Chapter 6
“You really heard that and decided to prove me wrong, hm?” Jim lifted an eyebrow at the cup on his table when he got back. “Fine. Questionable taste. Not entirely terrible.” Sherlock wasn’t sure why he was smiling. Although they wouldn’t arrive in Seattle for another hour, the mood in the cabin had clearly shifted as people started to pack up some of their things and made sure to go to the bathroom before they’d have to put their seatbelts on for the last part of the flight. For the first time in hours, it felt as if time wasn’t standing still and there was progress. Another announcement informed them of the local time and weather in Seattle as well as some general information about the airport. Jim finished both the espresso and the bottle of water they’d shared while Sherlock checked his phone battery to make sure it wouldn’t die on his way to the hotel. Now that they were getting so close to the end of their flight, it no longer felt necessary to desperately look for ways to stay entertained.
“Ever been scared of flying?” Asked Jim when the chime in the cabin informed them it was now time to fasten their seatbelts as the plane was entering the final phase of the flight.
“Safest mode of transport there is. It’s more likely to die in a car.”
“That’s not an actual answer to my question.” Jim had begrudgingly put his seat back into an upright position and sat slouched towards his left now, his arm almost touching Sherlock's.
“I’m not scared, no.”
“What if the pilot has a heart attack?” Jim looked a bit too amused by that thought.
“There’s at least one more pilot.”
“What iiiif they both have a heart attack– Ah, ah ah, don’t say it’s unlikely! Stranger things have happened.”
“Right. Well then, assuming there’s no third pilot on board, the cabin crew would contact someone who could possibly explain to them how to configure the autopilot for landing.”
“Possibly.” Sherlock sighed at the criminal’s reluctance to accept any of his answers.
“What do you want me to say? I’m scared and we are all going to die?”
“Aww, we’d die together. How poetic.” Jim smiled again.
“If we crash now I’ll spend my last seconds thinking about how it should have happened right after takeoff so I didn’t have to spend my last hours like this.”
“Oh come on, you don’t mean that…” Jim leaned his head to the side to look at him.
“No, I don’t.” It didn’t even occur to him that he should have lied. “Still would prefer it if we just landed.”
“Of course, me too. You still have to do good on your promise to text me back after all.”
“Yes, that’s my reason to survive from now on.” He hoped that his promise wouldn’t lead to him having to change his number after getting inundated with messages from Jim all day long.
They sat and watched for a while as people were asked to move their bags, put on seatbelts and get ready for landing. It seemed almost ridiculous to Sherlock that he had been worried about Jim’s presence on the plane only hours before. The criminal was good at being annoying, yes, but he didn’t seem all that interested in actually harming Sherlock. The most painful thing that he’d gone through during their flight was losing their chess game and he would definitely not agree to play again before he had the chance to look up a few more advanced tactics. Overall, he could think of a lot of worse scenarios than being seated next to Jim and he was glad nobody had been there to witness his change of attitude because he wasn’t in the mood to admit that he may have been wrong about this. There was Jim himself of course, but that was different. Disagreeing with the criminal even when he was right was just the default, there was no need to worry about how that might escalate because that was going to happen either way.
“Are you scared?” He asked after a while, pulling the criminal out of his daydreams.
“I’m not scared. Though I prefer choosing my own pilots. Competent people are so hard to find these days.” Somehow Sherlock got the impression that Jim would never feel fully comfortable unless he was flying himself.
“Like to be in control then?”
“Oh wouldn’t you love to know?” Once again, Sherlock wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that yes, he would like to know. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Jim, including how he felt sitting in the back of a car with someone else at the wheel or being pushed into the sheets by– Sherlock reminded himself that this was not relevant information at all. Although any knowledge he had about the criminal could potentially be used against him, so perhaps every tiny detail was in fact relevant. He still tried to focus on the map of their flight instead of any mental images of Jim being pushed around.
The last minutes of the flight went by surprisingly fast compared to the previous hours. Sherlock could feel the plane changing altitude and course, making it very clear that they were close to the airport now. He went through everything Mycroft had told him about the case to keep himself busy and distracted, even if it wasn’t all that entertaining. The landing itself was smooth and Jim only grumbled about the rain for a little time while they taxied to their parking position.
Business Class passengers got to disembark first and suddenly Sherlock felt the relief of walking across the air bridge and into the building. He couldn’t help but keep an eye on Jim, who was walking next to him. Together with the other passengers who had gotten to leave the plane with them, they made their way through the immigration checkpoint and towards the baggage carousels.
