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When Worlds Collide

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Arthur had realized by now that his course in Ipswich about understanding people still left much to be desired; for example, Arthur never understood why Molly was so reluctant to draw attention to how smart and courageous and, well, brilliant she was — then again, just because he didn’t understand that didn’t mean that he couldn’t show her, as often as possible, that he always understood, class in Ipswich or not, how amazing she was.

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Martin shivered in silence as her small fingers gently traced the spotted feathers, but when she began planting soft kisses along the ridges of his horrible wings, he had to stop her. “Don’t; they’re horrible,” he muttered, face red with embarrassment and shame, “I can’t fly with them; they’re stupid and useless, and they sure as hell don’t make me a better pilot.” Molly placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and said, “But they’re part of you, and that makes them perfect in my eyes.”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Angst

“I know that I’m not rich or smart or handsome, especially when not compared to that detective of yours, but here I was, thinking that you could love me anyways; guess I can’t do that right either,” Martin said bitterly, voice thick with tears about to fall, and he turned on his heel and walked away. Molly wanted to run after her boyfriend, to tell him that Sherlock Holmes would never be as funny or caring or wonderful as Martin Crieff, and didn’t he understand how lucky she was and how she didn’t deserve him and how she’d never had something this good in her life before and just how much it  scared  her? But then again, Molly had spent too long watching things decay and rot to delude herself into thinking that something as fragile as the happy relationship between her and Martin Crieff could ever last, so she walked back to the morgue where a consulting detective waited, her luggage in his hands, clumps of fake blood still in his hair, and two plane tickets to Bern in his pocket.

 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

“I haven’t been to the zoo since I was a little girl,” Molly confided to Arthur with a small giggle as they handed their tickets to the attendant and walked into the London Zoo. Arthur turned to her with a look of complete and utter shock on his face. “Why not?” he asked her, pulling her behind him as he started sprinting towards the first exhibit visible, “There are penguins, which are brilliant, and lions, which are  brilliant , and the polar bears, well, you won’t believe just how  brilliant  they are!”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

It was the little things Martin noticed: how John would lavish kisses on the pale, sun-deprived parts of his body but not the tan bits; how in the shadows, where Martin’s normally flaming-red hair looked as black as a raven’s wing, John would kiss him passionately and hungrily and with a hint of sorrow; how, whenever Martin asked John to throw him a pen, the writing utensil would always be vaulted five inches too high to be comfortably caught. But the little things could be ignored, like the small chips in his van’s windshield. Until one day, a pale, raven-haired, six-foot-tall consulting detective knocked on the door, and Martin’s world, chipped and battered for three years, finally began to shatter. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: General

“So you’re the detective who just waltzed back into John Watson’s life without a single regard for anyone else’s feelings on the matter, even John’s current boyfriend. Come to play Cluedo with your silly little hat? God knows GERTI has trouble getting off the ground sometimes; I’m sure your overinflated ego could help us out, ” Douglas drawled, reclining in his co-pilot’s chair as he fixed Sherlock with a glare accompanied by a perfectly arched eyebrow (the kind that took years of practice to master).

“And you’re a smuggler with two– no, three ex-wives and a daughter you don’t get to see often enough who is fighting a mid-life crisis while trying to keep what is, frankly, an abominable job,” Sherlock retorted, eyes glinting in challenge.

“I don’t think you quite understand,” Douglas said, standing up to his full height of 6 feet 2 inches to pin Sherlock with a menacing glare, “this is my territory, my plane, and no one except for my crew is allowed to, pardon my language, screw over my captain.”

 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Molly had always tried her hardest not to imagine what her wedding would look like; after all, she was a sensible girl with sensible goals, and she doubted that being a mortician would really be conducive to romantic relationships —  although that didn’t stop her from developing the most inappropriate (attracted to his flatmate, gay, psychotic criminal mastermind) and unrealistic (a cute, bumbling airline captain who probably had masses of hot flight stewardesses all over the globe falling at his feet) crushes on men. And so, when Captain Martin Crieff, her boyfriend (and don’t ask her how or why, because she had  absolutely no clue  what the man saw in her), bent down on one knee outside of St Bart’s on their three-year anniversary and proposed, she hadn’t the first clue about what their wedding would look like. Not like that stopped her from saying yes, of course; Molly Hooper was indeed a sensible girl, and she knew that her wedding, whatever it might look like, would be absolutely and utterly perfect. 

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

The thing was, long nights in the morgue hadn’t really left Molly much time to teach herself how to cook. And, as it turned out, living on beans and toast while trying to both captain and airline and be a man with a van meant that Martin’s cooking skills weren’t really all there either. So, five failed attempts at making a romantic spaghetti dinner later, Martin and Molly found themselves in a food fight (as for how they got all that spaghetti sauce  off  their bodies? Well, let’s give them some modicum of privacy for now, shall we?)

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Warning: mentions of drug use

Yes, it was true that Mycroft had arranged (and paid) for Sherlock to be transferred to what was purportedly the best substance rehabilitation clinic in the country and perhaps Martin should’ve thanked his brother for that, but he was still pissed off about the fact that the eldest Holmes brother hadn’t bothered to actually  visit  Sherlock. However, when Martin Crieff (formerly Holmes, before he was disowned by a family ashamed of his “stupid little flying thing”) opened the door to the padded cell where the “trouble patients” were kept in solitary confinement, he understood Mycroft’s motivations just a little bit more; there, in the corner, was a huddled, shivering shadow that might have at one time been the brilliant, acerbic, and energetic middle Holmes son. As Martin looked into Sherlock’s empty eyes, he swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to get his brother clean. But he also made himself a smaller promise, a secret tucked into his pocket, always there but never spoken aloud: Martin promised himself that, no matter how desperate things got or how horrid the world around him seemed, he would never turn to drugs for an answer.

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Angst, dark

Warnings: Abusive relationship (physically and verbally), mentions of suicide

It was times like this when Martin was scared of Jim. It was times like this, when Martin was covered in bruises and cuts from where Jim had gripped him too hard, when Jim was whispering abuse and threats and sweet nothings twisted and mangled until they were poured like poison into Martin’s ear, when Martin thought he would snap in half because he was too weak and too timid and just not enough, that Martin wanted, more than anything, to just finish the job himself and vanish off the face of the earth. But, as it turned out, Martin wasn’t even good enough to do that properly– pathetic. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Molly’s face is adorably crunched up into an expression of extreme concentration as she fiddles with something on her phone. Unable to resist, Martin walks up to her and kisses her lightly on the cheek, asking “What are you up to, sweetheart?” His girlfriend’s eyes light up and she thrusts the phone in front of his face, revealing a messy doodle, and asks, “Does that look like a hedgehog?”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

Dating a pilot, it turns out, is a very lonely kind of relationship. Oftentimes, between the surgery and the flights and the van jobs, John won’t see Martin for days on end. And yet, whenever they do reunite, there are no feverish kisses laced with passion and need or hungry embraces with hands desperately trying to make up for lost time; just a slow and steady hug as John tries his hardest not to think of the  other  reunion, the one he dreams of every night as he lies beside a body that’s a touch too broad and five inches too short. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Angst

Douglas will never admit it, but he hates how dejected Martin is these days. His captain has been bruised and battered by his ordeal with John, the remains of his gung-ho attitude slowly fluttering away like rags in a strong wind. So Douglas makes up more word games and does more crazy stunts and comes up with more creative teases, watching ever-so-closely for the return of an angry, self-righteous,  alive  Martin — a Martin that is quickly fading into nothing more than a distant memory.

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Warning: mentions of drug use

There was a time when he was oblivious to it all, when he thought that the world had finally decided to give something good to him in the form of patient, gentle, kind John Watson. That was before he stumbled upon the photo albums, dusty and hidden away and filled with images of a dark-haired consulting detective that shattered the precious illusion that he, Martin Crieff, had actually deserved his boyfriend. Nowadays, he wondered what it would take to return to that state of blissful naïveté; after all, if Sherlock Holmes could be a junkie, why couldn’t he?

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

“It’s just a silly little thing,” Molly says to Martin with a nervous giggle, “I stopped it after a few days.” Martin pauses in the midst of clicking through the kitten-filled blog: “Why?” he asks. “I’m not a very interesting person,” Molly says with a sad smile as she looks intently at her shoes. Martin cups her face with one hand and presses a gentle kiss to her lips. “I think you’re the most interesting blogger out there,” he whispers with a shy grin.

