When Luck Runs Out

Awkward Breakfast

    John woke me up in the morning, not voluntarily of course, but he started to stir and shift and eventually my eyes opened as well. There were cracks of sunlight poking through the curtains; the only way I knew it was daylight out really.
"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to wake you." John mumbled sleepily.
"The deed is done." I sighed, not getting up but trying to close my eyes and sink into the warm dent I had made in the pillow. But alas, some things just aren't meant to be because I just couldn't fall back asleep.
"I hope it's not too late in the morning." John decided.
"Why, got a date?" I grumbled.
"No, I just don't want to miss the day." John shrugged.
"There's nothing to do around here anyway." I debated.
"True." John agreed, but he got out of bed anyway, pulling on his robe and waiting for me to crawl out of the cocoon of covers I always managed to steal from him. I was the worst sleeping buddy ever, not only do I have nightmares, sleep talking, sleep walking, and sleep attacking was just a normal thing for me. I rolled out of bed and pulled my robe on as well, following John down the cold wooden steps and into the kitchen. But, to my enormous disgust, we had been beaten there. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted up through the entire house, and there was light talking coming from downstairs. Obviously John's parents making a welcome home breakfast.
"Should I just leave now?" I whispered.
"No, don't me alone with them." John hissed, pulling my hand away from the door I was so anxious to exit through.
"John, honey, welcome home!" Mrs. Watson exclaimed, still wearing a particularly ugly green apron and an oven mitt. She bustled over and gave John a big hug, smiling very falsely over his shoulder at me.
"And Sherlock." She muttered, not with a hello or a nice to you or anything. Just Sherlock. That woman despised me.
"Hi mom, I see you made breakfast." John said, trying his best to sound happy that he had company.
"Well I'm sure that you don't want to be bothered with it yourself after such a long week." Mrs. Watson shrugged.
"Well then, I'm not going to spoil this family moment, I think I'll just..."
"I'm sure you parents are over at..." Mrs. Watson started.
"No Sherlock, you're family too, come on." John insisted, glaring disapprovingly at his mother and dragging me by my hand to the kitchen table. The table was already set (only three place settings, of course) and Mr. Watson was already sitting on the side of the table. John grabbed another plate and cup for me, setting it on the table and insisting I sit down. Feeling the judgmental glances like a spotlight, I sat stiffly at my place, right next to Mr. Watson, who gave me a slight nod of welcome, but his eyes were cold. I didn't know why John's family disliked me so much, maybe it's because they didn't like the idea of John being gay, or that they knew how emotionally unstable I was, or they didn't think I was a good influence on him. All of these things were true of course, but it's not like every day I encourage him to do drugs or to kill someone. My thoughts drifted to Caesar's party, where I had made him try the champagne... no, that was a celebration, it didn't count. But other than that my record was squeaky clean.
"John, you sit at the head of the table." Mrs. Watson decided, scooping an extra-large pile of scrambled eggs onto John's plate and heaping some bacon and sausage along with it. Then came Mr. Holmes, who got the same sized amount, then herself, and then me. I got a downright puny pile of eggs, two burnt little pieces of bacon, and a single sausage link. Even though I didn't eat anything, she didn't know that, so she was purposely trying to downsize my plate. Never the less I thanked her politely and waited until she served herself to pick up my fork, knowing that I had to eat all of my meal to avoid looking rude.
"So, how was the Capital party?" Mr. Watson asked.
"It was horrible." John decided.
"How was it horrible, I heard President Snow holds the most extravagant parties!" Mrs. Watson exclaimed.
"I guess it was a nice party, but those Capital people are complete snobs, and Snow himself is a Dictator, and they take advantage of all their money." John growled.
"Oh come on John, it must have been a little bit of fun." Mr. Watson guessed.
"The best part was the dancing, I suppose." John shrugged.
"Who did you dance with?" Mrs. Watson asked, a note of hope in her voice, as if John would've dumped me to dance with some girl or something.
"Sherlock, of course." John insisted, pointing his fork at me in case the family didn't notice me at the end of their dining room table. I smiled guiltily, all of the eyes fixed on me. It was very intimidating.
"What was your favorite part Sherlock?" Mr. Watson asked.
"Leaving." I decided. Mrs. Watson pursed her lips at my answer, and I realized too late that leaving probably wasn't the best answer I could've given.
"Well you too are like birds of a feather." Mr. Watson muttered, looking down disapprovingly at his half-finished meal.
"I saw on the news that you had a little bit of a problem at District One, what happened exactly?" Mrs. Watson asked.
"I just gave a speech, and they rioted." John shrugged.
"Why would they riot?" Mr. Watson asked.
"Because I killed their tribute." John pointed out.
"Oh, he was from District One?" Mrs. Watson asked. John simply nodded.
"Well, surely they understand you were only defending yourself." Mr. Watson insisted.
"They called me a murder." John pointed out.
