John quickly washed his hands and left the broom closet with a toilet. Now he was on a mission to stop Sherlock before anyone got hurt. He felt good despite the seemingly awful situation. He had a goal to follow and half a in mind; this is what he was made to do. He marched down the plane through all of first class and whipped the curtain back as he re-entered the business class. He passed an air sick kid, three separate men talking into Bluetooth headsets, and his old friends; the young mother and old woman. He was not distracted from problem, however, and his pace only increased as he neared the rear of the plane. Here, past the lavatories, was the kitchen area where the attendants also hung in their downtime. Sherlock was alone and had his back to John - seemingly on his phone. With no time to lose John shut the door behind him and quickly grabbed the man by the shoulder and jacket slamming him up against the wall. Bracing both of Sherlock's arms so that he couldn't reach the gun he barked into Sherlock's ear, "What the hell are you doing with a gun!? Do you realize with one shot we're all in trouble, yourself included?"

After moment of surprise the attendant replied, "Yes of course I know that John, I'm not stupid!" John wrenched the other man's arm around his back and pushed up.

"Ahh! John just hear me out here. You owe me one remember?"

"Talk." The army captain knew better than to let the man keep going, but he interest won over his military training.

"My brother Mycroft basically runs the British is government, and so as a favor to him I am out doing what he refers to as field work." He stated with mind disgust, "The pilot of this plane is named Andrew Heirshfield and he has been under government watch for some time now. Now that I am here undercover, however, I was easily able to find evidence of his crimes and am now updating my brother who will bring him down." He ended his story with a half grin on his face.

"I'm I supposed to believe that?" John laughed.

Puzzled, Sherlock added, "Yes, you can call my brother or D.I. Lestrade of Scotland Yard of you really don't believe me."

"I think I will," John retorted as he grabbed Sherlock's phone with one hand, maintaining his grip on Sherlock with the other. He may be smaller than the attendant -or whatever he was- but he was much stronger.

Watson dialed up the number that the last text had been made to. The voice that followed was dripping with annoyance and supremacy, "Sherlock I really don't have time for this, did you or did you not find the evidence?" John took a second to register before opening his mouth to question the man when he spoke again.

"This isn't Sherlock, so I'm assuming you are some brave passenger who believes they're stopping a criminal. I can assure you that although my baby brother is very certainly a criminal, he is not in this circumstance. I suggest that you return to your flight and forget this ever happened in order to stay on good terms with my department. Any questions?"

"No, I think I've got everything." John did not mean that at all. He had a million different questions, but he figured that Mycroft was not the sort of person you bother unless on the brink of death. He let go of his hold on Sherlock and handed back the phone. The taller man rubbed his shoulder and looked the soldier in the eye. It wasn't a glare; he wasn't angry. It was the same look he gave after pouring the drink where he looked into John's thoughts. And what he found he trusted.

"You have a streak of bravery, doctor; I like that. Now you should probably return to your seat before our plane makes an emergency landing in Turkey."

"Right," John quickly escaped the confusing and slightly humiliating situation.


John only had to sit in embarrassment for a few short moments before the pilot, Andrew Heirshfield, made an announcement to his passengers.

"I'm very sorry to report that we will be making an unexpected landing in Istanbul, Turkey. Some unforeseen weather conditions have been observed and we have strict orders to land immediately. Remember, our safety is our number one priority. The airline will also be covering all ticket expenses that may arise. Again, we are sorry for any inconvenience that this may be, and will do our best to make you comfortable."

John was half surprised; Sherlock's story had all been true. The mystery of the man grew ever larger.

There was a lot of groaning on board, but with no way to change anything, everyone seemed pretty accepting of their fate. John felt a bit nervous, however, in anticipation of how the arrest would go down. He assumed it would be an arrest, although maybe Sherlock was in a secret branch of government like MI6 and they just assassinated all of their enemies. There was also the strange feeling in his gut about what kind of criminal had been flying him around for the past four hours. Full of questions John sat at the edge of his seat with eyes wide until the plane came to a final halt down on the tarmac.

As the hoards began to slowly exit out of the plane John fumbled around with nothing hoping that if he lagged behind enough he might witness the take down. Soon he was the last one remaining and a tired attendant was encouraging him to hurry up. Reluctantly John headed toward the door only to find Sherlock there exit greeting. There was a sly grin on the taller man's face as he winked at the doctor. Right before stepping out a hand pulled him back inside and against the wall. Sherlock leaned down and whispered, "Stay here. Don't move." before quickly returning to his post at the door.