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

“You were the first, you know,” Martin says softly, burying his face into Molly’s hair as they lie together in the darkness. What he means to say is: “You were the first I ever kissed, the first I ever loved, the first to see everything that makes me who I am and – more importantly – the first to understand it all.” But he doesn’t need to say any of that; Molly understands him perfectly well anyways. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Drama with a dash of angst

Molly’s hand shakes as she flips through the photos on her phone , eyes drawn time and time again to the redhead with the boyish grin who is featured in almost every picture. Finally, she cannot resist any longer, and sends yet another text to Sherlock (that’s thirty-nine in twenty-four hours, and although once, she would have been mortified at the very thought of annoying the consulting detective, right now she has more pressing issues on her mind): “ Please find him - Molly ”. Her phone buzzes almost-instantaneously with his reply: “ I’m trying my best, Molly. -SH. ” Molly looks at the empty captain’s uniform hanging in the closet and hopes that Sherlock’s best will be enough. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Humour

As far as Douglas was concerned, the good old “meet-the-family” routine was old hat. It was always the same; a charming smile here, a sly joke there, and by the end of half an hour he had all the necessary family members eating out of his hand. However, as he sat in the abandoned warehouse and watched one of Martin’s brothers alternate between sulking in his chair, glaring at his older brother, and rattling off a long chain of Douglas’s intimate details in a bored tone while the other brother smiled at Douglas with a shark-like grin as he calmly interrogated the pilot and flipped through papers that Douglas was quite sure held his entire life story and then some (twirling that damn umbrella the entire time; Douglas had managed — barely — to avoid making a Mary Poppins reference so far, but what little restraint he had was beginning to crumble), Douglas decided that it was time for this old dog to learn some new tricks.

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Humour

Full prompt: Arthur lamenting over the fact that the Holmes brothers can't work as the Three Amigos because Mycroft doesn't look anything at all like Sherlock or Martin.

Arthur rang the doorbell to Martin’s apartment again and again and again, bouncing up and down on his toes in an effort to contain his excitement. The poor captain, after weeks of pestering, wheedling, and outright begging from the rest of the MJN crew, had finally given in and organized a “Meet my rich, intimidating, likely-to-tear-you-down-in-10-seconds half-brothers” party, and Arthur had brought a special surprise, inspired by the picture he had seen of Martin and his dark-haired older brother (and wasn’t it brilliant how similar they looked?). As Arthur entered the room, he made a beeline straight to Martin and plopped a black sombrero on the pilot’s head, before doing the same to his look-alike half-brother. However, when Arthur laid eyes on the third brother and realized that the man leaning on his umbrella looked nothing like Martin, Arthur’s face fell (the other Holmes brother had taken off the hat by this point and was sputtering and turning a funny colour, but Arthur was too worried by this latest turn of events to pay any attention to him). “How are you supposed to be the Three Omega- Amegi- Ame- Amigos when you look so different?” Arthur lamented, throwing his hands up in the air.

The shocked silence that followed was broken only by a dry remark from Douglas: “Well, he’s certainly got Carolyn’s ‘disappointed’ routine down pat.”  

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff, humour

Full prompt: Martin is trying to convince Douglas and Caroline to let him take Molly with them to somewhere exotic.

“Listen Carolyn,” Martin said as he fidgeted with his hat, “I know you don’t like letting anyone on GERTI who isn’t a passenger or part of the crew, but-” A deep breath. “Molly’s wanted to go to Hawaii forever, and it’s our anniversary tomorrow and she’s already disappointed that I’m working, and I just really want to surprise her and give her the perfect gift, and the flight to Oahu tomorrow is just a cargo flight, and I was wondering if we could please please please bring her onboard,” Martin blurted in an almost-unintelligible stream of words, eyes steadily fixed on the floor.

He looked up to find Douglas leaning in the doorway, clapping slowly with a smirk on his face. “Nice job, Martin,” Douglas said, “now, shall we try actually asking the fearsome dragon lady herself?”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Full prompt: Martin likes to draw. And Arthur thinks it's brilliant.

“What are you doing, Skip?” Arthur asked as he bounded into the flight deck, a bright smile plastered onto his face (as always).

“Nothing! Nothing!,” Martin stuttered, attempting to hide the cocktail napkin he was holding, “Just, um, looking at the cocktail napkins. Yup.”

Arthur peered around Martin’s shoulder in order to get a better look at said napkins, and gasped delightedly. “Wow, Skip! Did you draw that?”

“Well, um, yes, yes I did,” Martin said sheepishly.

“That’s brilliant!!!” Arthur chirped. “But who’s the picture of? It doesn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of people.”

“Oh, um, well, you see, that’s, er… my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend???” Arthur exclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the airplane, if not everyone in Fitton airfield itself, to hear. Martin buried his now-red face in his hands and wondered just what the hell he had gotten himself into. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Humour

Full prompt:Sherlock trying to deduce Arthur and being unable to because nothing about him adds up.

Sherlock stared at the man in front of him.

This seemingly-simple man was surprisingly difficult to analyze. Nothing seemed to match up, and when Sherlock did spit out his usual chain of deductions, a lot of it was just patchwork guessing (although he’d never admit it; he did have a reputation to uphold, after all). 

“That’s brilliant!”

“Did I get everything right then?” Sherlock asked, preening a little bit inside.

“Not a single thing! But it was brilliant anyway!”

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Full prompt: Molly buys Martin a new captain's hat (with the right amount of braiding).

 

I got you a present! It’s a captain’s hat… with the right amount of braiding ;) -Molly

Martin looked at the text on his phone as he walked into the bedroom. His hat with its piles and piles of braiding had become a sort of inside joke of theirs, and Molly had always joked that one day, she would get him a hat that wouldn’t cause him neck problems later on in life. The captain wondered if his girlfriend had finally come through with her joking promise this time.

He looked up from his phone, and his jaw dropped.

It seemed that Molly had indeed bought a hat with the perfect amount of braiding. Not too much, not too little, it struck a balance between dignified and respectable, and Martin would have probably admired the hat much more if he weren’t too busy admiring… other things. For, you see, in order to better showcase her gift, Molly had decided to model the hat on herself — and that was the only thing she was wearing.

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Angst, dark

Warnings: Verbal abuse, allusions to torture

Martin woke up and found himself sitting in a stiff wooden chair, his wrists painfully handcuffed behind his back. He was in Molly’s flat, with its rustic coffee table and overstuffed sofas. He could hear the crackling of the fire in the quaint fireplace next to him. His girlfriend herself was leaning against the arm of one of these sofas, scrutinising the iron fireplace poker in her hands. He’d been in this room hundreds of times, but it had never seemed quite so… sinister.

“What’s going on, Molly?” Martin asked nervously.

“Oh, Martin,” Molly chuckled, lips curled in a smirk that Martin had never seen on her face before. She pushed his chin up with the poker before slowly tracing a line down his throat with the metal object. He swallowed nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing under the cold iron.

“It was so much fun, using you,” she continued softly, “But now I’m bored. I’ve gotten what I’ve came for, and now it’s time to go!”

“Wh- what?” Martin stuttered, confused, “‘Using me?’ What are you talking about, Molly?”

“You silly, silly boy. Did you actually think that I would ever love someone like you?” Her voice took on a mocking tone as she crooned, "'Oh sweetie, I love it when you bumble around!' ‘Oh honey, it’s cute that you’re so innocent!' ‘Oh darling, I don’t mind that you’re horribly awkward, that you’re dirt-poor, that you’re the worst airline captain in the history of flight; I love you anyways.' You’re more of an idiot than I thought.”

She stuck her poker into the fireplace and watched the flames lick it hungrily. “And now you’re probably wondering what I could want from you. So predictable. So dull. You’re a Holmes, Martin. And the Holmeses, although they loathe to admit it, protect their own. So now I’m going to make you scream, one last time. Will you do that for your sweet, precious Molly?”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Humour

Full prompt: Douglas meets Sherlock and the universe implodes with snark.

“I’m perfectly calm! Calm as a- a very calm thing!” Martin babbled, his voice rising in both volume and pitch. 

