Not one of them can quite pin-point what's wrong at first. But they suddenly came to realise that they were all in danger.
Douglas had control. Martin, Carolyn and Arthur were on the floor, hands behind their heads. Carolyn is breathing quickly, Arthur looks like he's about to have a panic attack, and Martin's… Calm. He just has a look of bored indifference on his face.
"I'm sure you know why I'm here…" The man with the gun begins. The question is directed at Martin.
"Indeed I do."
"Well?
"Well what?"
"You don't look very scared."
"I see no reason to be afraid of an office boy," Martin smirked.
"What!" The man roared.
"Highly polished shoes, no scuff marks and they're expensive; hair meticulously combed and neatly trimmed; expensive suit with no stains apart from that small print of ink left by a thumb smeared with the stuff; you have a smartphone, only saw it for a second or two but certainly high end; manicured hands, soft too, you moisturise."
"Just like your bloody brothers!" The man growled.
"Brothers?! Martin, I thought Simon was your only brother!" Douglas questioned.
"Yes, that's what we should be focusing on right now," Martin drawled, "Goldfish." He muttered.
The man seemed to snap. He pistol-whipped Martin across the cheek, the young man seemed to show no recognition of the pain in his blank face, "You and your brothers' bloody inside jokes!"
"You call that a pistol-whip?" Martin laughed, "Butterflies beat their wings harder."
"Shut up! You're just like your brother Sherlock; you don't know when to shut your mouth!"
"If you've done anything to Sherlock, I won't be happy. People tend to die when I'm not happy." Arthur, Carolyn and Douglas gasped.
"Don't worry. He's not the one in danger… yet." The man held the gun against Martin's temple.
"You don't want to do that…" Martin warned.
"I think I do…"
"I'll give you until the count of three."
The cabin crew were shocked into silence. How could anyone, especially Martin, be so calm when faced with their own mortality?
"One…" The man ground the gun against Martin's temple.
Douglas couldn't look; he had to keep flying the plane.
"Two…" The man cocked the gun.
Carolyn had tears in her eyes and Arthur was sobbing freely. It looked like Martin was counting the moments to his demise.
"Three!" Martin caught the man's arm and maneuverer out of the line of fire. He bent the man's arm behind his back until a sickening pop was heard and the gun fell to the floor, luckily not firing. He grabbed the gun and aimed it at the man.
"Martin…?" Carolyn began.
"I'm sorry about this, Carolyn. Won't happen again; blame my eldest brother, Mycroft. It's his fault." Martin fired a shot into the man's shoulder. The three looked in horror. "To incapacitate. Don't want him making a grab for one of you as a hostage. Plus, it allows me to do this –" The man was on his back on the floor, blood pooling around him. Martin put his foot atop the bullet wound. "We can do this the nice way or the rough way. Who sent you?"
"Not… Saying…"
Martin pressed his foot down on the wound and the man's face contorted in pain. "Really? Bet you're dying to tell me, sexy. Go on, tell daddy your little secret."
"No… Dad… No…"
"I'm taking off my belt boy, you know what that means. Tell daddy your little secret…"
"No… Dad… Please…"
Douglas looked like horror personified.
"Oh come on you naughty boy, tell daddy…"
"Angel Spider!" The man shouted.
Douglas was confused when Martin smirked and said, "Good boy. Daddy's had enough now."
The silence was interrupted by a pixilated version of 'Umbrella' by Rihanna.
"Martin, what the bloody hell was that!" Douglas yelled.
"Sexually abused as a child – used it to my advantage. Now, if you don't mind, I really must take this."
"Martin…"
"Hello, brother mine!" Martin announced to the man at the end of the phone, "knew you'd be watching. Enjoy the show?"
"Martin, it was one of the cruellest things I'd ever seen you do…"
"Don't watch me very often then; your assistant does it, doesn't she. Second rate care for Sherlock and I. That is how I do things, brother mine. Find weaknesses and play them to my advantage. I saw a way of getting information and I took it. It is very interesting, by the way."
