Hello! I'm not really sure what happened when I was writing this. I was feeling rather... insane. Or more so than usual. That should explain the strangeness of this chapter, but in advance I do apologise for the weirdness. I blame the mystery drugs (as always).
Also, it is possible that I will make this a crossover. But, it is up to you. I wouldn't want to make you dislike the story if I changed it. If I did change it, it will include the Doctor. And I promise (I'll try) it'll be amusing. Because the Doctor is always fun to work with.

So, to sum up, sorry for the weirdness, it will improve, please tell me if you want it to include the Doctor, and as always, review. Reviews are gold, and gold keeps the nasty monsters away. We wouldn't want any character deaths, now would we?

Sherlock and John walked behind the trees toward the other side of the house, keeping hidden in the shadows so that the security camera didn't see them. Sherlock was a bit ahead, and paused while John caught up with him. John walked towards him, then past him. It took him a few moments to notice that Sherlock wasn't walking alongside him, but he did eventually notice, and he turned to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock was looking at a tree that John had just passed. No, looking was not the right word. He was… gazing at the tree like it held the answer to life, the universe, and everything in between.

"Uh… Sherlock? What are you doing?"

Sherlock didn't answer for a moment, almost as if he was trying to formulate a credible answer. His eyes never left the tree.

"I'm just… watching the tree."

John frowned. Surely one didn't watch trees? People usually watched birds, or butterflies, or barnacles, not trees. He was sure you couldn't really watch a tree. You could look at it, but not watch it. Or so he thought.

"Which tree?" John cursed himself for asking such a stupid question. He wanted to know how Sherlock was watching the tree, seeing as you can't watch trees, not which one he was watching! Stupid mouth!

"That one." Sherlock said, without indicating in any way which one he was referring to.

"Why?" John cursed himself again for asking such a trivial question. It didn't matter why he was watching the tree, but how. He gave himself a mental note to have a word with his mouth when they got back to the flat.

"Because… I am enraptured by it."

"Wait, what? Run that over me again."

"It is simply… jubilant."

"Huh?"

"Ecstatic. Rapturous. Enchanting."

"The tree?"

"Of course the tree. What else could be so… utterly delightful?"

And then Sherlock was walking towards the tree, like a moth slowly walking towards a flame. He reached his arm out and rested it lightly against the trunk of the tree. The bark was cool to his touch, rough and wild yet calming and soft. He stared intently at the tree, following the lines of the wood with his fingers.

"Do you two… want to be left alone?"

Sherlock didn't move his head to look in John's direction.

"Yes, if you would."

John walked towards the edge of the treeline, and looked across at the house/mansion. He could see lights on in some of the rooms, but there was no one in there. Mycroft was out, and he didn't like having body-guards hanging around his private home when he wasn't there. John glanced quickly at his watch, and saw that it said 19.20. He looked back up at the house, seeing the shadows cast on to the lawn, and tracing them back to their origin, while the numbers 19.20 bounced around in his head. 19.20. 19.20.

19.20!

John looked back at his watch again. 19.21. He gaped. They had planned on being in the house by now. He quickly rushed over to Sherlock.

He reached Sherlock's tree, and noticed Sherlock right away. He was perched on one of the branches, caressing the bark lightly and whispering frivolous words at the tree.

"Sherlock!" he whispered incredibly loudly.

"Sherlock! We need to go now!

Sherlock turned to John, slight confusion showing on his face.

"Why?"

"Because" John checked his watch again. "It's 19.26!"

Sherlock's eyes widened.

"But I can't go!"

"Why not? We need to go now, or we'll run out of time!"

Sherlock looked longingly at the tree.

"But I don't want to leave. What about Jacaranda?"

"What?"

"Jacaranda."

"What's that?"

"The tree."

"You want to stay with the tree?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Sherlock paused. He fumbled over his words.

"Because… I love her."

"You love her?"

"Yes. I love Jacaranda. She understands me." Sherlock said, patting the tree fondly.

John closed his eyes and let out a sigh of breath. Sherlock falling in love was defiantly not part of the plan. Tree or otherwise.

"Sherlock. We need to move now otherwise Mycroft will get back before we have finished setting everything up." John opened the bag he had been carrying, and held out a camcorder. He raised his eyes questioningly. Sherlock looked at the camcorder, then at the tree, and then back at the camcorder.

"You're right."

And then they set off past the trees and towards the house.