“Of course Martin, and shall I attribute your voice jumping up three octaves to your hitherto-hidden training as a coloratura?” Douglas drawled.

“Indeed, Martin, combining this new voice of yours with your frankly short stature and that alarming amount of gold braid on your hat, it’s a wonder more people don’t mistake you for a pixie.” Sherlock added.

“A pixie?” Douglas said appreciatively. “I haven’t heard that one before. I’ll be sure to use it next time.”

“Years of practice,” Sherlock replied dismissively, “although I do applaud your musical reference. Not half bad.”

Martin just buried his head between his hands with a moan. “Why the hell did I ever let the two of you meet?” 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Humour, general

“Our sincerest apologies, sir, but all cellular devices must now be deactivated and remain in a state of deactivation during the duration of this flight, only to be reactivated when we have arrived at our destination and the plane has come to a stop. Well, it’s at a stop right now, but it will stop being stopped soon— when the flight starts. Sir.”

“Of course,” Mycroft said with a smooth smile as he turned back to his phone.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I think you’ll have to tell the Prime Minister to call you back later,” Arthur continued, “or you could get him to leave a message on the answering machine!”

Mycroft paused and stared at the seemingly-innocuous flight attendant who had a completely innocent grin plastered on his face.  ”How did you know I was talking to the Prime Minister?” Mycroft asked cautiously.

“Well, that part was obvious. Even an idiot could see it!”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Angst

Martin’s – no, Sherlock’s – explanation leaves them all speechless, unable and unwilling to process the barrage of information that has just turned their world upside down. The silence is broken by Arthur, bright and cheery and still holding on to his naïveté like a child clings on to its favourite blanket after a nightmare. 

“Wow! So it’s like a magic trick then? Skip’s transformed into Sherlock? Brilliant!”

“Thank you for your– hospitality,” the detective says haltingly, refusing to acknowledge the words of the steward. Sherlock stiffens, and with a curd nod and sharp goodbye, strides away from the MJN crew without a second glance. 

“Skip? Skip, where are you going?” Arthur calls frantically to the retreating figure. Carolyn’s arms wrap around her son, lest he try to run after Mart– the detective. Her son turns to her with a pleading gaze. “Mum, I don’t like this magic trick. Can Skip come back? Please?”

Carolyn brings her trembling hands to her mouth, shaking her head wordlessly. Arthur turns to Douglas, and, bright voice laced with desperation, exclaims, “Douglas can do something! Right, Douglas?”

“It doesn’t quite work like that, Arthur, ” the pilot replies. “You can’t bring someone back if they were never there to begin with.”

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

John had never in a million years imagined himself to be the type of person who would even think about cheating. But during those long weeks when Martin was busy flying around the world, when the good doctor was sitting in a pub and receiving winks, drinks, and even outright propositions from some very attractive women (and men), it got harder and harder to cling to those old moral standards. Nonetheless, no matter how strong the temptation, he would never cave in. Because John knew that, if he did, he would finally have to ask himself what the difference was between this stranger, warming his bed and providing company on a dark, lonely night, and Martin– and therein lay an answer that John didn’t dare face. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Humour

Full prompt:Douglas tries to pull his moves on Anthea. It doesn't work. Martin treasures that memory for the rest of his life.

It had started out as an innocent challenge born from desperation, exasperation, and a little bit of jealousy— okay, perhaps “innocent” wasn’t the right word, but Martin could have never in his wildest dreams (or nightmares; he still wasn’t quite sure what to classify this experience under) planned something like this. Because there Douglas was, preening and joking and flirting with all his might, in front of Martin’s brother’s PA, and she wasn’t batting an (admittedly very pretty) eyelash. But there was 200 quid on the line, not to mention the rather sizeable entity that was Douglas’s pride, and so Martin leaned back in his chair and got comfortable as whatever-her-name-was (Martin had stopped trying to keep track) flashed Douglas yet another bright, innocent smile before returning once again to typing dutifully on her Blackberry. 

 

 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

Molly comes back after three years, but it's not quite the same— not that Martin expected it to be, of course. No, that would be unreasonable and unrealistic and just plain dumb. They're friends now, just friends, and it's fine. Good, almost. They laugh at each other's jokes and talk to each other about what was on the telly last night, and it's almost comfortable in its normalcy—almost, but not quite. So when word gets out that Martin's brother and that army doctor have finally gotten together, Martin attends the ensuing party and spends the night nursing his drink in the corner and steadfastly not looking at the brunette on the other side of the room. Perhaps she’s doing the same – not that he cares, of course. If Martin had looked over there, however, he would have recognized the glint of longing, of passion, of pure want in Molly’s eyes; after all, it’s burning so very brightly in his own. But as it is, he just gulps down his drink faster than necessary, trying to swallow the hard lump of “what-could-be” that has been stuck in his throat for the last three years. And if the sight of the two lovebirds staring adoringly at each other opens a cold pit of guilt and envy and bitter nostalgia in his stomach? Well, Martin will swear until the end of time that the tears threatening to spill from his eyes are those of joy for the happy couple, and nothing else. No, certainly nothing else.  

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff, humour

 

Martin held the phone to his ear as he examined his bandaged wrist with a sigh. "Douglas, I won't be flying for a few days."

"Have Sir's illustrious wings finally been clipped?" Douglas's voice still managed to sound deep and velvety even through the cheap tinny earpiece of Martin's cellphone, which Martin found deeply unfair. "Or has the FAA finally decided that you make the skies more dangerous than the Blitz?"

"Very funny Douglas. No, I- I twisted my wrist."

"And here I was, thinking that you having a girlfriend would prevent these types of mishaps. Pity. You really don't know how to use that uniform, do you?"

"What? Oh god! No! Not like that! Douglas, that's- No! I was driving my van and it just sort of happened."

"Martin, you are probably the only person I know who could twist their wrist while driving."

"It happens to people all the time!"

"No, it really doesn't. Very well then, I'll go notify Carolyn, you sit tight and nurse your twisted wrist. Try not to open too many doorknobs! We don't want you twisting your other wrist now, do we?"

"I'm hanging up now Douglas. Goodbye."

Martin sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. No plane, no van, nothing to do but sit in his tiny little apartment and while away his days doing... what exactly? He contemplated calling Molly, but he was pretty sure that his girlfriend had better things to do than listen to him complain about his wrist. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Strange; he never got visitors. 

He opened the door to find Molly smiling shyly at him, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. "Douglas called me at home and offered to drive me here," she explained, "he said that you could use some company for a few days. I had some vacation saved up anyways, so..." She trailed off, fidgeting with her bag. 

Martin stood there, flabbergasted, unable to stop a big smile from spreading across his face. "Sure! I mean, come in. If you want to, that is. Are you sure you want to? I have a twisted wrist and all, and I'm not going to be very good company. Well, it's not like I'm very good company to begin with, but I'm usually okay company, right? And I'm babbling now, aren't I?"

Molly giggled and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "You're always excellent company."

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Martin said, laughing nervously as he fumbled around in the dark.

“Well, your bed is broken-” Molly replied as she put the finishing touches on their creation.

“And whose fault is that?”

Molly giggled, “I think we can agree that it was both our faults. And besides, I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was a little girl! It’s as much fun as I remembered!”

“No differences at all then?”

“Well,” Molly murmured, leaning in for a kiss, “I don’t think my old fort came with a sexy airline captain. That’s a new addition.”

“An ‘addition’? Not even an improvement?”

“Oh no, definitely an improvement.”

 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Angst

“Open the dossier, John,” Mycroft commanded with a threatening flick of his umbrella as he reclined back in his plush leather chair. 

“No,” John said crisply, blatantly ignoring the manila folder in front of him in favour of pinning the elder Holmes brother with a glare, “I know what this is about, Mycroft, and my personal life is none of your bloody business.”

“Indeed,” Mycroft remarked in a bored tone as he flipped through the contents of the folder, before pulling a sheet out and placing it crisply right in front of John. John glanced at the paper and tried to swallow the cold lump that had formed in his throat. The paper featured two images side-by-side, one of Sherlock Holmes, the other of Martin Crieff. The entire page was covered with neat little annotations comparing the two, ranging from height to favourite restaurants to everything in between. 

