Doctor on board 7/15
Title: Doctor on Board 7/15
Author: tiwtin
Pairing: John Watson/ Martin Crieff
Fandom: Cabin Pressure x Sherlock
Rating: 13?
Beta: Lady_t_220 Thank you!
Disclaimer: Not mine. None of it.
Summary: Written in response this prompt for a Martin/John fic but more so in response to a stunning fill by theimprobable1 which can be found here, which tore out my heart. I started writing a happy-ending John/Martin before she continue on her fic and made it all better for Martin with an OMC (which I adored), but I still needed a happy ending for our Doctor and Pilot.
Warning - Cheese and tooth-aching fluff
Chapter 7 - A little prick
John slid the shared plate of dough-balls across their small table towards Martin as the undeniably skinny man slathered another hot piece of bread with Nutella. It really was a decadent sight, watching each piece disappear between those lips, Martin's eyes closing in delight at the taste. Though it was also quite impressive after the amount of pizza Martin had eaten.
"Enjoying those, aren't you?" John teased.
Martin's eyes snapped open. "Oh, god, sorry. How rude of me, I'm stealing them all!" Martin mumbled, mouth still full.
John laughed. "No, no, I'm full. It's just nice seeing you eat."
Martin wiped around his mouth with his napkin self consciously. "Despite my awful eating habits, I suppose it's still better seeing the food go down than come up," Martin muttered, looking sheepish. He was still mortified about the hot doctor nursing him though diarrhea, vomiting and sweating, and mystified that John still seemed keen. No one ever seemed keen. Perhaps Douglas was right about he body fluids fetish, it seemed the most realistic explanation.
John just laughed and pinched one of the dough-balls despite saying he was full. He dipped it messily into the chocolate dip and took a bite.
"Hmmm, they are good. And it's not often I manage to stay until desert," John said, popping the remainder of the sweet into his mouth.
Martin stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow, causing John to realise the oddity of his words. Living with Sherlock, oddity had become the norm.
"My flatmate, Sherlock, he's a consulting detective - he helps the police out with difficult cases. Anyway, I tend to tag along and help, and the only times I really get to eat out is when we're on a case and we need to stop for food. The problem is, when we get to a restaurant he gets to sit still, and when Sherlock sits still he thinks, and unfortunately for my stomach he thinks fast, so I rarely get past half a plateful before he's dragging me out of the restaurant because he's figured something out.”
John noticed the eyebrow was still raised.
"So your flatmate... The one that looks like me, doesn't only have a cool name, but he's a crime-fighting genius?" Martin deadpanned.
"I suppose he is, when you put it that way, but you're much better company," John said, realising the bad direction the conversation was going.
Martin's eyebrow dropped but so did his shoulders.
"Really, Martin. You listen to every word I say... Sherlock wouldn't notice if I walked into the flat and told him I was pregnant. If there was something interesting rotting in front of him in a Petri dish I could sprout wings and fly through the living room and he wouldn't even look up. You look at me like... well, like I'm interesting just by being me. Sherlock, on the other hand, as much as I like his company - And he is my best friend - Looks at me like I'm useful. No that's too harsh. He does care but, well, you know how a cat cares enough to bring dead things into the house but then acts all aloof? That's Sherlock."
Martin frowned. "I can't quite decide whether this guy sound more enigmatic or nutter."
John smiled. "Enigmatic-nutter would probably fit, actually."
'Competition' would fit. Martin thought to himself. "You seem very...fond of him."
John's face softened, and Martin realised he was biting his bottom lip; something he did when he fretted, and Douglas told him it made him look five.
"I love him, but only as a friend. Or a really annoying brother that you can't help wanting to look after. I think that's why Mycroft and I started to get on so well, we share our Sherlock-pain. In any case, my landlady and I are trying to set him up with a Detective Inspector from Scotland Yard. And I would much prefer to be here, with you, eating dough balls."
Martin smiled and cheered up immensely at that news.
"Well, until I crack and start talking incessantly about planes," Martin added apologetically.
"Go right ahead, I used to do all the Airfix kits as a kid... Hung them all off my ceiling. I think mum's still got them all in the loft. I can pretty much name any plane you show me."
"Really?" Martin asked smiling. He knew it was all too good to be true, but fell in love a little bit more anyway.
"Really," John confirmed with a matching grin.
~oOo~
Back in Martin's attic, cup of tea in hand, Martin looked wary as John pulled some medical looking equipment out of his rucksack.
"Douglas mentioned that you don't look after yourself, so I thought, if it's okay with you, I'd give you a quick check over," John said holding up a blood pressure arm strap.
Martin let out a brief grumble but then held out his arm obediently, secretly pleased. Apart from Douglas' 'uncle'-like fussing, Carolyn's matronly demeanour and Arthur's propensity to like everyone, no one really took an interest in Martin's well-being.
