Sherlock grumbled at John as he stalked along the path. "Of all the things you could have picked for us to do, John…"
John smiled to himself as he stumbled along behind, his arms laden with bags and poles. "Good experience for you," he puffed. "Character building."
"I have character, thank you. And wipe that grin off your face," Sherlock added, despite the fact that he couldn't see John's face.
Eventually, they arrived at the campsite. John unpacked and set up the tent, and they made a campfire together. After a meal of sausages in bread, the two flatmates settled down in their tent for a sleep. John dozed off quickly, listening to the natural noises of the forest; but Sherlock took longer to drop off, not being used to sleeping often.
Early the next morning, John was woken by a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Sherlock staring at him silently. He pointed upwards.
"Look up, John, and tell me what you see."
John looked up, and saw hundreds of beautiful stars, glittering in the night sky. "It's a clear night," he said simply. "Why, what do you see?"
Sherlock sounded matter-of-fact. "I see that someone's stolen our tent."
John sat up, startled, then flopped back down. "Oh, I wish we'd never made this stupid bet!"