One foot on the ground (Part 5)
Part 5 of the Cabin Pressure/Sherlock crossover filled with awkward dating, fluff and a murderous feline. If you're new, check out Part 1.
Standard disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I hope that Moffat, Gatiss and Finnemore have a sense of humor about me messing with their toys.
Proofed and edited by me. All mistakes are mine. If there's something particularly awful, please let me know.
Comments are like the new season of Glee for Molly.
Seventeen men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow,
Seventeen men and their dog,
Went to mow a meadow
Normally Arthur singing in the cabin as he puttered about, preparing for the flight was an irritant to Martin. He needed to concentrate on the flight plan (never mind the fact that it was just a routine trip to Chicago -- the entire city could have moved three miles east into Lake Michigan and the only way to tell was the plan and maps) as well as do the safety check. But today? Martin couldn’t help singing along.
Eighteen men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow;
Eighteen men and their --
“Platypus!” Arthur exclaimed.
Martin stopped for a second, confused. “What sound does a platypus make?” he asked.
Arthur made a snoring sound with his lips closed. If a turkey could have growled, that’s what it would have sounded like. It was disturbing the gleeful glint in his eye as he made the noise. Most twenty-nine-year-old men didn’t get such happiness from making mouth noises like that. But then again, they weren’t Arthur.
Martin nodded. “Very well,” and continued singing. “Eighteen men and their platypus --”
Arthur made his snorting noise.
“Went to mow the meeeeaaaadddddoooooowwww!” The two men finished as Douglas sauntered onto the plane and took his place next to Martin.
“Sir seems to be in a good mood this morning,” Douglas noted dryly.
Martin snapped the flight plan closed and grinned. “If you must know Douglas, I had a date last night and it went wonderfully.”
“Really?” One eyebrow rose carefully on Douglas’ face. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky girl?”
Did he say lucky sarcastically? Martin wasn’t sure, but chose to ignore it. After all, it had been a splendid date.
“She’s someone I met while doing my other job,” Martin said. “I helped her move into her flat a few weeks ago.”
“Ah yes, the girl you got those tchotchkes for in Shanghai,” Douglas nodded. “So she responded favorably to your little gift?”
“You might say that,” Martin grinned, remembering everything.
“Really?” there was only the merest wisp of surprise in Douglas’ voice.
“Really?” Arthur exclaimed, but that was to be expected. Arthur tended to sound surprised at everything, even news that the sun had set for the night.
“Really?” Caroline’s voice crackled through the intercom.
Martin reddened. Bragging to Douglas would be one thing, but everyone listening in was something entirely different. At least with Douglas, it would feel like a minor win, whereas with Carolyn and Arthur, it started to verge on the realm of gossip.
“Well,” Martin stammered. “We went out for some curry and beers and she’s just lovely.” He could feel his neck get hot at the memory of Molly and her laugh and smile. “She’s just very nice and smart. Just a lovely, lovely woman.”
“Lovely,” Douglas echoed. There was a certain tone to his voice that rankled Martin. It sounded like he didn’t quite believe what happened.
“Yes Douglas. She’s lovely. Smart, funny and sweet,” Martin replied peevishly. Maybe it was the fact that he felt like Douglas was trying to burst his bubble, but Martin felt that he had to continue with the following line, instead of leaving things well enough alone. “She even invited me up afterwards.”
“Really?” Now Douglas definitely sounded surprised.
“Really?” Arthur squeaked.
“Oh my,” even over the intercom, it was clear that she was suppressing a giggle. “Do not say more. I’m coming up there and I need to hear this. Martin’s finally caught a lucky break!”
He was over his head and Martin knew it. They’d want every salacious detail about his date. He was a wounded gazelle and unless he offered up the details, they’d circle around him like a group of starving hyenas.
“It’s not really much --” he began, just as Carolyn came barreling through the door.
“Not much?” Douglas looked absolutely smug. “This is the first date I’ve heard about since --” he made a face as if he was thinking for a long while. “Well, since you started here.”
“I have gone on plenty of dates,” he replied, defenses now on red alert.
Carolyn snorted, then said, “So you were telling us about this date --”
“Not much else to tell,” Martin could feel himself backpedaling. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“Which means that not much happened,” Douglas surmised. “Let me guess -- you began talking about which movie was better -- Top Gun or The Aviator --”
“We did,” Martin snapped. “And she is in disagreement.”
