Chapter 1
Sherlock forced himself to give the cabin crew member a polite nod when she greeted him with a wide smile and wished him a pleasant flight in business class. At least Mycroft hadn’t been stingy when booking his flight to Seattle. It was annoying enough that he’d given in to his brother’s plea to travel halfway across the world to investigate a case that barely intrigued him. With a travel bag in one hand and his coat in the other, Sherlock made his way along the aisle towards seat 11E. The layout of the seats in the middle seemed to switch between the seats being right next to each other with tables to the sides and having the tables in the middles so the seats were separated and he could already deduce that with his seat being in an uneven row he would get the type of setup where he did not have two tables between himself and his neighbour. He didn’t even have time to consider whether this had been done on purpose by Mycroft or just been due to lack of other options before he got to his seat and saw that someone had already occupied 11F.
“No.” He stated firmly when he saw who was getting ready to sit next to him for the next ten hours.
“Oh dear, you here?” Jim Moriarty smiled and fluttered his eyelashes before getting back to sorting through his things. Sherlock could see a laptop, neck pillow, phone and packet of snacks already being out in different places around the criminal’s seat. Frequent flyer, he thought before realising someone behind him was trying to get past him. Unsure what else to do in order to stop blocking the way, he sat down in his seat. Moriarty was wrapping the cord of his earphones around his phone now before slipping it into the side pocket of his backpack, still with that smug smile on his face. Was this all part of his plan? Had there been a possibility for Moriarty to find out that he would be in this exact seat? Would he make sure that this plane was going to crash in an attempt to get rid of Sherlock for good?
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard our flight to Seattle and thank you for choosing to fly with–” He abruptly turned his head towards the speaker and realised that everybody seemed to be in their seats by now. Unlike most of the other business class passengers he had not gone on board of the plane early and now everyone around him was already leaning back in their seats with their seatbelts fastened. Jim Moriarty being one of those people.
“Psst.” Sherlock took a deep breath and turned his head to the right where the consulting criminal was still smiling at him. “Put your bag away for takeoff.” The criminal whispered as if he was here to explain airplane etiquette to him.
“You can’t seriously think that I am going to sit here and–” He hissed back before being interrupted.
“Excuse me, Sir, you will not be able to keep your luggage there during takeoff and landing.” Another member of the cabin crew was now standing in the aisle next to him and smiling as if she hadn’t just interrupted his conversation with a consulting criminal.
“Told you.” Moriarty remarked, grinning widely before leaning back in his seat again. Meanwhile the smiling woman explained that she could put Sherlock’s bag in the overhead compartment for him as if he didn’t have bigger problems to deal with at the moment. The main issue at that point was that the door had obviously been closed as he could hear the engines starting and the crew was getting ready for the safety instructions. If he wanted to get off that plane he would have to throw a tantrum to the point where he would be forcibly removed and something told him that Mycroft would never let him forget it if he did go down that route. It was admittedly unlikely that Moriarty would get on the plane himself if he was planning to have it crashed somehow, so he decided to let the crew put his bag in a safe place for takeoff and put on his seatbelt before somebody could tell him to. Already aware of the general safety instructions and the location of the emergency exits, he pulled out his phone to quickly send a text to his brother.
Moriarty in the seat next to me. I don’t believe in coincidences. -SH
To his surprise, he got a reply almost immediately.
It was the last seat in Business. He booked his a few weeks ago. -MH
The good news was that for once, Mycroft hadn’t insisted on a phone call and his nonchalant answer implied that there was no safety risk. That being said he would definitely refuse next time his brother asked him for a favour unless he offered him a flight on a private jet.
“Why aren’t you on a private jet?” He asked the man to his right, following his thought process.
“Excuse me? I’m not trying to have the largest carbon footprint in the world.” Moriarty replied indignantly and looked at him as if he’d just accused the criminal of something a lot worse.
“Oh please, as if you care. You–”
“Maybe you shouldn’t use any words that could cause a mass panic.” The criminal added in a lowered voice to make sure nobody could overhear him. Unfortunately the man had a point. Any mention of a criminal on board would possibly cause a major scene out of fear of terrorism. Being locked in a tube of composite materials and hurled through the sky at hundreds of kilometres an hour was certainly not going to make people any more relaxed than they usually were and he really didn’t want to have that crisis at his hands. The crew seemed to be getting to the end of the safety instructions now and Sherlock turned to look at Moriarty again.
“You could afford it.” He almost said it as if it was an accusation.
“To be fair, so could you if you monetised your skills.”
“It has never sounded more tempting.” Sherlock spat back and tried not to think too hard about whether anybody was listening to their conversation. Moriarty just looked at him in mild disinterest and sighed.
“Sherly, it’s 9 am. We’ll be on this plane for ten hours and when we get out it will be 11 am, so as you may have realised that means it's going to be a very long day and I don’t plan to spend most of it listening to your complaints.” That was not what he’d expected. Moriarty was usually playful or flirtatious, the only time he’d ever sounded like he was tired of Sherlock was at the pool and even there it had been interlaced with little quips.
