Sherlock and John boarded the plane, nine whole minutes to spare. It turned out Mycroft was useful for something.
It was a small plane, no more than 16 seats, but thankfully it was full, so perhaps Sherlock would be able to keep himself entertained. Perhaps some of the passengers would have juicy secrets that Sherlock would be content with informing John all about. Right. That's likely.
Reaching their seats, Sherlock stopped abruptly and John barely managed to not run into him.
"Sherlock," he said, irritated. "What are you doing?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "There is a lemon in my seat," he hissed.
"So? A crew member-"
"LEMON!" Sherlock bellowed.
A man that looked more like a child, dressed in a steward outfit came running towards them.
"Sorry chaps," the steward told them, cheerfully grabbing the lemon and scurrying off back to where he came from.
Sherlock didn't seem impressed, and made a small noise that sounded like- could it be? A whimper?
"Sherlock?" John asked incredulously. "Are you afraid of flying?"
"Course not," Sherlock muttered at him, but the effect was rather lost, as he was doing it into the sleeve of John's sweater.
John almost scoffed at him, but it was accompanied by a grin. "Don't be such a baby."