Doctor on Board 10/15
Title: Doctor on Board 10/15
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 10 - Spiderman
"Breathe..." John coaxed. They were standing in the changing room of RAF Brize Norton. Martin clutched an RAF flight suit in one hand and a flight manual in the other.
"Oh, God... What if I crash it?" Martin gasped, already envisioning his tomb stone. 'Martin Crieff - the crap pilot who trashed the most iconic plane in modern history.'
"Relax, Martin. The morning will will be taken up with classroom prep anyway. You'll be ready."
Martin made a pained noise in the back of his throat, and looked away, trying to control his breathing.
"So, what was so good about the MkII over the MkI, anyway? They both looked exactly the same. Was it just a paint job?" John asked casually, sipping the tea he'd managed to claim on the way in.
"Oh, no," Martin replied. "The Mk II was powered by the more powerful Merlin XII giving 1,175 hp increasing speed by around 10 miles an hour. This may seem only a modest gain, but the engine used a Glycol and water mixture under pressure for cooling rather than the unpressurised pure Glycol system used on earlier Merlins. You see, the new system removed heat from the engine more efficiently and made possible the later jumps in engine power of later Merlins... Oh, I get it," Martin said, seeing the grin slowly forming behind John's mug.
"You're ready, Martin. Whether you know it or not."
That afternoon, John waved off a rather hot, in his opinion, pilot in an RAF flight suit.
What he got back, two hours and three cups of tea later, was a bouncy, elated, euphoric, five foot nine, little boy.
Back in the car, with Martin still wearing his flight suit - 'Keep it, Captain Crieff - it was a pleasure teaching someone so keen on the old girl,' - Martin, still thrumming with energy, turned to John.
"How... How did you mange that? Group Captain Peters assured me that only exemplary ex-military pilots get to fly her.”
John grinned again. "I'd love to remain all mysterious, but Mycroft owes me a favor or two."
"Wow, that must have been a massive favor," Martin exclaimed.
"Knowing Mycroft, that was a tiny favor of which he's owed hundreds... But if you want any governments toppling for Christmas, let me know."
Martin laughed, before leaning over and kissing John silly.
"Come on," John said pulling back with red lips and a little cough. "We'd better go straight to the restaurant to be there on time, or do you want to change first?"
"NO! I mean, no... That's fine..."
John was reminded briefly of Clara's six year old nephew who used to come to family gatherings wearing a Spiderman outfit, having refused to take it off. He said nothing but smiled and started the car.
Chapter 11 - Tinker, Doctor, Solider, Spy
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 10 - Spiderman
"Breathe..." John coaxed. They were standing in the changing room of RAF Brize Norton. Martin clutched an RAF flight suit in one hand and a flight manual in the other.
"Oh, God... What if I crash it?" Martin gasped, already envisioning his tomb stone. 'Martin Crieff - the crap pilot who trashed the most iconic plane in modern history.'
"Relax, Martin. The morning will will be taken up with classroom prep anyway. You'll be ready."
Martin made a pained noise in the back of his throat, and looked away, trying to control his breathing.
"So, what was so good about the MkII over the MkI, anyway? They both looked exactly the same. Was it just a paint job?" John asked casually, sipping the tea he'd managed to claim on the way in.
"Oh, no," Martin replied. "The Mk II was powered by the more powerful Merlin XII giving 1,175 hp increasing speed by around 10 miles an hour. This may seem only a modest gain, but the engine used a Glycol and water mixture under pressure for cooling rather than the unpressurised pure Glycol system used on earlier Merlins. You see, the new system removed heat from the engine more efficiently and made possible the later jumps in engine power of later Merlins... Oh, I get it," Martin said, seeing the grin slowly forming behind John's mug.
"You're ready, Martin. Whether you know it or not."
That afternoon, John waved off a rather hot, in his opinion, pilot in an RAF flight suit.
What he got back, two hours and three cups of tea later, was a bouncy, elated, euphoric, five foot nine, little boy.
Back in the car, with Martin still wearing his flight suit - 'Keep it, Captain Crieff - it was a pleasure teaching someone so keen on the old girl,' - Martin, still thrumming with energy, turned to John.
"How... How did you mange that? Group Captain Peters assured me that only exemplary ex-military pilots get to fly her.”
John grinned again. "I'd love to remain all mysterious, but Mycroft owes me a favor or two."
"Wow, that must have been a massive favor," Martin exclaimed.
"Knowing Mycroft, that was a tiny favor of which he's owed hundreds... But if you want any governments toppling for Christmas, let me know."
Martin laughed, before leaning over and kissing John silly.
"Come on," John said pulling back with red lips and a little cough. "We'd better go straight to the restaurant to be there on time, or do you want to change first?"
"NO! I mean, no... That's fine..."
John was reminded briefly of Clara's six year old nephew who used to come to family gatherings wearing a Spiderman outfit, having refused to take it off. He said nothing but smiled and started the car.
Chapter 11 - Tinker, Doctor, Solider, Spy