Fandom: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock
Gene: Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mystery, Fluff
Character/s: Sherlock, Martin, Mycroft, John, Douglas, Carolyn, Arthur, Lestrade, Moriarty, OCs and other minor Sherlock characters
Summary: Round Two. Only this time, the stakes have changed... and so have the players.
Warnings: Violence. Bit of foul language. Spoiler for The Great Game.
Notes: Sequel to Thicker than Water. Reading that first will help understanding this fic.
Sorry for the delay. Don't hate me.
Thanks to Elvendork for her betaing.
Arthur wasn’t crying.
That was the one thing Carolyn could process at the moment. He was holding her tightly, his head buried in her shoulder but he wasn’t crying. Neither was Douglas but that was to be expected.
Okay, two things she could process. No more because then she might have to acknowledge that Mart-
Nope. Arthur wasn’t crying and Sherlock Holmes was pushing past her a smile on his face.
It really wasn’t a decision to raise her hand and slap him.
Not Martin. Moriarty is playing games, what game? Where is Mycroft, should have called. Not Martin. Why was Mycroft at Fitton? Too many questions, think! Not Martin. Brother in danger but do-
A hand caught his left cheek and Sherlock found his thoughts scattering as Carolyn slapped him. She was breathing heavily, her eyes wet and red while her son clung to her. Douglas stood a step behind her, his hand clearly raised to do something similar to what Carolyn had done. Sherlock blinked in confusion at them while slowly raising his hand to his cheek. How had these people snuck up on him?
“You monster.” Carolyn breathed. “Are you... happy your brother is dead?” Arthur made a choked sound at her words.
Sherlock blinked. He noted the sounds of John’s approach and categorised it as safe. “Why would I be pleased if my brother was dead? Well. Might be pleased if Mycroft was seriously mai-”
“Bit not good Sherlock.” John said, causing the MJN crew members to jump. One glance at them and John was closing his eyes and sighing. “And you didn’t tell them.”
“I believe she slapped me before I had the chance.” Sherlock turned to Carolyn. “Although with the force behind that, it was almost a punch.”
“Tell us what?” Douglas demanded, stepping into Sherlock’s personal space. They were almost the same height, so Douglas was able to stare Sherlock right in the eyes.
So he was able to see the almost hidden relief there as Sherlock spoke. “The body wasn’t Martin. It was a double. Martin is-”
Sherlock broke off as Arthur once again tackle hugged him. Utterly bewildered, it was only John’s quick reactions that kept the pair on their feet.
“You saved Skipper! Well, sort of. Because he’s still not here. But you made him be not dead! And that’s brilliant.” Arthur showed no signs of letting go soon and Sherlock’s pleading looks were getting no help from Carolyn and Douglas who had begun to smile themselves.
How does Martin stand this? Sherlock thought, even as he felt himself relax into the hug.
A short while later, once Sherlock had managed to get Arthur to let go of him, the group were on the doorstep of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock rushed up the stairs, leaving John to lead the rest up at a more sedate pace.
“You live...here?” Douglas drawled as he ran his eyes over what could be seen of the living room beneath the piles of papers and files. Sherlock was frantically throwing piles around creating more mess, which caused John to sigh.
“What are you looking for Sherlock?” He asked, ignoring Douglas.
“Nothing.” He said, throwing files across the room. John caught them easily and flicked one open to a random page. He grimaced at the crime scene photo there, the body eerily similar to Sherlock.
“Hiya Barbie! Hi Ken”
Everyone jumped as two voices broke into the tense room. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in confusion as music began to play.
“I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world.”
“Is that...someone’s phone?” Carolyn asked. Sherlock’s hand twitched towards his pocket and he pulled out the ringing phone. He stared at it in disbelief as John began to laugh. Arthur was moving his hips in a way that suggested dancing was imminent.
“This is music?” Sherlock asked, his tone dripping contempt.
“I would have thought you would know, considering it’s your phone.” Douglas said, smiling.
The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched. “I believe this is Martin’s idea of a practical joke.” He turned the phone so John, and by extension the MJN crew, could see the screen. “This is Mycroft’s ringtone.” The music stopped as the phone rang out. A second later it restarted as Mycroft tried again.
“Oh the umbrella man?” Arthur said, still swinging his hips to the music not caring that he was now out of time.
“Yes, what did happen to him?” Carolyn asked.
Sherlock frowned and his eyes met John’s. Slowly he put the phone on the table then answered the call, switching it to speaker.
“Fitton is a bit out of your way, isn’t it?”
“Oh so it is out of his way?” John took a deep breath at the voice. “I had wondered... I had plans you know, to get him. But then he went and made it so easy.” Jim Moriarty’s voice became sing-song as he spoke making his last words high pitched.
“Moriarty. Got your message.”
“No you didn’t.” Sherlock grimaced, while Carolyn and Douglas exchanged confused looks.
“Hmm. Interesting. A miscommunication then. Perhaps you need to be clearer in future, Jimmy.”
“And perhaps your brother needs broken legs. I’ll see to it if you’re not careful, Sherly.” Moriarty's voice had turned hard and Sherlock grinned at the point he had scored. However at the mention of broken legs, Arthur gave a small whine.
“Is that your pet? Getting sensitive in his old age?”
Sherlock glared at Arthur as he answered. “Client of mine, actually. You have something that belongs to him. He’s a bit worried about the state he might get it back in.” There was almost an audible sound as the jaws of Douglas and Carolyn dropped.
“You mean this double of yours? Very entertaining. I just might keep it.”
“Liar.” Sherlock pointed out gleefully. “There’s nothing interesting about him. He’s an airline captain for a minor company who barely has the intelligence to fly. He’s boring.” Carolyn opened her mouth to start yelling at Sherlock but John was there, covering her mouth before she spoke. He alone was observing how his friend’s shoulders were slumped and his eyes were worried. Sherlock was putting on the performance of his life.
“I know! So terribly dull. Don’t mind if I have a little fun before I return it?”
Panic flashed across Sherlock’s face but he kept it from his voice as he replied. “Oh you’re in one of those moods. Suicide bombers again? I expected more.”
“Now, now Sherlock. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s only if you’re very very bad. Right now, I want to know how you know this Martin Crieff.”
“You can’t deduce it? He was kidnapped today along with Mycroft. His employer has hired me to find him and I’m-”
“WRONG! Don’t lie Sherlock. Don’t even try. I’ll know and he will suffer for it.”
Sherlock paused for a second. “He’s a friend. Of mine.”
“See! That wasn’t hard.” There was a brief pause then a loud crack.
And Martin Crieff screamed.