When Luck Runs Out

Target Practice on the Misshapen

"Any luck?" John asked, closing the door rather forcefully.
"A little bit, we found beef jerky." Jeanette pointed out, holding up a little bag of dried meat.
"Jerky!" Greg said overenthusiastically, taking a ravenous bite out of the strip of meat he was eating.
"Yay. We found some sad looking peanuts." John muttered, holding the container up for them to see.
"Sad looking..." I said in a depressed sort of tone.
"No problem. This is supposed to be a blood bath of gore, but we've got some luxury up here, it really isn't that bad." Jeanette decided, kicking her legs up on the charred coffee table as if that proved her point even more.
"It's the games; anything could happen at any time, always be ready to run." John insisted, dumping the container on the counter and sitting on the floor against the window. I joined him, curling up in a little ball and leaning against his shoulder.
"So, you two are like, married or something?" Jeanette asked.
"Married?" John laughed.
"We're not even twenty yet." I pointed out.
"Oh, well, I just thought, since you're in the games and all..." she shrugged, not looking too upset for miscalculating.
"We'll get out, it'll be fine." John insisted.
"It'll be fine." I repeated. Jeanette and Greg gave exchanged looks, and I knew what they were thinking. They knew it wouldn't be fine, but neither had the courage to ruin our positive moods. Of course I knew they were right, it wasn't like the both of us would get out, but while we're here, we better make the most of it.
"How about you two, relationships?" John asked.
"God no!" Jeanette insisted, scooting as far away from Greg as she could get.
"Not together! Just, you know, with someone else." John assured, getting kind of red.
"I'm a loner. But that's key, because then Snow doesn't have anyone to threaten when I call him a TYRANICAL BLEACHED SLAB OF MEAT!" Jeanette screamed, making the three of us jump.
"Oh, well, that's nice." I muttered, looking around like a peacekeeper was going to jump out and shoot her in the skull. Jeanette, seeming pleased with herself, settled back down in her seat and smiled.
"I don't have a girlfriend." Greg decided, still looking at Jeanette as if she were going to suddenly burst into flames. We were silent for a little while, I took John's hand and was running my fingers over his fingernails for some reason, something to do when I was bored I suppose. John was just laughing at me, as if I were the most adorable person he had ever seen.
"So, what now?" Greg asked.
"I'm not sure. I've never been in a games when I got bored." John admitted, turning his head madly to see out the window.
"I feel like something is going to go terribly wrong." Jeanette decided.
"Well, we're almost out of water, but we've still got that juice box we found." I pointed out.
"Last resort." John insisted.
"Fair enough." Greg decided.
"So, find water?" I asked.
"Nah, it's getting too dark out, we'll be sitting ducks out there." Greg insisted. I sighed, my eyes wandering over to the pile of weapons.
"You don't happen to have a spear over there, do you?" I asked.
"Sorry kid, no luck." Greg shrugged.
"I'm not a kid." I insisted.
"To me you are, how old are you, eighteen?" he asked.
"Maybe nineteen, I lost count." I admitted.
"That's depressing." Jeanette decided.
"Well, when you get to be my age, you look back at you youngsters and you..."
"Greg you're only twenty six!" Jeanette insisted, slapping him with a moldy pillow.
"I was seven years old when you were born!" Greg insisted.
"And I've got a boyfriend before you do." I pointed out.
"Sorry mate, but I'm not really in the market for a boyfriend." Greg insisted.
"Oh, ya sorry." I muttered.
"What, forgot everyone wasn't gay?" Jeanette asked with a laugh.
"I forgot to use the right gender, shut up!" I insisted.
"Show some respect there, we made a deal but deals break if you're being obnoxious." Greg insisted.
"You won't give him so much as a bruise!" John threatened, pulling me closer in a protective bear hug.
"Chill out lover boy, I was kidding. So, you know how to use a dagger Sherlock?" Greg asked, getting to his feet and picking up a shining silver knife from the table.
"Not really. John can though, he's brilliant at it." I pointed out. John sighed, blushing a little bit.
"Got yourself a ten with that, not bad Johnny, not bad at all." Greg said with a smile.
"We tied." John agreed.
"Jeanette, carve a person shape on the wall." Greg decided, tossing Jeanette a knife, which she caught by the handle easily and proceeded to carve into the wall.
"You two are quite a good team." John decided as he watched Jeanette carve, paint chips and plaster spraying everywhere.
"Well, we've been partners for years, I was a tribute when I was about seventeen, and she was my mentor." Greg shrugged.
"We've been together a year and a day." I said happily, squeezing John's hand.
"Power couple over there." Jeannette called, combing out a piece of wall from her hair with her fingers.
