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Title: From Bonn to Bratislava, not via Thursday Island
Author: timberwolfoz
Fandom: BBC Sherlock/Cabin Pressure
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Martin Crieff, Douglas Richardson
Ratings: G
A/N: Not mine. Sherlock Holmes originally created by Arthur Conan Doyle: the modern version copyright by Mark Gatiss, Stephen Moffat and the BBC. Cabin Pressure by John Finnemore, Positive Productions and the BBC. No permission, no copyright infringement intended, etc.
Many thanks, as always, to ohcute for her speedy beta.
Summary: When Sherlock was 'dead' only two people in his life knew he wasn't. Molly Hooper… and within a few months, his cousin Martin.

It was just a routine flight for MJN… doing a leg from Bonn, where they'd dropped off a passenger, to Bratislava, where they were to deliver some computer equipment that they were awaiting delivery on. And where Douglas was to drop off some chef's knives in exchange for several bottles of duty-free cologne.

Of course, Martin objected.

"You cannot keep doing this, Douglas!" he exclaimed in their shared hotel room – shared because Carolyn was insisting, to keep costs down, that they double up – and neither of them could share with Arthur and be fit to fly the next day (due to a relentless-cheeriness-induced migraine).

"I think you'll find I can."

"I think you'll find you can't, First Officer."

"I think you'll find I can, Captain. Any authority you have over me ceases once the wheels hit the tarmac."

"Oh, all right," Martin huffed. "But for God's sakes, don't you think after that goose-strike in St Petersburg we've used up all our luck for – "

At that moment there was a knock on the hotel room door.

"Why, Martin," quipped Douglas. "Ordering room service on Carolyn's credit?"

"I don't know if she has any," said Martin worriedly. "Who is it?" he called.

There was no answer except for another knock.

Shrugging, Martin walked to the door, opened it… and to Douglas's surprise, fainted away in a heap on the carpet.

It was hard to tell who moved faster – Douglas, or the jeans-and-biker's-jacket-clad stranger – who, Douglas noted, as they half-carried, half-manoeuvred Martin into the hotel room, bore a passing resemblance to Martin – except this stranger was about five inches taller and had close-cropped dark hair instead of Martin's wild ginger curls.

The eyes and the lips, however, were the same.

"Put him on the bed," the stranger was directing, "couple of pillows under his head. I'll get some ice to bring him around."

"I know all that," snapped Douglas. "I was a medical student." He ignored the stranger's appraising look as he crossed first to the bathroom, then the bar fridge in favour of gently patting Martin's cheeks. "Martin? Martin. Come on. Wakey wakey, Captain."

"Try this," the stranger directed, pressing a flannel filled with ice against Martin's forehead, then his temples.

It did the trick. Martin drew in a harsh breath and opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to focus first on Douglas, then the stranger.

And said, to Douglas's astonishment, "But … you're dead."

"Shhh…" the stranger said.

"What?" said Douglas.

"Oh, sodding hell, I probably wasn't meant to say that," groaned Martin.

"Don't worry. Sir has nothing to fear regarding my discretion," Douglas assured him, making Martin give a soft huff of laughter.

"Is that true?" asked the stranger.

"His discretion? Yes. Not to take bloody stupid risks smuggling goods? No," snapped Martin.


"As it happens, that's why I'm here," said the stranger. "You were planning on exchanging a set of chef's knives for several bottles of perfume on your next run, am I correct?"

"Well, yes…"

"Don't. That 'perfume' is liquid heroin, and I'm not talking about the cocktail. You're being used as a drugs mule."

"Oh, my God," breathed Martin, sitting up dazedly, Douglas absently supporting him.

"Christ," said Douglas. "I had no idea. I swear I had no idea."

"He wouldn't," echoed Martin. "He does dodgy things but not that dodgy."

"Yes, thank you for that sterling endorsement, Martin," snapped Douglas. "Anyway, isn't that a rather stupid way to transport the stuff?"

"Yes, that's the point," said the stranger impatiently. "The people distributing it have happened on a source by pure luck and are not exactly known for their brain power. Which is why another group are trying to move in on them by blackmailing the distributor into working as a mole within the first group. Which is where I come in," he said as Martin opened his mouth to object. "This way, I can work to take them both down."

"But why? Why are you doing this?" asked Martin.

The stranger shook his head at them. "The less you know the better."

"But does J – " He cut himself off as the stranger gave him a fierce look. "Oh, God."

"So," said Douglas thoughtfully, "now we have to come up with a cover story why – "

At that moment Martin's mobile rang. Martin checked the display before he took the call. "Hello Carolyn."

