When Luck Runs Out

Greying's Anatomy

When I woke up I only saw white. At first, to my horror, I thought I was back in the President's manor, but when I blinked I noticed that I was just staring directly at a light bulb above me on the white ceiling. There was a terrible pain on my chin and arm, as if I had been punched or something. My head was swimming, but I didn't feel the need to attack anything, the boy was gone, the door sealed. But still, I had a massive headache, like a bad hangover. I tried to sit up but realized I was chained to the bed, both arms and legs tied with handcuffs as if I were going to wake up and start attacking everyone. Then again, it was likely.
"Sherlock! Oh thank god!" John said happily. I looked around, but he wasn't in the room. The three of them were all sitting outside a large sheet of thick glass, I could only hear John's voice through some sort of intercom system in the walls.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Medical wing of the Tribute Center." John muttered. "Guys, he's up!" Molly and Mrs. Hudson were both asleep, Mrs. Hudson was propping her head on her hands, and Molly was using Mrs. Hudson's shoulder as a makeshift pillow. But both of them woke suddenly when John announced my awakening, rushing over to the glass to observe.
"Why the heck am I tied to the bed?" I asked, reaching my hand to show them the chain that hung from my wrist.
"We insisted that it wasn't necessary, but the man insisted. He thought you might be violent still." Molly shrugged. I realized that they had had changed my clothes (shudder) from the king outfit to a thin white hospital gown.
"I'm fine, just let me go." I insisted.
"Sorry, you're not allowed out until the morning, doctor's orders." Mrs. Hudson shrugged. I groaned, obviously this stupid doctor wasn't used to drugs. Someone had knocked me out, that must have been a drug, so it worked, didn't it?
"God, what did I do?" I asked.
"Well, you dove into a crowd of pedestrians and started screaming." John shrugged.
"Then you were restrained and sedated." Molly added.
"Then they carried you back here." Mrs. Hudson finished.
"Brilliant. That will make the morning news." I groaned.
"Actually, it already has. Twitter video, trending." Molly pointed out. I groaned. Social media seems to destroy my life.
"You're okay now though, right?" John asked.
"I'm fine, a little bit sore, cloudy, but fine." I sighed.
"You scared me there; I thought I'd get another knock to the teeth." John pointed out.
"No, I did this time." I pointed out; wanting to see the cut on my chin to make sure it wasn't too bad.
"It's just a little cut, no stitches needed." John assured. I sighed with relief; at least I wouldn't presently ruin my dashing good looks. But then again, I probably wouldn't have them in a week.
"Sherlock why did you go after them, what did you see?" Molly asked.
"I saw him, I saw that boy, the one I killed, he was in the crowd, laughing at me. I thought that if I could kill him he'd go away forever. Well now look at me." I sighed. It was extremely difficult to have a conversation with your limbs chained down, I could only strain my neck to look at them, and that was really starting to hurt.
"Now that wasn't that good of an idea, was it?" Mrs. Hudson pointed out, and I just smiled sarcastically at her.
"No, it really wasn't." I admitted.
"Another withdrawal?" Molly asked.
"One of the worst ones, yes. The others i was just flashing back, today he was there, he was...here...I can't describe it." I groaned.
"You just did." John pointed out.
"I would strangle you if I could move my hands." I decided, flopping my head back on the pillow so they could see I was giving up on conversation.
"So, I guess we'll leave you to rest then." Molly decided.
"Wait a second, you'll leave me here? What if someone comes and tries to kill me?" I pointed out.
"Why would they want to do that?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"I don't know." I snapped, exasperated.
"I'll stay." John decided.
"No!" the three of us said at once, making John step back in fear.
"John you have training tomorrow, you'll need all the sleep you can get." Mrs. Hudson insisted.
"I can do whatever I bloody want, and I want to stay here with Sherlock." John insisted.
"But you won't get a wink of sleep." Molly insisted.
"This couch is comfortable enough, it'll be fine." John assured. "Besides, if Sherlock goes rouge again..."
"Hey!" I protested.
"...He'll need someone to watch over him." John finished.
"I won't go rouge." I muttered. Molly sighed, but she knew that once John had made up his mind there was no arguing.
"Promise me you'll sleep." She insisted.
