When Luck Runs Out

The Respectable Members of Society

We sat there in comfortable silence, holding hands and just adoring each other's company while we had it. He really did have a way of making me calm down, my human drug. But it didn't help everything, I still saw the man when I blinked, I heard the gunshot and saw the blood, it was scarring enough, not only a couple of well thought out words and hand holding was going to relive me of the hell inside my mind. There were a couple of knocks on the door, announcing dinner, and John and I were forced to get up and join those idiots at the table. It took me a while to muster up the motivation to move, but eventually John got up and dragged me along, so I had to follow. We were still holding hands when we got to the table, and I saw Molly avert her eyes as if it made her uncomfortable or something. I took my seat and scowled at all this food, food that not even ten people could finish, much less four. People were dying on the streets in the districts and we murders were treated like royalty.
"So, have a nice day?" Molly asked quietly.
"No." John decided.
"You're picking up some of Sherlock's charm I see." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"Honestly though, did anyone have a good day?" I defended.
"No, I suppose not, but it still doesn't give you a reason to be all grouchy." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"I'm not grouchy, I'm a realist. I'm not plastering on a smile when the world around me is burning." I pointed out. Molly actually craned her neck to see if the fields were on fire, which of course they weren't, and she looked mildly relieved.
"The world is fine if you look at it with a positive attitude." Mrs. Hudson pointed out.
"Positive attitudes aren't really my style." I groaned.
"You should eat something." John decided, poking at my empty plate with his fork. I noticed that all he was bothered to eat was a couple of pieces of poorly cut chicken, but I didn't mention that. So, to make the judging adults happy I scooped a little bit of potato salad onto my plate, poking at the celery and onions without eating much. Molly and Mrs. Hudson were only too happy to eat enough for all of us, loading up their plates with the delicacies the Capital provided us. Then again, after the years they've been here, this was the normal every day meal, a feast three times a day. I doubt Mrs. Hudson has ever left a table less than full. When I was growing up if we had a loaf of bread for the entire family we were more than happy, that was our feast. Then again, I never really ate anything back then either, I never took care of myself in hopes that I'd kind of fall over in a painless death, but I guess I got accustomed to that sort of undernourishment. That was actually the key to my survival in the games; I had never eaten anything so I didn't need anything when I was in the arena. When dinner was finally over I went back to my room and didn't let John in, tapping my fingers and feet on the bed. I could feel the wall bulging under the weight of everything that has ever happened to me, every harsh memory, the arena, the boy... I cupped my head in my hands, trying to block it all out manually, to add an extra layer of thought cement to my wall of miracles, but I felt it cracking, I knew I had to do something soon. There wasn't any alcohol on the train, Molly had made sure of that, and not a drug in sight, but I had plenty of money with me, and I knew there was a whole black market just across the tracks that would be ever so happy to take it. So, when the sun went down and they all went to bed, I politely told John that I would try to spend the night alone. Thankfully he just gave me a weird look, no questions asked, but he nodded, letting me shut and lock my door once more. When I was sure Molly and Mrs. Hudson were safely tucked away in their beds and John was nowhere to be found, I opened up my window, propping it with a shoe, and half climbing and half falling out of my window and landing on my knees on the cold gravel. The night was chilly, with a crisp breeze cutting through my clothes, but I was a man on a mission, and I wouldn't come back to this train until I was loaded with as many drugs as I could afford. Maybe this was a problem. Nah. I hiked over to the District, which was quiet and dark save for a few dim fires flickering through the windows. There was no talk, no distant rustle of someone's footsteps, but I was sure that when the lights went out the drugs came out, it was like that in every district, you just had to know where to look. I started by poking around the market place, but the doors were sealed with every kind of fancy padlock available, and even if people were in there I wouldn't be able to join them. So I walked through the deserted streets, thankfully the peacekeepers were in bed as well, so they didn't give me any problems. I walk this lonely road, the road I only walked a couple of times, looking for my share of drugs, and I should really stop singing this in my head. I decided to check the shadiest alley I could find, which was dark and graphited, so it was no surprise when I saw a dim lantern blinking near the end. Shadows fled from the light, diving behind the chipped walls and the overflowing dumpsters.
"I have money." I announced, walking closer apprehensively. Slowly the people emerged, watching me cautiously as if I had brought peacekeepers with me to bust them. "Lots of money." I added. That got them interested.
"What do you need?" one asked, his face hidden behind a large hood.
"What do you have?" I asked, looking around me to see that they had surrounded me, a small circle of drug dealers. I've been in worse situations.
"Everything." The voice laughed.
"Morphine, all the morphine you can give me." I decided.
"Forty each." He decided.
"Thirty."
"Forty."
"Thirty five."
"These things are near impossible to come by, forty or you walk back empty handed." The man threatened.
"All right, forty, give me ten for now, and some cigarettes." I decided.
"Sure you can afford that buddy? We don't do tabs." Another man hissed.
"Just give it to me." I insisted, digging through my money and throwing the crumpled bills at them. The man went to a very rusty box and dug up ten syringes, filled with the gold I so craved. They counted my money greedily, throwing about fifteen cigarettes in the mix.
"Pleasure doing business with you." He laughed, handing me the load. I stuffed my pockets, as if worried they'd steal the rest of my money, and nodded my thanks, turning and starting to walk away.
"Hey, don't I know you?" one guy asked, who was perched on one of the dumpster railings. I couldn't see his face, but I could almost tell he was smiling with many rotten and missing teeth.
"I doubt it." I snapped, and with that I swept back into my own shadows, rushing back to the train before any of my companions could notice my absence. When I got back to the train I had a well-deserved cigarette next to the tracks, so that my room didn't stink of ash and smoke. There is no better feeling than having a well-earned mind duller after a period of terrible withdrawal, feeling your worries and your annoyances just slip away with every puff of smoke. When the cigarette had burned away I through the butt under the train and climbed back into my room, feeling so good that it was almost a daze. Well, it actually was a bit of a daze, now that I had some more tobacco in my system. I got out the drug shoe, which I still carried around, even though it was empty, and tucked away all of my newly acquired merchandise, hiding it in the closet this time so that Molly didn't come looking. After making sure the window was firmly shut, I changed into my pajamas and slipped under the covers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I slept perfectly fine alone in my room.

