I don't own anything. John Finnermore owns Cabin Pressure and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat and Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. Forgive my mistakes and typos, as usual- not native english, sorry !
Sherlockholmesexual asked on Tumblr:"Molly going into labour just as Martin is about to leave to go to somewhere really far and then Douglas is all nice to Martin because he knows how special having your first child is and stuffs?". I think Douglas is not very nice in this piece...or maybe he is, in his own way?
Douglas and Martin were in the middle of the cockpit-check, before a flight to Melbourne; and as usual, they were arguing.
"This is a complete waste of time, Martin!" the first officer whined, but the younger man rebutted promptly "I beg to differ, Douglas. This is an essential, and fundamental control, that we need to perform following strictly the manual-".
"No, not another lecture about the importance of your precious manual! Listen, can you please use the short version of the checklist, at least?".
"There's no short version..." Martin argued, but Douglas interrupted him again.
"Pre-flight checklist, by D. K. Richardson. Sky:above. Check! Ground: below. Check! Try and keep it that way the entire flight. The end".
Captain Crieff was ready to start another indignant and vehement reprimand, when the intercom chirped, and Arthur's always cheerful (although this time strangely preoccupied) voice reached the two.
"Yes, Arthur?" Douglas answered, rather annoyed.
"Hmm, hello Douglas! Is Skip there?".
"Yes, the master of the plane and his inseparable manual are there..." the first officer began, but Martin interrupted him.
"I'm here, Arthur".
"Well...hi Skip! How are you?".
"Fine, Arthur, thanks...but we met at your mother's office half an hour ago, why are you asking again?".
The flight attendant hesitated. "Well...it's just that your Molly called five minutes ago, and asked me to be extremely sure that you were calm and relaxed, before telling you something..."
Martin started to panic. "Molly called you to tell me something...what did she want you to tell me, Arthur?".
"Oh no, you're agitated, Skip! Is he turning all red, Douglas?".
"Arthur, what did Molly tell you?!". Martin's voice was full of apprehension, and shrill.
"Just that she was going to the hospital...then she started to breathe very funny, and said something about some waters that were breaking...It doesn't make sense, Skip! How could Molly break water? You told us that she is some kind of doctor...Is she a magician, too? Or maybe she's like Moses..."
"The twins! She's having the twins! Oh my God, I'm going to be a father!" were Martin's last words, before he went completely numb, his mouth agape, with no sound coming out of it.
Douglas patted the Captain's shoulders awkwardly, trying to encourage him, but in vain. Then, he decided to do what he could do best: he took charge.
"Arthur, later I will entertain you with a detailed dissertation about the wonder of human biology and the extraordinary adventures of Moses and Aaron, but now, I need you to focus: which hospital did Molly tell you she was going to?".
"Something with a saint...if she knows a saint, maybe she knows Moses, too!".
"Saint...was it St. Bart's, Arthur?".
"Maybe...yes, it was St. Bart's! Is it like Ottery Saint Mary, Doug-".
Douglas switched off the intercom, cutting off Arthur's question, and turned towards poor Martin, who was still catatonic.
"Well desperate times call for desperate measures" he muttered, and proceeded to slap his Captain in the face. Twice, just to be sure.
"Wh-what are you doing!? You- you slapped me!".
"Welcome back, soon-to-be-dad. Now, if you took my Jag, and maybe broke some laws, I'm sure you're going to be in London in less than an hour. Of course, you're going to repay my sudden generosity handsomely later, but-".
"But I-I can't! We need to fly the client to Melbourne, and Caroline said that the life of the company depends on the outcome of this trip...but I can't leave Molly alone! I want to be there with her, but I can't be responsible of the bankrupt of-".
Another well-aimed slap interrupted his panicked rant."Listen, Martin. You know who I am. I'm a smuggler, a compulsive liar, a serial cheater. To quote dear Bill Shakespeare, I have "more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in". But if you don't leave this plane right now, God helps me, I will add your murder to my crimes".
Martin remained silent for a second; then, without a word, he took the car keys his first officer was handing him, and in return he offered him his shaking right hand. Douglas shook it firmly, providing his last words of wisdom.
"When my daughter was born, I was flying an Air England's plane over Germany, and neither my ex-wife, nor I, did forget or forgive it. Don't make my mistake, Martin- go to Molly, and witness one of the greatest miracle of the human nature".
After eight hours of labours, finally the world welcomed the Crieff-Hooper twins: very ginger, very agitated, and very beautiful.
The next day, the MJN crew visited the happy family.
"So, what did you call them? Will I blush?" Caroline asked, while keeping an eye on the over-excited Arthur bent over the babies cradles.
"The girl is Emma Beatrice, simply because we liked the names, and the boy..." Molly stopped, and with a tender caress on her husband's hand, prompted him to finish.
"The boy's name is William Kenneth. William because of Molly's father, and Kenneth...well we all know who is Kenneth" he finished with a shy smile.
In that moment, a rare fact occured: a lonely, very masculine tear ran down Douglas Kenneth Richardson's face. It was the kind of tear the sky-gods like him spared only for the very special occasions.
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