"So, we've got swords, knives, and this snazzy bow and arrow." Greg said happily, holding the magnificent weapon up and gazing at it.
"Can you shoot it?" I asked.
"Never really tried." He admitted.
"I feel like you'd be good at that Sherlock." John decided.
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
"It's an elegant weapon, and you're a very elegant person. And all that violin playing must pay off somewhere, right?" John insisted.
"You think I'll be good at shooting a bow because I play the violin?" I asked with a laugh.
"Yes, yes I do." John agreed, smiling proudly up at me.
"I guess I'll try." I sighed.
"That a boy!" Greg said happily, handing me the bow and a couple of arrows. I held it nervously, practicing holding it in my hand and knocking an arrow. Jeanette's violent piece of art was finished, and there was a very crudely drawn man on the wall, one arm significantly larger than the other and his head very misshapen.
"You have a basic idea of what to do, right?" John asked nervously as I took aim. All three of them were doing their very best to stay as close to the opposite wall as possible, as if somehow I'd manage to shoot it behind me. Actually, knowing my skill, I wouldn't be shocked if it did.
"I've seen other people shoot it." I shrugged.
"We're dead." Greg muttered.
"I heard that." I pointed out, taking a deep breath.
"I'd be worried if you hadn't; it wasn't exactly quiet was it?" Greg pointed out.
"Shush, he's trying to concentrate." John insisted. I aimed the arrow right at the carved man's head, taking a deep breath, aiming, and releasing the arrow. It shot out like a rocket, flying towards the man, and hitting right above his left shoulder.
"Not bad! I mean, if that was a real attacker you'd be dead, but still, not bad at all." Jeanette decided. I shrugged, blushing considerably, but handing the bow to Greg.
"You take a go Jeanette." He insisted, handing it to Jeanette.
"Certainly." She agreed, and in a flash knocked an arrow and fired before I could even blink. It hit the man right in the middle of the forehead, and two more joined it before she lowered the weapon.
"Well I know who gets the bow!" John exclaimed.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked, amazed.
"I've been a victor a while, you learn stuff." She shrugged, putting the bow on the table and blushing with pride.
"Alright then, how about knives, Sherlock?" Greg handed me a dagger, and I took it very apprehensively.
"Oh, this ought to be good." Jeanette muttered, but it was followed by a short squeak of pain, so I could only hope John had punched her. I stood firm, and threw the knife. It actually hit the guy; right on the line of his left thigh, but that would've been enough to slow him down, right?
"Better than the bow." Greg decided.
"Good job Sherlock." John said with a smile, but I just scowled, receiving my pathetic dagger.
"I'm dead if I have to fight someone." I groaned.
"Not if you have a spear." John insisted, patting me on the back like a proud father. I sighed heavily, but as I watched both Greg, Jeanette, and John throw their knives straight into the head and chest of our man, I knew that if I even had to defend John I'd probably kill him on accident. I was the most rubbish fighter ever; I bet Mrs. Hudson could beat me in a sword fight. When the knives were over Greg taught John and I some basic stabs and jabs with a dagger, and I was able to jam a pretty good hole into the wall, so I guess that wasn't the worst. John, who seemed to notice I was upset, took my hand as soon as we put our daggers down.
"Hey, you did fine Sherlock." He assured, interlocking our fingers one by one.
"You don't have to lie to me." I insisted.
"I'm not." John assured.
"Peanut butter bread for dinner?" Greg asked hopefully.
"I suppose so." John agreed.
"Nothing else to eat around here." I pointed out.
"I'll make it." John decided.
"I'll help." Jeanette decided. I opened my mouth to volunteer, but Greg just shook his head at me.
"Not worth it, there's two already at it." he assured.
"Should we go try to find water?" I asked.
"Maybe there might still be some in the taps, trapped in there for when they turned off the power." Greg decided.
"I doubt it, this never really was an operational city, remember?" I asked.
"Oh, ya." Greg muttered. "Well then, some time off." he sunk into the couch with a happy sigh, twirling a knife between his fingers as he waited. I sat on the couch as well, but I left my space just in case the knife went rouge or something.
"So, how are you on this lovely evening Sherlock?" Greg asked. I looked at him weird, but he seemed to be serious.
"Fine." I lied.
"It seems like yesterday you weren't talking to me in the lobby, and now you're not talking to me on the couch. They grow up so fast." Greg said with a laugh.
"I'm not really in the talking mood." I insisted.
"I understand." He assured, and was silent for a good ten seconds. That was probably his record though.
"So, if you want Jeanette and I to clear out of here tonight, we're more than happy to, you know, give you two your privacy." Greg muttered, low enough so that John couldn't over hear. I'm pretty sure I glowed hotter than lava, but shook my head vigorously.