“Well, I certainly find this Martin Crieff interesting,” Mycroft drawled, pinning John with a hard stare, “I wonder why you do.”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Note: This takes place in an AU where Sherlock never met John.

From the moment Sherlock Holmes had met Arthur Shappey, nothing about the steward had added up. Sherlock’s introductory deduction had failed miserably, spluttering and dying in an undignified stutter as the consulting detective realized that none of the clues he had gathered about the blond in front of him  made sense . Arthur’s demeanour was even more off-putting; the man took all Sherlock’s sneers and insults with a smile and a shrug, but he instantly became ferociously protective as soon as Sherlock started making fun of the rest of the cabin crew. But the strangest thing of all was how the steward’s brain functioned .  Once, he peppered the detective with a flurry of inane comments, until, in a fit of pique, Sherlock rattled off all of the facts of the case with the speed and force of a machine gun, ending with a roared, “Now what does your idiot brain make of  that ?” Silence followed, punctured only by Sherlock’s harsh breathing, until Arthur replied, calm and cheery as ever, “Well, it’s pretty obvious that it’s a cabbie, right?” Twenty-four hours and one convicted cabbie-turned-serial-killer later, Sherlock was examining Arthur with new eyes. It was true, nothing about Arthur Shappey added up, and in Sherlock’s mind, that was, well,  brilliant . 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: General, humour

“You know,” Arthur said to MJN’s newest client, “you remind me a lot of Skip. Except, you know, smarter and taller and with more expensive clothes.”

“Mm,” Sherlock replied lazily as he flipped through his book, not even looking at the steward beside him, “how interesting.” His detached tone belied the warm curl of amusement coiling in his chest; he and Martin had always had a bit of a sibling rivalry going (and no, it wasn’t childish at all), and knowing that one of Martin’s friends thought Sherlock was better than his half-brother filled him with a smug satisfaction, although he would never admit it.

“The thing is,” Arthur said in a conspiratorial whisper as Sherlock prepared himself for the coup de grace, the inevitable ‘I like you better’ that the detective was waiting to hear, “to be perfectly honest, I still think Skip is more brilliant than you.”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

Full prompt: In a world where Martin isn't related to Sherlock, Mycroft actually mistakes the pilot for the detective for a few moments.

“Brother, nice of you to finally show your face. I’ll admit, your stunt off the roof of St Bart’s was admirably well-executed, and I almost believed you were dead myself. Of course, the fact that you wouldn’t even text me didn’t help matters at all, but I guess I should be happy that you’ve finally decided to make contact now. Although I must say, that disguise of yours is rather ridiculous and unnecessary.”

Martin looked at the man in front of him casually twirling his umbrella and giving the captain a look that managed to be arch, disappointed, and nonchalant all at once. The pilot stuttered, “I- I’m sorry sir, but I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m Captain Martin Crieff, the captain of MJN Air, and I’ll be flying the plane today. I’m not your brother. And I’m certainly not your dead brother. If- if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but Martin could swear that, just for a moment, the man before him looked shaken and sad and oh so weary. But in a blink of an eye, there he was, glacial, perfectly civil, and as disinterested as before. “My apologies Captain,” the man said with a curt nod before heading back to his seat. 

 

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Dark, horror

“Hi Mum, do you remember Jim and Molly from school? I’m staying with them for a bit in London, is that okay?” A pause as Arthur listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line while absentmindedly doodling using the fresh blood splattered on the nearby wall, “So is that a yes? Okay then! Thanks Mum, you’re the best!”

“Hurray! Sleepovers are so much fun!” Jim trilled in his sing-song voice, “So Arthur, since you’re the guest of honour, I’ll let you pick what we’ll do tonight.”

“Really Jim? Wow, thanks! Umm, well, you know me, I’m really fine with anything, but- you see, I’ve always wanted to learn more about zookeepers.”

“Perfect! I do believe we’re due to pay the London Zoo a visit anyways,” Molly said with a giggle. “Come along now boys! There’s so much fun to be had!”

—-

“I never did get the hang of biology,” Arthur bemoaned as he examined the mangled heart he had carved out of his latest victim. Molly perched her head on the steward’s shoulder from behind him and calmly observed the butchered organ, before delicately plucking it from Arthur’s hands with a exasperated yet loving sigh. “That’s why I’m here darling. Now, I believe Jim’s working on a poison using polar bear liver, and I think he could use your expertise.”

“Oh, brilliant!”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff, humour

“Skip, I met someone really brilliant at the airport.”

“Arthur, you think everyone is brilliant. What else is new?”

“No, seriously, Skip, she’s really brilliant. And you need to meet her. Now.”

“Oh god Arthur, if you’ve started actually listening to Douglas’s insane matchmaking plan, let me tell you right now that-” The pilot stopped mid-sentence as a petite brunette walked into the cabin. Realizing that she had interrupted a conversation, her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, you’re in the middle of something really important, aren’t you? Oh god, it’s probably some captain protocol thing that I’m interrupting. I’m so sorry! I can wait outside Arthur, it’s fine,” she babbled, turning progressively redder.

Arthur beamed brightly, waving the woman over. “It’s fine, don’t worry, I was just about to introduce you!” He turned to Martin and said, “This, Skip, is Molly Hooper. She’s like you! But, you know, a girl. And she works with dead people!”

Later that night, as Arthur was enjoying his nightly cup of warm milk, he would think back on the day’s events and wonder if perhaps he needed to work on his introduction skills. Not that it mattered of course; he knew without a doubt that Molly Hooper and Martin Crieff would be perfect for each other. He had taken a course in understanding people, after all. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

Full prompt: Someone's holding Molly's life hostage to get Martin to crash the plane into something.

Martin’s hands trembled on the control column in front of him, hands slick with sweat against the cool metal. The voice from the satcom bounced mockingly around his brain, infecting every corner of his mind with icy-cold tendrils of doubt and fear and panic until the only coherent thought pulsing through him was one of pure and unadulterated despair.

All the while, the gruff drawl never stopped taunting and sneering, “You’re the supreme commander of this vessel, aren’t ya? Then make a command decision already!”

And for the first time in his life, Captain Martin Crieff hated his position, hated his job, and hatedthe damn lump of metal he was trapped in. 

 

 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

Full prompt: Arthur is an avid fan of Sherlock Holmes. Reads about him in the papers, owns a deerstalker, talks about him nonstop to Martin and Douglas, etc. etc. How does he takes Sherlock's exposure as a 'fraud'?

“Mum! Mum, there’s a new article about Sherlock Holmes in the paper! Have you read it yet? Wait, no, don’t spoil it for me! I’m sure this one will be even more brilliant than the one with the aluminium cane!”

“Mum, what’s a f- a ‘fraud’? And why does the paper say that Sherlock’s dead? He’s not dead, is he Mum? I mean, he’s a master of disguise, and he once got punched in the face just to help catch Irene Adler, so… so…”

“Mum, people that brilliant just don’t die! They— they just can’t! They can’t…”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff, humour

In retrospect, going to a cafe was a horrible idea. Sure, normal people went to cafes for dates all the time, but normal people also weren’t as horribly inept at relationships as Martin Crieff was. So when Martin had sat down across from Molly Hooper in a small tea shop and had actually managed to maintain half an hour of pleasant conversation without any major slip-ups, he should have known that something was about to go terribly wrong. After all, it was virtually the motto of Martin’s life that everything that could go wrong would go wrong. And so, thirty-four minutes into Martin’s date with the petite brunette, Martin’s bad luck decided to rear its ugly head.

Molly had just made a joke about her job in the morgue, something so awkwardly endearing that Martin couldn’t help but laugh. So he did… while taking a sip of his tea. Scalding-hot cups of tea fell into laps, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, Martin Crieff was in an ambulance with a gash in his head from a particularly unfortunately-placed wall and a pale forensic pathologist next to him who had stubbornly refused to leave his side. “So,” Martin said with a wince as he refused to make eye contact with Molly for fear of seeing the rejection in her eyes, “would you consider this first date a complete disaster?” 

Molly smiled and shook her head. “I think the second one will be much better,” she said softly. 

In retrospect, going to a cafe was a horrible idea. But going to a cafe with a certain Molly Hooper? As it turned out, that idea was actually quite a good one. 

