"What's the itinerary today?"

Molly Hooper rolled her eyes. "You know, as captain, you really should read the schedule. Do you even know where we're going?"

"Of course I do," he bristled, tucking his hat under his arm, squaring his shoulders. "We're flying the Beechcraft Premier to-"

"No," Molly shook her head. "That's later, if the weather is good. We're on the old bus today. And I'll have you know we're on this pick-up-drop off because of you."

"Me?" he stopped walking, turning to face her so she did the same.

"Yes you!" hands on her hips, glaring up at him. "If you hadn't kissed me while the speaker was still on-"

"I don't recall you disliking it!"

She colored modestly. "No, I didn't dislike it," she answered, quieter, realizing they were still in public. "Sherlock, I love my job, I love what we get to do, we get to fly…"

"I know," he nodded soberly, understanding her loss of words. There was no feeling like it. They were privileged enough to pilot some of the best aircraft in the country. Molly had once upon a time only been a sometimes co-pilot for him. John Watson had flown over one-hundred missions with him, until he was transferred to Lockheed-Martin, met the woman he decided he was going to marry, and then started up his own flight-school. Thus far, he and the newly-minted Mary Watson were teaching students to fly old aircraft- beautiful Lockheed Electra's and smart little Piper Cubs and Cessna 172's and thrillingly noisy WACO's. Sherlock was…only a little jealous. Still, when he was given orders that Molly Hooper would be returning as his co-pilot, his heart skipped a beat. They worked well together, she was brilliant, beyond clever, and made a thirteen-hour flight seem like three. She wanted to be a flight instructor one day. She was excellent at what she did, and was happy to assist wherever she could. It was the flight to New Zealand, ten hours in when he turned to ask her to announce over the com about the sights, knowing she liked to do that sort of thing. Instead he kissed her, and she reciprocated. Unfortunately, the com was still on. He and Molly found themselves in the office of his elder brother, and owner of the company, quite angry at them both for their conduct.

Somehow, and it was a miracle, after three weeks of separate piloting and both having to practice touch-and-goes separately, they could fly together again. During those three weeks unable to work together, they made time after work to discuss the parameters of their relationship. They had decided they wanted the same thing, and after a discussion with Mycroft and several of their peers, they decided to take up an old offer from John, to help run his flight school in the country. Business was growing for the Watson's, and they needed two more pilots who knew the planes' mechanics as well as how to fly them. It would mean Sherlock and Molly would both need refreshers on the old aircraft. Still it would mean HR wouldn't be breathing down their necks, and they'd still get to fly.

As they crossed the hanger bay to start the pre-flight checklist, Sherlock reached, and very meaning, drew her against his side, pressing a kiss to her temple. About to thank him for the gesture, she opened her mouth and suddenly yelped, feeling him pinch her bottom.

"Sherlock!" she gave him a shove, her laughter behind her blush was unmistakable. She handed him the checklist, trying very hard to be annoyed at him. "It's our last set today, don't spoil it by having it cancelled! So behave."

"Fly the plane?" he quoted, and she nodded.

Rising on tiptoe, she kissed him once before she took his hat, placing it on his head, setting it at a cocked angle. She grinned, admiring him a moment.

"Fly the plane."

'Fly the plane' is a phrase taught to pilots, meaning you are the one in control. You don't let the machine run you, but you 'fly the plane'.