John

After leaving the dining room, John found himself sitting on a couch squished between Clara and Sherlock staring at a TV. It was a nice TV, a hell of a lot bigger than the ones at home, which a much better picture. The replay of the reapings started and Clara grabbed onto his forearm, but John hardly noticed. He was thinking about Sherlock. He assumed he would be thinking about him anyway, after the conversation they had just had, but Sherlock's warm body pressing up against John's side wasn't helping any.

So instead of watching the reapings like he was supposed to be doing, sizing up the other tributes and imagining which ones he would personally be killing, he was wondering what the hell Sherlock had meant by "If I let it."

Because John thought, and believe it or not John was fairly intelligent, that it sounded like Sherlock might not try to win. And this was total crap because everyone tried to win the games, no sane teenager willingly dies.

But John supposes that Sherlock isn't an ordinary teenager, so it's perfectly likely he's not a sane one either.

And it was this train of thought that left John with no idea of what had happened on the screen half an hour later when Laina turned the lights back on. And, since knowing your competition could be important in the games, John asked Laina if she could replay it for him, which she did happily. A little too happily, actually.

The lights were off, the door closed, and John had slid to the end of the couch that Clara had occupied before he noticed that Sherlock had stayed to watch it with him.

"You weren't paying attention the first time either?" He asked as the first girl from District 1 was reaped.

"No, I paid attention; I just wanted to reassess the competition."

"Oh yeah? I would have thought you would have gotten all the information you needed the first time around."

"It never hurts to double check."

A second girl was called.

"Would ever consider sharing your information with someone?"

"Why would I ever want to do that?"

"Well, if you shared it with me, that could make us a team. And the people with teams always last longer."

Sherlock studied him for a moment; he began talking as the first male was called.

"Alright then. Just reaped was James Moriarty. Sixteen years old. Being from District 1, he will have some kind of advantage, but he doesn't look very strong. He didn't volunteer, but he is smiling. So either he's crazy and is looking forward to dying, or he has some kind of talent that he knows will be an advantage. I've already said he doesn't look very strong, so it's likely something intellectual. He could be intelligent, or maybe just good at manipulating people. See the way the other tributes are looking at him, they're scared. He's likely to be the leader of the Careers, and he is definitely someone to watch out for."

John was watching him in awe. "That was remarkable."

"You think so?"

"Of course. I mean, I already knew you could do it, but seeing it in action it's… wow. It's wow."

John blushed, and Sherlock appraised him. "That's not the reaction I usually guess."

"What reaction do you usually get?"

"Piss off."

John laughed, and Sherlock joined him.

"I guess that probably would have been my reaction if you had been doing it to me, but watching you do it to other people is amazing."

"Thank you."

"Anytime. So what about her, then?"

They sat together as Sherlock shared his deductions about all the notable tributes. There was Gregory Lestrade, from District 2, who looked like quite a fighter and probably would have become a Peacekeeper if he hadn't been reaped, but would decide not to join the Career pack.

Sally Donavon and Caleb Anderson from District 7 got an honourable mention as apparently they were in some kind of romantic relationship. John argued with Sherlock at this, pointing at the girl who had tried to cling to Caleb as he walked to the stage. Sherlock countered by rewinding to show John both Caleb's and Sally's reactions to the other being reaped, the looks Sally shoots Caleb's girlfriend as he walks to the stage, and they way they are obviously restraining themselves from comforting each other. Caleb had been cheating on his girlfriend on and off with Sally for about a year out of the two they had been together.

"They won't be able to maintain the secrecy once their in the arena." Sherlock decided.

"It will be terrible for her, having her boyfriend go off the Games and then finding out while he's there that he's been cheating on her for ages."

"Oh yes, it's a very good thing I don't have that problem." Sherlock muttered somewhat sarcastically.

"What, you don't have a girlfriend?" John asked nonchalantly.

"No, not really my area." Sherlock was watching as the next Districts reaping started, but apparently the first girl wasn't worth a mention.

"A boyfriend, then?"

Sherlock broke his gaze from the screen to look at John. "John, I'm flattered by your interest, but we have been entered into a game that will most likely have both of us dead within a couple of weeks, and I don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh, no, God no. No interest, I just thought that if we're going to be a team it'd be nice if we know a little bit about each other first, other than that you're brilliant."

"When did I agree we would be a team?"

"When you started telling me about Moriarty."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

"Not regretting are you?"

Sherlock took a moment to answer, he was considering John, and John hoped that the disappointment in his voice wouldn't show through.

"No, I'm not regretting it."

John couldn't help but grin. "Well alright then, what about her?"

The "her" in question was Molly Hooper, District 10. She was fifteen, and John didn't like the look in her eyes as she shook hands with the other Tributes. Something about it said that she enjoyed her job of cutting up the livestock far too much to be considered healthy.

They watched themselves get reaped in silence. John could see Harry in the background when Clara was reaped. He didn't think he had ever seen him so distressed. That is, until he saw her when he got reaped.

"Harry." He said, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"Harry, my sister. Well, Harriet really, but nobody calls her that. If there's going to be one thing keeping me alive in that arena, it's her. I can't have her losing us both." John considered clarifying that he meant him and Clara when he said that, but he supposed Sherlock already knew and didn't bother.

"I don't really have a reason."

"Not even just for the point of staying alive?"

Sherlock didn't answer, he just shut off the TV and walked to the door. "I'm going to bed now."

John sighed, wishing Sherlock had answered the question. "Alright then, goodnight." Sherlock didn't answer, he just walked out of the room, leaving John alone in the dark.