prettybirdy979 | Thicker than Water 3/?

Title: Thicker than Water,
Fandom: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock
Gene: Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Kid-fic, Fluff
Character/s: Martin, Sherlock, Mycroft, OCs, (MJN and John show up later)
Rating: PG-13, maybe a PG-15/R in later chapters mentioning drugs...
Summary: Sherlock's favourite brother hasn't always been there, but he's been there when it counts. For that matter, so has Sherlock.
Warnings: Mentions of Drug abuse in later chapter/s
Notes: For a prompt on the kinkmeme.

There may be more of a wait between this chapter and the next while I figure out a few details in the next chapter.

Thanks to

elvendork_lee for betaing!

A knocking on his dorm door is not normally enough to entice Sherlock to move. It’s not enough this time, even when the person at the door keeps knocking. He has no desire to speak to the nitwits who share this building with him. Though that Sebastian doesn’t seem as stupid as the rest…

“Sherlock?” a quiet voice, in complete opposition to the frantic knocking, calls out and interrupts his thoughts. Sherlock is on his feet and at the door before he even processes it. That is Martin’s voice, but the data must be wrong because-

He opens the door to find an exhausted, slightly scared looking Martin on his doorstep. Sherlock quickly takes in the data- Martin has a bag with him, clothes he has been wearing for a few days at the least and is holding himself stiffly. His eyes also have signs of recent crying.

Conclusion- he failed his latest pilot’s test, got into an argument with his parents and has fled his parents’ house. He is stiff from sleeping on the bus (no buses, no bus would get him this far) and scared from walking the streets of the city at such a late hour. Martin may be nearly nineteen but he so often seems like the four year old Sherlock first met.

Why he came to Sherlock is a complete mystery though.

Martin has been silent the entire time Sherlock observed him. Now he gives Sherlock a pleading look, as if begging to stay. Sherlock moves out of the way in silent agreement. His room has only one bed and is completely cluttered with experiments and papers but Martin doesn’t seem to care. He just dumps his bag on the only clear space and collapses on Sherlock’s bed. He grabs one of Sherlock’s pillows, curls up slightly and breathes in deeply.

“That was your third attempt at getting a licence. What happened this time?” Sherlock sits down on the end of the bed, but on the other side so he can look at Martin’s face.

“You can deduce I failed, but not how?” Martin snaps, and then sighs. “Sorry Sherlock, it’s just… this one wasn’t my fault. The examiner… he took a dislike to me. And he marked me so hard for it. The only way to pass was to be perfect and I’m not perfect… nowhere near it.”

Sherlock notices the small tear Martin blinks out but chooses not to comment. “And the argument with your parents was over the waste of money and time again?”

Another tear. “Yes.”

“Something was different this time. You don’t normally catch the bus across the country after a fight with your parents.” Sherlock tilts his head to look at his brother, carefully observing every detail. “This fight was bigger than the others. You angered your Dad somehow; more than usual and he said something rash.”

“Mum actually.” Sherlock groans mentally. There’s always something. “She said…she said I was just like my father, I didn’t care about anyone else.” A hiccup. “A right bastard.” The tears are flowing freely on Martin’s face now.

Sherlock takes a second to bask in the feeling of being right before he realises he has to do something to comfort Martin. For a moment his is out of his depth, before a memory comes to him. He stands and searches though an unpacked box. Finding the item he wants, he offers it to Martin as he resumes his place on the bed.

“Here. I believe this makes you feel better.” Martin’s eyes widen at the toy Sherlock offers him.

“Planey? But…I left that behind for you when I was seven. Why do you still have it?”

Sherlock is caught off guard. “Because you gave it to me?” he asks, unsure of the correct answer.

Martin suddenly smiles through his tears. “You do know you’re my favourite half-brother…favourite brother…no favourite sibling, right?” he sits up, so now they are both sitting on the edge of the bed, facing another. “You actually care…at least I think you care… you do care, of course you care you kept Planey.” He looks at Sherlock so earnestly, face covered in tears but smiling at the thought Sherlock cares.

Sherlock feels like someone has kicked the world out from under him, despite Martin’s stumbling over his words. He blinks in surprise and Martin takes that as a sign. He clears the distance between them and wraps his arms around Sherlock. Sherlock is used to Martin’s hugs, but this time he returns it without prompting or a long pause.

He still has Planey in his hands.

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