"Not too bad," John said to himself as he released Martin's arm, leaving it tingly for more than one reason.
Next he pulled out his stethoscope, and Martin tried to get a sneak peak at what else he had in his rucksack.
"Right, now let's listen to your lungs. Stand up," John instructed, popping the stethoscope in his ears.
"Urmm... No, that's okay I can listen over your t-shirt," John added as Martin reached for the hem of his shirt. They both paused and John swiped his tongue out over his bottom lip again, it was something Martin found devastatingly distracting.
Martin blushed and smiled, letting his arms fall back down and John place the stethoscope against his back. "Deep breath."
Martin inhaled deeply, and then released it slowly, just as he did in his regular flight medicals... But there was no need to tell John that. The instructions were repeated on a second part of his back before the stethoscope moved to his chest as John came to stand close in front of Martin.
"Nearly fibbed to you then," John admitted, instead of asking Martin to take a breath. The mental disk was still against his chest and Martin could feel the cold of it seeping through his thin shirt.
"Nearly didn't tell you that you didn't need to take off your shirt," John continued.
"Already knew," Martin admitted quietly, locking eyes with John.
John leaned forward an inch, making Martin take a sharp breath in anticipation, but John stuttered to a halt, eyes on Martin's lips, unsure. Excitement, arousal and expectation morphed into frustration on Martin's part - he was so damn close to kissing this amazing man, while actually awake. Throwing caution, and any sort of grace, to the wind, Martin lunged forward, clumsily planting his lips on John's and simultaneously trapping John's hand and stethoscope between them.
A second later and John reacted to the novice attempt, winding his arms quickly around Martin, one on his lower back keeping him in place, and the other sliding up to Martin's jaw as he took control of the kiss.
Martin's heartbeat wooshed in John’s ears, the stethoscope between them telling John, in stereo, of the increased speed and strength of the beats as the kiss intensified over the next few minutes.
"Wow," Martin murmured as they eventually parted.
John grinned happily at the comment. "Just part of the standard medical check, you understand," he joked.
"Really? How do I register you as my new GP clinic?" Martin replied with a grin.
"For you," John said, giving him a last quick kiss, "I think I can be tempted to make regular house-calls. Now... Last check - blood test."
"What?" Martin moaned as John turned away and pulled out more equipment, including, a sealed hypodermic needle.
"Oh, please no. I hate needles!" Martin moaned. He really did. Why couldn't they go back to the kissing?
"Well, if you're good and don't cry I'll give you something to suck on," John said with a smirk.
"Doctor!" Martin gasped in mock disgust. It wasn't too convincing, he loved John's sense of humour and a big grin had broken out on his face.
"God, I really need to stop cracking lewd jokes during medical procedures... You're a bad influence, Crieff," John said taking Martin's arm and tightening a strap around it.
"I'm going to look away... I don't like this," Martin said, scrunching up his eyes.
"Okay, you're going to feel a small prick."
Martin laughed again, snorting by accident.
"That wasn't supposed to be funny!" John said, distracting Martin nicely with more giggles as he filled his blood collection tubes.
"How will you even get that to a lab to test it?" Martin asked a little later, sucking on the red lollipop that John had pulled form his bag and presented to Martin with a waggling eyebrow.
"Sherlock's got one in the kitchen; full blood-works for a study about nutritional patterns in blood splatters. He'll run it through for me if I promise him sputum samples from my next week’s patients."
Martin pulled a face, lollipop still in mouth.
"That's another one of those 'that's not normal for everyone else' moments, isn't it?" John asked.
Martin just grinned and changed the subject as John packed all his things away. "So... You've got my number?"
"Yes. On three different bits of paper and once in my phone."
"Sorry, sorry, didn't want to screw it up this time," Martin admitted sheepishly as John put on his coat.
"Come here," John said, pulling Martin towards him and slipping his hands around his waist. "You didn't screw anything up. I found you again, didn't I?" he said giving Martin another quick kiss.
Martin wasn't sure what all these easy kisses meant, but he hoped dearly it was another date.
"C- can I see you again... Sometime soon?" Martin asked, stumbling over his words.
He felt John's hold on him tighten momentarily and John smiled.
"Well, you may already be planning something much more interesting, but I wouldn't mind coming down on your Birthday. Saturday, isn't it?" John asked, remembering what Douglas had said.
"Ohhh... Yes!" Martin said, a tad too eagerly to play it cool. "We're having a meal in the evening, Carolyn, Arthur, Douglas and I... You're welcome to join us."
"Love to," John said with a smile. "I'd like to spend the day with you, too, if that's okay?"
"Oh, yes! Yes... I mean yes."
"Three yeses makes it a date, then," John said with a smile.
