Thank you for all your reviews and a special thank you to Ladycrafter for her camping stories, some of which had me howling with laughter and changing this chapter to incorporate them. Thank you so much xx

Chapter 2

It was just after seven pm and Molly was completely chilled. She had arrived just after mid-day, her tent had gone up like a dream and it had allowed her to spend the afternoon exploring the quiet campsite and the nearby village where she had been able to pick up some basic provisions. She'd gone for a camp site with a pub nearby rather than on-site entertainment. Her plan was to relax not have to listen to drunks and loud music into the early hours.

She was currently sitting outside her little tent in one of her recliner pop up chairs, meaning she was about two inches off the ground with her legs stretched out in front of her. Her little camp stove was lit and cooking a tin of stew and her first glass of red wine was going down very nicely indeed.

As it wasn't in any of the school holidays the site was fairly quiet and she had managed to set up her tent away from anyone else and with a nice view out over the hillside which dropped away to the sea below. She could hear the birds calling to each other and even crickets in the grass and she was so glad she had done this.

Ten minutes of peace later and there was a clatter of equipment off to her left. She huffed and peered around the edge of her tent to see that someone had emptied the contents of a tent bag onto the ground. She could see a pair of jeans and a gorgeously cute ass but whoever it was was bent over and rummaging through the pile, no doubt trying to figure out what went where.

She sighed in frustration. Cute ass or not why did they have to pick the pitch right next to hers? There was plenty of space. People were like lemmings sometimes or sheep having to stick together for comfort. The noise was setting Molly's teeth on edge but what could she do? She could hardly go and tell him to move.

She settled back in her chair determined to ignore him; concentrating instead on dishing up some of the stew and turning the heat down so the remainder kept warm.

Whoever it was seemed to be having no joy with their tent. There were plenty of humphs and sighs. Molly smirked to herself and evilly wondered if they might not give up and go home. Another sneaky look around the edge of her tent showed that their attempts to put up what appeared to be an ancient tent were futile. The side she could see looked very precarious and at risk of falling down any moment. It must have done a minute or two later because there was a crash followed by a sudden expletive and a frighteningly familiar voice let out a brief, 'for God's sake'.

Molly sat rigid in her chair, not even breathing. Her brain seemed to be in a loop nononononono it can't be, it can't be. She shook her head, she must have imagined it, maybe it was the wine, after all why in all that is holy would Sherlock be setting up a tent on the pitch next to hers.

She poured herself another glass of wine and had almost convinced herself that she'd been mistaken when the person in question walked into her sight line with a furious look on his face.

'It's no good Molly, that tent is defective; it must be. There is no way on this planet that it is possible to erect it.'

Molly just sat in shock taking in the sight of a disheveled Sherlock with grass stains on the knees of his jeans, mud on his cheek and tent pegs clutched in one hand.

'What...what...how...how are you even here?'

'That isn't important, what's important is I have nowhere to sleep tonight.' He huffed. 'I'll have to sleep in with you.'

He peered past her into her tent and nodded his head. 'Yes, looks like there's plenty of room for two in there. Do you at least have another of those chairs? I need to sit down, my back is killing me.'

She waved a hand towards her hire car, 'in the boot...it's open.'

He disappeared from view again and she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was feeling very disorientated and desperately in need of some answers. Her previous calm seemed to have disappeared and she wasn't sure she'd ever get it back. She could hear Sherlock opening the boot and rummaging about but she still couldn't quite believe that he was actually here.

A moment later he reappeared carrying the said chair which he plonked down on the grass next to hers before settling his lanky frame into it and letting out a huge sigh.

'So go on.'

He glanced at her, 'go on what?'

'What on earth are you doing here and more to the point how did you even know how to find me? I didn't tell anyone where I was going.'

'I'm here because you're here, you don't think I'd come all this way for the good of my health do you? John was unavailable, there are no cases and I was at imminent risk of being mollycoddled by my interfering parents and brother. This seemed like the least worst option.'

Molly didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not so chose to gloss over it. 'But how did you know where I was?'

Even Sherlock realised that telling Molly he'd planted a bug on her in order to be able to track her movements would be a bit not good so instead he tapped his nose. 'Trade secret. I'm not a Detective for nothing you know. I am actually quite good.'

Molly still had questions but she lapsed into a contemplative silence. She looked over at the heap of canvas and poles still piled up on his pitch and smirked to herself.

'So you were having trouble with your erection then?' She had to struggle to keep her face straight.

He frowned and nodded. 'Yes, I don't know why; it must be faulty or something. I think it's missing the central pole because I've never had a problem getting one up before.'

Molly couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter and he turned his head to look at her in momentary bewilderment at what was amusing her. It didn't last long and his lips flattened as he rolled his eyes. 'Yes, haha very funny Molly.' But he did give a reluctant smile.

She couldn't help but wind him up further. 'You could always hold the tent up yourself. You know, act as the central pole. I can help you finish it.'

