"I wonder why that is." He said as he rolled his grey blue eyes and closed them in attempt to block out Moriarty's voice. It didn't quite work. The only thing he saw when he closed his eyes was Sherlock falling and a sickening crack of his body hitting the pavement. His brows furrowed together as he opened his eyes again and gave his captor a look of disgust. "What really makes you think I wanted to hear all that." It was true he didn't care much for Irene, but he didn't want her dead. There was a difference between dislike and wanting dead thank you. He preferred to stay on the line of sanity.
"Ages, great." He muttered. Of course what time was left between Sherlock and Moriarty's game would be spent with the raving lune. Just how he wanted to spend his supposed last day. Just off the top of his head he could list at least a dozen places he would rather be. First coming to mind was with Sherlock, even after the git drugged his tea. He still cared, loved the man like a brother. That outburst caused him to flinch ever slightly. He took in a shaky breath and held it unconsciously as he watched him warily.
What was Sherlock doing? Was he on his way back from London yet? How was he handling things? It couldn't have been well given Sherlock's issue with human emotion. Most probably would have found it funny that even after being drugged and kidnapped because of Sherlock he could still love him dearly. If John cared what people thought though he wouldn't have been friends with him in the first place. He'd been warned by many not to get involved with Sherlock Holmes but that almost made him all the more curious.
"Will she still love you even after you take someone's life in cold blood? If she does she's no better than you and you both deserve eachother." He seethed as he sat back in his uncomfortable chair and glared at the tea being held out for him. Anyone else and he would have enjoyed it, why did it have to be Moriarty? Moriarty could make even tea taste horrible to him and that was a sad day in Watson land.
John could have been quiet, but what really was the point now. He was already in the company of a man he hated who was busy psychologically screwing with his best friend, so what more harm could it do to talk back. At least it would make the plane ride seem like less of an eternal torment. He never was one for sitting down and enjoying the ride.
"Clever." John frowned as he stared upward at the overhead compartment. He couldn't bring himself to look at the rest of the plane anymore.