okay, I've started going off book now! Sherlock knows a lot more than he lets on but, as always, John is loyal. Hope you enjoy!
After the Tribute Parade, John Watson flopped down on the large, plush four-poster bed in his designated room. He was entirely exhausted- he had just been set on fire. He turned on the large, wall-size TV in his room, and flipped to a channel that showed a forest, like the one he used to hunt in just outside district twelve.
He smiled when he heard the sound of the birds, and other small animals that inhabited forests. It made him feel at home, at least for a little while, and he soon found himself drifting off to sleep.
When he awoke, he rushed through breakfast before making his way to the training rooms with Mike. All the tributes stood in a large group while an instructor laid down rules and guidelines. As John looked around, he felt a jolt through his body when he remembered that in a few days, they would all be enemies. When John met his end, it would be at the hands of someone in that room. The thought was cold and it hurt, so John swallowed it down just as the instruct it's speech ended. He then tried to decide which station would best suit him.
He would have loved to go to the archery station; it had been too long since he'd felt the hard wood of a bow in his hand. Mycroft, however, had told John to stay away from the bows, at least until his one-on-one. John knew he was right, he didn't want anyone to know his strengths until they had to, or else they could defend against it.
John saw Sherlock puttering around at the camouflage station, and decided to join him. Sherlock didn't look up when John approached, he seemed absorbed in drawing on the back of his hand. "John, this is Molly Hooper. She's the other tribute from my district." Sherlock spoke as his brush continued to draw a pattern in his skin.
"Hello," said Molly, and John recognized her as the plain girl with copper hair who stood beside Sherlock at the parade. John smiled at her and shook her outstretched hand, which was covered in colored paint. "Oops, I've smudged it. I'll have to start again, Sherlock."
Sherlock groaned in anguish but nodded. As John watched Molly wipe off and reapply the paint, he couldn't help but notice the pattern.
"You've drawn a DNA double helix... On your hand. What's that got to do with camouflage?" John asked, after noticing that Sherlock had painted the same on his own hand. Sherlock finally looked up at John and raised a single brow.
"Yes," his voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "How does someone from district twelve know about DNA?" His eyes searched John, roaming all over his body, and John couldn't help but feel that Sherlock was learning everything about him with a single stare.
"My mum taught me. My grandmother taught her. Before the Dark Days, my great, great grandmother was from district three, back when we had doctors and scientists. She moved to district twelve, but she taught her family everything she knew. Why do you know about it? Your industry is grain."
Sherlock smiled at him, a bright grin, and chuckled darkly. "That's not important. Molly, I think I'm done here." He glanced down at the drawing on her hand and grimaced. "You'll need to try again, you've messed up a few of the bonds. Come along, John. Let's go to that station." He pointed to the edible plants station.
The station was empty, apparently the other tributes thought their time was better spent in knife-throwing or archery. Even the instructor seemed to have buggered off somewhere. Sherlock sat down in the middle of a small hologram forest and started flipping through pages in a book. With every page flipped, the small snippet of forest changed, so as to show where best to find every plant. John sat opposite him on the floor.
John decided now was as good a time as any to try and get to know the curly-headed boy. "How did you know all that stuff about me yesterday?"
Sherlock smirked and put down the book, after finding a page that seemed to conjure up the thickest fake forest around them. "I didn't know, I saw. But that's not important right now. We'll have more time to actually talk in the arena. I reckon we only have a few more minutes of solitude before we're found and I have a much more pressing matter to discuss with you."
John waited anxiously, but Sherlock simply stared at him. "Well? What's the pressing matter?"
"Right," Sherlock shook his head slightly, as though his concentration had been broken. "Has my brother said anything weird to you?"
"What?" John was confused, but Sherlock pressed his palms to either side of john's face.
"Think, John," he spoke quickly but quietly, his deep eyes boring into john's still ones. "Anything at all. Something out of place, that wouldn't have made any sense at all."
John closed his eyes and tried hard to remember every conversation he'd had with Mycroft. He replayed every one in his head.
"After the parade yesterday he said something about a jabberjay," John said nervously, unsure if that meant anything at all. Sherlock grinned though, and nodded for him to continue. "He said 'jabberjays like to play with fire, but sometimes they don't get burned. I've met eight or nine such birds.' I thought I was delusional from exhaustion."
"Brilliant!" Sherlock jumped onto his feet and John scrambled to do the same. "You're amazing, John."
John smiled, he wasn't told that very often. "I can't see you anymore at training," Sherlock continued and John felt his face fall. Sherlock noticed and put a hand on John's shoulder, ducking his head to meet his eyes. "It's dangerous. I need you to do one thing for me, John. When we enter the arena we have 30 seconds before we can step off our podiums. Find me. I need you to promise you'll find me and follow me. Can you promise me that?"
John shrugged. "How do you know I won't kill you?"
"I trust you," Sherlock said as he turned to leave their small forest. John opened his mouth to ask about the jabberjay nonsense, but Sherlock seemed to read his mind. He walked back to where John was standing and placed both his hands on either side of the smaller boy's face. "There's going to be a rebellion, John. I have a plan but I can't do it without you. I need you. Do you trust me?"
John Watson knew there was no earthly reason he should trust Sherlock Holmes. He knew that to win the games one of them had to die. But in that moment, with Sherlock's hands on his cheeks, he trusted him with every fibre of his being. "Yes."
Sherlock smiled and kissed him on the forehead. "Stay alive, and find me."
John watched Sherlock walk away, out of the forest, and back into the real world. John didn't know how he'd stay alive long enough to find Sherlock, but he knew he'd die trying.
Hope you liked, please review! The story will be much less based on the trilogy now, pretty much the only similarity will be the universe.