“Ah, so she prefers The Aviator,” Carolyn cut in. “Not as many planes, but overall a better movie. Not bad taste with that girl. Although the volleyball scene in Top Gun --” a faint lascivious smile danced on her lips.
Arthur reddened. “Mum,” he muttered.
“Anyways, she did invite me up for some tea,” Martin continued.
“And --” Douglas waved his hand impatiently.
“We were sitting on the couch talking --”
“And --” Carolyn’s grin was practically wolfish.
“I leaned in to kiss her --”
Arthur’s face bloomed into the brightest red. “Go on Skip --”
Martin sighed. It was time to tell the truth. “And her cat attacked me.”
The three colleagues groaned.
“That hell beast,” Martin began to rant. “That thing she calls her ‘widdle kitten’ leaps up and latches himself on my back and attempts to climb up my head. Thankfully she had a first aid kit to help with the hunks of skin that thing took out of me.”
A disappointed silence filled the cockpit.
“It never fails Martin,” Carolyn said after a long silence. “You’re the most unlucky man I’ve ever met. In any case, our passengers are almost here and it’s time to get ready to go. Come Arthur.” With that, she swept out of the cockpit, her son bouncing in tow.
The flight to Chicago was uneventful. No one moved the city three miles to the east.
“You know something,” Douglas said thoughtfully as the two enjoyed a cup of coffee after dinner. “I just realized that you said it was a successful date. How does getting clawed in the back by a mad feral tom mean it’s a successful date?”
Martin grinned as the memory of Molly’s taste -- a bit of mango lassi and something undefinable -- along with the scent of lilacs flickered in his memory. “Well, I did get to kiss her and she did say she wanted to see me again,” he said somewhat smugly.
“You sure it wasn’t out of pity because of how her cat attempted to murder you?”
Martin nodded. “Even if it was,” he said thoughtfully, “a date’s a date. You take your victories where you can get them.”
Douglas snorted, a smirk flashing across his face, “Hope always springs eternal.”
~~~
“Hello?” The tinny sound of Molly’s voice, thousands of kilometers away sounded warm and sleepy.
“Did I wake you?” Martin cursed himself, staring at the clock. Even though it was approximately 10:30 in the evening in Chicago, he realized too late that it was about 4:30 in the morning in London. “It’s Martin, you know? The one who you went out with the other day?”
“No, no,” she yawned, attempting to hide the lie. “Well,” there was a slight laugh. “Yes I was, but I’m just happy to hear from you. How’s your back?”
Martin smiled at the sound of her voice. He could picture her laying in bed, phone pressed to her ear, her body warm and Toby curled up against her. “It’s fine,” he replied, remembering how she tended to his back after the cat’s attack. “Well, thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry about Toby. I have no idea what got into him,” she yawned, then added, “Why did you call? Are you all right?”
“Well, er --” he stammered. “I know we said we were going out as soon as I got back, but I guess --”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to let you know I’ll be back in London the day after tomorrow,” he said. “I know I’m going to be exhausted, but given the time we’re returning I’m going to need a diversion to keep me awake and get my internal clock back to normal.” It was the stupidest excuse to call, Martin thought to himself, but what else was he going to say? Because I missed you and wanted to hear your voice before going to bed. That I’m absolutely besotted after one date. That was too sappy.
“Really?” her tone got warmer. “You’re lucky I’m off that day. You could come to my place and we’d just go out from there.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Molly giggled. “So how’s Chicago?”
“Big. The airport is just a bloody nightmare. We’re holed up in this little hotel,” Martin sighed, silently bemoaning the fact that his sheets had that odd musty smell and were slightly damp, as well as the fact that Douglas was snoring in the bed next to him and Arthur was talking in his sleep about flying to Jupiter from his spot on the floor. “We’re flying out tomorrow, and I know you need to your rest --”
Another tinny giggle emitted from the receiver. “It’s fine,” she said. “I should get up early and go exercise or do work or something.”
He laughed, knowing she was lying. “You’re too kind.”
“I’d love to see Chicago,” Molly said wistfully. “The only place in America I’ve been was Boston. I envy you.”
“It’s not much really,” Martin stammered. “I mean, for me it’s land the plane, get to the hotel, go to bed, get up and go back to the airport. The only thing that changes is the language.”
“Do you ever get time off? To explore and see things? Maybe even get a discount to fly?”
He could see where the line of the conversation was heading and it was going to end badly, Martin thought.
“Well, um --” he began. “MJN really isn’t that successful.”
“Really?”
