John didn't have time to worry about looking like a lunatic. He had accidentally grabbed the luggage of someone who had had the same suitcase as him, and was now going to be late for his connecting flight. His sister was getting married in the morning, and if he didn't make it to the wedding she would never forgive him.
So now John was sprinting down the airport hallways, screaming as loudly as he could, "IS THERE A SHERLOCK HOLMES HERE?" Most of his responses where slightly frightened glances as parents pulling their children away.
On the other end of the airport, Sherlock Holmes was searching everywhere for a 'John Watson.' He was so close to catching this serial killer, and if he didn't make his flight the murderer would slip through his fingers.
"DOES ANYONE KNOW A JOHN WATSON? I NEED MY LUGGAGE." He screamed, his long legs being put to good use as he searched for the man. He wasn't worried about looking crazy, he was already treated as though he was psychopath.
He was a highly functioning sociopath for the record.
John was frantic. His flight left in 10 minutes, and his luggage was no where to be found. He had searched high and low, and no luck. Whoever this Sherlock Holmes was, he must have been invisible.
"Please, god, doesn't ANYONE know where Sherlock Holmes is?" He cried frustratedly. A few people sent him sympathetic looks, but he mostly just received more frightened stares.
At the other end of the hallway, Sherlock was running forward. He had decided to get to his flight, even if that meant abandoning the search. With any luck, his luggage would be at the gate. As he ran, he continued screaming for "JOHN WATSON?"
Not far away, John heard his name being called faintly. He whipped around, to see a long and lanky man striding forward, suitcase in hand. A suitcase that looked suspiciously similar to...
"Sherlock Holmes?!" He asked loudly as the figure approached.
Sherlock stared at John. John stared at Sherlock.
"Oh thank god, I could kiss you," Sherlock breathed, and then hesitated awkwardly.
John didn't really see the downside to this, but he had a flight to catch. "Yes, well. No time for that now, I'm on the way to a wedding."
"I'm solving a murder," Sherlock sighed, moving forward to walk towards the gat with John.
"Are you really?" John asked, appalled.
They spent the flight talking and discussing plans to go out for dinner.