"No, no you can stay, certainly, we don't need... we don't..." I stuttered, feeling the heat radiate off me of embarrassment.
"I kind of thought not. You don't really seem the type." Greg decided.
"I'm not, I'm definitely not." I agreed. Greg just laughed, and patted my shoulder as if we had been friends for the longest time. I just edged a little bit farther away, not really a fan of people I barely knew touching me.
"Understandable, but if you need any pointers, if you parents haven't given you the talk yet, I'm you man." He insisted.
"No, no I'm fine, but, um, thanks?" I muttered, really wishing I could've gone and helped John and Jeanette make our makeshift dinner.
"You're so awkward Sherlock, you're hilarious." Greg decided.
"Well it's not like you're not making this conversation awkward." I insisted.
"It's a natural part of any relationship, it's what...." Greg started.
"Just stop talking! Stop talking please." I insisted, really wanting to make him shut up with a little knife to the throat. Maybe the others won't notice if he's dead.
"Alright, alright, I'll quit it." he agreed.
"Thank you." I agreed.
"So, who's watching at home?" he asked.
"My family, I hope." I muttered with a nervous little laugh.
"Got any siblings?" Greg asked.
"Brother, Mycroft. Though I like to pretend I'm an only child, so I'm not guilty for insulting him all day." I shrugged.
"Never feel bad for insulting your siblings, they're asking for it." Greg assured.
"You've got a sibling?" I asked.
"I did, ya." Greg sighed.
"What happened?" I asked.
"He was an electrician, there was a mishap in one of the factories, and, well, it fixed itself, when the exposed wires were in his hands. Deep fried, extra crispy." Greg muttered.
"That's horrible, I'm sorry." I muttered.
"Ya well, I was too young to really remember it, so it's not too bad." He shrugged, and I nodded.
"My brother will probably fall over from a heart attack any day, with all that blubber he lugs around." I shrugged. Greg laughed, and I knew Mycroft was probably gasping at the insult right now. That might be the last thing he'll ever hear me say about him....good.
"Dinner!" John announced.
"Wow, I wonder what it is?" I muttered, getting up. "Peanut butter bread! How unique!" I exclaimed sarcastically.
"If you don't want it, go somewhere else. I heard there's a McDonald's right down the street. Ya, I think Jim and Moran are there already, go check it out, share a soda with them or something." Jeanette snapped. I ate my peanut butter bread with a frown on my face. I was fine with being sassed by Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and John, but from someone else, it was just rude. The rest of the evening I was in a sort of sour mood, not with the defeat, but also with all of the truth that was slowly creeping up on me. I had seen the look of hilarious disbelief in Greg and Jeanette's faces when we said that it would all be alright, they knew that eventually, even if all of us manage to make it to the end, we'd have to turn our blades on each other, and I was sure Greg would come out on top. But that was the best case scenario, more likely we'd all be skinned alive by Moriarty. There was simply no way I could get John out, I couldn't fight, I couldn't defend myself or him, and I was terrified of the other tributes. I was simply the most useless man in this arena, and I had the most important job.
"So, tomorrow we're on a water hunt I hope." Greg insisted, clearing his now raspy throat a little bit. We had decided to refrain from drinking the water unless absolutely necessary.
"Water would be nice, yes." John agreed.
"But, for now, I'm exhausted, a little bit of shut eye would be better." Jeanette insisted.
"Alright then, I'll take first watch, you all enjoy your sleep while you can." Greg decided.
"No, let me take watch, I'm not really tired, and, thanks to Sherlock's selflessness, I had gotten a full night of sleep last night." John assured. I knew what he was doing though; he wanted to make sure Greg wasn't going to get any funny ideas, like killing us all as we slept.
"What, you don't trust me?" Greg asked with a laugh, as if the idea of us not trusting him was preposterous.
"Not fully." John sighed.
"Alright then, we'll have a member of each party up per shift, to make sure no unnecessary brutality takes place." Greg decided, sitting down next to the window and gesturing for John to join him.
"I'll take a sleeping bag, Jeanette you can have the couch." I decided, grabbing a rolled up sleeping bag from the corner and spreading it out on the floor. I balled up my leather jacket for a very uncomfortable pillow; half hoping Jeanette would insist I get the couch. Instead she simply curled up happily, pulling the blanket over top of her and blowing out the single candle that shed light on the room.
"Why don't you all sleep in the bed?" Greg asked.
"If you want to sleep in that mold, be our guest." I insisted, turning so that I didn't face them directly, and put down my head in an attempt to fall asleep, at least until they woke me up for my shift.