When I woke up I couldn't figure out why I was so happy, and how I was peacefully awake when the sun was already up. I had slept a full night without John, and then I remembered that I had a little bit of help. I smiled to myself and got out of bed, pulling on my robe and walking out into the train. The breakfast was already out on the trays and platters and bowls, steaming and waiting for people to come eat. John and Molly were on the couch, talking in hushed voices as if they were worried they'd wake up the other occupants on the train.
"Good morning Sherlock." Molly said with a pleasant smile. I grunted my greeting and plopped down on the couch next to John.
"How'd you do alone?" John asked.
"Oh, fine, I guess." I sighed.
"That's great! You're so used to having John around that you don't need to worry about being alone." Molly said happily, but she looked slightly suspicious, as if wondering if I had slipped some morphine from her house when she wasn't looking. Surprisingly she hadn't burned my previous supply, which would be a very Mollyish thing to do, instead she locks them in her cabinet, in a drawer that, no matter how hard I try to pry open or pick the lock, would never open.
"So, what was the topic of conversation?" I asked.
"Oh, just how we're on the move now, going to District Ten. Unfortunately we couldn't get going sooner because there was some sort of engine trouble." Molly frowned.
"It's fixed, right?" I asked.
"It's fixed, as you can see from the blurred windows." John pointed out, nodding to the landscape whizzing by.
"Well that's good." I agreed.
"It's not a far trip; these Districts are actually quite close together." Molly shrugged.
"Also good." I nodded.
"So, pretty much the same speech right?" John asked with a sort of exasperated sigh.
"Pretty much." Molly nodded.
"Won't the Districts notice that it's the same?" John asked.
"They do the same thing when they win. This whole tour is just a sham to tell the Districts the games are unavoidable, you play them and then months later you are reminded of the outcome. All of us are just Snow's propaganda." Molly shrugged.
"I don't quite like that title." I decided.
"No one does." Molly agreed. There was some more silence in which we absorbed what she had said, that we were no more than pawns in Snow's very large game of very complicated chess. All we did was wave and smile but it wasn't us that we were representing, it was the fact that we were the winner; we were only alive because we had killed and we only killed because of the rebellion. If the Districts had never risen up against the Capital then their children would all be alive.
"Good morning lovelies." Mrs. Hudson appeared, her smile bright enough for about five people, which was convenient because the three of us had no smiles to be found.
"Good morning Mrs. Hudson." Molly said with a smile. John and I just sighed, as if we actually had to say good morning every single morning. In my opinion it wasn't all that great of a morning, so I kept quiet, knowing that my brilliant sense of optimism wasn't going to welcome this early in the morning.
"I see we're on our way already." Mrs. Hudson guessed, looking out the window as if it were that big of a conclusion to make.
"Well I'm glad they started up again, I thought we'd be stranded in eleven." Molly admitted.
"Why wasn't I aware of this?" I asked with annoyance.
"Because we didn't want to put any more on your plate then we thought you could handle." Mrs. Hudson assured.
"You always force feed me." I pointed out.
"It's a metaphor dear." Mrs. Hudson said sweetly, although she sounded a bit done.
"I know." I agreed.
"Family times like this make me miss Irene." John decided with a smile. The three of us just looked at him, shocked that he would ever mention her accursed name and trying to see if he was being serious or not.
"I'm joking." He defended.
"Oh thank god." I muttered. "I thought we were going to have to send you to a mental hospital."
"Sherlock don't be so mean, she may have been a bit rude, but she was still a person and we should honor her memory with kindness." Molly decided.
"She's probably making God want to jump from Heaven right now." I grumbled.
"Or Satan want to dig himself out." John agreed. Molly sighed, but obviously she couldn't argue. No matter how much she wanted to preserve Irene's memory, that girl was just hell spawn.