"There's not much else I can do. That do is locked tight and the only way I can talk to him is through microphones." John pointed out.
"Come on Molly, you need sleep too." Mrs. Hudson decided, grabbing her purse and stuffing some crumpled tissues in it. Obviously there had been more tears shed.
"Alright, you watch over him okay?" Molly insisted.
"We'll be fine. Thank you." John added.
"Bye Sherlock, you feel better now!" Mrs. Hudson called. I nodded, waving the best I could to them as they walked off.
"Well, if you need me, I'll be asleep." John decided, curling up on the couch.
"Did I hurt anyone?" I asked suddenly.
"Yourself." John shrugged.
"So no one important." I decided.
"Don't say that Sherlock, you're very important." John insisted.
"Only to the viewers who want to watch me die." I shrugged.
"I'm sure a lot are rooting for you." John decided.
"Not after what I just did there. Now they'll think I'm unstable." I pointed out.
"Well, you are unstable, there's no denying that." John insisted.
"Thanks for putting it lightly." I muttered.
"You scared me to death Sherlock; I didn't know what they were going to do to you. The peacekeepers who arrested you were talking about putting you in jail. But Molly straightened everything up, saying you were a recovering drug addict." John shrugged.
"Addict?" I exclaimed. That was a very harsh word for trying to calm your mind with a little bit of manmade magic.
"You know what I mean." John sighed.
"Maybe I am a little bit of an addict." I admitted.
"At least you admit it." John sighed.
"Did I scare you?" I asked nervously.
"I didn't know what to think." John admitted. I sighed, knowing that was the polite answer for yes.
"I don't want to scare you John, you really don't deserve it. I really don't deserve you." I muttered.
"Don't be so modest Sherlock. If it weren't for you, I doubt I'd even be here right now." John insisted.
"What exactly did I do for you?" I asked.
"You were my mentor." John pointed out.
"Nothing I told you had any affect." I protested.
"That's a lie. Without your arena guesses I wouldn't have known how to find shelter, food, or water in a volcanic region. I wouldn't have known not to start a fire at night, or to follow water downhill, or to run away from the cornucopia." John pointed out.
"That's all self-explanatory." I muttered.
"You also gave me the will to live." John decided.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked.
"I knew that I had to get out of that arena because you were waiting for me. You had done so much to help me live, and then finally you confessed, and the world just seemed so much more welcoming. Death simply wasn't an option anymore." John decided. I smiled, even though he couldn't see from where he was lying.
"That's heartwarming." I decided.
"What motivated you?" John asked.
"Nothing really." I shrugged. "I took opportunities and I took them, I did what I could to survive, but there really wasn't anything I would come back to. It was only life; it just would've ended earlier for me."
"Well now we both have something to live for." John decided.
"And one of our somethings is going to have to die." I agreed.
"Please let it be me." John insisted.
"No chance." I decided.
"Sherlock you have so much potential." John insisted.
"And you don't?" I asked.
"You're a genius. You can go off to change the world completely, and I know how much you've been..." John started, but I shushed him.
"I know what you mean, but not here, okay?" I asked.
"Okay, good idea." John agreed, looking around to make sure there were no cameras anywhere.
"There's nothing I can be anymore John, the games ruined that. I'm not known for my brain, I can't make an honest living anymore, I'm not Sherlock Holmes, I'm the Victor that lost it all. And if my games and that stupid picture don't ruin my reputation, that video will." I decided.
"Well it's not like I can do anything either." John muttered.
"You're smart too, and better yet you're emotionally stable." I pointed out.
"That does look good on a job application." John laughed.
"You know that I have to die, right?" I asked.
"We decided that I was going to die." John pointed out.
"No, you decided that." I insisted.
"Well, still, you were there when I did." John shrugged.
"You should never have volunteered." I muttered.
"What, and let Molly go in there? Not a chance." John insisted.
"She could handle herself, you know that. I don't think that's the reason you did it though." I pointed out. John sighed, as if he had been officially caught red handed.
"I couldn't let you go in alone." He admitted.
"I wasn't going to be alone, I would've had Molly." I pointed out.
