Sherlock could taste the blood. The pain pounded throughout his body: Mild concussion, sprained wrist, and an overwhelming smell of—forest?

He sat up carefully, checking for more serious injuries. What the devil was he doing in a forest? He hadn't seen trees so large in such a long time. They old, impossibly old for England.

A bird landed beside him, chirped once, and pecked at the aglet of his shoelace.

He waved his hand, and the bird flew away.

"John?" He stood and brushed his coat off. Nothing seemed too badly injured. He turned to the bird who continued to stare at him, head cocked and bright eyes studying him. He took a step towards it.

The bird flew away but only as far as the next tree. Its red waistcoat gleamed in the sunshine.

Sunshine.

It had been one of the biggest rain and wind storms of the century in London.

Sherlock reached for a heavy branch lying near his feet. What was the quip so many people made? Something about Kansas. As far as he remembered from his parents' holiday snaps, this was most definitely not Kansas.

Donna folded her arms and leaned against the TARDIS console. "What are you thinking about? You haven't made a smart remark nearly all day."

"I'm thinking." Ten sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Did you make candy apples?"

"Why would I make candy apples? You know my cooking abilities. I'd love some, tho, if this machine of yours has developed a Mrs Potts' temperament."

"The TARDIS is running a diagnostic of recent honey samples. We're testing for stress in the bees' behaviour. Similar to how a chicken's egg will taste bitter or the milk of a female mammal—"

"What do you know of food? Do you ever eat?" Donna lifted her nose and sniffed. "It doesn't smell like candy apples. Smells more like sugar biscuits."

"It is most definitely candy apples," said the Doctor. "Galadria III found a way to make the cinnamon and caramel complement each other perfectly. We should go there."

"Once the TARDIS is done analysing the honey? Sounds perfect. We'll just wait on the honey."

The TARDIS gave a deep groan, and Ten put on his stethoscope. "Hold on, dear. What's that?" He pressed the 'scope to the console. "Speak to me, darling. Oh, that's not good." He whipped the 'scope out of his ears. "Hold on tight to something!"

"What do you mean? Are you speaking Scottish again?"

The TARDIS lurched horribly.

"She's wheezing and groaning like my mum in a good rant," shouted Donna, holding tightly to the console.

"Don't ever insult her that way again! We'll be lucky if she isn't torn to pieces from this!" Ten kicked a switch on the console. "Blast; hang on."

Romanoff braced herself as she dropped into the water. She heard the guns firing and braced for them to hit her skin. The water was warmed than she expected. She opened her eyes and saw a warm, green light overhead.

She swam to the surface and took a deep breath, her hair plastered to her head. This was not Cozumel. Green trees and a warm sun looked down at her.

She pushed for the bank and pulled ashore, only to laugh. Her slinky black evening gown with the ornamental black widow belt wouldn't do any good in the forest. Where to find real clothes, tho?

She crouched into a defensive position at the sound of someone barging through the forest. It sounded like Banner in the kitchen after an episode.

A thin man with a black coat and suit ran past her. He was following a robin, which was progressing at a decent rate. A story niggled at the back of her mind—the Snow Queen and four children?

She shook her head and stepped out from behind the tree.

But the man was gone. He'd vanished into the greenness of the world.

Someone stepped on a branch, and Romanoff grabbed the arm holding the gun and threw the woman over her head. The black heels were good for something as she dug them into the blonde woman's throat. "Who are you?"

"Emma Swan," grunted the woman. She wore a stocking cap over her long braids. "I have no idea where we are or how we got here."

"We can only assume to blame Rumpelstiltskin for this one, love," said a man's voice. "The least he could have done was thrown in a case of rum if this is his idea of a wedding present."

Romanoff looked over her shoulder and saw a man who oozed Irish charm. He also had a hook instead of a hand. Never a good sign. She looked back to the woman. "Rumpelstiltskin? The fairy tale character?"

"Fairy tales?" The man laughed. "You're currently holding the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming at shoe point."

"Fairy tales are for children," said Romanoff. But she helped Emma stand up. "Sorry about that."

"Not the first time Rumpel's caused problems. I'm used to it." Emma pulled her phone from her pocket. "No service. Shit. Where'd he send up this time? Look familiar, Hook?"

"Not at all. It's not Wonderland, thank goodness, and it's not the Enchanted Forest. Not our Enchanted Forest." He ran his hand along the trees. "These trees have seen their fair share of magic. Something older than Rumpel, maybe. Regina would've been able to tell us."

"Regina's not here." Emma pulled the gun from her holster and aimed it over Hook's shoulder. "Identify yourself."

Two tall men in leather jacket and desperate need of haircuts stepped out from the trees. Both carried shotguns over their shoulders. "I'm Dean," said one. "This is my brother Sam. Why don't you put your gun down and we can talk?"

"Fat chance of that," said Emma.

"I'm with her," said Romanoff, pulling the pistol from beneath her dress.

"That's some crazy shit right there," said Sam. "What are you, some kind of super spy?"

"Something of the kind," said Romanoff.

"So who wants to ask the question?" said Hook.

Everyone looked at him.

"Where the hell are we?" said the pirate. "I'm sure everyone has someone to blame."

"Gabriel," said Sam.

"Loki," said Romanoff.

A noise startled them all. A sound like a piano string being rubbed with a key echoed throughout the wood, and a blue box appeared.

The door opened and a skinny man with brilliant hair stepped out. "Hello, everyone," he said, grinning. He took a deep breath of the air. "Earth like but not Earth. Donna!"

A red-haired woman tumbled out. "My God, it stinks in there."

The TARDIS made a weird metallic noise.

"You might want to have that checked out," said Dean. "Sounds like the carburettor's about to go."

"She doesn't have one," said the Doctor, finally noticing everyone. "Oh, are we having a show down? I love show downs."

"Really?" said Donna.

"No." The smile disappeared from his face and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Donna Noble. We were flying through all of time and space and if I wanted to hit Show Down at the O.K. Corral, I would've made sure to let Sheriff Earp know in advance, not some knock-offs with various states of disarray."

"I'm just here by mistake," said Hook, holding up his hand and hook apologetically. "Sounds like what we need is sit down and figure this all out, preferably over a drink."

"It's too early to drink," said Donna. "What sort of planet are you from?"

"All of time and space, and you think it's too early to drink? You're the alien, love."

Donna gasped. "Of all the stupid—"

"Ignore him," said Emma. "He's recovering from a hangover."

"Getting jerked out of my own world again might have something to do with the headache," said Hook. "By the way, I don't think I properly introduced myself. Captain Hook of the Jolly Roger."

"What?" said the Doctor. "Impossible."

"Only impossible if you keep a closed mind," said Hook. "I think you're the only one who hasn't introduced herself, Red."

Romanoff continued to study the two men before realizing her was addressing her. "Natasha Romanoff. So what's this about an Enchanted Forest?"