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Arthur: Good afternoon sir, welcome on board today. Would sir prefer a nice hot cup of coffee, or would he prefer a nice hot cup of tea?
John: Tea please, thank you.
Arthur: Good afternoon sir, welcome also to you today on board. Coffee or tea for you—oh! Skipper! What are you doing back here in the passenger seat?
Sherlock: Skipper?
Arthur: Oh! Is this another one of mum's mystery passenger games again? If it is, then wow! You look amazing! You're wearing a suit and you've even got your hair dyed and everything! Brilliant!
John: (whisper) Sherlock what is he talking about?
Sherlock: Yes what are you talking about?
Arthur: Oh right, right. We're still playing mystery passenger. Okay, just one second. (clears throat and lowers voice) Hello, kind sir, would you like coffee or tea?
John: Sorry, I think you might have mistaken him for…Skipper.
Arthur: No I couldn't have, he's definitely Martin, aside from the hair and suit and the way he speaks and everything else of course. But I'm one hundred percent sure he's Martin. I mean, you're Martin.
John: No, I really think you've mistaken him for someone else, he isn't Martin, his name is Sherlock.
Sherlock: Yes, thank you for revealing my name, John. Now we'll just text Mycroft and get him to arrange another flight for us all over again.
John: Oh come on, stop being so dramatic I honestly doubt anyone recognizes you on this plane. Look here's your proof right here.
Arthur: Right. So are we still playing mystery passenger?
Arthur: Good afternoon Douglas! Coffee or t—Skipper! How did you get back in here so fast? Wow!
Martin: What are you talking about? I've been here since we started the plane.
Arthur: Yeah but—no you weren't, you were in the passenger seat, with another man. You even had your hair dyed and everything! You were brilliant!
Douglas: Really Martin? You were with another man? And brilliant at that? Why Martin, I never knew you had it in you. Jolly well done.
Martin: Oh shut up Douglas. Arthur what are you talking about, really?
Arthur: I just saw you in row E. You had dark brown hair and wore a suit and you sat beside another man, slightly shorter but not that short. I'd say the height of a really large cucumber.
Martin: Arthur. The man in the–no me, you were talking about me in the passenger seat.
Arthur: Oh right. So anyway, I saw you back there so I thought mum got you to play mystery passenger or something. You were brilliant at it by the way, very convincing!
Martin: Yes, but the only problem is I've been here since we started GERTI.
Douglas: And I can assure you he's telling the truth. We've been here playing the 'guess which passenger throws up first' game ever since. And Martin's been losing, quite terribly.
Martin: No, it's just that you've been winning.
Douglas: Which doesn't change the fact that you lose.
Martin: Fine, fine! I lose! I always lose anyway. In any case, Arthur, that wasn't me and I suppose you ought to apologise for disturbin-
Douglas: Terrorising.
Martin: Terro- Douglas! Arthur, I suppose you'll need to apologise to him for the earlier disturbance.
Arthur: Aww. Oh alright.
Arthur: Good afternoon sir. Again. I'm just here to apologise to yourself, for my earlier disturbance. It's just that Mum and Douglas always comes up with word games and everything so sometimes it can get a bit confusing.
Sherlock: Mmm.
John: He means you're forgiven.
Sherlock: No, I don't.
John: Yes, you do.
Sherlock: I don't.
John: God, Sherlock why are you always making such a big fuss out of- (sigh and turns to Arthur) I'm sorry, everything's quite alright now.
Arthur: Okay. Great! Would you like a drink then?
John: Uh, tea would be nice. For the both of us.
Arthur: Alright, two cups of tea coming right up! Though before I go, might I just say that wow! You chaps are just like Douglas and Martin during an argument! Except of course Skip is usually the one losing. Oh but I don't mean you're a loser, no no. That would be mean of me to say that. Very mean. Completely mean!
Sherlock: Arthur?
Arthur: Yes? Wait, hang on. How did you know my name? (gasps) You're a mind reader aren't you? Wow! I've always wanted to meet a mind reader, they're just like magicians. Except, they're real magicians! They're like wizards.
