When Luck Runs Out

No Need to Thank Me

    This was where family and friends came to say their last goodbyes, and, right on schedule, my mother threw herself through the door, sobbing. She crashed into me, hugging me with a strangling grasp, her tears splashing onto my black jacket.
"Sherlock I thought you were safe!" she exclaimed. "I thought you decided you weren't going in!"
"Who told you that?" I asked, prying her off me for some space.
"Molly." She muttered, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her dress.
"Well, Molly doesn't always know the whole truth." I pointed out.
"How could you?" she exclaimed.
"Because I love him, and I thought I was protecting him. You know how it feels to love someone, you would've done the same for dad." I pointed out. My father and brother were standing near the door, no tears on their stony, shocked faces. I walked over and gave them both very stiff, awkward hugs.
"I know you'll do what's right Sherlock." Mr. Holmes insisted, giving me a very firm handshake. I'm happy he didn't demand that I lived, that I won. He knew that if need be, and if it were the right thing to do, dying might also be the preferable option.
"I will." I agreed.
"Do your best, brother dear." Mycroft decided, standing up straighter than ever just to try to be taller than me. I didn't say anything to him, just looked at him.
"Oh Sherlock, please win, please win again. You have no idea what it does to a mother to see you go back, you must win!" Mrs. Holmes demanded, throwing herself once more at me and hugging me with such ferocity I thought I might die before I even got on the train.
"Mom, mom, calm down. I'll do my best, but if comes down to just John and I, you know what I have to do." I pointed out. She gave me space, her face now even more horrified than before.
"What are you saying?" she asked.
"I'm saying I'm going to do what's right." I decided. The door opened, and the peacekeepers came to clear them out.
"You mean kill yourself?" Mom asked, shaking off the white suited hand that tried to take her away.
"Mom, just go, I'll be fine." I assured.
"Sherlock Holmes, you better not kill yourself!" Mom screamed as she started to get dragged away.
"It'll be fine." I assured.
"SHERLOCK!" she screamed, the doors starting to close.
"Goodbye." I muttered.
"SHERLOCK NO!" I could hear her screaming even through the door, hear the commotion, the fight she was trying to put up, all for me. Maybe I should've paid her more attention, when I could have... It was another minute or so, I wasn't really expecting any people, and my thoughts drifted to the bags I had packed. They would've picked them up, right? Mrs. Hudson would've no doubt. The door opened and I expected the peacekeepers to be back, but Mrs. Watson walked in, unaccompanied by her husband. I took a step back of surprise, not sure it she was going to hug me or hit me, but she looked absolutely devastated. Her usually perfect hair was in wet clumps hanging out of what used to be a bun, her makeup smeared from rain and tears, and her face white, making her look a lot older than she really was.
"You make sure he gets out." she demanded, not even bothering to start with hellos or thank yous. I had tried to save him, that should at least get a smile right?
"I will." I assured.
"I never liked you. John could do so much better, he could've been with a pretty girl, but he chose you. So prove to me he made the right choice. Promise me that you will do everything in your power to bring my son back, prove to me you love him as much as I do." Mrs. Watson insisted, her voice shaking with emotion.
"I promise you Mrs. Watson, no harm will come to John as long as I am around. He made the right choice, and I will prove it to you. I will prove that I love him every bit as you do." I agreed.
"That's all I need to know then. Be good Sherlock, and if all goes well, I'll never see you again." she decided.
"Likewise." I snapped. And with that, she walked out of the door, looking much more confident as the peacekeepers closed the oak doors, leaving me in solitude once more. The peacekeepers came and snatched me away, the only people I've seen so far who weren't crying. Maybe they were, since I couldn't see through their helmets, but I seriously doubted it. They were probably only too excited to get rid of me probably. It wasn't like I was the most obedient child in the Village. They escorted me through the mass crowds onto the train, but, unlike everywhere else, the crowds weren't screaming and trying to hurdle the barriers and everything, they were throwing roses onto the ground, white flowers, even dandelions, anything they could find. In medieval times the women would throw flowers at the men as they marched to war, and this was me, marching to war. I stepped on some flowers, others got lost in the rivers of rainwater on its way to the drain, some even hit my legs, which I kind of found irritating, but overall it was a nice gesture. I saw a little girl with brown hair tied in a long braid, holding onto her mother's hand; throw a large bunch of white flowers, which looked like they were from the woods. I had fans of all sizes, all ages, I suppose. When I got onto the train I was happy to see my bags were there, not that there wasn't clothes here for me, but these bags contained the stuff I needed, like my books, my violin, my drawing pads, and, of course, my drugs. Never forget the drugs. I seemed to be the first one there, so John probably had a lot more visitors than I did. That would make sense, Harry probably came separate from her family, and I think he had an aunt or some sort of extended family. Finally though, the door opened, and Molly and Mrs. Hudson walked in, well, they sort of hobbled. Molly was supporting Mrs. Hudson the best she could, since the older lady was practically hanging onto Molly's neck, crying into her shoulder as if she were a little child.
"Sherlock." Molly said. That seemed to be the only thing she could get out. Sherlock you idiot, Sherlock you hero, Sherlock you suicidal moron, who knew what could follow my name? But she left me to imagine the end of her sentence, because that was all she said.
"Where's John?" I asked.
