When Luck Runs Out

Two Snow Storms

    The next day, if possible, was so much worse than the previous. I tried to go to town, but so many people were badgering me for information I didn't have, so I left empty handed, even though I had promised to get my parent's shopping as well as mine. So John and I sat in my living room, not in the mood for talking or theorizing, just sitting in silence. We skipped lunch unintentionally, and, without our knowing, the hands on the clock faced 5:45, and there was a knock at the door.
"Sherlock, John!" it was Molly again. I went to the door, and she was bundled up in a coat and fuzzy scarf.
"What?" I asked.
"We're all over at my place again, watching the announcement." She pointed out.
"John!" I called.
"What?" John groaned from the couch, obviously hanging out with me too much since he didn't even bother to come say hi to Molly.
"We're going to Molly's!" I called.
"Coming!" he jumped up and came straight to the door, and the three of us walked through the cold waste land of our village together. There were small flakes of snow coming down, and it looked like there might be a snow storm following, which was always very inconvenient. We all sat on the couch around 5:50, my parents and John's parents and Mycroft all there as well, looking very nervous. But their nervousness was no match to ours, Molly's face was very white, my stomach was twisting, and I could feel John shaking next to me. I found his hand and held it, hoping that would calm him down just the slightest bit, but I knew there was no calming now. This was life or death, literally. And, finally, at exactly six o'clock the TV displayed the seal and the anthem played and it felt like I was about to throw up.
"Good Evening, Districts, Citizens, Victors, tonight is a very special night, marking the 75th annual Hunger Games." It was Snow again, in his evil white outfit, sounding like someone's evil grandfather that was about to stuff them in an oven. "As we all know, on every quarter there is a special games, a celebration, a memory of those lost to the fiery rebellion the Districts sparked against the Capital. The games remind us that the attempts to over throw us are futile, and this year, to say that no one, no matter how powerful, how adored, or how rich they are, is safe from the games. In honor of the 75th anniversary, two tributes, no matter what age, gender, or capability, will be selected from the existing pool of Victors. Each District will send two of its Victors back into the arena, to live or to die. Happy Hunger Games everyone, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The screen showed the seal, and then the TV was black. It took a moment to process; it took a moment to remember that this, in fact, was not a dream, and that President Snow had actually just said what he did. He would be picking two victors, any two Victors, we had three. I was going back into the arena. I was the first to react, and by react I meant over react. I jumped to my feet with a startled cry and ran out the door, without a jacket, with nothing but bedroom slippers and my normal clothes, dashing through the now howling snow storm, to where I didn't know. They couldn't see this; they couldn't see me, at my lowest point, at my defeat. I ran until I couldn't run anymore, until the cold air burned my lungs, when the snow cut into my feet, the snowflakes blinded me and the cold wind burnt against my bare skin. I collapsed into a pile of snow, the freezing water soaking easily through my clothes, and I lay there, covered in snow and defeat, and started to cry. Out of the three of us, two were going, and, if all goes the best it could; only one would leave. I might lose John, I might lose Molly, I might lose myself... I gasped for breath, my tears pouring down my face and falling into the snow, just to freeze. I was going to go back in, I had to go back in, I wouldn't let John go, I had to kill again, I had to see death again, I had to relive the moments that decreased me to this feeble, broken form, burned my brain, my innocence, my mentality, made me weak and helpless. If I come out of that arena I would be nothing more than a shell, and even though I might have been able to save John, I don't think my heart could love again. Snow, he was evil, he was beyond evil, and he was everywhere. He was as plentiful as the snow I lay in, he was as cold, as cruel, as unforgiving as the cold water and ice that made my skin freeze, and he couldn't be stopped. As much as I hated it, I knew what had to be done. Molly and I would go in, and we would fight until we were the last, and then I'd make her stab me through the skull. I cared about three people, and they were going to live as long as I lived, and hopefully longer. I don't even know how long I laid there, maybe a couple of minutes, maybe an hour, maybe an entire day, but it was dark when I heard someone calling my name. The tears that had once been falling had long since stopped, I guess I had run out, but the remnants were still frozen onto my face, reminding me of the reason the tears were flowing in the first place. I was curled up into myself, trying to preserve body heat even though I was sure I had none, my soul was as cold as the atmosphere around me. Maybe it would've been better just to have frozen out there, in the barren snow; at least I wouldn't have to watch one of my friends die.
