Ours was last, but once they jumped off I gave John a bone breaking hug, telling him how fantastic it was and how everyone loved it. Molly attempted to give Irene a hug, but she pushed her away, counting the roses stuffed in both hands as if they actually meant something.
"Did you get pictures?" John asked. I held up the camera with accomplishment.
"Remember, this is our secrets. They're still the enemy." I added. He nodded as if he knew that already, but it's not bad to be too cautious.
"So did everyone like the outfits?" John asked as we were riding the train back to the tribute center.
"Of course they did, all the cameras were on you two." Mrs. Hudson said happily. John's smile widened.
"That's never happened!" he pointed out.
"It was brilliant." I agreed.
"I'm famous!" Irene said, as if it was her life dream. I didn't see her as a good person to be famous; obviously it would go straight to her head.
"Everyone there is Irene, the tributes are celebrities." Molly pointed out. I rolled my eyes at John, who laughed silently. I really hoped Irene didn't win, not that I wanted her to die or anything, but if she was a mentor District Twelve would be in ruins. We arrived back at the Tribute Center, where everyone was just arriving, so we had to share an elevator with the people of District Five, which meant, to my utter delight, Greg was there.
"Hey Sherlock!" he said happily. The Five people were dressed as waves, and their fabric was hanging off in weird angles and shapes. I knew four was water district, but then I remembered the gigantic dam Five had somewhere, so that must be why they were water. A small boy, probably Jeff, as Greg had mentioned before, looked back and forth at all of the people. He couldn't be more than thirteen, which made me sad, because I knew he'd be gone in the first day.
"Good job out there, you really stole the audience." He said, as if that was some type of joke.
"John, this is, Greg, from District Five." I said, introducing the two in the very crowded elevator.
"I've heard a lot about you." Greg said with a smile. John looked at me suspiciously, but before he could ask questions the elevator reach floor five, which was their stop. With some goodbyes, some real, and some relived, they were off.
"You have a friend after all!" John pointed out.
"Shut up, he's not my friend. He sat next to me in the lobby and started talking to me, it's not my fault." I pointed out.
"You're the only one who would get defensive about someone thinking you have a friend." John decided.
"I do have a friend, but it's not him." I defended.
"Who's you're friend?" Molly asked with excitement, as if it was going to be her.
"John." I said, as if that was obvious. My answer seemed to sink both Molly's and Mrs. Hudson's hearts, because they both knew that I probably couldn't say I had a friend in two weeks, after the games were over. We arrived at our floor, and I went to my room to look over the pictures and stuff while John went over to get into normal clothes. I had some good pictures of a couple of them, most were blurry, but I had a good one of John smiling and waving up to me. I decided to keep that one, even though his picture on the wall was going to be that troll face I found. There was a knock on my door, this time it was actually unlocked, so I just called for whoever it was to come in. At first I couldn't tell it was John, it looked like a mutant something. His makeup was running down his face in black streaks, the gold smashed up together and his lipstick somehow managed to get on his nose.
"I can't get this bloody stuff off." he complained.
"Well don't ask me!" I pointed out.
"You've been through this before!" he defended.
"Mrs. Hudson, ask her, she knows what to do." I insisted. John groaned, but rushed off to find her. He was back a couple of minutes later with a white bottle.
"She gave me makeup remover, told me to put some on a towel and scrub it off." he said, coming right in and closing the door behind him.
"So why didn't you do it there?" I asked.
"Because I don't feel comfortable there, I feel like I'm trespassing." He defended.
"Oh, so you just make yourself right at home then." I groaned as he walked into the bathroom and got a towel off of the rack they leave for the guests.
"Oh come on, I thought we were friends." He joked. I groaned, but got to my feet, going into the bathroom to make sure he wasn't wrecking anything.
"Why do you have three hair brushes?" he asked, and I just frowned at him.
"Wait, stay right there." I said, and with that I ran to get the camera. I took his picture before he could protest; he simply looked too pathetic to pass up the opportunity. With a frown, he poured a whole lot of makeup remover on the towel, spreading it out and attacking his face with it. After a while of scrubbing he took the towel away. It was a shock that thing used to be white, because it now looked like a mini sun, completely golden and gross looking. John, on the other hand, looked semi normal now, he couldn't get some of the mascara or eyeliner off for some reason, but other than that he looked human.
