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[personal profile] prettybirdy979
 Title: Burning Hearts
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
Rating: PG-13 
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.

Thanks to Elvendork for her betaing. 

Martin can’t hear the cries. Arthur was clearly trying to be brave, only making tiny whimpering noises. It almost sounded like he was sobbing instead of screaming. Either way, it is quiet.

So only I can hear this, it’s only going to affect me.

I am the Iceman. I am the Iceman. It’s not Sherlock, I do not care. I cannot care.

I’m glad Martin can’t hear this.

********

Carolyn eyed the window. John had jumped up and pulled himself through it only moments ago and even now they could hear him moving around inside.

“I can’t reach that.” She said, turning on Sherlock. “Give me a hand up.”

Sherlock blinked. “Me?”

“Well Douglas surely isn’t going to do it!”

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue. John beat him to it.

“What’s taking so long?”

With a groan, Sherlock knelt down and created a step for Carolyn with his hands.

As Carolyn stepped up and reached for the window sill, Douglas found himself trying not to laugh. He was a grown man, this was a serious moment. The sight of Carolyn being pushed up a wall to climb through a rather small window should not be enough to damage his control.

It was close though.

“One laugh Douglas-”

“I know Carolyn. Knives.”

“Got her, Sherlock.” John called from inside the building.

Sherlock dropped his hands, stepping back and turning to Douglas. “Your turn. Do you need a boost too?” He said with disdain.

Douglas was about to reply when a scream came from the front of the building.

“Move!” Sherlock cried. “The body has been found.”

Faster than he thought possible, Douglas pulled himself up and through the window. He half fell, half jumped through the window and landed on his knees.

Moments later, Sherlock crashed into him, forcing him flat against the ground.

“There’s an office or something over here.” John said, grabbing at the two men on the floor and tugging Sherlock up and to the right.

“How can you tell?” Douglas said. He couldn’t see anything, his eyes still adjusting to the dark inside the warehouse. The only light came from the windows at the front of the building but as they moved Douglas noted the lack of things to run into.

“Bit empty, isn’t it?” He said as they entered the office John had mentioned. Not a moment too soon as Douglas heard footsteps.

John held a finger up to warn them to be quiet, which made Sherlock roll his eyes. John just put his finger on Sherlock’s nose, which made the man go cross eyed.

“They’re gone.” Sherlock said softly, after a minute of extremely loud breathing. “Came up stairs by the sound of their footsteps. John, can you go lock the door behind them?”

John nodded and slipped out of the office.

“You were right about this being a front.” Carolyn commented. Either that, or their equipment is invisible.”

“And intangible.” Sherlock offered, startling a laugh from Carolyn. “Quiet!” He snapped.

The door to the office opened then and Sherlock raised his gun quickly, aiming it directly at John’s forehead.

“Was wondering if you would remember you had that. Room out there is clear. No one and no thing is there. Well, there’s a set of stairs.”

“They lead to the walkways, so nothing to worry about.” At their blank looks, Sherlock continued. “The set of walkways, good God, do none of you observe?”

“In a darkened warehouse? We try but you know old age. Not the best thing for being able to see things clearly.” Douglas snapped.

“Right, Martin?” John asked. “Arthur?”

They all blinked at him. “Yes. Come on Holmes.” Carolyn said.

********

Arthur had started screaming an hour ago.

He had stopped half an hour ago.

Or so Mycroft estimated. They had blindfolded him when they dragged Arthur and him from their cell, Martin’s frantic cries in their ears. And he was sure his sense of time had been thrown somewhere along the line, to his great displeasure.

However Mycroft’s hearing was still functioning correctly. Meaning he clearly heard the two sets of footsteps that passed by his cell, grumbling about drunks. Then, approximately ten minutes later, he was able to hear another pair of footsteps running past.

“Sherlock.” He whispered.

The door to his cell opened.

“Mycroft!” John called and Mycroft smiled.

“John. Might I recommend your presence in the cell next door?”

A pair of hands pulled the blindfold off and Mycroft instinctively closed his eyes against the slight increase in light. John began to untie his hands when one of Martin’s co-workers appeared in the doorway.

Mycroft blinked in surprise at the man’s (Douglas was it?) presence. Why had Sherlock agreed to him coming?

“John, we need you. It’s Arthur.”

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