Sherlock: Oh for god's sake, this is ridiculous. What are you twenty eight? Twenty nine? Is this what you do then? Terrorise passengers during your free time? Oh is it because your mother's the CEO of this airline? Don't make me laugh, this hand-me-down plane is so worn out it's probably going to lose the second engine the next time it flies. And if it weren't for the bloody case, John and I wouldn't even dream of getting on this tattered old shipwreck.
Arthur: Hey! It's not a ship, it's a plane. And GERTI's a wonderful plane.
Sherlock: Oh please, it's a hand-me-down parting gift to your mother, he honestly couldn't have picked a lousier plane from his collection. If the court hadn't ruled him out as the richer party, he wouldn't even have bothered leaving anything to her now, would he? Not when she's disappointed him since the moment you turned five. Why though, why? Hmm, was it because you were too plump? No, that's not the case. Maybe it was because you called your uncle 'daddy' instead.
John: Sherlock.
Sherlock: No, no that's not it either. Why then, why? (Pause for a few seconds) Oh. I see. Yes, poor old daddy couldn't accept having a dimwit for a son. No, he was much too prideful for that, wasn't he. The poor man.
John: Sherlock!
Arthur: How did you. How could—why would you...
John: Oh no… I'm so sorry, he didn't mean it, he just (sigh) he just doesn't know when to shut his mouth sometimes. I'm really sorry.
Arthur: No, no. It's alright. I'll just... get that tea for you two now.
Douglas: I bet you twenty quid there's a couple in the second toilet to the left, currently banging each other senseless.
Martin: What? Douglas, are you serious? They're snogging in the toilet?
Douglas: I believe the term is 'making love'. Though if there were actually a couple in there, I can't say it would be any bit lovely at all. What with your exceptional skills at flying GERTI and the way you glide so effortlessly through the magnificent blue skies, I'd say 'making rage' more like it.
Martin: Oh come on, I'm not that bad. Am I?
Douglas: That is a rhetorical question. I hope.
Martin: Gah. Fine, I bet you twenty quid there isn't. Besides, there's no way you'll be actually be able to know they made love.
Douglas: Really, Martin? I fear you underestimate my spying skills.
Martin: Spying skills? What spying skills? Unless you mean to tell me you actually bugged the toilet with some sort of camera or audio device.
Douglas: Better yet. Let me present to you the Spy Cam Two Thousand. Oh, Arthur!
Arthur: Yes, Douglas?
Martin: Wha-when did you come in?
Douglas: Oh never mind that. Arthur, could you go place your ear on the second toilet door to the left. No, your other left.
Arthur: Alright. Be back in a bit.
Martin: That's your Spy Cam Two Thousand? Arthur? And I thought you'd be able to do better than this.
Douglas: Don't be too happy just yet, Martin. We shall see when he comes back.
Arthur: I'm back, chaps.
Douglas: Right, what did you hear?
Arthur: Panting. Loads of it, and quite loud too.
Martin: That doesn't prove anything. I'm afraid I've won this round, Douglas.
Douglas: Not yet. Arthur, can you describe the panting?
Arthur: Well I'm not sure if this makes sense, but it certainly sounds like Mum when she's walking on the treadmill. Which is very close to the 'ah' sound.
Martin: Oh god Arthur, now you've put images into my head. Argh.
Douglas: Well, that's that, then. Twenty quid. Pay up.
Arthur: Sorry, skip. (Sigh)
Martin: Why are you sighing, I should be the one sighing, I've just lost twenty quid!
Arthur: Yeah, sorry about that. You see, you know the man I was talking about earlier? The one that looks awfully much like you? Well, he sort of… he sort of made fun of Mum and me. He said dad left Mum because I was a dimwit. And he couldn't take the fact that I actually was one.
Martin: Oh God. Why would he say such a thing? That's horrible! And how did he come to find out about it in the first place?
Douglas: What that Arthur is just a tad bit slow? I'm pretty sure that's obvious enough.
Martin: Douglas!
