Hi, so this is my first fic ever, so please review and tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, The Hunger Games, or anything else that will be in this story.
John was ticked. Well, he usually was when he around Sherlock, but this time it was because he wasn't. He was before. He remembered because they didn't have a case tonight, so Sherlock was watching the telly. When Sherlock watched the telly, well, it's most certainly memorable. John was updating his blog, writing about the case they solved in the morning and Sherlock yelling was certainly not helping. He was about to tell Sherlock to shut up when everything went dark.
John then had the strangest sensation, as if he were being sucked into a vacuum. He tried to call out to Sherlock, but to no avail. Then the air around him started to shimmer with a million different lights that started to circle around him. They went faster and faster which made John dizzy, so he tried to sit down, but he was floating in midair! All the lights began to merge together and everything was so fast and bright and John couldn't remember what happened until WHUMP he landed on his backside in a room.
The room itself was brightly lit, white and pristine looking. It was small, and had no furnishings, not even a chair. John was extremely confused. He wasn't sure who Sherlock had pissed off and what they had done. But he did know that for the time being, he was a captive.
While John was lost in his thoughts, a woman appeared. He wasn't paying attention, so he wasn't sure how she got in, but he told himself to watch her as she left. He needed to find a way out of his little cell and there didn't appear to be a door.
"Hello John." The woman said warmly. John warily eyed her from head to toe. She was very professional looking. She had on a white blouse and a white skirt. Her plain brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she glasses perched on her nose. She had her hands clasped behind her back.
"Um, Hullo." John hesitantly replied.
The woman smiled at him. "I am Kylie and I will be your guide for the duration of the time before you begin."
"Begin what?" John asked angrily. He was tired of the games. He just wanted to go back to his flat.
"Well, the games of course. The Hunger Games." Kylie replied.
"Never heard of them." John said, "Now if you don't return me to my flat right now -"
"Oh, don't be silly." Kylie cut in. "You'll get to go back there. If you survive."
"SURVIVE!" John cried. "What do you mean survive?"
Kylie's phone then proceeded to emit a beeping noise. She checked it then informed John "Oh, you'll learn soon enough. Just follow me."
John sighed, deciding it was his best chance of escape, and resigned himself to obeying Kylie. She turned and the image of a door formed in one of the blindingly white walls. It slid open and the two walked out into a long hallway lined with doors. Sure enough, it was also a pristine white. As they proceeded to walk down the hallway some of the other doors opened and people John didn't recognize exited and followed him down the hall. He asked Kylie if Sherlock was here and replied, saying that he was, and that John would see him soon.
When they arrived to their destination, the apparent prisoners sat at tables with their guides. John soon realized that, like him, they were all victims of abduction – or whatever happened to him was called. Some people recognized each other and called out, running towards their companions and embracing. He saw Lestrade and Moriarty, who seemed to be chatting, and was about to go over and ask what the heck had happened, but got distracted by the doors bursting open. Right then, John knew that Sherlock had entered. He always went for the dramatic entrance. That was Sherlock, and something that John had always found amusing, and a bit annoying. With Sherlock, he was always conflicted about being amused or annoyed.
When Sherlock saw John, he started walking faster, taking long strides. He reached John and he did his little Sherlock thing, analyzing if he'd been hurt and God – no sorry, Sherlock, - knows what.
He was about to ask Sherlock what happened and how he got here and what the Hunger games were when the lights dimmed and a fellow came onto a raised platform with a podium in the center. He was dressed in a violent shade of orange, his hair down to his shoes –even his eyebrows were dyed!
The orange man began to speak, "Hello folks, I'm Ceasar Flickerman, and I'll be your host for the 300th Hunger Games!"
"What are they?" Someone from the audience cried.
Ceasar laughed, "Well, as indicated in the title, they're games, well, just one game really. What happens is we put you in an arena, where you all fight to the death. Won't that be fun?" He responded sickly cheerful about their imminent doom.
John had had enough. "No. It won't be. You expect not only to actually compete in these stupid games of yours, but to enjoy them too? What kind of idiot are you? Who would actually want to do that? I'm sure not one person would like to be here. Just take us home. We won't compete in your silly games." The others in the audience shouted their agreement.
Ceasars smile turned dark. "Well," he said, "if you won't compete, then you will die here, painfully and alone, and never see your homes again. But if you compete, then there's a chance of you going home."
John huffed. "That's stupid. Why not leave us alone? What did we do to you?"
"We brought you together because you are all the best fighters and survivors in history. And we always want an interesting show." Ceasar replied with an awful grin on his face. "You will rest tonight then tomorrow. . . Let the Games begin."