Chapter 8 - I’ll have the fish
Author: tiwtin
Pairing: John Watson/ Martin Crieff
Fandom: Cabin Pressure x Sherlock
Rating: 13?
Beta: Lady_t_220 Thank you!
Disclaimer: Not mine. None of it.
Summary: Written in response this prompt for a Martin/John fic but more so in response to a stunning fill by theimprobable1 which can be found here, which tore out my heart. I started writing a happy-ending John/Martin before she continue on her fic and made it all better for Martin with an OMC (which I adored), but I still needed a happy ending for our Doctor and Pilot.
Warning - Cheese and tooth-aching fluff
Chapter 7 - A little prick
John slid the shared plate of dough-balls across their small table towards Martin as the undeniably skinny man slathered another hot piece of bread with Nutella. It really was a decadent sight, watching each piece disappear between those lips, Martin's eyes closing in delight at the taste. Though it was also quite impressive after the amount of pizza Martin had eaten.
"Enjoying those, aren't you?" John teased.
Martin's eyes snapped open. "Oh, god, sorry. How rude of me, I'm stealing them all!" Martin mumbled, mouth still full.
John laughed. "No, no, I'm full. It's just nice seeing you eat."
Martin wiped around his mouth with his napkin self consciously. "Despite my awful eating habits, I suppose it's still better seeing the food go down than come up," Martin muttered, looking sheepish. He was still mortified about the hot doctor nursing him though diarrhea, vomiting and sweating, and mystified that John still seemed keen. No one ever seemed keen. Perhaps Douglas was right about he body fluids fetish, it seemed the most realistic explanation.
John just laughed and pinched one of the dough-balls despite saying he was full. He dipped it messily into the chocolate dip and took a bite.
"Hmmm, they are good. And it's not often I manage to stay until desert," John said, popping the remainder of the sweet into his mouth.
Martin stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow, causing John to realise the oddity of his words. Living with Sherlock, oddity had become the norm.
"My flatmate, Sherlock, he's a consulting detective - he helps the police out with difficult cases. Anyway, I tend to tag along and help, and the only times I really get to eat out is when we're on a case and we need to stop for food. The problem is, when we get to a restaurant he gets to sit still, and when Sherlock sits still he thinks, and unfortunately for my stomach he thinks fast, so I rarely get past half a plateful before he's dragging me out of the restaurant because he's figured something out.”
John noticed the eyebrow was still raised.
"So your flatmate... The one that looks like me, doesn't only have a cool name, but he's a crime-fighting genius?" Martin deadpanned.
"I suppose he is, when you put it that way, but you're much better company," John said, realising the bad direction the conversation was going.
Martin's eyebrow dropped but so did his shoulders.
"Really, Martin. You listen to every word I say... Sherlock wouldn't notice if I walked into the flat and told him I was pregnant. If there was something interesting rotting in front of him in a Petri dish I could sprout wings and fly through the living room and he wouldn't even look up. You look at me like... well, like I'm interesting just by being me. Sherlock, on the other hand, as much as I like his company - And he is my best friend - Looks at me like I'm useful. No that's too harsh. He does care but, well, you know how a cat cares enough to bring dead things into the house but then acts all aloof? That's Sherlock."
Martin frowned. "I can't quite decide whether this guy sound more enigmatic or nutter."
John smiled. "Enigmatic-nutter would probably fit, actually."
'Competition' would fit. Martin thought to himself. "You seem very...fond of him."
John's face softened, and Martin realised he was biting his bottom lip; something he did when he fretted, and Douglas told him it made him look five.
"I love him, but only as a friend. Or a really annoying brother that you can't help wanting to look after. I think that's why Mycroft and I started to get on so well, we share our Sherlock-pain. In any case, my landlady and I are trying to set him up with a Detective Inspector from Scotland Yard. And I would much prefer to be here, with you, eating dough balls."
Martin smiled and cheered up immensely at that news.
"Well, until I crack and start talking incessantly about planes," Martin added apologetically.
"Go right ahead, I used to do all the Airfix kits as a kid... Hung them all off my ceiling. I think mum's still got them all in the loft. I can pretty much name any plane you show me."
"Really?" Martin asked smiling. He knew it was all too good to be true, but fell in love a little bit more anyway.
"Really," John confirmed with a matching grin.
~oOo~
Back in Martin's attic, cup of tea in hand, Martin looked wary as John pulled some medical looking equipment out of his rucksack.
"Douglas mentioned that you don't look after yourself, so I thought, if it's okay with you, I'd give you a quick check over," John said holding up a blood pressure arm strap.
Martin let out a brief grumble but then held out his arm obediently, secretly pleased. Apart from Douglas' 'uncle'-like fussing, Carolyn's matronly demeanour and Arthur's propensity to like everyone, no one really took an interest in Martin's well-being.