"Sherrinford Holmes! You listen to me –"
"No! You listen! Martin is my name and Martin is what you will call me. Sherlock's in danger and I'd very much like to see my twin when we land! You know what they say about twin sensations and how uncomfortable it makes him."
"There's no scientific –"
"And yet it happens! Where is he now?"
"My office. He said he didn't feel quite right…"
"Told you! Now JM's back. He needs to prepare. Get the poor boy to eat something and sleep until he needs to go to the airport. See you back in Blighty before tea-time."
"Like you know anything about eating either."
"Fuck off Mycroft."
"Goodbye, brother mine."
"By the way, Sherlock told me about DI Lestrade…"
"Must get going! Goodbye Martin."
With that, the phone was hung up.
Martin turned to his friends. They all had that… Look on their faces. "You have questions."
"Of course we do! We see you pull out moves that would make James Bond envious and then proceed to psychologically and mentally torture a man for information!" Carolyn yelled.
"Let's start at the beginning. Martin Crieff is not my original name, although I changed it legally, from Sherrinford Holmes. My older brother Mycroft was the man on the phone and my brother Sherlock is the younger brother by two minutes – we're twins as I'm sure you heard."
"Where did you learn to deduce like that?" Douglas asked.
"Mycroft taught Sherlock and I from a young age."
"How did you get the gun off him, Skip?" Arthur's small voice asked.
"I'm quite gifted in skills of that sort. My brothers may be more intelligent, but I'm the fighter. Got it from our father."
"Who is 'Angel Spider'?" Douglas asked.
"All in good time. Fitton approach – six minutes. My brothers will explain in more detail."
…
As the doors to GERTI opened, Martin ran out onto the tarmac. He sprinted to the figure in a long coat, who was mirroring his actions. They wrapped each other in a warm embrace, forgetting the troublesome British 'stiff upper lip'.
His three co-workers – friends – saw him with his brothers as they disembarked themselves. "Well… they are certainly twins," Douglas remarked.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sherlock kept apologising into Martin's shoulder.
Martin shushed him, "Now stop it. You know I have the skills to deal with these things. But there are some things that need explaining to my friends…"
"Ok…" Sherlock's voice was so soft, so quiet.
"But first," Martin smiled, pushing Sherlock back to arms-length away, "Bet you can't catch me!" Martin ran as fast as he could, Sherlock in pursuit.
"That wasn't fair!" Sherlock shouted, effect lost in giggles that both twins shared.
"Since when does either of us play fair?" Martin called back.
"William! Sherrinford! Stop it now! I'm too old to play babysitter!" Mycroft yelled
"His name is Sherlock," "His name is Martin," The twins said in perfect unison.
"You two will be the death of me… COME HERE!" Mycroft yelled, running after them.
"Want to get him?" Sherlock asked, closing distance.
"That's why I'm slowing down, so we can take him together."
"What are you two – Ah!" The twins tackled Mycroft to the ground; tickling him, it seemed, "Ah! Haha! Stop it! Hahaha!"
"Shall we, brother dear?" Sherlock asked.
"We shan't, brother dear," Martin replied.
"Haha! Stop it! Ha! That freaks me out!" Mycroft was writhing around on the floor, grip on his umbrella loosening.
"Got it!" Martin exclaimed, holding the umbrella up in triumph.
"Haha! Give it back!" Mycroft demanded.
"You can stop tickling him, Sherlock…" Martin began. "FRIENDLY FIRE!"
"Ah!" Sherlock yelped as he was also tackled to the ground and (with some manoeuvring) he and Mycroft were shoulder to shoulder, pinned down by the neck with Mycroft's umbrella.
"Got you!" Martin smiled smugly.
"Yes, yes; well done Martin, let us up now," Mycroft sighed.
"Martin, you and your brothers still have a lot of explaining to do!" Carolyn insisted irritably.
"Who's Angel Spider?" Douglas asked.
"Jim Moriarty," the twins stated in unison.
"Let's talk in the hotel bar…" Mycroft suggested, "Oh, your company is going to get a lot more flights – paid of course. The Government has a little job for your little 'Airdot'…"
...
Hey guys! Possibly making a series out of this. Let me know if you liked it :)