Never one without some form of plan, Sherlock took a few steps back from the stage, waited until the attention had properly switched to John, and sprang into action. The odds may be against them, but Sherlock had a few tricks up his sleeve. He wanted his friend to make it home, no matter what.
He felt the collar of his shirt to make sure it was still there before going in to wish his friend luck. They weren't given long to say goodbye.
As the door was closing, Sherlock embraced John in an awkward hug. "They must think we're saying goodbye" he whispered into his short friends ear.
"Isn't that what we're?" John started to ask, confused.
"Yes but we're also trying to avoid it being a goodbye." Sherlock said, business-like. "We don't have time and I know you'll morally object to what I'm about to do, so hold still."
"Hold still for?" John said cautiously, but if he was expecting Sherlock to answer he was mistaken because just then the Holmes boy slapped him across the face, hard.
"For God's sake Sherlock!" he yelled, his hand flying to his ear. "What on earth was that for?"
"If it worked, you'll know in an hour. If not," Sherlock said, a hint of emotion just slightly in his voice, "best of luck, friend."
John didn't expect anyone else to visit him after Sherlock, his parents having left long ago to work at the capitol. He tells himself they would've taken him with them had they had the option, but in truth no one's quite sure. Now John's relatively thankful that his parents aren't around to mourn as he prepares for the games. The first time they'll see him is on the screen. Serves them right, he thinks to himself, an air of bitterness creeping in. But John isn't one to let bitterness get the better of him, and instead he grits his teeth. He's going to prove everyone wrong.
The door swung open again much to John's surprise, and in the doorway stood John's childhood friend, Molly. Molly and John had been good friends once, but as seems to always be the case between boy and girl friendships when puberty hits, they had had a bit of a falling out. Not in anger, but slowly, silently, perhaps more painfully. That's the way Molly saw it at least, if they had had an argument at least then she would know why her friend had stopped coming to play.
"Molly," John said, trying hard not to stare at his friend. The young girl with the pigtails he remembered playing with so seemingly long ago was gone, and in her place stood a beautiful young woman. "Molly, I'm so sorry…" John said, walking over and taking her hand.
"Don't be sorry, John. Anyone who knew anything about you two knew you would do it for him," she said.
"No, not that," John stammered. "I'm not sorry about that, well…I am of course, but…"
Molly looked at John intently, she could guess what he was trying to say, but knew he needed to say it for himself.
"I'm sorry I stopped coming to see you," he finally choked out.
"It's okay, John. For a long time I missed you…but I realized you must have more important things to do than visit a silly girl."
"Molly Hooper, you are many things." John said, a bit of his determination sliding back into his voice, "But don't you ever call yourself 'just a silly girl' the truth is I stopped coming 'round for two reasons, the first is I wondered if you still wanted to see me ; And the second, because there is someone else who longs for your attention more than I."
Molly was about to ask when John nodded.
"You know who I'm talking about. Keep him safe," he said hugging Molly and kissing her cheek.
"John, I know this is supposed to be a goodbye but…" Molly said, "Do try and win… for us?"