"I don't know." Molly admitted, prying Mrs. Hudson gently off and leading her to the couch. Mrs. Hudson looked devastated, but she sat anyway, clutching a large box of tissues to her chest.
"You were very brave Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson decided. I glanced at Molly with an 'I told you so' glare, and she just rolled her eyes.
"I did what I thought was necessary. How was I to know that idiot would volunteer as well?" I asked.
"But we had a plan Sherlock, we had a plan." Molly pointed out.
"I told you the day we made that plan that it meant nothing to me once the Reaping started. Emotions overruled." I pointed out.
"I'm surprised at you Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson agreed.
"Why?" I asked.
"The boy I knew two years ago wouldn't have volunteered at all, he would've hid I think, not even show up at all." She pointed out.
"Well, I'm not who I was two years ago." I decided. With that the doors opened and John, his feet covered in petals, walked into the compartment. He looked calm though, much too calm. That either meant he was being very brave, or he was very mad.
"Are you okay?" I asked. John nodded, letting the door close behind him, and walked right up to me. I spread my arms, expecting a hug or some sort of gratitude, but instead I was knocked backwards with a punch to my jaw. Mrs. Hudson screamed and Molly ran to help, but she was much too late and didn't really know what to do.
"You said you weren't going to volunteer!" John demanded, punching me again, right in the nose. I tried to duck away, but he grabbed the collar of my suit and ran me right into the wall, so that we could talk face to bloody face.
"I told you the plan wouldn't mean anything." I muttered, tasting the metallic taste of blood.
"You promised me." John muttered, losing his steam now that he had won.
"I promised I'd keep you safe, and that's exactly what I'm doing." I decided.
"You said this couldn't end with both of us going in." John muttered.
"You didn't have to volunteer." I pointed out, staring right into his eyes to make sure he knew that I wasn't afraid of him. I knew he pretended to be intimidating and all, tough and rough, but he wouldn't actually hurt me anymore than this. At this point Molly dragged John off of me, giving me a handful of tissues to mop up my now bleeding nose. John pushed her hand off of his shoulder and sulked over to the couch, collapsing on it and staring at his feet.
"We're going back in." he muttered. I sighed; rubbing my chin to make sure no drops of blood would taint my crisp black suit.
"I know." I agreed. The thought hadn't quite sunken in yet, it felt as if this were just another bad dream I have, that I have to go back, but I always knew that, in the end, I would wake up. Not this time. I sat on the opposite couch of John, just so he didn't try to throw anymore punches, but he remained still. I could see him shaking a little bit, from what I didn't know, but, if I had to guess, he was scared out of his mind. At least I had a year to cope with the games, live with myself, but he's last year's Victor, and he was being thrown right back in. Honestly this had to be nothing more than the worst luck in the history of Panem. The one boy I fall in love with is the one boy I probably have to watch die. Brilliant. But of course I had gotten this far, I had broken all my promises so far, what's another one? It wouldn't take much effort to just throw myself off a cliff or something; there would be nothing John could do to stop me.
"So, we're on our way to the Capital now." Molly decided. I looked out the window, where the rain was still coming down hard. It was a very odd sight though, the drops hitting the windows but sliding off almost as soon as they hit the glass because of the speed of the train. I hated this train; I hated everything about this train, because when we're here it means that it has something to do with the games. I'm either a tribute, a mentor, or I'm being dragged along on a victor's tour. It wasn't like Snow gave up the train for vacation time. Molly sat next to me, and Mrs. Hudson just lingered. Molly kept handing me more and more tissues, but the blood coming from my nose had decreased drastically.
"Are you alright?" John asked, looking pretty guilty.
"I'm fine." I assured.
"I'm sorry." He muttered.
"It's okay, I understand. But I'm only doing this because I love you." I assured. That could be interpreted as a sarcastic remark, but John just smiled shyly at me, because he knew that it was genuine.
"Sherlock I thought we decided you weren't going in?" Molly asked. She sounded terrified, devastated, and broken, but there was also some relief. She was obviously relieved she didn't have to go into the games, maybe a little bit pleased, and I couldn't blame her of course. She didn't have to go through it all again, she didn't have to witness the pain and the suffering the arena caused once more, but she also couldn't affect anything that happened from here on out. She couldn't be the one to die.
"I also said that I was going to break that promise." I pointed out. Molly sighed, leaning back on the couch.
"Stubborn as usual." She decided. I sighed, feeling my head start to hurt with the realization. I was going back into the arena, to fight more skilled fighters, in a new arena, with John. And I knew, that no matter how hard I tried or how much I fought, both of us couldn't come out. No matter how this game ends, my first relationship is going to end with blood. I messaged my temples and stared at the floor, not wanting any of them to see how broken I was feeling at the moment. Why didn't I just let it happen, my name wasn't called, if I hadn't volunteered I wouldn't be going in at all... No, of course I had to go. I had to let myself die, I had to be the coward, I had to give my life so that Molly and John would live the rest of their life. Even if it was full of tears and suffering, at least they'd be alive. I couldn't live with myself if I knew John had died because of me, and I was determined that I wouldn't have to.
"I'm going to my room." I decided. No one protested, but I could feel their silent disapproval as I got to my feet. Obviously they wanted to grieve as a family, they wanted to talk it out and drink hot chocolate, but that just wasn't going to happen.