Right well I'm being fickle. As I finished my last fic I thought I was going to post my new crime fic but I've changed my mind. Blame Ben but having seen his amazing turn as Richard III in the Hollow Crown series I wanted to write something as a small tribute.

This fic is based on a picture I saw of a camping store with the strap line that's mentioned in the story and I thought it would be fun to write something around it. It was supposed to be short but it's growing and has ended up multi-chapter...I always get carried away.

Camping Fever

Molly stood in front of the camping shop window and groaned at the pun plastered across the window Now is the winter of our discount tents. As word plays went she supposed it was rather a good one but she did wonder what Shakespeare would think of his opening Richard III line being used to sell camping equipment but given he was quite the wordsmith she supposed he'd find it funny.

She walked the aisles of the store and wondered if she wasn't a little mad. She hadn't been camping in well over ten years and she had no one to go with so why...why was she contemplating buying a tent and heading to the great outdoors?

If she were brutally honest though she knew why. It all came down to her memories of her dad. They'd often gone camping in the summer. Her mum would cook sausages and eggs on a small camp stove whilst her and her dad would play badminton at the side of the tent. She had so many happy memories and she just wanted to recreate that feeling of sleeping under the stars and being close to nature.

In the end she picked up a small pop up style two man tent. She didn't want anything too complicated if she was having to put it up by herself. She had asked around some of her friends to see if they'd be interested but none of them were. They were far more interested in getting dolled up on a Saturday night and heading into London drinking and prowling for men than swapping stories over a camp fire. Molly contemplated, not for the first time, if she needed to get a new set of friends, she seemed to have less and less in common with them as the years went by.

By the time she had finished Molly had spent a lot more than she expected too. It seemed you couldn't just get a tent you needed a ground sheet, air bed, fold up seats, camp stove, mini pots and pans. The list was endless and in order to even get it all home she'd had to buy a big rucksack to house it all in. How exactly was this cheap holidaying? She thought to herself.

Getting on the tube with a massive ruck sack was something of an achievement and she half wished she had hired a cab but cabs were so expensive in London nowadays and she could rarely justify it to herself.

The next week was spent finding a camp site, hiring a pitch and a car to get her there. She also booked a couple of days off work. If she were going to do this she was going to do it properly and spend a few days there. She plumped for a site near the coast on the edge of the New Forest, she'd never been there before but there looked to be plenty of countryside and it wasn't too far away from London, should take her about an hour and a half to get there. It was also close to the sea if she wanted to spend a day on the beach.

Her last day in work was fairly quiet. She had wondered if she would see Sherlock as he had been spending a lot more time at Barts since John and Mary had had the baby but he was a no show. She sighed and mused at how she could still have such strong feelings for him after all these years and after all the bad things she had seen him do. Last year had been particularly fraught with his return from the dead, his lapse back into drug use, getting shot and a fake relationship. Then at Christmas he'd killed a man, been exiled and gotten high again as he left the country. Being his friend and colleague was like being strapped to roller coaster with no way of getting off. But love him she did even though it was unrequited; she'd still settle for his friendship any day over nothing.

Mike wished her a good time on her holiday and she made her way home feeling a fizz of excitement about the days ahead. She'd already done most of her packing and planned to set off first thing the following day so all she had to do was double check her lists and drop her spare keys off with the neighbour so they could pop in and feed Toby.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The next morning Sherlock awoke to an empty flat and no case. He and John had wrapped up the Wainwright affair the night before and John had left Baker St mulling over what to call the case on his blog whilst reminding Sherlock that he wouldn't be around for the next few days.

Sherlock frowned. 'Why is that again? What else can you possibly have to do?'

John rolled his eyes. 'Funnily enough I have a life and it includes a wife and child who haven't seen me for two days and a job that I really ought to show my face at. They're very good at giving me flexibility to help with your cases but I do have to put in a few hours at least once in a blue moon.' His voice was laced with sarcasm but he knew it had probably gone straight over his best friend's head. 'I suggest you find a case yourself for once, or tidy up this place...it's a tip and it's not fair you leaving it all for Mrs Hudson to do. She'd not getting any younger you know.'

Sherlock waved his hand and made a 'pfft' noise. 'Don't be ridiculous John she's fine. What else would she do with her time?'

'Right, well I'll catch up with you in a few days, try not to kill anyone or get arrested in that time.'

Sherlock spent an hour or so looking through the emails he'd been sent and then later texting Lestrade to see if anything of interest had come in but there was nothing. He glanced at the clock to see it was just before lunch. Molly would be finished with her morning autopsy and in the lab writing it up. Perfect, she could keep him company...she might even have some tests he could help with.