Martin closed his eyes, bracing for the worst. It was something he had dealt with before -- the truth would come out, he’d feel ashamed about his hobby and the fact that he didn’t even get paid for his job, she would make some excuse not to see him again or give the dreaded “It’s not you, it’s me” speech.
“I work as a mover,” he said slowly, voice quavering. “That’s how I make my living. I don’t make any money from this. I don’t get a salary.”
“Why not?” it might have been the tinny connection, but Molly didn’t sound the least bit annoyed or angry. Just curious.
Martin took a deep breath and explained everything -- the job interview in which Carolyn bamboozled him to take nothing for the title of captain, the constant hustle the company did to stay ahead of creditors, the fact that he worked as a mover when home, but this was his hobby.
“I’m sorry if I deceived you,” he finally stammered into the phone. “But yes, I’m not rich or successful. And this isn’t really a glamorous job. I just really, really love flying.”
There was a long silence after he finished his story, which made him feel nauseated. He could hear her thoughts, her weighing the options and whether or not he was worth her time. Martin closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry, but to be glad that at least it wasn’t face to face. One time that happened, the girl threw her coffee at him and stormed out of the cafe.
“It’s OK,” he heard after what seemed like an eternity. Her voice was still warm and kind. “But now I’m wondering something --”
Martin let out a morbid laugh. “What?”
“What if I offered to volunteer as a stewardess? Would your boss let me fly for free or a discount?” Her tone was absolutely innocent. “I mean, it’d be a barter of services.”
Martin once scoffed at the notion of air hostesses being easy, calling it a male sexist fantasy. But the image of Molly, dressed in a smart uniform from the sixties, complete with miniskirt, pillbox hat and long legs leaning over him purring “Coffee, tea or me?” nearly made him drop his phone.
She couldn’t be real, he thought to himself. No woman is this sweet. But she couldn’t be as sweet as he initially thought, he realized. Molly had just given him an incendiary image, burned into his brain and there was nothing he could do about it. Not with Douglas and Arthur sleeping in the same room.
“Um --” he squeaked, battling his hormones for control. “I’d have to consult with her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was amiable to that.”
“Well, I’m not really good with customer service,” she laughed. “I mean, I do work with dead people for a reason.”
“You can’t do any worse than Arthur,” he chuckled.
Part 6
Standard disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I hope that Moffat, Gatiss and Finnemore have a sense of humor about me messing with their toys.
Proofed and edited by me. All mistakes are mine. If there's something particularly awful, please let me know.
Comments are like the new season of Glee for Molly.
Seventeen men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow,
Seventeen men and their dog,
Went to mow a meadow
Normally Arthur singing in the cabin as he puttered about, preparing for the flight was an irritant to Martin. He needed to concentrate on the flight plan (never mind the fact that it was just a routine trip to Chicago -- the entire city could have moved three miles east into Lake Michigan and the only way to tell was the plan and maps) as well as do the safety check. But today? Martin couldn’t help singing along.
Eighteen men went to mow,
Went to mow a meadow;
Eighteen men and their --
“Platypus!” Arthur exclaimed.
Martin stopped for a second, confused. “What sound does a platypus make?” he asked.
Arthur made a snoring sound with his lips closed. If a turkey could have growled, that’s what it would have sounded like. It was disturbing the gleeful glint in his eye as he made the noise. Most twenty-nine-year-old men didn’t get such happiness from making mouth noises like that. But then again, they weren’t Arthur.
Martin nodded. “Very well,” and continued singing. “Eighteen men and their platypus --”
Arthur made his snorting noise.
“Went to mow the meeeeaaaadddddoooooowwww!” The two men finished as Douglas sauntered onto the plane and took his place next to Martin.
“Sir seems to be in a good mood this morning,” Douglas noted dryly.
Martin snapped the flight plan closed and grinned. “If you must know Douglas, I had a date last night and it went wonderfully.”
“Really?” One eyebrow rose carefully on Douglas’ face. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky girl?”
Did he say lucky sarcastically? Martin wasn’t sure, but chose to ignore it. After all, it had been a splendid date.
“She’s someone I met while doing my other job,” Martin said. “I helped her move into her flat a few weeks ago.”
“Ah yes, the girl you got those tchotchkes for in Shanghai,” Douglas nodded. “So she responded favorably to your little gift?”
“You might say that,” Martin grinned, remembering everything.
“Really?” there was only the merest wisp of surprise in Douglas’ voice.
