Hey! Sorry for the delay in posting this, I thought I did it last week... oops. I'll try to update regularly but I'm a bit busier than I had been. And thanks for all the reviews, alerts, and favourites, it really means a lot!

Sherlock

Later that night Sherlock lay in bed, irritated because no bed had the right to be that comfortable. He wanted to be able to think, but the bed was dragging him towards unconsciousness.

He threw the covers off of him with a harsh moan and climbed out of bed to pace around the room.

Much better.

He reflected on his day. It had been a long one. And everything that had happened was potentially important.

Especially the encounter with Moriarty.

Sherlock had already known that James Moriarty would be his main competition in the games; he had known that since he had seen him reaped. But Sherlock hadn't anticipated that Moriarty would have been able to pinpoint what was likely his only weakness so quickly, especially since he had no idea what Moriarty's weakness was.

"He's not you're friend Sherlock. He's only latching onto you because he thinks you're his best chance at survival."

Moriarty's words, pinpointing what Sherlock hadn't even realised had been bothering him, whispered in his ear with John stand a mere foot away. John hadn't heard, Sherlock was sure of it, and glad, because he wasn't sure what John would have done if he had heard.

Sherlock didn't bother getting back into bed, choosing instead to settle into an armchair in the corner of his room and waiting there until he thought it must be time for breakfast.

He was right, of course, when he entered the common area of District 12's floor, Katniss, Peeta, and Laina were all sitting around the table, taking food from the selection. Peeta looked up as Sherlock approached.

"We were just about to wake you up. Tributes need to be in the training center in half an hour." Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement at Peeta's words and picked a seat at the opposite end of the table from him as Laina stood to go wake the other tributes. He examined the variety of food in front of him and picked out a few things that looked the most appetizing, including a strange citrus fruit and a slice of something that appeared to be bread cooked in egg.

When John arrived a minute later he slid into the chair beside Sherlock, nodding in approval at the food on Sherlock's plate, and began piling some on his own. He looked up at Sherlock partway through his meal and Sherlock noticed he appeared to be examining him. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"You didn't sleep." John said, sounding a little irritated.

"No."

"You need sleep." He said, lowering his voice a little and glancing to the other end of the table. Clara and Anna were talking to Katniss, Peeta, and Laina, and none of them were paying attention to Sherlock and John.

"I really wish you would stop thinking you know what's best for me." Sherlock said, pushing away what Moriarty had said and trying to make himself believe that John said things like this because he cared.

"I know what's best for you better than you do. And we're training today. You should have slept."

"I couldn't."

"Why the hell not?"

Sherlock didn't want to answer that. He avoided it by taking a large drink of water, but when he finished John was still looking at him expectantly. "I'll sleep tonight."

"You better. If you look this tired tomorrow morning I will come into your room at night and force your eyes closed if that's what it takes." John sounded like he fully intended to follow through on this threat, but it only took a quick glance at his face for Sherlock to deduce he was kidding.

"I don't think you're allowed in the other tributes rooms." He said.

John blushed. "Well they'd have to make an exception, wouldn't they?" He smiled. "But if you'd just sleep they won't have to."

"So, sleeping and eating. Is there anything else you're going to insist I do?"

John blushed deeper. "Well, now that you mention it-"

Peeta chose that moment to stand up and begin talking. "I hope you're all done eating, you need to be downstairs in five minutes. We have a few things to go over first though. First, ever since they doubled the amount of tributes per District, the training that the mentors put you through has been done as a group. If any of you have objections to this, we'd be more than happy to do you separate than the others." He looked around the table at the Tributes, none of them objected. "Great. Now, some advice for today. There will be forty-four other Tributes down there today. Try and make some friends. If you have any skills that you've been hiding from us thus far, keep hiding them. It could be beneficial to have those skills secret. It was for Katniss." He took a moment to smile at his wife, who returned it weakly. She looked a little sick. This couldn't be easy on either of them. Sherlock supposed that was why Haymitch had yet to make an appearance and why Peeta did most of the talking, he was trying to make it easier on Katniss. He was trying to stay positive and strong for the tributes, but he wasn't fooling Sherlock. "Try a little bit of everything, see what works best for you. Remember that fighting skills aren't the only survival skills. Try the camouflage station and the edible foods station. They make even give you some clue as to what the arena will be like. You should probably be getting downstairs. Good luck to all of you." He smiled at them. Laina stood.

"If you'll all follow me, I have to take you to training." She said, then started towards the elevator. Clara came over to talk to John as they all followed her, so Sherlock didn't have a chance to ask John what he had been about to say.

In fact, he didn't talk to John again until lunch.