 

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

“You fucking bastard!” Martin screamed at the consulting detective who had waltzed back into his life not even five minutes ago. “I had to find out from a tabloid newspaper that you weren’t dead, Sherlock. Would it have ki- Couldn’t you have taken five seconds out of your day to text your half-brother and tell him that you were still alive? Oh, I bet Mycroft knew. Of course you would have told Mycroft. But God forbid that the dumb brother should ever be kept in the loop. What, scared that my puny little brain wouldn’t be able to understand how you did it?”

Arthur trembled, hands over his ears as he tried to ignore the shouting occurring in the room beside him. He had been overjoyed when his idol had walked into the MJN office, but now? Now Arthur wasn’t so sure. Because anyone who caused Skip as much pain as he was currently in (even if Skip was trying his very best to hide it) certainly wasn’t very brilliant at all. 

 

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff, humour

How are we supposed to start this? -Molly

I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. -Martin

Neither have I. -Molly

Douglas told me to ask you what you’re wearing. -Martin

My old Hard Rock Cafe shirt, some Adidas gym shorts, and pink socks with a hole in the toe. Why? -Molly

Oh! Am I supposed to make it up? Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I’m absolutely horrible at this, aren’t I? -Molly

No, no, it’s okay! As it is, I… I like your Hard Rock shirt. It’s really soft. -Martin

And I like the way you scrunch up your nose every time you see the wine stain on it. -Martin

Really? -Molly

Really. It’s adorable. -Martin

Not half as adorable as the way you bite your lip every time you put on your captain’s jacket, though. -Molly

I don’t do that! -Martin

Yes you do. Every single time. It’s the cutest thing. -Molly

I don’t think this is how sexting is supposed to work. -Martin

But I like our way better anyways. -Martin

So do I :). -Molly

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Humour, general

“Martin, what are you doing?” Sherlock asked in an irritated voice as his half-brother and First Officer Douglas Richardson walked into 221B. 

“Carolyn’s newest client wanted a plane staffed by ‘consulting detectives,’ so Douglas and I have twenty-four hours to become knowledgeable in all things detective-y.” Martin explained as Douglas began to root around the flat.

“And you think I have nothing better to do than teach you two imbeciles, why?” Sherlock drawled with a roll of his eyes.

“Because John texted me and told me that you had started shooting the walls again,” Martin shot back, used to the detective’s petulance. The captain took a breath, before pleading “Can you please please help us?”

“And by ‘us’, he means ‘him’,” Douglas called from halfway across the living room, where he was currently holding a deerstalker up to the light. “This detective lark doesn’t seem too hard. Just put on the hat and-” Douglas caught sight of himself in the mirror and burst out laughing. “Do you actually wear this all the time?”

“No.” Sherlock spat, trying to mask his embarrassment with pure vitriol. 

“Pity. I deduce that it would be especially amusing.” Douglas replied with a chuckle. “Oh, I’m starting to get the hang of it already. The next twenty-four hours are going to be so much fun.”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff

Two figures ran across the deserted asphalt of Fitton Airfield in the dead of the night, one giggling, the other trying to shush the first while simultaneously trying not to shake the picnic basket held in his hands. 

A few minutes later, Martin stopped at a seemingly-arbitrary spot in the middle of the airfield and began to lay down the checked blanket he had brought with him. Molly busied herself with arranging the food and wine from the basket onto the blanket, and soon they sat down to enjoy their hard work. Molly looked up and saw the stars, twinkling brighter than she’d ever seen them, and she murmured a soft “Wow”. “Isn’t it amazing?” Martin marvelled, leaning against his girlfriend’s shoulder. “This is my home, I guess. I mean, you’ve already seen my flat and everything, but I felt like I ought to show you where I really live. If that makes sense. Oh god, I’m rambling again, aren’t I? Why do I always do this around you?”

Molly pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you for sharing it with me; it’s perfect.”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff, humour

Full prompt:Molly and Martin's combined bad luck leads them to a crime scene (and Sherlock) on a date.

Neither of them were exactly sure how they’d gotten there, or what (or who) exactly was to blame. Perhaps it was the copious amount of cheap wine they had imbibed at Molly’s flat. Perhaps it was all the dime-a-dozen romance novels that Molly had read over the years, each one proclaiming the merits of a romantic walk in the moonlight. Perhaps it was Martin’s sense of direction as a pilot — or rather, lack thereof — made worse by both his nerves and the fact that he was currently on a date that had yet to crash and burn. Regardless of what exactly had happened or whose fault it was, one thing unfortunately could not be denied: three dates and one month into their relationship, Molly Hooper and Martin Crieff, surrounded by yellow tape, covered with orange shock blankets, and interrogated by both the New Scotland Yard and a man who was apparently Martin’s half-brother (and  oh god , Martin was never going to hear the end of this), were officially stuck in the middle of a crime scene. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff

There was no doubt that their first kiss was awkward. It was all teeth and noses and the nerves of two men who’d had more than their fair share of life’s misfortunes and who’d resigned themselves to a lonely lifetime of bad luck. But their first kiss was more than that. It was hope, it was that tender spark of not-yet-love-but-maybe, it was a connection between two men that were stronger than either of them realized. Most importantly, it was the first kiss of many more kisses to come. A little awkwardness, in the long run, was a small price to pay for that. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff

Martin had always loved swings as a child. Simon and Caitlin had teased him mercilessly about it once they had found out, calling it a girlish and stupid pastime, but not even their taunts could stop seven-year-old Martin from sneaking out to the playground across the street in the middle of the night and swinging on the old swings there for hours, going higher and higher until he thought that he could almost touch the sky. However, the childish hobby had soon been erased from Martin’s life in favour of studying his battered CPL manual, so by the time his girlfriend had pulled him over to a nearby playground after their latest lunch date, he hadn’t been on a swingset in over a decade. But, as they say, old habits die hard, and within a few minutes of kicking off from the ground, Martin was already swinging as high as the swingset would allow. Molly swung at a slower pace beside him, content to watch her boyfriend whoosh past her. Suddenly, Martin had an idea. He slowed down to match Molly’s pace, and then grabbed her hand. ”Let me teach you this trick I used to know,” he suggested. Puzzled, Molly nodded. Martin instructed, “Jump when I tell you to.”

Molly laughed nervously. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. 

“I’m positive. Ready? And… Jump!”

They hurtled into the air, and for a moment, with the swings behind them and the wind rushing past them, they felt like they were weightless, with nothing to ground them but the hand firmly holding theirs. 

As they landed, Molly slipped, and with a yelp, they tumbled onto the grass, red-faced, breathless, and giggling with exhilaration and adrenaline. Martin placed a small kiss on Molly’s lips. “I love you, you know,” he murmured. Molly gave him a look of pure wonderment, before replying with a small kiss of her own. “I love you too,” she whispered. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Angst

Molly rocked back and forth slowly on the rusty swing, cheek pressed against the cold metal chain as she stared at the run-down building across the street. The last time she had been on a swingset, she thought sadly to herself, she’d been but a little girl. Nine, maybe ten years old at the most? A little girl who idly dreamed of a sweet, charming gentleman who’d give her flowers and chocolates and romance her like the leading men of her favourite books always did. What would that little Molly say now, if she could see her future self? A Molly who was all-grown-up and who had found her sweet, charming — albeit awkward — gentleman; a Molly who was about to throw that dream of hers away. Because yes, Martin was romantic and chivalrous and the nicest, cutest, most amazing man Molly had ever met, but he didn’t love Molly. Well, he did— just not enough. Mollywasn’t enough. Molly couldn’t make him light up like he did when he was at GERTI’s controls. Molly couldn’t hold his attention when there was something, anything about flight on the television. Molly couldn’t even make him stay when he got called for a last-minute flight, anniversary be damned. And so, after two years of being second-best, Molly had finally decided to cut Martin — and, if she was to be totally honest, herself — free. As a swarm of students entered the building in front of her, Molly got off of her swing and took a deep breath. It was time to give up this childish dream of hers. She crossed the street and knocked on the door. 

 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff

“I’ve actually never been out to the countryside before,” Molly admitted bashfully as she gazed out the glass window of the train car at the green scenery whizzing by. “Really?” Martin asked incredulously from beside her, giving his girlfriend a disbelieving look.

Molly blushed and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Really. I’m a city girl, born and bred.”