He quickly showered and dressed and made his way to Barts only to find the lab empty. He checked her office but it was all locked up. Finally, he made his way down to the morgue anticipating that she had ended up having to carry on working down there but when he opened the door he was greeted by Mike who waved a blood-soaked, gloved hand at him.

'Hi Sherlock. What brings you here this fine afternoon?'

Sherlock scowled at his cheery welcome. 'Where's Molly? She's not in the lab.'

Mike smiled and turned his attention back to the body, dragging out the intestines to weigh them whilst trying not to let them slither to the floor.

'No well she's taken a holiday. Just a couple of days...so she can have a nice, long weekend. She'll be back on Tuesday.'

Sherlock huffed and spun on his heel contemplating what he should do. He turned back to Mike. 'Where has she gone and who with? She didn't mention anything to me about it.'

Mike laughed. 'Well why would she? It's not like you would have wanted to go with her. She was asking anyone and everyone last week but I think she decided to go on her own in the end.'

Sherlock could feel his frustration rising at this half answer. 'Yes, but WHERE has she gone?'

The older man shrugged. 'No idea. I just know she wanted to go camping. Something about it reminding her of her dad and holidays she had when she was younger.'

Sherlock didn't bother with either a thank you or a goodbye he just pushed his way out of the double-doors pausing only to retrieve his phone from his pocket. Well at least he could answer one question.

As he walked he called up the app which helped him keep track of his friends. Unbeknownst to all of them, Molly, John, Mrs Hudson and Greg, they all wore items or carried phones with a chip planted in them that allowed Sherlock to track their movements. He rarely used it and it was a security measure more than a stalking one. The only person who wasn't bugged was Mary. She'd found his 'addition' within 48 hours and had threatened to insert any future ones somewhere that seemed very unhygienic. He hadn't tried with her again. Her concession with John's bug had been that she also be given the ability to track him. Sherlock figured that what John didn't know, in this instance, wouldn't hurt him.

It took him less than ten minutes to locate her. She seemed to be on the coast line of Hampshire. He frowned, trying to decide what to do. The thought of spending the next four or five days without either her or John around suddenly seemed interminable. He had no case, no nothing and he knew how his brother would react if he found out. It would be classed as some sort of 'danger time' with his parents probably being roped in to keep him entertained.

It was that last thought that settled it, plus he hadn't been out of London since Christmas; maybe having a holiday would be a good thing.

As he stepped through the doors of Baker St he shouted for Mrs Hudson. She came out of her flat wiping her hands on a tea towel. 'Whatever is it Sherlock? Honestly, all this shouting...'

'I need a tent.'

'A what?'

'A tent, Mrs Hudson, a tent. Surely you heard me the first time or do you finally need that hearing aid?'

'Don't you be cheeky young man. Come on through whilst I get the keys for downstairs. I'm sure there was a tent left behind by the tenant before you. He was into all that outdoors stuff...I'm surprised at you though. I would have thought you would prefer your creature comforts.'

Sherlock took the opportunity to raid her fridge whilst she was looking for the keys. There was a slice of homemade pork pie and some cheese which he figured would constitute lunch. He was still munching on his stolen goods as he followed her down the steps into the untenanted flat below street level. He wasn't surprised no one wanted it given the damp and the lack of natural light.

They went past the room where Moriarty had left the trainers all those years ago and to an old bedroom which was piled high with all sorts of bits and bobs; broken furniture, bags of old clothes, a stripper pole. Sherlock gave the latter a wide berth.

'Here it is, I knew there was one down here. It smells a bit musty but I'm sure it will be fine.' Sherlock went over to help as Mrs Hudson struggled to extricate the old green canvas bag. He unzipped it and looked in briefly. There seemed to be a lot of poles, ropes and pegs but it all seemed in order.

He carried it up to his flat and threw it onto the settee whilst he went to pack some clothes. He figured his normal suits wouldn't be appropriate so had to dig around at the back of his wardrobe for his 'undercover' clothes; jeans, cargo pants, t shirts, he even found a pair of shorts which he threw in last minute; he needed to look the part after all.

He changed into the jeans, took a last look around before picking up the bag, collecting the tent and leaving the house. He had to admit as he flagged down a cab he was quite looking forward to having a break.

So Sherlock has gone off to join Molly on her trip. How do we think she'll react when that happens?

Anyway as ever with a new fic, let me know what you think and what you'd like to see happen.