"Well you are most certainly not a murderer, and they are poor losers to assume that you wanted to kill that boy. You were simply doing what you must to return to your family." Mrs. Watson assured. Her words were genuine, but I noticed she said 'return to your family' instead of 'stay alive', as if discreetly trying to say that they were his motivation in the arena, not me. Thanks Watson family, for another burst of self-esteem. When the horribly awkward breakfast was over, I politely excused myself, saying that I had to go get dressed and scrambled from the house as fast as I possibly could. Finally, safe in my own, empty house, I got dressed and did my hair and all of that, and then just sat on the couch and pounded what would happen if I had to be their son in law. Would they ever get me Christmas presents, would they scowl at me through the wedding, would they exclude me from family photos? The real question was, if needed, would I even be able to get their blessing to marry John? Either way it didn't matter, the only way the two of us were not going to end up together forever is if one of us is dead. Unfortunately though, the opportunity presents itself a lot more often than it should. What could I do to earn their approval, bring flowers, make breakfast myself, check myself into rehab or a mental facility? None of those things would work, but the good thing is that through the games the two of us had come out adults, whether we were over eighteen or not. As I said before, our innocence was gone; the dependency for our parents to make our breakfast and sing us to sleep, our childhood was stabbed through the head, or burned in the magma. We didn't need two people's permission, even if they did happen to be two pretty important figures in John's life. I wasn't really sure how far John was willing to go for our love, but I know, if I were in his place, that I would leave my life, my family, my everything behind just to be with him. We could run away, live in the woods or buy ourselves a house on the outskirts of the District, start our own life, away from our parents, away from the Capital, from the games, from Snow. We could be the people we always wanted to be, we could be normal. My thought process was ripped apart with a knock on the door, but I knew when I heard the door open that it was John. Everyone else waiting for me to answer the door, John just walked right in as if he owned the place, which he kind of did.
"Why'd you leave so early?" he demanded, slamming the door rather forcefully.
"You could cut that awkwardness with a knife." I insisted.
"Well ya, it was a little weird, but I'd rather it be weird than not have you around." John decided.
"Did you see the way they were glaring at me, they can't stand the sight of me!" I debated, as if this were somehow unknown to him.
"It takes time for them to warm up." John muttered.
"It's almost been a year John, and it's like I had murdered their puppy or something." I pointed out.
"Okay, okay, I have to admit, they hate your guts." John agreed.
"But why, I didn't do anything wrong! You're in good health, you're happy, we're both happy, so why aren't they?" I asked.
"I don't know, maybe they don't like the idea of me being with you." John shrugged.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Well, when you left they told me that while I was gone Harry ran away." John admitted.
"Ran away, to where?" I asked with shock.
"Not away from the District, they called her and she explained everything, but she ran away with Clara. Her girlfriend." John said, as if he were dropping some atomic bomb.
"So they think that since you're in a gay relationship as well that you'll leave them too?" I guessed.
"I have no idea, but they're sour, and they blame Clara for everything." John groaned.
"Brilliant." I muttered.
"We'll just hint that we're here to stay." John suggested. So much to having a normal life on the outskirts of the District.
"What a life to have for a pair of homophones, am I right?" I laughed.
"Come on Sherlock, they may be a bit unfair, but they're still my parents." John insisted.
"Sorry." I muttered.
"It's okay." John assured.
"Well at least you don't have my parents, all they want to do is clean my house and make me food and find out about my day and pick out my clothes and plan my entire life." I insisted.
"Still, they love me." John pointed out.
"Ya...they do. I think I saw a framed picture of both you and Molly hanging on their wall, along with the pictures of Mycroft and I." I muttered.
"They consider Molly and I to be their children?" John asked, amazed.
"I don't know what goes on their twisted little brains." I admitted.
"Well, it's better than being resented." John decided.
"That it is." I agreed.
"So, what now?" John asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, I don't know, we've got an entire day, what do you want to do?" he repeated.
"Nothing." I decided.
"Don't be such a downer, come on, let's enjoy the day while we have it." John insisted.
"I am enjoying it." I growled.
"I am taking you outside, and you are going to like it." John insisted. So we put on our coats (Even though most of the snow was gone, it was still plenty chilly outside) and trudged out the door.
"What do you even want to do?" I growled, pulling my long trench coat around myself and shivering.
"I don't know, but I've got a shopping list, and I'd love some company." he decided with a guilty smile.
"You idiot." I groaned. One trip to the market later, we were on our way back, loaded to the brim with bags upon bags of shopping and produce, our fingers feeling like they were going to freeze off. Finally we got to his house, dropping the stuff on the kitchen counter and sitting on the couch, enjoying the warm fire crackling in the fire place.
"What a nice day to go outside." I growled.
"Well, I thought it would be more productive with you with me. Besides, while I was away all of my food spoiled, I guess someone left the fridge open or something, mom claims the butter was moldy and everything." John pointed out.
"That's a beautiful thought to have a lunch time." I decided, rubbing my hands together in an attempt to make them warm up even the slightest. There was a knock on the door, three knocks, and silence.
"Oh god, not your parents again." I groaned. John, looking as if it were his own funeral march, walked to the door and answered it. I watched timidly in the entrance way, deciding whether I should flee out the back door or not. But when John swung the door open it was Molly at the door, shivering in a purple knit coat with a matching puffball hat.