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her but she could see he was fighting a smile. 'Are you suggesting I spend the night holding my tent up.?'

'Well it would be one way to stay dry...looks like it might rain.' She peered up into the cloud free sky.

'Yes, well I think we'll be fine sharing your tent.' He picked up the spoon sitting in the pan and poked about at the stew. 'Is this left over?'

Molly rolled her eyes. 'Yes, I suppose it is, as I'm assuming you haven't even thought to bring food would you like it?' She started to reach for another bowl but he just picked up the pan and started eating direct from it with the spoon she'd used to stir it.

'Have you ever even been camping before?' Molly asked as she took another sip of her wine.

He gestured towards the wine. 'Mmm yes please, a glass would be nice.'

'Oh for fu...' She took a deep breath but then retrieved another plastic tumbler and poured him some out; glad that at least she had bought two bottles though that had been meant to last the whole weekend not just one or two nights.

He finished the stew and took the glass. 'And to answer your question Molly yes of course I've been camping. What English school boy hasn't been forced to attend scout camps? I have some hideous memories of 30 plus boys all soaked to the skin and trying to feed themselves with frozen mince and insufficient fires. And more recently I frequently spent nights out of doors though that tended to be sleeping rough rather than camping, I didn't have the luxury of a tent and an air bed.'

He drank some of his wine and stared out at the sea which seemed still as a millpond from this distance; the sun starting to set on the horizon was casting an orange glow over the water. Molly looked at him in curiosity trying to think when he would have had to sleep rough and why.

He seemed to feel the weight of her gaze and the questions she longed to ask because he continued. 'It was when I was "dead",' he air quoted with his fingers being careful not to spill any of the wine. 'I went overseas, travelled a lot, hunting down Moriarty's crew. At first it was all fairly straight-forward going from city to city with Mycroft's people arranging accommodation and information, the odd night sleeping rough but nothing major but then I had to drop off the grid completely; go undercover. It was...hard.'

Molly could sense the understatement in his words, he didn't seem to want her to know just how bad it had been which made her suspect all sorts of horrors.

He took a deep breath and seemed to regroup. 'Anyway, towards the end I had to get away. My cover had been blown and if I'd been captured I would have been tortured and killed so I fled. I lived rough for two weeks; constantly on the run trying to make it to the border so I could get to freedom.'

'What happened?' Molly couldn't seem to raise her voice above a whisper.

'Well, I didn't quite make it but Mycroft came to the rescue and brought me back to London. You know the rest.'

He leant over her and for a moment she could smell him; he smelt amazing, just as he always did. He hooked the wine bottle with his finger and thumb and held it out waiting for her to lift her glass so he could top them both up.

'What about you Molly? What made you come camping?'

She smiled. 'Oh go on, I know you want to, why don't you tell me?'

He caught her eye and smiled in return and Molly thought how honest and natural his smile was nowadays with her. She remembered back to those tight, fake smiles he'd used when she'd first met him and she wondered how she could ever have thought them real. His smiles now reached his eyes, lighting up his whole face making him more gorgeous than ever.

'It's almost the ten year anniversary of your father's death and whilst you haven't wanted to mark the occasion it has made you reminisce about your childhood. I deduce you went camping often with your parents. You didn't come from a wealthy background so camping would have been a cost effective holiday. You have happy memories of it and wanted to recreate that feeling. How did I do?'

Molly was staring at him, a little in shock. It didn't matter how many years she had known him it still amazed her how he could be so accurate about things with such little information to go on.

He tilted his head. 'Well?'

She broke out of her reverie and giggled a little. 'You did good. It was spot on. We never came here, to this place, it tended to be campsites around Kent and Leicester but we used to go two or three times a up year until I was about fourteen when we finally went on our first foreign holiday; a package holiday to Cyprus. What kind of holidays did you have?'

He shrugged. 'My father was in the diplomatic service so Mycroft and I would fly out to wherever our parents were for the holidays. If not that, we'd go and stay at our grandmother's estate in Surrey.'

'Oh...so were you at boarding school then in term time?'

'Yes.'

The way he said the word was tight and clipped. Molly wondered if she should press further but the whole situation seemed so surreal and out of their normal comfort zone anyway that she pressed on.

'You didn't like it there.' It was a statement more than a question and it had Sherlock looking at her appraisingly. 'No, no I didn't. No one ever saw that or if they did they weren't bothered enough to ask. I hated it, it was run like a military establishment, get up at this time, make your bed, go to class, do your work, clean the dorms, run around doing jobs for the seniors. They didn't care if you were happy, sad or indifferent. I should never have put up with it as long as I did...but I was young, trying to please my parents, my grandparents, Mycroft.'

Molly stayed silent not wanting to disturb his reminiscences, she worried that he might suddenly clam up if he realised how much he was telling her. She found the insight into his childhood fascinating and she ached for the small boy, away from his home and his parents.

So Sherlock's arrived and surprise, surprise he has to sleep in Molly's tent. What a shame ;).

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