"That's not what I mean. You don't talk to Molly, you won't have these heart filled conversations that we have together, you won't let her get near you and you won't let her in. If you went into the games with Molly you'd be dead before you started. You'll need me, you'll need someone to talk to, to cuddle with during the night, to fight off the physical and mental dangers those games hold. I have a feeling that once you step off of that platform you'll dive even farther down into the depths of your mind. There are probably things, terrors, that you won't even remember until you see the arena again, feel the fear and the pressure of everything alive wanting to kill you." John decided.
"You think that I'm going to die internally?" I asked.
"Not with me you won't. I won't allow it." John insisted.
"That's deep." I decided.
"Well, now we need some sleep, if you can. Molly will kill me if we look like zombies tomorrow for training." John decided.
"I swear to god, the moment Greg says one word he better hope I'm not near the swords." I decided. John just laughed.
"Good night Sherlock." He laughed.
"Good night John." I agreed. 

    You'd find it's very difficult to fall asleep when you can't move any of your limbs, especially if you're in an unknown hospital quarantine room in an uncomfortable bed wearing a dress. Needless to say, when I woke up it was a shock. Thankfully though, I woke up a free man, since the doctor was uncuffing me as my eyes opened.
"I was wondering when you'd wake." He said with a smile, fiddling with the cuff around my right ankle. Both my hands were freed, red marks stretching across both my wrists.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Nearly seven in the morning." he said, checking a little watch. He was the stereotypical doctor, near graying hair, white teeth much straighter than I was, and a white lab coat over a button down shirt. I had a good three hours to get ready for training, which was plenty of time.
"Where's John?" I asked, looking over and seeing the couch empty.
"He went up for breakfast, I just have to do a couple of more tests to make sure you're alright." The doctor insisted.
"Is that really necessary?" I asked, sitting up as the last cuff fell free and circling all of my limbs around, enjoying the freedom it provided.
"We need to make sure you're healthy." He insisted, pulling out a needle from a little rolling cart. I flinched, I hated needles.
"So that I'm all fine and dandy when I get butchered?" I asked.
"Something like that, yes." He agreed, wiping off my forearm with a little bit of disinfectant.
"How do I know you're really a doctor, and not some assassin, huh?" I asked, trying to stall the best I could.
"You don't. But I suppose, for now, there's nothing you can do." He shrugged.
"I doubt that." I insisted, but I didn't make any move to attack him or defend myself. In fact, if he wanted to kill me, he would've done it by now. And he probably wouldn't have freed me.
"Alright, hold still." He decided, sticking the needle into my arm. I jumped a little bit, clutching onto the edge of the metal bed and wincing as the blood was sucked into the little needle. Freaking doctors.
"Okie dokie, you're good to go now." He decided. No assassin said okie dokie. So I jumped off my bed, looking around for my clothes since I was still wearing this stupid hospital gown.
"They're upstairs." He pointed out. "Your escort took them."
"Oh, so you're a mind reader now too?" I snapped.
"Just a doctor." He shrugged. I didn't even respond, I just walked barefoot out of the door and down the hallway. It wasn't too hard to find an elevator, it turned out we were below the tribute center, so I just rode it all the way up to floor twelve, happy I didn't have to walk all the way through the lobby in this thin dress thing. The moment the elevator opened I was expecting some large parade or something, or at least someone to be at the door giving me proper clothing. In reality there was no one in the living room, or the dining room, breakfast wasn't even out. I guess doctors get up a lot earlier than anyone else does. So I went into my room, happy to find it empty, and changed into the training outfit I found on my bed. It was tight black leather, with red hemming and a red number twelve in the corner. It was exactly the same as I remembered it. I took a shower, feeling gross and smelling like disinfectant, and then put on the outfit, which was very tight and constricting compared to the thin hospital gown I had been wearing. I looked in the mirror, staring at myself, my hair still dripping wet and my training outfit on. I looked so different from the first time I wore this, so much bigger, more mature, and more damage. Back then I was scared, uncertain, certain I was going to die. Now I was terrified, conflicted, and definite that if I didn't die the only person I truly loved would. Two years ago I had thought I had the worst luck in the world, but little did I know the worst was yet to come. I dried my hair and brushed out the rebellious curls, and then, with one last look in the mirror, went down to breakfast. There was still no one out there, obviously John had come back and they were all sleeping in a little bit, so I sat on the couch and turned on the TV.