"Sherlock, oh thank god!" it was Molly, covered from head to toe in snow clothes, from fuzzy snow boots to a thick wool hat. She was carrying blankets and jackets of all kinds, for when she evidently found me. I didn't say anything, partially because there was nothing to say but also because I couldn't seem to work my voice, as if my lips had frozen together.
"We were so worried; we didn't know where you went." Molly muttered, dragging me to my feet and putting so many blankets and jackets on me that I felt like a stuffed turkey. I couldn't stop shivering, my hands shaking, my toes and fingers feeling so cold that I was sure with one blow they'd snap right off.
"Oh my god, Sherlock you're freezing." Molly decided.
"I have to go back." I muttered my throat feeling scratchy and cold, but she got the message.
"No you don't." she pointed out.
"Not...not John." I insisted, grabbing onto one of her shoulders as she stuffed a large hat over my head and a scarf around my neck.
"Let's just focus on getting home." She decided through the gale, pulling me along the deep snow and back towards the houses. It took about twenty minutes to trek all the way back to the houses, but once we were there I was met with a crowd of adoring fans.
"Oh Sherlock thank god, we were so worried!" My mom came running up, crushing me with a bone breaking hug.
"He's fine, he's fine, we just need to warm him up." Molly insisted. She dragged my into my house, setting me in front of the roaring fire and wrapping me in yet more blankets. A couple of minutes later I was sipping a large cup of hot chocolate; warming me up inside and letting my frozen hands start to defrost.
"Are you okay Sherlock?" she asked sweetly, sitting on the couch next to me, patting the top of my head like a puppy.
"How are you okay?" I asked, answering her question with a question. She was much too calm for this, much to okay with the fact that she was probably going to go back up that tube, into the arena, to fight for her life.
"I'm not okay Sherlock." She insisted. "But I know what I have to do."
"You're not doing anything." I insisted.
"The only way for you and John to have a protected future is for me to die." she pointed out. She sounded very calm about it, as if she had accepted that as soon as the announcement went out.
"No, I am dying." I insisted.
"Oh no you're not." Molly warned. "You deserve happiness, you have John, you have your family, I've got no one Sherlock, no one except you, John, and Mrs. Hudson, and all of you understand why I have to do this."
"I'm not letting you die Molly!" I demanded, the first normal sounding string of words I had put together since I ran.
"You don't have to let me die." Molly muttered.
"Obviously we agree on one thing though." I decided.
"What is that?" she asked.
"John can't go in." I decided.
"No, you're right, he can't. I'm not letting those Watsons lose another one of their children." Molly decided.
"Take care of him." I muttered.
"I'm sure you will." Molly agreed. My loud protests were thankfully avoided by a loud knock on the door, John, of course, since there was only one and the door opened.
"Sherlock what the heck?" he insisted, running to my side and giving me a big, thankful hug. I smiled lightly; too busy holding my mug of hot chocolate to hug back, but he got the idea.
"Where did you find him?" he asked Molly.
"In the middle of the snow, frozen." Molly muttered.
"Idiot Sherlock, idiot!" John insisted, giving me another hug anyway. His face was tear streaked as well, his hair messed up and his skin pale. He had been crying as well. Molly, on the other hand, didn't look like a tear had been shed, which broke my heart more than seeing her sobbing. She had to know that I wouldn't let her die, I wouldn't let John die, one of had to die, but two of us were going to live. Two of us had to live. I was going to die for them.