They sat comfortably in silence for a few moments before Molly had an idea. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in glee. “I know! I ought to take a picture of this. Us, going to the countryside for the first time. I’ve been wanting to restart the blog for a while, and this would be a great first entry!” She paused, then added hastily, “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, why not?” Martin replied with an amused chuckle.

“I know I have my camera in here somewhere.” Head buried in her oversized bag, Molly was too engrossed in her search for the camera to pay attention to where she was pacing in the small cabin. “Aha!” she exclaimed as she pulled the object from her bag with a flourish and knocking over Martin’s glass of water as a result. However, before either of them could react to the spill, a combination of the already-slippery floor (made even slicker by Martin’s drink) and Molly’s natural klutziness sent her feet flying out from under her. As she fell towards the floor, Martin reacted instinctively and reached out to catch his girlfriend in a half-stumble, half-dive that was utterly graceless and completely awkward and yet, somehow, still effective. 

Martin lay sprawled on the floor with an armful of cute forensic pathologist, not quite sure how his usually non-existent reflexes had let him catch his girlfriend. “I’ve got you” he murmured, unable to hide the amazement in his voice. 

Molly smiled and whispered, “I know.”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Martin Crieff had discovered at an early age that there was something magical about starlight. Lying down in his grassy backyard at the tender age of five, he had looked up into the dark night sky and had imagined that all those twinkling stars were the lights of planes that he would one day pilot. When he was twenty and shivering in his threadbare flat, he could always count on the silver threads of starlight to give him just enough light to read the last chapter of his battered CPL manual. And so, when he was thirty-three and watching starlight weave silver threads into Molly’s dark brown hair, when those balls of fire billions of kilometers away reflected off of his girlfriend’s pale skin and made it positively glow, when he couldn’t help but wonder how someone so beautiful loved someone like him, he merely dipped his head and placed a light kiss on Molly’s cheek. After all, Martin Crieff knew that there was something so very magical about starlight.

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

Full prompt: Someone discovers Arthur and Irene's secret relationship

Irene was never very good at goodbyes. In fact, she was the type to avoid them altogether, useless sentimental things that they were. So it only made sense that when Irene learned that she would have to flee Fitton, her escape plan absolutely did not involve Arthur barrelling through the front door of her flat (when he should have been in the air for at least another few hours) and coming face-to-face with the dominatrix preparing to swing out the open window. Plastic duty-free bag in hand and bright grin on his face, Arthur looked as cheerful as ever upon seeing his girlfriend, and Irene could feel a palpable ache in her chest as she looked at his happy expression. “Hi Irene!” he chirped. “What are you doing on the window? Are you balancing? Wow, I wish I could do that. It’s brilliant!”

Irene opened her mouth to explain, but it took a few moments before she could force the words out of her suddenly-tight throat.

“Listen Arthur, I have to go.”

“When are you coming back?” Arthur asked brightly.

“I’m not,” she replied, voice carefully measured.

Arthur’s face fell. “You have to come back! I haven’t introduced you to Skip or Douglas or Mum yet, and you’ve never been on GERTI and-“

“I- I can’t.” Irene took a deep breath to compose herself before continuing. “Some very bad people have found out about you, and they’re going to hurt you if I don’t leave.”

“Oh… okay. I guess that’s, that’s- I mean, people leave all the time. Dad left. Herc left. I just thought that- well, no, it’s silly and stupid and-” Arthur hung his head with a sigh, eyes landing on the duty-free bag in his hand. “I bought you some Toblerone at the airport,” Arthur said as he passed the bag to Irene. “You might get hungry, wherever you’re going. Or sad. Toblerone always cheers me up when I’m feeling sad.” Arthur attempted a watery smile. 

Irene felt her heart break just a little bit more. “Thank you Arthur,” she said with a nod, afraid to get any closer lest her already-weakening resolve melt away completely. “Goodbye.” As Irene vaulted out the window, she swallowed down all the words she wanted to say: oh Arthur, my poor, sweet, honest Arthur, you were so different from all the others, you were so much better than all the others, I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry. After all, Irene never claimed to be very good at goodbyes.

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: General

Martin was good at his job. No, he was excellent at it. One of the best forensic pathologists in the business, his boss always claimed. He heard his co-workers whisper behind his back though, about how weird it was that he could rattle off a cause of death minutes after inspecting a corpse, about how you could always count on the freak to look at a gruesome corpse and not bat an eye. But Martin didn’t care about what his boss or his co-workers said; the fact was, he was good at his job — and he hated it. 

Ever since he was little, Martin had dreamed of flying, of soaring above and beyond everything else that he had ever known. But his parents had insisted that he get himself a real job, a stable job, and so he was chained to the ground, rooted in the remains of other poor sods who probably had to give up their childhood dreams too. But some nights, when it felt like the cold, subterranean morgue was going to bury him alive, he’d drive to the small airport in Fitton and sit down on the asphalt and watch the planes soar above him. An utterly different world overhead, so tantalizingly close and yet so very far away, a world that he could never ever touch. 

Until one late September night, when a miracle fell right on top of him. A klutzy, bashful, all-too-adorable miracle named Molly Hooper — Captain Molly Hooper. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff, humour

The story of Martin Crieff’s first attempt at proposing to a certain Ms Molly Hooper involves a lake full of swans and a rather not-so-graceful fall into the aforementioned lake. Martin’s second proposal was thwarted by an overexcited Arthur Shappey. His third, fourth, and fifth attempts were all ruined by various last-minute-van-jobs, impatient consulting detectives and general bad luck. It comes as no surprise then, that three months after that first ill-fated proposal, Molly finally took it upon herself to get down on one knee in the middle of Fitton airport and pop the question; this time, there was no force on Heaven or Earth that could stop Martin from saying yes. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff

“I want to conduct an experiment,” Martin proclaimed loudly in an exaggerated imitation of his half-brother’s haughty drawl. Caught off-guard by the captain’s sudden impersonation, Molly gave her boyfriend a shocked look before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Sherlock always used to say that when we were kids. Always wanted to try it out myself,” he admitted with a grin. Molly just started laughing harder, clutching her sides as her peals of laughter turned into hysterical hiccups. Martin waited for Molly to calm down before holding up a blindfold and a bowl of fruit and said sheepishly, “I was actually serious about the experiment, though. What do you think?”

Ten minutes later, Molly was sitting blindfolded in a chair, taking a bite out of the latest fruit proffered by her boyfriend. “Mm, definitely strawberry. And a sweet one at that,” she said as she licked her lips with a small smile. Martin gently fed the next piece of fruit to Molly and watched in amusement as she chewed thoughtfully. A short pause, and then “You know how much I love apple. Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to recognize it?” Molly waited expectantly for the next chunk of fruit, but instead found soft lips pressing against her own, tasting vaguely of cinnamon and honey and home. She melted into the kiss, and it was several minutes before they came up for air, foreheads still touching. Molly whispered slyly, ”That one’s my favourite, hands down.”

Martin chuckled, before murmuring, “So, do you like my experiments better than Sherlock’s?”

Molly grinned. “Was there ever any doubt?” 

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Warning: sexual harassment

 

“Oi, what’s a mousy little thing like you doing here? I paid a hell of a lot of money for this damn flight, so I might as well enjoy the view. Come on, give us a peep.” Molly reddened at the man’s catcalls and, head ducked and eyes steadfastly fixed on the floor, attempted to speed up as she walked towards the flight deck. However, she was stopped short by Martin, who had walked into the cabin after completing the pre-boarding procedures just in time to hear the passenger’s remarks. Her boyfriend grabbed her hand and tugged her gently back to where the man was sitting. Once there, Martin rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin before fixing the passenger with a steady glare. In an authoritative voice (the likes of which Molly had never heard before), he said, “Excuse me. I am the captain of this aircraft and this lady is my esteemed guest, and if you can’t show her the respect she deserves, then I will ask you to please get off the airplane. This ismy plane, and as the captain I refuse to let a vulgar idiot like you set foot in it. So apologize to her now and then GET. OUT.”

The man stood there for a moment, red-faced and gaping like a fish out of water, before grabbing his luggage and stomping sullenly out of GERTI, stopping only to look hesitantly at Molly and grumble an almost-inaudible “Sorry.”

