Title: Burning HeartsFandom: Cabin Pressure, SherlockGene: Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mystery, FluffCharacter/s: Sherlock, Martin, Mycroft, John, Douglas, Carolyn, Arthur, Lestrade, Moriarty, OCs and other minor Sherlock charactersRating: 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.
“You came, you came, oh God you came.” Martin began to cry over and over into Sherlock’s shoulder as he lifted his unbroken arm to grab at his brother. His actual brother who was real and had come for him.
“I will always come for you. Though next time you can leave Mycroft behind.” Sherlock said, surprising a laugh out of Martin. It felt weird. He had almost forgotten how to laugh.
“I didn’t exactly pla-” Sherlock let go and moved to rise and Martin cut his sentence off with a cry. He lunged for his brother and clung to him, not caring if it hurt.
“Don’t leave me alone.” Martin said softly. “Please don’t leave me alone.”
Sherlock nodded at the corner of the room. “I was just fetching your hat and jacket.”
Martin blinked. “I...forgot those were there.” Sherlock smiled and slowly Martin managed to release him. Sherlock moved quickly to grab the uniform items and was back by Martin’s side in moments.
Martin gratefully latched onto his brother. “My hat?”
“Your hat.” Sherlock confirmed and moved to place it on Martin’s head. But Martin hissed when the hat touched his head, and Sherlock quickly ran his hands through Martin’s hair. Martin hissed as Sherlock touched the small injury he had gotten when he had protested Mycroft and Arthur being taken away.
“It’s nothing, barely hurts.” Sherlock frowned, then placed the hat on his own head.
“I want John to have a look at that before I put this on it.” Carefully, he helped Martin into his jacket leaving it off the left arm. It was made harder when Martin refused to let go of his coat but Sherlock managed.
Once he was in his jacket, Martin shifted his arm so it was over Sherlock’s shoulders and Sherlock immediately placed his hand on Martin’s lower back. Martin could feel how Sherlock was half carrying him but couldn’t bring himself to care.
As John left Arthur’s cell he noted movement at the end of the hall. He raised his gun and only a flash of blue stopped him firing.
“John!” Sherlock called and John’s heart jumped for joy when he saw Martin draped over his brother with a faint smile. But then Sherlock’s eyes widened and he tried to move faster, his glance on the door to his left.
Something started banging on the door. John moved so his gun was now pointed at the door.
“How many?” He asked.
“Three. At least.” Sherlock answered as he and Martin drew level with the door, no more than five metres from John.
“Martin!” A voice cried from behind John.
“Douglas?” Martin answered, his jaw dropping. “What...Douglas?”
“Elegant as always Sir.” Douglas said, taking a step towards his Captain. John caught the movement in the corner of his eye and stepped into Douglas’ path.
“No, Douglas.” The door banged again, this time opening a touch. Sherlock was now all but dragging Martin. “You need to get out. Now. Grab Arthur and go.”
“Situation has changed. Get out!” John reached for Martin as the brothers drew near and Martin hissed as he touched his left arm. “Sorry Martin. In there. Sherlock, what have I said about running off?”
Douglas moved forward and grabbed at Martin, who reluctantly released Sherlock. Douglas pulled him into a careful hug as they entered Arthur’s cell. Sherlock heard Martin’s cry of “Arthur” and decided to give his brother a moment.
“To not to.” Sherlock said in his driest tone. “Start shooting the moment they break the door, it’ll confuse them.”
“I plan to.”
Sherlock paused and eyed the gun he still held in his hand. “Need help?” He asked hesitantly.
“With your shooting? I’m fine thanks. Get Martin out- Oh here we go.”
The door flew open and instinctively Sherlock raised his gun and shot in time with John. The head that had followed the door out quickly ducked back in. Sherlock fired a few more shots before moving into John’s personal space and putting his gun into John’s jeans’ waistband.
“Go on Sherlock. I’ll be right behind.”
“I know you will.” For a moment Sherlock felt the mad urge to kiss John, to peck him on the cheek or lips or something. But even his limited grasp of social interactions told him this was beyond a bit not good so he turned and followed his brother.
Martin was on his knees by Arthur with his jacket on the floor behind him when Sherlock walked in. Carolyn was staring at her pilot in disbelief even as Martin ran his unbroken arm over his friend.
“Martin?” She asked softly.
“Carolyn. I’m so-oof.” The breath was forced out of him as Carolyn pulled him into a tight hug.
“Watch the arm!” Sherlock cried, bending down to grab Martin’s jacket. Out of the corner of his eye he noted Mycroft shivering in a corner. Mycroft spotted his glance and nodded, the only acknowledgement of his rescue Sherlock was likely to get.
Sherlock looked between his two shivering brothers, calculated the amount of coats in the room and shrugged his off. He threw one at Mycroft, who caught it with a raised eyebrow and small look at Martin. Sherlock just glared back.
“Carolyn, we need to leave. Now.”
“But Arthur-” At his name, Arthur groaned.
“Arthur?” Martin and Carolyn asked together. Arthur didn’t reply but his eyelids flickered.
“Right. Help him up Carolyn, I’ll carry him out.” Douglas ordered and with a small glare Carolyn got Arthur to a sitting up position. Douglas kneeled, so Arthur would end up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Come on Arthur, I need you to hold onto Douglas. Now!” To her surprise, Arthur’s hands took a tight hold on Douglas as he shifted him over his shoulders.
“Let’s go.” Sherlock said, grabbing Martin by the shoulder to pull him up. Douglas glanced at the pair, saw Sherlock had Martin and left, Carolyn one step behind with her hand in Arthur’s hair.
“Put this on before you freeze.” Sherlock growled. Martin opened his mouth to protest but Sherlock just shoved his unbroken arm into a sleeve.
“If you two might hurry up?” Mycroft said.
The gunfire suddenly sounded right outside their door. “Sherlock! Move it!” John called.
Grabbing his brother’s arm, Sherlock half pulled, half carried Martin out of the room. He didn’t bother to see if Mycroft was following but heard his brother’s wheezing breaths as they raced up the hallway, John guarding their escape.