"Not too bad," John said to himself as he released Martin's arm, leaving it tingly for more than one reason.
Next he pulled out his stethoscope, and Martin tried to get a sneak peak at what else he had in his rucksack.
"Right, now let's listen to your lungs. Stand up," John instructed, popping the stethoscope in his ears.
"Urmm... No, that's okay I can listen over your t-shirt," John added as Martin reached for the hem of his shirt. They both paused and John swiped his tongue out over his bottom lip again, it was something Martin found devastatingly distracting.
Martin blushed and smiled, letting his arms fall back down and John place the stethoscope against his back. "Deep breath."
Martin inhaled deeply, and then released it slowly, just as he did in his regular flight medicals... But there was no need to tell John that. The instructions were repeated on a second part of his back before the stethoscope moved to his chest as John came to stand close in front of Martin.
"Nearly fibbed to you then," John admitted, instead of asking Martin to take a breath. The mental disk was still against his chest and Martin could feel the cold of it seeping through his thin shirt.
"Nearly didn't tell you that you didn't need to take off your shirt," John continued.
"Already knew," Martin admitted quietly, locking eyes with John.
John leaned forward an inch, making Martin take a sharp breath in anticipation, but John stuttered to a halt, eyes on Martin's lips, unsure. Excitement, arousal and expectation morphed into frustration on Martin's part - he was so damn close to kissing this amazing man, while actually awake. Throwing caution, and any sort of grace, to the wind, Martin lunged forward, clumsily planting his lips on John's and simultaneously trapping John's hand and stethoscope between them.
A second later and John reacted to the novice attempt, winding his arms quickly around Martin, one on his lower back keeping him in place, and the other sliding up to Martin's jaw as he took control of the kiss.
Martin's heartbeat wooshed in John’s ears, the stethoscope between them telling John, in stereo, of the increased speed and strength of the beats as the kiss intensified over the next few minutes.
"Wow," Martin murmured as they eventually parted.
John grinned happily at the comment. "Just part of the standard medical check, you understand," he joked.
"Really? How do I register you as my new GP clinic?" Martin replied with a grin.
"For you," John said, giving him a last quick kiss, "I think I can be tempted to make regular house-calls. Now... Last check - blood test."
"What?" Martin moaned as John turned away and pulled out more equipment, including, a sealed hypodermic needle.
"Oh, please no. I hate needles!" Martin moaned. He really did. Why couldn't they go back to the kissing?
"Well, if you're good and don't cry I'll give you something to suck on," John said with a smirk.
"Doctor!" Martin gasped in mock disgust. It wasn't too convincing, he loved John's sense of humour and a big grin had broken out on his face.
"God, I really need to stop cracking lewd jokes during medical procedures... You're a bad influence, Crieff," John said taking Martin's arm and tightening a strap around it.
"I'm going to look away... I don't like this," Martin said, scrunching up his eyes.
"Okay, you're going to feel a small prick."
Martin laughed again, snorting by accident.
"That wasn't supposed to be funny!" John said, distracting Martin nicely with more giggles as he filled his blood collection tubes.
"How will you even get that to a lab to test it?" Martin asked a little later, sucking on the red lollipop that John had pulled form his bag and presented to Martin with a waggling eyebrow.
"Sherlock's got one in the kitchen; full blood-works for a study about nutritional patterns in blood splatters. He'll run it through for me if I promise him sputum samples from my next week’s patients."
Martin pulled a face, lollipop still in mouth.
"That's another one of those 'that's not normal for everyone else' moments, isn't it?" John asked.
Martin just grinned and changed the subject as John packed all his things away. "So... You've got my number?"
"Yes. On three different bits of paper and once in my phone."
"Sorry, sorry, didn't want to screw it up this time," Martin admitted sheepishly as John put on his coat.
"Come here," John said, pulling Martin towards him and slipping his hands around his waist. "You didn't screw anything up. I found you again, didn't I?" he said giving Martin another quick kiss.
Martin wasn't sure what all these easy kisses meant, but he hoped dearly it was another date.
"C- can I see you again... Sometime soon?" Martin asked, stumbling over his words.
He felt John's hold on him tighten momentarily and John smiled.
"Well, you may already be planning something much more interesting, but I wouldn't mind coming down on your Birthday. Saturday, isn't it?" John asked, remembering what Douglas had said.
"Ohhh... Yes!" Martin said, a tad too eagerly to play it cool. "We're having a meal in the evening, Carolyn, Arthur, Douglas and I... You're welcome to join us."
"Love to," John said with a smile. "I'd like to spend the day with you, too, if that's okay?"
"Oh, yes! Yes... I mean yes."
"Three yeses makes it a date, then," John said with a smile.
Chapter 8 - I’ll have the fish