As soon as the man walked out the door, Martin visibly deflated. A bright blush quickly spreading across his face, he turned to Molly and began to ramble. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I was rude, wasn’t I? It’s just, he was being so mean to you, and I got really mad and-“

All of a sudden, Molly hugged Martin fiercely, stopping him mid-sentence. “No one’s ever done that for me before,” she whispered fiercely into his chest. “No one’s ever- ever cared enough, I guess. Thank you.”

Martin slowly wrapped his arms around Molly and squeezed her tightly. “I’ll always care. I promise.”

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Dark

Warning: Allusions to torture

Jim reclines back into his seat, looking for all the world like a contented cat despite the lumpy cushions and lack of legroom. He chews his gum loudly as he casts a lazy glance around the cabin, watching the chaotic mess that comprises this airplane’s flight crew.

There’s the old lady who plays so hard at being CEO, worrying about finances and all the other boring problems associated with running a floundering charter airline firm. Jim’s surprised that she hasn’t keeled over from a heart attack yet. He wonders what it would take.

Perhaps if her son… Well, the flight steward himself has quite a bit of potential. Not for anything remotely useful of course (Jim can tell that the boy’s head has less intelligent life in it than Mycroft Holmes’s Flight of the Living Dead), but he’s bound to be entertaining. After all, the happy ones are always the most interesting to break. 

Jim’s eyes land next on the first officer, and he rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses. Douglas Richardson, with his smooth smile and his swagger and his oh-so-telling posturing, will be so easy to break that Jim briefly contemplates whether or not it’s worth the effort. Then again, Jim’s quite sure that that baritone will make the sweetest sounds when it’s screaming in pain. 

And finally, there’s the red-headed, redder-faced incompetent sod of a captain. With his stutters and his nervous fidgeting and his pathetic attempts at authority, this Martin Crieff bears almost no resemblance to either of his half-brothers. Of course, Jim knows that it’s the black sheep of the family that always earns the most adoration and fiercely-protective loyalty. Predictable, but useful. What better way to make the Holmes brothers dance than by taking away their favourite tooth-rottingly ordinary plaything? And Jim might as well throw in the rest of the flight crew too; after all, four hysterical hostages are so much more interesting than one. 

Oh, this will be fun.

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

As it turns out, a lot of things can go through someone’s head in the 1.96 seconds it takes to plummet from the roof of St Barts Hospital. Sherlock had never placed much stock in the maudlin “life flashing before one’s eyes” phenomenon that everyone else seemed to cling to, believing his brain to be far beyond such petty sentiments. And yet, as the wind rushed past him and the concrete became an ever-approaching blur, the one thing that stuck in his mind, burning as brightly as a neon sign, was the thought of his brother. Not Mycroft, the redolent bastard, but Martin. Sherlock hadn’t even talked to his younger brother since the latter had failed his CPL for the fifth time, and although the consulting detective had kept tabs on his brother, part of him (disgustingly sentimental as it was) wondered if that was really enough. As Sherlock neared the pavement, he closed his eyes, and a sharp memory flashed in his mind like a shard of glass that had caught the light.

—-

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” a four-year-old Martin asked his half-brother. 

“A pirate. Or a ninja. Or maybe a policeman. Mummy says I have a very flexible skillset.” Sherlock said proudly, full of the ego and self-righteousness that came with being eight years old. 

“Oh,” Martin paused, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried to process the latest stream of information his half-brother had thrown at him. Skillset? Martin decided it wasn’t worth asking about, and his eyes lit up as he attempted to steer the conversation, as always, to his favourite subject. “Well, I want to be an aeroplane.”

“That’s silly,” Sherlock scoffed. “Humans don’t fly; they fall.”

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Dark

“I don’t know about this, Molly…” Martin said uncertainly as he eyed the gleaming knife lying on the wooden table.

Molly came up behind the pilot, wrapping her arms around his waist. “It’ll be so much fun,” she crooned into his ear, “just think about it. Remember all the times he taunted you, insulted you, hit you where it hurt the most? You have the chance to cut out his silver tongue.”

She took the knife and held it out to him, and Martin couldn’t help but watch the light catch on the edge of the blade.

“You have the chance,” Molly whispered, “to make Douglas Richardson bleed.”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Angst

Martin held the box in his hands gingerly, his fingers tracing the image printed on the cardboard. Part of him knew that this shouldn’t have been such a big deal, that people had dyed their hair for many a more trivial cause. However, he couldn’t stop thinking about a seven-year-old Martin who had been so very proud of his flame-colored hair, a Martin who had bristled whenever someone had tried to cut his hair, a Martin that would have never, ever let anyone dye his hair. And yet… Martin looked at the picture he had carried with him into the bathroom of a John who smiled brighter than Martin had ever seen and a tall, dark-haired consulting detective, and, with trembling fingers, Martin opened the box. 

 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff, humour

Molly gently handed the pink bundle to Sherlock with a shy smile on her face. “It’s like handling a corpse, but- but not really. No riding crops allowed.”

“Molly, what did I say about your jokes?” Sherlock grumbled as he carefully took the baby from Molly’s hands. 

Martin chuckled. “Well, I, for one, find them hilarious.” He pressed a soft kiss to his wife’s lips. “And you’d better get used to holding her,” he told his half-brother with a grin, “after all, you are her godfather.”

Sherlock had faced Chinese smugglers, homicidal cabbies, and a consulting criminal who was ostensibly the most dangerous man in the world. And yet, he thought to himself as he looked into the baby’s large brown eyes and tried not to think about all the different ways he could accidentally harm her, he had never faced anything quite as frightening as the 2.3kg bundle in his arms.

 

Chapter Text

Rating: T

Genre: Dark

“It’s nothing personal, Junior,” Molly cooed at the pilot. “Oh, who am I trying to kid? It’s deliciously personal: just the way I like it.” Gagged and bound on a rickety wooden chair as he was, Martin didn’t reply, too busy frantically glancing around at the bleak rooftop he was on and trying his best not to have a full-blown panic attack. Undeterred, Molly continued in a sweet voice. “Jim thinks we need to test the physics before we deal with the big fish — the big fish being your brother, of course. Ah yes, your beloved Sherlock. Not that you should be worrying about him, of course, seeing as how you have more pressing matters on your mind, I’m sure. I think of this as an opportunity to find out if that head of yours is as empty as it seems. And you? Well, you can think of it as a sweet little anniversary gift from your darling Molly: a final flight, just for you.” 

Molly walked toward Martin until she was standing right in front of him before leaning down to press a feather-light kiss on his cheek. “I really hope you like your present, dear,” she crooned in a mockingly adoring voice. “I put so much thought into it; it’d kill me if you didn’t like it.”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

“Good morning, good morning, good morning chaps!” Martin crowed as he strolled into the flight deck. “We’re flying from Bern to Paris today, right? Perfect!” 

“Wow, you’re sure happy, Skip!” Arthur chirped brightly.

“A certain John Watson’s booked for this flight, and as we all know, Martin’s in love,” Douglas crooned with a smirk.

“What? No, I’m not, that’s absolutely preposterous! I wouldn’t even think of having romantic relations with a client!” Martin blustered, face turning as red as his hair. “But do you think he likes me? Do you? I’m sure he doesn’t, but he has been flying a lot. And he always lights up whenever he sees me. Or I think he does. Maybe I’m just imagining it all. I probably am. Do you think I am?”

Before either Douglas or Arthur could respond to Martin’s babbling, Carolyn walked into the flight deck. “I’m sorry, Martin,” she said with a sigh as she looked at the papers in her hands, “but Mr Watson has just cancelled his flight.”

At that very moment, Douglas’s phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “Apparently, there’s some breaking news of some sort in London. Remember that detective bloke, Sherlock Holmes? There’s an article about him. Let me pull it up on my phone.” Douglas paused for a second as he scanned the article, before freezing in his seat. He looked at Martin, then back at his screen, before muttering a soft “Ah.”

“What, what is it?” the captain asked, completely flustered by this point.

“Nothing.”

“Let me see.” Martin snatched the phone out of Douglas’s grasp and was rewarded with a picture of John Watson and a taller, dark-haired, better-looking version of Martin in a passionate kiss. The headline read “Consulting Detective Returns! Rumours Confirmed as John Watson, Live-In Partner, Gives a Warm ‘Welcome Back’ Kiss.” Martin tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, but all he could do was mutter a soft “Oh.”