“Really?” Arthur exclaimed, but that was to be expected. Arthur tended to sound surprised at everything, even news that the sun had set for the night.
“Really?” Caroline’s voice crackled through the intercom.
Martin reddened. Bragging to Douglas would be one thing, but everyone listening in was something entirely different. At least with Douglas, it would feel like a minor win, whereas with Carolyn and Arthur, it started to verge on the realm of gossip.
“Well,” Martin stammered. “We went out for some curry and beers and she’s just lovely.” He could feel his neck get hot at the memory of Molly and her laugh and smile. “She’s just very nice and smart. Just a lovely, lovely woman.”
“Lovely,” Douglas echoed. There was a certain tone to his voice that rankled Martin. It sounded like he didn’t quite believe what happened.
“Yes Douglas. She’s lovely. Smart, funny and sweet,” Martin replied peevishly. Maybe it was the fact that he felt like Douglas was trying to burst his bubble, but Martin felt that he had to continue with the following line, instead of leaving things well enough alone. “She even invited me up afterwards.”
“Really?” Now Douglas definitely sounded surprised.
“Really?” Arthur squeaked.
“Oh my,” even over the intercom, it was clear that she was suppressing a giggle. “Do not say more. I’m coming up there and I need to hear this. Martin’s finally caught a lucky break!”
He was over his head and Martin knew it. They’d want every salacious detail about his date. He was a wounded gazelle and unless he offered up the details, they’d circle around him like a group of starving hyenas.
“It’s not really much --” he began, just as Carolyn came barreling through the door.
“Not much?” Douglas looked absolutely smug. “This is the first date I’ve heard about since --” he made a face as if he was thinking for a long while. “Well, since you started here.”
“I have gone on plenty of dates,” he replied, defenses now on red alert.
Carolyn snorted, then said, “So you were telling us about this date --”
“Not much else to tell,” Martin could feel himself backpedaling. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“Which means that not much happened,” Douglas surmised. “Let me guess -- you began talking about which movie was better -- Top Gun or The Aviator --”
“We did,” Martin snapped. “And she is in disagreement.”
“Ah, so she prefers The Aviator,” Carolyn cut in. “Not as many planes, but overall a better movie. Not bad taste with that girl. Although the volleyball scene in Top Gun --” a faint lascivious smile danced on her lips.
Arthur reddened. “Mum,” he muttered.
“Anyways, she did invite me up for some tea,” Martin continued.
“And --” Douglas waved his hand impatiently.
“We were sitting on the couch talking --”
“And --” Carolyn’s grin was practically wolfish.
“I leaned in to kiss her --”
Arthur’s face bloomed into the brightest red. “Go on Skip --”
Martin sighed. It was time to tell the truth. “And her cat attacked me.”
The three colleagues groaned.
“That hell beast,” Martin began to rant. “That thing she calls her ‘widdle kitten’ leaps up and latches himself on my back and attempts to climb up my head. Thankfully she had a first aid kit to help with the hunks of skin that thing took out of me.”
A disappointed silence filled the cockpit.
“It never fails Martin,” Carolyn said after a long silence. “You’re the most unlucky man I’ve ever met. In any case, our passengers are almost here and it’s time to get ready to go. Come Arthur.” With that, she swept out of the cockpit, her son bouncing in tow.
The flight to Chicago was uneventful. No one moved the city three miles to the east.
“You know something,” Douglas said thoughtfully as the two enjoyed a cup of coffee after dinner. “I just realized that you said it was a successful date. How does getting clawed in the back by a mad feral tom mean it’s a successful date?”
Martin grinned as the memory of Molly’s taste -- a bit of mango lassi and something undefinable -- along with the scent of lilacs flickered in his memory. “Well, I did get to kiss her and she did say she wanted to see me again,” he said somewhat smugly.
“You sure it wasn’t out of pity because of how her cat attempted to murder you?”
Martin nodded. “Even if it was,” he said thoughtfully, “a date’s a date. You take your victories where you can get them.”
Douglas snorted, a smirk flashing across his face, “Hope always springs eternal.”
~~~
“Hello?” The tinny sound of Molly’s voice, thousands of kilometers away sounded warm and sleepy.
“Did I wake you?” Martin cursed himself, staring at the clock. Even though it was approximately 10:30 in the evening in Chicago, he realized too late that it was about 4:30 in the morning in London. “It’s Martin, you know? The one who you went out with the other day?”