“You’re grumpy.”
“What?” The criminal had just motioned to lean back when he stopped to frown at him.
“Oooooh, you’re not a morning person. No time for coffee? What time did you get up? What time do you usually get up? I had assumed it to be around 6:30 am but that was wrong, wasn’t it?” He’d spent many boring afternoons thinking about what Moriarty’s day-to-day life looked like, but his evidence had always been rather limited.
“Good to know you think about me in bed.” Moriarty’s eyes went wide in feigned shock.
“That is so beside the point.”
“Oh, but you’re not denying it, goodness me what a confession. Maybe this is worth the long day after all.” The criminal was looking right at him now with a mischievous grin on his face.
“No full suit either…” He was consciously trying to make deductions now, taking in every detail that he could see while they were sitting next to each other. Moriarty was wearing dark grey trousers that looked a bit more casual than his usual attire and the white polo shirt was obviously different as well. There was a dark green cardigan folded across the criminal’s lap as well. “You ran out of time this morning.”
“Has it occurred to you, my dear detective, that you’ve only met me twice and one of those times I was quite obviously dressed to play a part? Has it occurred to you that, perhaps, the second time was much the same? Or maybe I’m just not so ridiculously obsessed with looking hot that I would choose to wear a button-up shirt on a ten hour flight.” Moriarty let his eyes wander down until they came to rest at the height of Sherlock’s chest. It hadn’t really occurred to him that he should dress differently only because he was going to be travelling today. For all he knew Moriarty was lying too. He couldn’t really imagine that the suit was just a one-time thing and that the consulting criminal usually walked around the city in baggy jeans and wrinkly t-shirts.
The plane was starting to move, reminding him that they had technically not even left London yet and their journey was just getting started now. A soft warning noise accompanied by a flashing light on the ceiling panel reminded them that they should keep their seatbelts fastened and that smoking on the plane was prohibited; a rule that was getting more exasperating by the second. Sherlock took a deep breath and pressed his back straight against his seat. It could probably be worse. As annoying as Moriarty could be, it was most likely still better than having a crying infant in the seat next to him. If his deduction had been correct, Moriarty would possibly fall asleep at some point during the flight. Unless the friendly cabin crew offered him some coffee first– Perhaps Sherlock could find a way to prevent that somehow.
“Shame the Concorde isn’t flying anymore. Could have shown you the curvature of the Earth.” Moriarty said matter-of-factly when the plane finally rolled from the taxiway onto the runway and got into position for takeoff.
“I didn’t think it was flat.” Two minutes earlier he would have wished for John to be there so he didn’t have to endure Moriarty on his own, but now he was almost glad the doctor hadn’t been able to get time off work to join him on the trip. With his current luck, his best friend and the consulting criminal would have teamed up in an attempt to teach him astrology.
“Uh-huh, sure. You only thought it was the centre of the solar system. I almost cried when I read that on your friend’s little blog and I’m not sure if they were tears of laughter or disappointment.”
“You talk an awful lot for someone who has a long day ahead of him.” The sound of the engines spooling up was almost an ironic background noise to their conversation. Unlike the plane, Sherlock would not be able to use all his energy to move forward for quite some time, instead he’d be strapped into his seat and unable to get away from it until they landed. Walking all the way to America would have felt more satisfying. At least for the first few hours.
Unable to change anything about his situation now, he tried to relax as the plane was gaining speed. The man diagonally in front of him on the other side of the aisle put on a pair of noise cancelling headphones as they sped along the runway and Sherlock realised he hadn’t packed any earphones. Actually, he wasn’t even sure if he owned any since he usually kept his eyes and ears open when walking through the city so he could take everything in properly and he had never needed them at home either. Moriarty had earphones. That man probably had a whole routine for when he was flying. Shirts all neatly rolled up next to the socks and ties. Travel-sized body lotion and shampoo as well. Sherlock squinted to his right to look at the criminal’s hair. He definitely didn’t use one of those all-in-one shower gel shampoos. Probably had shampoo and conditioner in his suitcase, maybe some type of hair mask too. Definitely some sort of skincare routine. Sherlock would know, he had quite a few items lined up on his shelf at home himself.
“Are you just going to stare at me the whole flight then?” Moriarty popped a mint candy in his mouth and looked at him waiting for an answer. They were in the air now and slowly climbing to cruise altitude while London was disappearing through the clouds.
“I don’t have headphones.” It wasn’t exactly an answer to the question, but it had been a stupid question to begin with.
“Honey, this is Business Class. Headphones are available. You can also get an eye mask and slippers– even a set of loungewear if they offer those on dayflights.” Perhaps Sherlock had known that headphones would be offered by the airline. He couldn’t quite remember what it had been like the last time he’d flown long distance since it wasn’t really relevant. At least this meant that he would be able to listen to some music and more importantly– blend out his surroundings. On the other hand it might be unwise to put himself in a situation where he was unable to be fully aware of what Moriarty was doing, so he might have to overthink that plan later.
