovering from his Nutella orgasm. John tried to shake himself back to reality.
"No way. Jam is so much better. You don't need to swamp your poor toast to enjoy jam. Just the tiniest amount can make breakfast perfect," John disagreed. He took the spoon that was sitting inside his pot of strawberry jam, and used it to smear a little onto a bare area of his toast.
"And with really good butter, well! You've got a match made in heaven!" John finished happily.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I don't think so."
"I think so!" John retorted.
"Really? Don't strain yourself!" Sherlock teased.
"Piss off," John groused, and took a vicious bite out of his toast.
Sherlock chuckled, and snatched John's teaspoon out of his grasp. He licked it clean of jam, grimacing a bit, and dipped it into his jar of Nutella, bringing out a huge dollop, and sticking the whole thing into his mouth.
"That is, without a doubt, the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," John said with a sickened look.
"Hardly," Sherlock mumbled through his mouthful. "You can't appreciate it until you've tried it."
And with that said, Sherlock sucked the spoon clean, and brought another scoop of Nutella to John's mouth.
"No way," John refused, leaning back.
"Oh come on!" Sherlock scoffed. "I don't have germs!"
"That's not my point! I am not eating a spoonful of Nutella, by itself!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, and leant forward, pushing the spoon towards John.
"Just try it!"
"You won't regret it!"
"I don't care! It's gross!"
"If it were gross, why would I be trying to get you to do it so badly?"
"Because you're evil."
Sherlock sighed. "Come on, John! It's not like I'm asking you to eat the contents of the Tupperware in the fridge!"
John shuddered at the thought. "Okay-" Sherlock's face brightened, "-only if you concede to do the same with the jam."
"Then, my friend, we are at an impasse!" John declared.
Sherlock seemed to think about it, his eyes searching John carefully, before he admitted defeat.
"Fine," he said petulantly. "But I'm telling you, you're wrong."
"And I'm telling you. You're wrong!"
John leant across from his seat to open one of the drawers that had their cutlery in it, and pulled out another spoon. He loaded it with jam, thinking about what a waste it was, giving it to Sherlock, but passed the spoon over regardless, and accepted his own, the gooey brown mass smirking at him with its invisible chocolatey mouth.
Sherlock waited, watching John eye up the Nutella before closing his eyes and putting it in his mouth. Then Sherlock did the same.
There were equal noises of disgust, as John felt the Nutella squeeze into all the little gaps in his teeth, and as Sherlock tasted the ultra-sweet tang of the strawberry.
Then, although neither would dare speak it, they both realised that maybe, maybe, the other had a point.
The jam was very flavoursome, and Sherlock could feel the craving to accompany it with hot, salty butter on soft white bread, once he had gotten over the initial reaction.
John felt the chocolate and hazelnut oozing around him, hitting all the right points to satisfy his urge for chocolate-binging.
"Mmm," they both sighed at once, and looked at each other, startled.
"So you admit that I was right!" Sherlock said, with an altogether much too pleased expression.
"Only if you admit that I was right!" John said defiantly.
They both sat, staring belligerently at each other, but not daring to say a word.