He spent the morning following Peeta's advice. He tried out some weapons he'd never used before, which was very easy considering every weapon fell in the category of weapons he had never used before. He learned that he had quite good aim with both a bow and arrows and when throwing things, such as axes.

At the archery station he made small talk with Greg Lestrade, Sally Donovan, and Caleb Anderson. Lestrade got on with all three of them fairly well, but Donovan and Anderson did not like Sherlock. It probably had something to do with the fact that he insulted Anderson's technique and told him if he didn't improve he'd likely die at the Cornucopia. Sherlock didn't mind that they didn't like him. In a few weeks all but two of the forty-eight tributes in the room would be dead, so it would be best not to get too attached to anyone.

Well, forty-seven tributes in the room. Jim Moriarty was absent. Sherlock wasn't surprised that Moriarty wasn't there training, he supposed Moriarty was planning on relying on his intellect, which he obviously had quite a bit of if he had managed to see through Sherlock. But Sherlock would have thought Moriarty would have been down there recruiting other tributes to his team; finding the biggest and stupidest of the lot to do all of his dirty work for him, and eventually to die for him.

And all of this kept him away from John, who spent most of the morning sword fighting with a Capitol attendant. He was actually getting fairly good by the time lunch was announced.

Sherlock walked up to him as he was putting his sword away and they walked into the dining room together.

"Have a good morning, then?" John asked him as they picked a table in the corner with only three chairs and filled their plates with food.

"Not too bad. And yourself?"

"It was fine. Make any friends?"

"Lestrade seems alright. Unfortunately, he seems to be getting close with Donovan and Anderson, neither of whom likes me." He glared over where the three of them were sitting together. John chuckled. They ate in silence for a minute while Sherlock wondered how to bring up what he wanted to talk about. "John?"

"Yes?"

"We never finished our conversation this morning."

"Oh, um, yeah. I guess we didn't." He was blushing again. Embarrassed. He wasn't eager to continue.

"What had you been saying?"

"You know, I don't really remember-"

"Is it alright if I join you two?" Sherlock looked at the interruption. It was one of the girls from District 10. Molly, he thought her name was. She was looking at him hopefully, smiling a little.

"No," he told her. Her face fell.

"Sherlock," John scolded him, and then turned towards the girl. "Of course you can join us." She hesitated a moment, obviously confused, before pulling out the empty chair. "I'm John."

"Molly."

Sherlock turned back to John, annoyed at the addition to their table, to see John was glaring at him. He made a very pointed glance to Molly, then back to Sherlock. Sherlock looked at Molly, who was watching him expectantly. Ah, right, he had not introduced himself, they both had. "I'm Sherlock." John smiled, confirming that that had been what he had wanted.

"I saw you at the archery station. You're good."

"Yes." John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's answer. Sherlock supposed he was being a bit rude, but this girl had interrupted, and that was also rude, so he really didn't care.

The remainder of lunch was relatively quiet. John or Molly would occasionally say something, trying to spark conversation, but it never really worked.

When lunch was over Sherlock decided to go back to archery. John went to compare camouflage skills with Lestrade.

Sherlock had just managed three bull's-eyes in a row, a new record, when Moriarty stepped out of the elevator. He was immediately joined by the other male tribute and one of the female tributes from District 1. Sherlock was fairly certain they were called Sebastian Moran and Irene Adler, but he couldn't be positive. Neither of them had been overly interesting at their reaping.

Sherlock grabbed another arrow as he watched them approach him.

"I didn't expect you to show up." Sherlock said as they reached him.

"Yes well why would I want to do what's expected of me? That's so boring. I anticipated more from you Sherlock. Surely you're better than the rest of them." Moriarty gestured vaguely at the rest of the room.

"Yes, Clara was saying how you can tell a person's life story just by looking at them. That's impressive." Irene took a half step towards him, smiling.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration." Sherlock said, hoping to appear modest, although he did already know most things about her.

"Even so. What have you deduced about me?"

Your father won the Games over twenty years ago. Your mother likes to gossip. You have an older brother who works even though he can afford not to. You're currently in a relationship, most likely with a female and at least a year younger than you. If she is a female, you aren't keeping it a secret. You would see no point in hiding the truth. "Nothing much." He said aloud.

"Such a disappointment." Moriarty sighed. "Oh well. I've got people to meet. See you around." He walked away, Sebastian following quietly after him, apparently not one for words. Irene lingered for a minute, looking like she had something to say, but ended up just shaking her head and stalking off in the opposite direction that Moriarty had gone.

Sherlock resumed his target practice. He traded off his round target for one shaped like a human and as he shot he imagined it was Moriarty he was aiming at.

Not one arrow missed.