"Ah, Martin. I have good news and bad news," came Carolyn's voice, clearly audible over the mobile. Martin held it out from his ear slightly even as he answered, "Yes?"

"The bad news is our flight to Bratislava has been cancelled, due to a delay in the equipment being assembled. However, I have managed to acquire a hefty cancellation bonus out of them, considering you are actually at Bonn awaiting pickup and have already been delayed once. In addition, I have a passenger who needs to go to Riga urgently, who will be joining you tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen, but not too much of one. Where's Arthur?"

"Downstairs. There's a 'brilliant' video game downstairs in the lobby – we'll have to pry him off it to eat."

"Well, that's something. Have a pleasant flight, gentlemen, and see you when you get back."

"You're up to something, Carolyn," Douglas called. "I know that voice."

"Well, cross your fingers, you two," said Carolyn. "We may have a regular contract with the civil service to fly personnel on emergency flights sewn up by the time you come back. Which means a guaranteed source of revenue, which means I will be able to start paying you, Martin. A co-pilot's wage, mind you, not a captain's. Fingers crossed, gentlemen. Bye!" She ended the call, leaving Martin and Douglas with their mouths hanging open.

"What? … she… what?" said Martin incredulously.

"Well, I heard it too," said Douglas, sounding no less stunned, "and I'm not the one who fainted."

"Oh, my God," said Martin, gazing incredulously at the stranger. "You did this, didn't you?"

"Let's just say I utilised my brother's guilt feelings," replied the stranger, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slightly smug smile.

"I don't want to know," Douglas declared, pulling out his own mobile. "Anyway, that's sorted that problem." He scrolled down his list of contacts, selecting one and waiting for the call to be answered. "Hello, Phil? Sorry, won't be flying to Bratislava – client's bailed. Good news – got a mate who'll take them. Meet at the same place, same time? Right, I'll pass on the details. Right, done. Bye." Douglas ended the call and looked over at the stranger. "Okay to meet at the airport in the coffee shop at 14:30?"

"Of course," said the stranger. "Give me his mobile number."

Douglas pulled up his contact details and the stranger entered them into his iPhone, double checking the numbers. "Right. Your knives?"

"Right here," said Douglas, retrieving a padded package.

"Thank you," said the stranger, taking it.

"You're going? – of course you're going, you can't be seen with us. Or anyone," said Martin bleakly. "How long?"

"As long as it takes, no longer than I have to," said the stranger, looking grim.

"Right," said Martin, embracing him, to his evident surprise. "Stay safe."

"I'll endeavour to do so," said the stranger, nodding to Douglas and getting to his feet.

"Shall I -- ?"

"No! Do not do anything different. It could mean your life as well as – " The stranger visibly cut off his words, his lips setting in a grim line.

"Oh, God, of course," said Martin. "Well… best of luck."

"Thank you," said the stranger, nodding to Douglas, putting the package in a courier bag and, after checking the hall, left.

Douglas waited until he heard the sound of the lift going down to whistle soundlessly. "Well. What was that all about?"

"You heard him; we're better off not knowing," Martin said firmly, then undoing the impression of being in control by rubbing at his mob of hair agitatedly and flopping back on the bed with his hands over his face. "God…"

Douglas tactfully remained silent for a minute, then poked him in the side. "Well, well. Carolyn's kept her promise about paying you. What do you think of that?"

"Well, I'm not going to be making any bets involving my salary," said Martin firmly.

Douglas regarded him fondly, shaking his head. "Come on. Let's find Arthur and go celebrate."

At that moment a knock came on their door. They exchanged a concerned glance, Douglas calling, "Who is it?"

"It's me, chaps," Arthur called, "they threw me off the video game."

"Ah," said Douglas, getting up to let him in. "Well timed, we were just going to get a meal."

"Brilliant! Oh, I went for a walk – it's lovely outside – and when I came back, I saw a man getting on a motorbike who looked a bit like Skip! What are the odds?"

"Indeed," said Douglas, exchanging a glance with a stunned-looking Martin as he escorted them both out.


( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
May. 2nd, 2012 11:51 am (UTC)

There is a need for more CP/SH xover!
May. 2nd, 2012 12:02 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I have another with my beta right now. :)
May. 3rd, 2012 08:45 am (UTC)
hee!! Awesome!

I want to write another one or two in my CP/SH xover verse, but I just don't have the time right now to figure out the next step in the story. :(
May. 4th, 2012 11:30 am (UTC)
Nice story! I love Cabinlock fics in which Martin and Sherlock are related. Well done! More, please?
May. 4th, 2012 12:28 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I have one in beta at the moment, though it's chronologically before this, and I'm sure Sherlock and John will encounter Martin, at the very least, in the future.
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )


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