Aaron Sorkin and Sherlock Holmes are stuck in Stranded in the Arctic in a Crashed Plane and forced to have a deep conversation.

Here's their conversation:

"The statistical improbability of our survival thus far is, frankly, insulting," Holmes observed, his breath clouding the frigid air.

"Insulting? We're alive, Sherlock! Let's focus on the objective reality: we need a goddamn plan, and we need it yesterday!" Sorkin retorted, pacing the cramped space.

"Sentiment, Aaron, is a chemical defect found on the losing side," Holmes countered, examining a shard of shattered glass with meticulous interest.

"Sentiment is what fuels the best stories, what makes people care! You can't just logic your way through life, Sherlock," Sorkin fired back, frustration evident.

"I assure you, a compelling narrative can be constructed from pure deduction, a symphony of observation leading to undeniable truth," Holmes stated coolly.

"Truth? You think truth is just a clever deduction? It's messy, complicated, and often uncomfortable, Sherlock," Sorkin challenged, gesturing wildly.

"Uncomfortable truth is preferable to comfortable delusion, wouldn't you agree? The latter is the province of politicians and playwrights alike," Holmes remarked, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

"Alright, cheap shot, but valid point. Still, you need more than facts, Sherlock. You need a narrative arc, rising stakes, a satisfying resolution!" Sorkin exclaimed.

"The resolution, my dear Sorkin, will be dictated by the evidence, not by some arbitrary need for dramatic closure," Holmes replied, his eyes scanning the horizon.

"Fine, but if we're going to survive this, we're gonna need more than just your bloody 'evidence'," Sorkin concluded, pulling his coat tighter.