When Luck Runs Out

I (Don't) Like Trains

John ran in front of me, I couldn't see his face or anything really, but I could hear his footsteps, his deep breaths, his curses as he tripped over random rocks and roots. It was pitch darkness; I couldn't see anything except the dim outline of the trees in the thin moonlight. I didn't know where I was, what I was doing, or where I was going, I only knew John was in front of me and something very, very bad was behind me. So I kept running, opening up my stride but somehow not being able to gain any ground on John and his stubby little legs. My lungs burned, my legs felt like they were going to shrivel and fall off, and every nerve in my body told me to stop, to fight, to give in. If I somehow managed to kill our pursuer but go down fighting, John would be the Victor. Maybe I should just stop. That opportunity crept up much to fast though, when John suddenly stopped in front of me and I almost barreled right through him.
"What is it?" I insisted. John looked down, and I saw, stretching before us, a large, deep canyon. I could hear water moving at the bottom, but even in proper sunlight I doubt I'd be able to see it. The footsteps behind us increased, and I could tell our pursuer was gaining on us.
"Trick it into falling." I whispered. John nodded that he understood, his face shrouded in shadow. A small, thin, humanlike shape was sprinting its way towards us, and I knew that it had to be another tribute. This was some games, and this was us fighting for our lives. It was ten feet away, five, four, three, two, "Go!" I screamed, and John and I jumped to the side, letting the figure go straight to the cliff. But when it screamed it wasn't the manly grunt I expected, it wasn't the inhuman screech; it was small, terrified squeak, one that sounded oddly familiar.
"Molly!" I screamed as the figure went hurtling over the edge. John and I ran to edge to see her handing on for dear life on a small ledge, barely three inches overall, the ends of her manicured fingers just barely holding on.
"Molly hold on!" I screamed.
"How could you?" she hissed. I looked at John for support, but he looked just as mad as Molly did.
"How could you let someone else die for you Sherlock?" John repeated. I ignored them, still trying to grab for Molly's hand, which was still out of reach.
"Do you think you're a hero? Do you think we're just cowards, that we should die while you live in triumph?" Molly screamed.
"Do you want me to die Sherlock? Do you want to see me bleed..." John asked.
"Of course not." I muttered, giving up hope on Molly, who seemed to be perfectly fine. In fact, both of them seemed to be getting larger, or maybe I was just getting smaller....
"How about you take the plummet, we'll see how you like it." suddenly Molly was on the ground again, standing monstrously overtop of me with John, growling over me.
"Stop it..." I muttered, walking backwards, not believing that they would ever hurt me. But then again, this was a dream...
"Stop it!" I screamed as they started to get closer and closer.
"Time to know how it feels Sherlock, to know how it feels to die!" John screamed, and with one big lurch he made me scramble backwards. I only felt the edge, the pull of gravity only too strong, the loose gravel under my shoes give way....
"Sherlock!" John screamed. I opened my eyes and at first didn't know where in the world I was. It was all darkness, and for a moment I debated on whether or not I was back in my dream. In reality I was upside down, my legs hanging on the bed but my head and torso were flailing off of the edge. My pillow and all of the blankets were askew, and John was kneeling on the bed, looking timid about whether to pull me up or not.
"Oh god..." I muttered, letting the rest of me fall onto the floor and release my neck of all the pressure it was going through.
"So much for no dreams." John pointed out. I groaned, letting my head flop onto the carpet.
"What did I do?" I asked.
"Well, you were twitching, and then you started thrashing, and then you went over the bed. It was all kind of quick." John admitted.
"God, I hate nightmares." I muttered. "Did I hurt you?"
"You hurt my goodnight sleep, but that's about it." John shrugged. I groaned again, just so he knew how much I didn't want to be down here, awake.
"Were is my stupid morphine when I need it?" I groaned. Of course I knew where it was, under my bed, but John certainly didn't need to know that.
"Come on, get up." John insisted.
"I like it down here." I mumbled.
"Get up here you little prat." John demanded, giving me a helping hand which I avoided. I threw my pillow up and crawled to my feet, wobbling around on my feet for a little until I just flopped back into the destroyed bed.
"What was the dream about?" John asked.
"Some cavern, I fell off it." I muttered.
"Well, I guess I know why you took a nose dive then." John laughed. I didn't really want to add the part about us nearly killing Molly, or John and her rising against me, making me jump...
"You didn't have any dreams?" I asked unbelievingly.
"Nothing." He shrugged, but he looked like he was lying. It was almost impossible not to have nightmares anymore.
"Lucky." I muttered, burying my head in my pillow and staring up at the ceiling.
"I wish this never happened." I decided.
"What do you mean?" John asked, flopping down next to me and taking my hand.
"I mean I wish my name had never been called in the first place. I wish it were someone like Mycroft or those stupid school bullies, then they could get butchered and nothing in my life would change." I pointed out.
"We never would've met." John pointed out.
"Yes we would have. This isn't just chance John, this is destiny. We would've met, whether it be through school or just from running into each other in the street, love like this doesn't just happen." I pointed out.
"At least you're looking at the positives." John decided.
"For once." I agreed. John just laughed.
"Well, life would definitely be a lot better without all of this, but then again, so much that we have now wouldn't be if we hadn't been called. We wouldn't be together, we would've never met Molly, or Mrs. Hudson, or experienced this technology, or been to the Districts, or attended a Capital party." John pointed out.
"Well ya, I guess there are some positives, but still, I liked my life back then, no matter how poor, or bullied, or hopeless of a kid I was, it was still better than having nightmares every night. It's better, in my opinion, to never love at all, than to watch your love get murdered." I decided.
"Well that makes me feel very appreciated." John muttered.
"You know what I mean." I insisted, rolling over and trapping him in my arms and kissing his nose playfully.
"Of course I do, I'm just trying to be annoying." John agreed.
"Well, you're succeeding." I assured. John just laughed, snuggling into my chest and sighing deeply.
"Good night Sherlock." He decided.
"Good night John." I agreed.