Title: Lost in the Woods
Series: Whose Woods These Are
Rating: PG
Characters (this one): John, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Donovan, Molly, Mycroft, Sherlock
Word Count: 703
Tense: Past
Warning: Spoilers for The Hounds of Baskerville and The Reichenbach Fall
Summary: Drabbles, one-shots, mini stories, and the like about everyone as they find themselves lost in strangely familiar woods. No slash. Open to requests. Title from the poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost.


John Watson was too old to be afraid of the woods. He never used to be. The woods to him were camping trips and summer holiday. They were a place for him to lose himself when he and Harry were arguing. The woods were solace.

He began to see the woods differently after Baskerville. Suddenly, they were filled with monsters and overwhelming fears that he could not escape even with a journey through hell. He was midway through his life, but he was not ready to face some of his demons. They could rot in hell for all he cared.

Greg Lestrade never enjoyed being in the woods. When he was a child, they were full of deranged werewolves and bloodthirsty vampires. As an adolescent, he was too busy with school and football to take any ventures into the woods like his friends did. Standing in the woods only reminded him of missed opportunities.

Baskerville wasn't any different. He didn't enjoy accompanying Sherlock and John into the woods that night. That familiar feeling of fear of the supernatural and longing for his missed opportunities made his bones ache. He decided that he didn't need any more woods in his life after that.

Mrs Hudson had loved the woods as a child. They made her feel free and natural. She spent many a day in her younger years chasing her mates through the woods or being chased herself. The woods were laughter and childhood wrapped up into a beautiful landscape.

Her husband had loved the woods as much as she did. They had camped during their happy years. After his execution, she never went to the woods again.

Sally Donovan hadn't much experience with woods herself, but she loved venturing into them through stories. She laughed at the naïve princess lost in the woods waiting for her prince. After closing the book, she decided that no prince would come for her. When she was little, she hoped that her prince would come, but he never did.

After Sherlock's death, she discovered that she had never been a princess. The princesses she read about had never betrayed their mentor. They were faithful and kind. No, she wasn't a princess, and she settled for an ugly stepsister. Still, she secretly hoped that there was a prince waiting for her in the woods - if she'd only ever venture there.

Molly Hooper had never been one for the woods. She liked the indoors. The woods were too alive. They twisted and turned and crept everywhere. She liked the clean inside where things weren't alive. This was why she became a pathologist. She could take care of the dead. The living were too wild for her.

After Sherlock's fall, she realised that she could take care of the living, and she could do it well. He was alive, thanks to her. Somehow, she found herself longing for the woods. She wanted to delve into the eerie trees. The woods weren't too alive anymore because the inside had become too dead.

Mycroft Holmes had always found the woods too messy. When he was younger, Sherlock would beg Mycroft to explore the woods with him. He never enjoyed accompanying his younger, curious brother into the woods. His parents urged him not to allow Sherlock to explore everything. The woods were messy because they reminded him of the conflict in his family.

The woods changed after Sherlock's death. They weren't as messy as before. They were a link to a simpler time when he still had a younger brother to muck up his life. Sitting at The Diogenes Club only made him miss the woods even more.

Sherlock Holmes had always loved the woods. They were grand and sometimes more appealing than a mind palace. He had never been lost in the woods, but he recognized the signs of being out of ones element.

He watched his blogger, his detective inspector, his 'not-your-housekeeper,' his - no not his - pawn, his pathologist, and his archenemy. They were lost in guilt, fear, compassion, naïvety, control, and memories. Each of them found themselves in the woods - lost without a way out. He was surprised how much he wished he were right along with them.