Douglas: My apologies.
Arthur: It's alright, Skipper. I'm not actually upset that he thinks I'm a 'dimwit'; I'm upset because I think he's right. I think Dad might've really left Mum because of me.
Martin: Oh come on, that's not true.
Arthur: It's fine, I think I'll just go find Mum for a bit. She's probably wanting a cup of coffee soon. She always wants a cup of coffee after she wakes up.
Martin: Wakes up?
Arthur: Yeah. She's been napping in one of the passenger seats. Told me not to disturb her while she slept. (Leaves the flight deck)
Douglas: Aren't you curious?
Martin: Curious? About what?
Douglas: About the mystery passenger who looks so much like you.
Martin: No, why would I be?
Douglas: Because, this man looks exactly like you. He would be like your twin, just smarter. Or even a secret spy working with the government. Why else would he know so much about Arthur? Unless he's managed to get Carolyn drunk, which at the moment is quite impossible, than it could only be that he's either a genius, or he's a spy.
Martin: How would you know? Your very own Spy Cam Two Thousand was a polar bear loving steward. For all you know he could have the same thing. Besides, it doesn't make sense. Why would he spy on Arthur of all people?
Douglas: Maybe he's a police man then, or a detective. Look, all I'm saying is this man here looks exactly like YOU, why wouldn't you be curious about him? I certainly would if someone told me they had spotted my charmingly handsome evil twin on board. Why, I'd gladly invite him on deck to play the 'see who pisses Martin Crieff off first' game. He would be the perfect collaborator.
Martin: I really hope that day never comes. And no, I'm still not curious.
Douglas: Why, is it because he might just be much taller than you? Much richer? Much smarter and much more handsome?
Martin: No it's not, I'm just not interested!
Douglas: Alright, I know what you'll be interested in. I bet you the cheese tray he's a detective. How about that? This time, your chances of winning are pretty high, I would say.
Martin: Fine. The cheese tray it is, then. And if he isn't a detective, and I win, then you can't make fun of my height ever again. EVER.
Douglas: Fine.
John: Sherlock, that wasn't exactly very nice.
Sherlock: No, it wasn't.
John: I'm glad you know, then.
Sherlock: I do know, but I don't care.
John: (Sigh) What's got into you? You agreed to take on this case; you do owe Mycroft a favour from the last time.
Sherlock: I was forced to take this case. No one in the right mind would want it anyway. It's ridiculous! Mycroft certainly knows how to pick the worst cases for me. What sort of brother is that, really?
John: Well, you can't do much about it can you? Just finish this up and we can go home after that.
Sherlock: And what happens between now and the case? God, I'm so bored, John. I can't spend another second on this bloody seat. I need to do something, anything! There's no one left to deduce. I've gone through every single one of them and they're all so positively dull.
John: Every singl—it's only been two hours!
Sherlock: You don't say.
-Bing- Martin: Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking; will Mr Sherlock Holmes come to the flight deck please? It's an emergency. And for the rest of the passengers, thank you and enjoy the rest of your flight!
John: Sherlock. Don't.
Sherlock: Don't? Don't what?
John: You have that face on.
Sherlock: What face?
John: Sherlock you can't! Stop Sherlock, stop!
(Barges into the flight control deck)
Sherlock: I demand to see the captain!
(Martin and Douglas get up from their seat)
Douglas: No, the captain demands to see you.
John: And I suppose you're the captain? (Referring to Douglas)
Martin: He's not the captain I am! I'm the captain!
Sherlock: Obviously.
Martin: Obviously?
John: Sorry, ignore him, he's always like that. Anyway, I presume you're looking for him because of the earlier bit with your flight steward? If it is, I'm really sorry. It's just that your steward's been confusing my friend here, for…you… (John stares at Martin, astonished.)
Douglas: Though I can see why he would, you both look devilishly alike.
Martin: Yes. You're right, w-we do look rather similar. Wow. In fact we—wow. And the curls and even the—wow!
Douglas: It would seem Martin has caught the Arthur syndrome. Oh bother.