"Are you okay?" John asked worriedly, cuddling up to my shoulder as if that would help me warm up or something.
"Of course not." I muttered, still a bit shell shocked.
"I know, no one is." John agreed.
"I can't believe he would do this, can he do this?" I asked. Molly nodded solemnly.
"He's the supreme dictator, he can do whatever he wants." She sighed.
"You don't think he's doing this because of us, do you?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, you said some people see us as a symbol of rebellion, and District One rioted against John, do you think he's trying to squash our reputation?" I clarified.
"Of course not, he's not doing this because he doesn't like you; he's doing this because he's evil. Like he said, it's to make sure we know that even though we won, we're still not safe." Molly muttered.
"I still can't believe it." I muttered.
"It'll be okay, somehow, it'll be okay." John assured.
"No it won't!" I insisted, my melancholy mumbling turning ferocious. "It won't be okay, John, there are only three people in this world I can't live without. You, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson, and at least one of those people are going to die when those games end, maybe two. I can't let that happen, it has got to be me."
"I'm not letting you die Sherlock, you have gone through too much to die just like that, you deserve life, happiness!" John debated, also getting a bit fired up.
"The only way he's going to be happy is if you two are together, so obviously I'm going to have to be the one to die!" Molly pointed out.
"You're not dying Molly." I insisted.
"Neither are you!" John exclaimed.
"Let's just make this easy, and riot." I decided.
"No!" Molly and John both said at once.
"There's nothing we can do to stop it, but we've still got a week to decide, we shouldn't be at each other's throats just yet." Molly decided.
"We have a week to live our lives." I repeated.
"So let's enjoy it." John agreed. I sighed, pulling my blanket up to my chin, still shivering immensely from the cold.
"I'm going to bed." I decided, getting to my shaking feet and bringing the blanket along with me.
"I'll stay here with Molly for a while." John decided.
"No plotting okay? Don't talk about the games at all." I insisted.
"No promises." John muttered. I stopped as I almost got to the stairs, twirling around and glaring at him. John just smiled innocently, but a smile looked so abnormal on someone's face that I was almost confused. I rolled my eyes, walking up the stairs and shutting my door without locking it, for when John came in. I changed quickly into my pajamas, pulled the shutters, and lay stiffly on my bed, staring at the wall and shivering dispute the many blankets covering me. I knew that I couldn't let them die; I didn't care if you saw that as a coward's move or a hero's, but I was going to. I wasn't lying down there, I only care and love three people in this world, and if there is anything, anything at all I could do to take care of them, I would. All three of them have done so much for me, Molly mentored me through my games, Mrs. Hudson was my mom when I had none, John loved me dispute the shell I had become, no one was dying when I could die instead. But then again, this is the best case scenario, most likely both of us will be killed before the last two remained, and as horrible as that was, it was a lot better than having to kill each other. I would definitely burn myself alive then to even give John so or Molly so much as a paper cut, but I'm sure they felt the same way about hurting me. I may pretend to be mature; towering over people and wearing crisp suits, but inside they knew I was more than a scared, helpless child. I needed someone to take care of me, and the three of them had taken that nanny position. They were more of my family then my actual family could ever be.
"Sherlock?" the door cracked open, and John's silhouette appeared through the door.
"Here." I muttered. John walked over, shutting the door ever so quietly and crawling under the covers next to me.
"Molly left." He said. I nodded, rolling over onto my side and holding him to my chest.
"I'm so scared." I admitted.
"I know, I am too." he agreed.
"I can't let you die John, you know I can't." I insisted, feeling tears brimming in my eyes.
"I don't know what's going to happen, but I can promise you one thing, it will all end. Life will go on, and eventually everything will be okay." John assured.
"Life will never be okay without you." I insisted.
"It'll be okay Sherlock." John repeated.
"Promise me." I said in almost a whisper, which would've been unheard if he hadn't been so close.
"I promise." John agreed. I sighed with relief, if John said it would be okay, I had to believe he was right.