Twenty thousand feet above the Swiss Alps, Mycroft gazes out the window and tries to forget that he has a headache. His head feels like it's been caught in a vise and stuffed full of cotton. This headache must be dealt with immediately before it turns into full-on airsickness.

Mycroft tries applying pressure to his wrists and distracting himself, but to no avail. He has airsickness medicine in his briefcase, but he doesn't dare take it. It causes drowsiness and he must be at the top of his game for this meeting.

The plane hits a pocket of turbulence and Mycroft's stomach lurches. (If there is a merciful God in the heavens, He shall crash this plane and spare me the indignity of vomiting in front of the entire diplomatic contingent.) He notices the airsickness bag and wonders if there's a subtle way for him to get it to the lavatory. Just as the nausea becomes intolerable, Anthea appears.

"Your drink, sir," she says, and hands Mycroft a cup of ginger ale.

"Thank you," he says, and only Anthea notices the relief in his eyes. (She's the only person who's ever noticed my airsickness, the only person discreet enough not to tell anyone, and the only person who knows exactly how to cure it.) At this moment, Mycroft Holmes loves Anthea.

A/N: Applying pressure to the inside of the wrists is one of many techniques that is supposed to work for motion sickness. Didn't work for me, but some people swear by it.