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Hurt/comfort

There was a lot that wasn’t perfect about Molly Hooper’s life. There was the boss that barely acknowledged her existence, dismissing her with a wave every time she went to submit her files even though Molly knew full well that her work was some of the best in the morgue. There was that co-worker of hers that sneered behind her back, making snide comments about her hair, her clothes, her voice, until Molly just wanted to  scream . There was that annoying man from the Yard who kept insisting that her reports were wrong even though he technically wasn’t even qualified enough to  look  at her work, let alone pass judgement on it. Indeed, it was quite fair to say that there were quite a few days in Molly’s life when her job had almost reduced her to tears. However, every time she was on the verge of crumbling in on herself in defeat, without fail, Martin would be there for her. It could be as mundane as a funny text detailing his latest escapades with MJN or as elaborate as a picnic under the stars, but somehow, her boyfriend always knew exactly when she needed him most. His jokes never failed to make her laugh (even though they often featured far-from-stellar puns) and his earnest smile sent a thrill through her every single time. Sometimes, he’d just arrive at her door unannounced and pull her into a warm embrace, and suddenly, with his heartbeat in Molly’s ears and his arms so securely wrapped around her body, Molly could feel all her sorrow and stress just melt away. Because sure, there was a lot that wasn’t perfect about Molly Hooper’s life, but Martin Crieff? Well, he was perfect for Molly in every single way.

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff, humour

“Martin,” Molly called worriedly from the living room of their flat, concerned eyes glued to the laptop in front of her.

Martin rushed into the room, almost tripping on the door-sill in his haste. “Yes, honey?”

“You know how your brother’s been babysitting Amy a lot lately?”

“Yes. I mean, I would have never pegged him for the doting type, but I swear-“

“I think we may need to have a talk with him about it.”

“Why?”

“I was reading John’s blog and-“

Molly was suddenly tackled by a flying blur of ribbons and ruffles and six-year-old enthusiasm squealing “Mommy! Mommy!” Their daughter had apparently heard their conversation from the kitchen and had decided that it would be a good time to share her thoughts.

Molly couldn’t help but smile fondly at the little girl in her arms. She gently pushed her daughter’s chin up until Molly was looking right into Amy’s big brown eyes and asked, “Yes darling, what is it?”

“You were talking about Uncle Sherlock, weren’t you?”

“Yes, Amy, good deduction.”

Amy beamed. “Uncle Sherlock says that you work with dead people!”

“Yes I do, dear.”

“Uncle Sherlock says that you give him dead people to bring home!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say-“

“Mommy, for my birthday, can I have a dead person too?”

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Martin peered at the mirror yet again and tried desperately to straighten his tie. There he was, dressed up in his only formal suit and tie, waiting for Molly to arrive so that they could go to the annual gala at Barts, but- Achoo! A giant sneeze wracked his body and he reached for the almost-empty tissue box beside him. God forbid everything go smoothly for once, Martin thought to himself sullenly as he readjusted his now-crooked tie. He’d been sick for the last couple of days, ever since that unfortunate flight to Bucharest, but he wasn’t certainly wasn’t going to abandon Molly at the last minute. Martin was determined to brave through this, even if his nose was leaking like a faucet and his entire face was a rather brilliant shade of red due to a semi-constant fever. 

At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door. Martin opened the door, his face instantly lighting up as soon as he saw his girlfriend (and yes, she was finally and officially his propergirlfriend now, thank you very much). Molly mirrored his grin with a small smile of her own, but the smile slowly faded from her face to be replaced with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly. “You look like one of the corpses I work with- I mean, not in that way, I’m just saying, um, well… are you okay?”

“I’m a bit sick, but I’ll be fine, really!” Martin protested, although the sneeze that ensued rather undermined his point. He continued bravely, “And I know you’ve been planning this gala for a while and you got all dressed up for this and-“

Molly just shook her head, already in the process of taking off her heels. “They have this gala every year. And honestly, it’s mostly filled with boring old people. How about we stay here and watch a movie instead?” 

She flashed him another bright smile as she turned away to hang up her coat, and at that moment Martin knew. Martin knew, without a doubt, that he was loved by Miss Molly Hooper — and that he loved her too. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff, humour

“And then I open the door to see orchids everywhere and-” Martin froze, eyes fixed pointedly on something behind Molly. Curious, Molly turned around, eyes scanning the restaurant as she tried to find the source of Martin’s unease. All of a sudden, her eyes landed on a familiar figure in his trademark coat and scarf sitting by the bar, and she let out a small surprised ”Oh!”

“Wait, you know Sherlock too?” Martin asked.

“We work together, sort of, but-” Molly trailed off, unsure exactly how to explain her rather embarassing- phase, to put it nicely. She eventually just settled for a sheepish shrug. 

Martin fiddled with his fork for a moment, before looking up with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I say we make a run for it,” he said in an excited whisper, a childish grin on his face.

Molly couldn’t help but giggle and nod, and before she knew it, they were fleeing out the front door, hands clasped tight together, laughing gleefully as they ran into the night. 

Chapter Text

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

“No, there’s no way you could get Carolyn to agree to giving us a day off! Not even your silver tongue could pull that off,” Martin said, giving Douglas an incredulous look. 

“Oh, would you like to bet?” Douglas replied with his usual smirk. “We all know how well that always turns out.”

Martin opened his mouth to shoot back an indignant response, but was cut short by the tinny ring of his cell phone.  

“Huh, that’s weird. Can I even get calls this high up?”

Douglas shrugged. “I’ve heard it’s possible, but I’ve never actually seen it, myself. Who’d be calling you during a flight, anyways?”

Perplexed, Martin flipped open his phone. “Hello? Oh.” Martin sighed exasperatedly and, in an annoyed voice, continued, “Mycroft, what do you- No, I mean, I’m flying right now, and when I’m not flying I’m with the van so no, I haven’t really been keeping up with the news. Why do you even care?” The pilot spat the last sentence with unusual venom, and Douglas was taken aback at the amount of hate in the other man’s voice. 

A pause, and then suddenly Martin seemed to visibly deflate, all colour draining from his face in the blink of an eye. “What? No, you’re- No. That’s not- He wouldn’t- No, not- No. Just, just no.” Martin closed his phone with a soft click and just stared at the clunky metal device in his hands. His vision was already beginning to blur, but he just continued to stare at the grey object as if it held all the secrets in the world.  

“Alright?” Douglas asked, giving his copilot a concerned look. The younger man, having completely forgotten the existence of the other pilot, jerked in surprise, and his phone went flying from his hands to crash on the floor of the flight deck and scatter into what seemed like a million different pieces. Wordlessly, Martin got on his hands and knees to gather up the broken bits of plastic and metal, arranging them in a pile on the floor and making no move to wipe the tears slowly dripping down his face. “Martin?” Douglas asked again, this time in a softer voice clearly coloured with worry. The captain didn’t react and continued his robotic movements in stony silence. 

“I’ll just fetch Carolyn, shall I?” Douglas murmured as he slipped out of the flight deck. Martin continued to pick up the pieces of twisted shrapnel, shaping his growing pile into the serpentine curves of an S. The door to the flight deck finally swung closed with an audible click, and with that, Martin Crieff was alone. 

Chapter Text

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

“A lottery ticket, Martin? Really?” Molly asked, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I- I know that neither of us really believe in luck,” Martin stammered as he fidgeted with the slip of paper in his hands, “and I’m not saying that I’m lucky or anything — I mean, I’m definitely not at all lucky, especially if you look at Douglas, but I mean he’s more than lucky, he’s— well, anyways, I just really felt like buying the ticket, and I couldn’t help but think of how I had that random urge to visit my dad’s grave that day and then I met you and seeing the lottery ticket was almost the same? I mean, not really, not at all in fact, but sort of, if you understand what I mean. Am I making any sense?

“Martin Crieff, did you just compare me to a lottery ticket?” Molly asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes! I mean, no! No, not at all, because that would be stupid and unromantic and-“

“Or are you saying that meeting me was like winning the lottery?” she said with a giggle as she took his hand in hers. 

“Yes, that. That sounds good.”

“Good. Because I feel exactly the same way.” Molly grinned and pressed a light kiss to Martin’s lips.