Announcing the Quarter Quell
District 5
Sherlock Holmes
Silent tears streamed down the young man's face, though they were quickly wiped away by the ever present blue scarf that he'd grown accustomed to wearing. The bullies almost never got to him, but today was different. Today they had resorted on picking on him in an effort to forget, but of course it was useless. It didn't matter how much they wanted to deny it. Today President Snow would announce her addition to the Hunger Games, for today was the announcing of the Quarter Quell. The second Quarter Quell since the *Mockingjay Rebellion.
The boy silently left his house, his pace quickening when he reaches the empty street. His destination is The Prancing Pony. A place where he would be undisturbed by the citizens of District 5. As he approaches the rundown place, his fingers traveled through his hair, getting caught in the brown curls. He went forward, and nearly bumped into a short, fat man with a bald head and a red face. He wore a white apron, and was carrying a tray filled with empty mugs.
"Can I-," the boy started, before getting interrupted by the man.
"Aren't you a little young to be here?," he asks.
The boy looks into the face of the man, glaring.
Suddenly the man's face lights up from recognition. He whispers quietly, "Right this way Mr. Holmes."
"Sherlock. Mr. Holmes is a name dubbed for my dad or Mycroft."
"Of course."
The man lead Sherlock to a table in the corner, away from the crowd. As he sat down, he quickly ordered a hot chocolate, knowing that even with his family's name there would be no way a 15 year old would be served alcohol.
As he waited patiently for his hot chocolate, he noticed that a strange-looking man, sitting in the shadows on the other side, was staring at him. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched Sherlock.
When the innkeeper gives him his drink, he asks who he is.
"That's Strider. He comes and goes as he choses. Nobody really knows where he's from." With that the innkeeper walked away, serving more tables.
Grabbing the coco, Sherlock walks over to the man, sitting down before him.
"So what is someone like you doing over here?" Sherlock asks, already guessing who the man is.
"What do you mean a man like me?" the man asks, his voice full of humor.
"Well it's pretty obvious. I mean you practically scream it. The knot at your cloak screams that you're from higher born, or that you were used to the life of a rich man. Now I've met most of the richest people in the district because of who my father is, yet I don't recall ever seeing you. The victors of District 5 are well known for being social, except of course the one who has the reputation of being able to blend with the shadows. Thats actually how he won his games. Which leads me to my conclusion, you're Aragorn Gondor."
Aragorn frowned slightly, but then his face widened in a grin.
"Not many people can determine who someone is by their knot," he says after a short while.
"Not many people are like me," Sherlock replies curtly.
Before Aragorn could say anything, the sound of the anthem of Panem suddenly went off. Both Aragorn and Sherlock turned their attention toward the T.V. to the side of the pub. The other members of the inn were momentarily shocked by the sudden change, as most were enjoying the sports game. Their expressions slowly changed to sadness as they realised what was about to happen.
On the T.V, the young President Snow started to relay the reason for the Hunger Games, and later the Quarter Quell. Her chocolate brown hair was pulled into a perfect bun. She wore a suit that complimented her figure. Though most hated her, none could say that she was not beautiful. Sherlock noted that she wore a ring on her right hand, something he had never seen before tonight. On screen, a young man walked forward, carrying a platter. Atop the platter lay the envelope that would tell the rest of Panem what new addition would be added to the games. As she picked the envelope up, the room became stiff with anticipation.
"For the 5th annual Quarter Quell, the tributes shall be reaped from the same boal. This is to show that neither man nor women were spared in the Dark Days, and later in the Mockingjay Rebellion," President Snow announced, before turning back and off screen.
"Well thats an interesting addition to the games, isn't it my lad," Aragorn laughed, though it was strained.
"She's lying."
"Excuse me," Aragorn said. His face wore a small frown.
"She's lying. The actual letter was reflected on her glasses. The letter was blank." With that the young boy left the inn, leaving Aragorn shocked and wide eyed.
Well I'm glad you guys made it to Chapter 1. Thank you so much for trying out my fanfic. Next up we have the reapings. I'll be doing them a little differently than most though. Instead of having the story in one POV, it will be in multiple. In other words, you get to go into the lives of each one of my tributes. Also don't hesitate to review because I need all the help I can get. :)
*The Mockingjay Rebellion is what the rebellion led by Katniss is known by. We're going to assume that they lost, and that the games continued since then. The president in this fanfic is the original President Snow's Grandaughter. I decided that he died in the battle, which is canon.