"And if it were something more?" Sherlock asked before he could stop himself, the need to get down to the bottom of the mess he had created at the duck pond growing and becoming overwhelming. Why did he have to know what John thought of it, and did it mean something more than just a happy little exchange of friendship? Or was it just that? Sherlock expressing the unamountable excitement that had proved his ideas, culminating into one, final deduction, the duck pond theory, if you will? Was that all it was? An expression of joy?

Sure, that's what he had chalked it up to be in the long run. Just a way to express himself and his appreciation for John, a buildup of excitement for a man that he obviously sort of cared about. Enough to go running about, threatening off other people from hurting him, even when he was barking up imaginary trees for possibly the first time in a long time.

He frowned and reached up, massaging his brow once again, pushing away these thoughts. What on earth was the matter with him? He stole a glance to his side once more, stared at John but shook his head. "We'll stop whenever we see something."