“No, no,” she yawned, attempting to hide the lie. “Well,” there was a slight laugh. “Yes I was, but I’m just happy to hear from you. How’s your back?”
Martin smiled at the sound of her voice. He could picture her laying in bed, phone pressed to her ear, her body warm and Toby curled up against her. “It’s fine,” he replied, remembering how she tended to his back after the cat’s attack. “Well, thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry about Toby. I have no idea what got into him,” she yawned, then added, “Why did you call? Are you all right?”
“Well, er --” he stammered. “I know we said we were going out as soon as I got back, but I guess --”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to let you know I’ll be back in London the day after tomorrow,” he said. “I know I’m going to be exhausted, but given the time we’re returning I’m going to need a diversion to keep me awake and get my internal clock back to normal.” It was the stupidest excuse to call, Martin thought to himself, but what else was he going to say? Because I missed you and wanted to hear your voice before going to bed. That I’m absolutely besotted after one date. That was too sappy.
“Really?” her tone got warmer. “You’re lucky I’m off that day. You could come to my place and we’d just go out from there.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Molly giggled. “So how’s Chicago?”
“Big. The airport is just a bloody nightmare. We’re holed up in this little hotel,” Martin sighed, silently bemoaning the fact that his sheets had that odd musty smell and were slightly damp, as well as the fact that Douglas was snoring in the bed next to him and Arthur was talking in his sleep about flying to Jupiter from his spot on the floor. “We’re flying out tomorrow, and I know you need to your rest --”
Another tinny giggle emitted from the receiver. “It’s fine,” she said. “I should get up early and go exercise or do work or something.”
He laughed, knowing she was lying. “You’re too kind.”
“I’d love to see Chicago,” Molly said wistfully. “The only place in America I’ve been was Boston. I envy you.”
“It’s not much really,” Martin stammered. “I mean, for me it’s land the plane, get to the hotel, go to bed, get up and go back to the airport. The only thing that changes is the language.”
“Do you ever get time off? To explore and see things? Maybe even get a discount to fly?”
He could see where the line of the conversation was heading and it was going to end badly, Martin thought.
“Well, um --” he began. “MJN really isn’t that successful.”
“Really?”
Martin closed his eyes, bracing for the worst. It was something he had dealt with before -- the truth would come out, he’d feel ashamed about his hobby and the fact that he didn’t even get paid for his job, she would make some excuse not to see him again or give the dreaded “It’s not you, it’s me” speech.
“I work as a mover,” he said slowly, voice quavering. “That’s how I make my living. I don’t make any money from this. I don’t get a salary.”
“Why not?” it might have been the tinny connection, but Molly didn’t sound the least bit annoyed or angry. Just curious.
Martin took a deep breath and explained everything -- the job interview in which Carolyn bamboozled him to take nothing for the title of captain, the constant hustle the company did to stay ahead of creditors, the fact that he worked as a mover when home, but this was his hobby.
“I’m sorry if I deceived you,” he finally stammered into the phone. “But yes, I’m not rich or successful. And this isn’t really a glamorous job. I just really, really love flying.”
There was a long silence after he finished his story, which made him feel nauseated. He could hear her thoughts, her weighing the options and whether or not he was worth her time. Martin closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry, but to be glad that at least it wasn’t face to face. One time that happened, the girl threw her coffee at him and stormed out of the cafe.
“It’s OK,” he heard after what seemed like an eternity. Her voice was still warm and kind. “But now I’m wondering something --”
Martin let out a morbid laugh. “What?”
“What if I offered to volunteer as a stewardess? Would your boss let me fly for free or a discount?” Her tone was absolutely innocent. “I mean, it’d be a barter of services.”
Martin once scoffed at the notion of air hostesses being easy, calling it a male sexist fantasy. But the image of Molly, dressed in a smart uniform from the sixties, complete with miniskirt, pillbox hat and long legs leaning over him purring “Coffee, tea or me?” nearly made him drop his phone.
She couldn’t be real, he thought to himself. No woman is this sweet. But she couldn’t be as sweet as he initially thought, he realized. Molly had just given him an incendiary image, burned into his brain and there was nothing he could do about it. Not with Douglas and Arthur sleeping in the same room.
“Um --” he squeaked, battling his hormones for control. “I’d have to consult with her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was amiable to that.”
“Well, I’m not really good with customer service,” she laughed. “I mean, I do work with dead people for a reason.”
“You can’t do any worse than Arthur,” he chuckled.
Part 6