As the people around him were starting to settle in for the flight and pulled out books, laptops and newspapers, Sherlock was starting to realise that he was not very prepared for this at all. Only having been notified of this trip the previous evening, he hadn’t bothered packing much apart from clothes and toiletries which were safely packed in his suitcase. Assuming that he would sit alone in a window seat or at least next to a boring stranger, he had planned to lean back and delve into his mind palace during the flight, possibly taking a nap and eating one of the on-board meals if he liked the look of them. There was no way he could lean back and lose himself in his own mind when Moriarty’s elbow was only centimetres away from his own.
“Want one?” The packet of mint candy made its way into his field of vision.
“No, thank you.” He said determinedly, not putting it past Moriarty to have poisoned them.
“You do realise I’m just doing my job, right?” The criminal asked lazily while shrugging into his cardigan. “Same way you do yours. It’s interesting– most of the time anyway. Something to keep the mind occupied. You’re not helping Lestrade out of kindness, you’re doing it to show off and because being right gets you hard or whatever.” Moriarty smirked in a way that made Sherlock want to press a pillow into his face for a few minutes.
“I am not going around making things–” He reminded himself that any mentions of the words explode or bomb might be a bad idea on a plane. “I solve cases. Problems. I don’t cause them.” He did his best not to pull a face at his own blatant lie. He may have caused a problem or two throughout the years. Several hundred of them if one were to ask Mycroft. It was also true that he was not taking cases because he felt bad for his clients and wanted to be kind or helpful– It was the process of finding the answers to the questions that was enjoyable. The investigation, the deductions, the hidden clues– He stopped himself from thinking about any of the cases Moriarty had set up for him. This was the wrong moment for flattery, even if it was just in his head.
“Well Sherlock, I solve problems too. Just different ones. Anyway I’m not going to put cyanide in my mints to kill you– I’m a consultant, I sit behind my desk and come up with funny ideas. I leave the dirty work to everyone else.” The criminal shook the candy packet and with a little eye roll, Sherlock stretched his hand out and grabbed one. It was very improbable that they were poisoned and if he didn’t take one the criminal might drone on about this for hours. Besides, he hadn’t eaten since the previous day and with not much else to focus on, the idea of a mint candy was starting to make his mouth water. He didn’t hesitate when he popped it into his mouth and threw the wrapper in Moriarty’s direction.
“I am going to scream.” The threat came with the wrapper being thrown back towards him and when he turned his head, the criminal was staring at him with what he had earlier deduced to be a grumpy facial expression.
“If only they had some caffeine for you.” It was Sherlock's turn to smirk now.
“I am going to open one of these doors and fling you into the engine.”
“We would all die.” He quickly retorted while sucking on the candy in his mouth.
“Yes, but you first!” For a second, Sherlock could have sworn that Moriarty’s eyes flicked towards the cabin crew area where they would soon start bringing out drinks.
“Desperate?”
“Oh, I don’t know Sherlock. You’re the one who thinks about what my sleep is like and how much coffee I drink and what product I put in my hair– Hell, you’ve probably smelled me by now.” He hadn’t, but now that the criminal had mentioned it, it was almost impossible not to. Bergamot and oud. Definitely the kind of cologne that cost half a fortune per bottle.
“Who’s desperate now?” Came the whisper from his right.
“Let’s not forget that you’re the one who constantly uses pet names for me as if that’s ever going to get you anywhere.” He put on a little fake smile before facing the criminal again.
“Excuse me, I asked you whether you had a gun in your pocket or were happy to see me and you said both. That beats just about everything I’ve ever done.” Moriarty shrugged and did his best to look innocent.
“You referred to yourself as daddy.”
“Oh goodness, yes! And now I heard you say it. Fuck me, should’ve started recording this conversation when you first sat down.” Annoyingly enough, the grumpy facial expression was completely gone now and Moriarty looked as happy as a child on Christmas morning.
“Please just stop talking–”
“Psssht, I’m trying to imprint that memory on my brain so I’ll never forget it.”
Sherlock was about to throw something, anything, in the criminal’s direction when a member of the cabin crew interrupted them, asking whether they wanted something to drink. Moriarty immediately asked for a coffee, reminding Sherlock that he had wanted to prevent this from happening somehow and had now failed.
“He’ll take a latte, extra sugar because he’s such a sweet guy.” Moriarty said with a big smile on his face and the woman only smiled back at him before turning around to go and prepare their drinks.
“I hope they make it really hot so I can pour it all over your lap.” He hissed to the right.
“Oh dear, if you want my lap to get hot, all you need to do is–”
“Here’s your coffee, Sir, and we’ll be back with the latte in just a minute.” Sherlock wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful for the crew’s timing or not. It had certainly put the brakes on their conversation.
When the same woman showed up with his latte a minute later, he couldn’t deny that it was a good-looking drink. Tall glass, milk foam and all. Even a little biscuit on a plate. At least things were going ahead, which meant that the end of their flight was continuously coming closer and before he knew it they were going to land in Seattle. He checked his wristwatch. It was 9:23 am.