“Be a dear and grab my suitcase for me, I’ll be right back.” Jim said in the most casual way imaginable after having tapped around on his phone for a few minutes.
“Where are–” He gave up when he saw that the criminal had already turned around and started walking away from where they’d been waiting. “What does it look like?” He yelled after him.
“Deduce it!” Jim grinned over his shoulder before walking around a corner and disappearing from sight. Sherlock immediately thought of quickly grabbing his own suitcase once it showed up and leaving before Jim could even make it back to complain, but he was once again struck by the idea that it would be interesting to see how the criminal travelled. It could give him a hint as to how long Jim was going to stay away from home at least and that might be useful in case… He hadn’t really come up with an answer yet when the carousel in front of him jumped into action and the first pieces of luggage showed up at the far end. It was more than likely that Jim’s suitcase wouldn’t be cheap. Something of high quality by a reputable luggage brand, most likely in a neutral colour. In short: just like every other suitcase on the carousel, including Sherlock's own. He spent a minute or two trying to check the name tags on every item that went past him until he noticed something on a black suitcase. The sticker was round and seemed to depict a striped ball, but even Sherlock was able to deduce that it was supposed to be a planet. Unlike most stickers he’d seen on suitcases at the airport in London, this one was neither particularly colourful, nor did it have eyes drawn on it. The probability of another passenger having a scientifically accurate planet sticker on their suitcase was slim, so he pulled it off the carousel and quickly confirmed his theory by checking the tag. With that mission succeeded, he turned around to look out for the criminal, but there was no sign of the man. Not wanting to be around people who hurriedly pulled their heavy bags off the carousel, he rolled both the suitcases towards a nearby wall. Jim hadn’t even mentioned where he was going. The bathroom was technically an option, although the criminal had gone on the plane a mere hour ago. He still didn’t know why Jim was here in the first place. It had occurred to him that it was a bit too convenient that they were both on the same flight, but he’d have to contact Mycroft and ask him about that later. For now he just had to find the criminal to get rid of this suitcase– a suitcase that he had not packed himself and that also belonged to a criminal. Going through customs with it might end in a disaster and leaving it behind might lead to getting arrested for acting suspiciously.
“See, you got it!” Sherlock flinched at the voice right behind him. Wherever Jim had gone, he was back now and holding out a small paper bag.
“Since it’s basically breakfast time again.” The criminal clarified. Sherlock hesitantly accepted the bag and looked inside only to see a croissant.
“Thanks…” He narrowed his eyes at Jim, still expecting some sort of trick. That didn’t seem to bother the criminal though since he simply looked around for a moment before taking a deep breath.
“Right then, not sure what you are waiting for but I’m going to get the hell out of here.”
Sherlock barely hesitated before he fell into step with Jim. There was no reason not to. They both went through customs without any issues and walked towards the escalators where Jim pulled his coat on with a grumpy facial expression. The main hall was packed with people rushing to catch their flights and they quickly made their way past the crowds and towards the large sliding doors that led them outside. Feeling the fresh air on his face felt a lot nicer than he would have expected. Jim, who shivered and pulled his coat tighter over his chest, seemed to disagree.
“Alright then, good luck finding a cab I suppose.” The criminal said when he noticed Sherlock had stopped at the sight of the taxi stand.
“You don’t need one?” He hadn’t spent much time thinking about this, but he had sort of assumed that they would share a cab to get to the city at least.
“Nooo, I got my car waiting for me. See you around, sexy.” With that, Jim smiled and turned away, walking straight towards a sleek, black saloon car where a driver was waiting to take care of his luggage. Less than half a minute later, the driver was back in his seat and pulled away from the kerb.
Sherlock took a deep breath at the realisation that after almost eleven hours, Jim Moriarty was gone. It should have felt like a breath of relief, but it didn’t. As much as he had wanted to walk right out of the plane at Jim’s sight, he’d gotten used to the man rather quickly and now he found himself standing in front of the airport on his own and it was almost eerily quiet. No nagging about picking up luggage or sharing drinks or playing games. Nobody who addressed him with silly pet names in an attempt to both flatter and annoy him. It had been eleven hours, but it suddenly felt as if there hadn’t been enough time.
A cold gust of wind spurred him back into motion and towards the closest taxi.
When the car pulled onto the main road he realised he’d forgotten to ask Jim which planet was on his suitcase.