"Oh shame, now people can see your face." I sighed, as if it was a terrible curse. He just scowled, not knowing what to do with the towel, so he just left it on the counter for me to deal with.
"Now you remind me of Irene." I pointed out.
"I doubt it; you'll never see her without makeup on." John pointed out.
"True, but you've got the right attitude."
"I'm just tired." He sighed.
"Well, we've got some work to do, we need to find Molly's laptop again and find all the pictures we can." I decided.
"She'll have moved it by now." He pointed out.
"So we either need to take it or ask for it, which would be easier?" I asked.
"I could ask for it I guess." He shrugged. "Or you could, since she fancies you."
"No, she'll never let me have it; the background would be too embarrassing." I pointed out.
"What should I tell her?" he asked.
"The truth. Say it's something you and I are doing to prepare, but you can't tell her because it's our thing." I shrugged. John nodded, and before I could add anything he was out the door. I took that opportunity to wash the washcloth out, getting as much of the gold out and just throwing it in the sink where it should be. I also brushed my hair, because it had gotten a little out of place in the wind. I made sure to hide the other two brushes, to avoid any further tormenting. Then I sat back on the bed and made a mental plan in my head for the wall, waiting for whatever was taking John so long. Finally he showed up, five minutes later, with the laptop safely under his arm.
"She was using it when I wanted it, took a little bit." He said, but handed me the laptop. I opened the lid, as he had said it was already on, but the background had been changed to a picture of colorful bubbles, typical. It wasn't too difficult to find a picture of every one of the tributes, added to the ones I already had. I added them to the folder and told him to go to the printer; I would print them all out here. I also told him to steal as many sticky notes as possible. Once I was sure he was down there, I started printing them in order, adding John's troll in the middle so he didn't pay it much attention. It ended with Irene, smiling at the camera rather disturbingly. A little while after, he arrived with his hands full of items.
"They had all of these cabinets, so I got tape, sticky notes, scissors, and string." He said, dumping all of the supplies on my bed.
I got up, shutting and locking the door, just in case a wandering Irene came around and wanted to know what was going on. We cut out the pictures first, John had made sure to get me tiger print safety scissors, so it look more time than it probably should've. Once we got the headshots we taped them all in a big circle. Even I could reach the top, so John pushed a chair over for me to stand on, handing me the pictures to tape. When we were done, it looked pretty successful, although John was complaining about the troll. After that, we wrote the names down on the sticky notes, I had made sure to make a mental list when searching them. The names were absolutely absurd in the higher districts; the girl was literally named Diamond from One. We managed to get the names done before eleven o'clock, by now I was sure everyone would be asleep.
"You go to bed; we've done all we can for now." I decided.
"Good night Sherlock." He agreed, yawning widely and leaving the room.
"Good night John." I muttered, even though he was long gone. I sighed, knowing I was going to face another battle tonight, the dreams would be awful. I jotted down the things I already know, that Irene was going to try to seduce the audience, that John was an idiot, and Jeff was expected not to make it long. I added the sticky notes to the faces, trying my best to pick out the possible careers. We'd know more tomorrow after John went to training. That reminded me that I'd be alone all day, which kind of bummed me out. It was different now, usually people being around me made me sad, but now when John wasn't here I was disappointed. I changed into my pajama pants and shoved the stuff under the bed, not like it would do much good. If anyone walked in here they'd know immediately what we were up to, I could only hope to keep them out. I noticed Molly's laptop still on the bed, and decided I should probably return it, just to guarantee its life span in case I have some more sleep attacks. I pulled on my robe and wandered down the dark hall, trying not to run into things and trying to remember where Molly's room was. In the end I just left it on a decorative table, knowing she couldn't miss it there, and was about to head back to my room when I heard what sounded like someone having a nightmare in the room closest. I debated on ignoring it and just walking on, when I noticed it obviously wasn't one of the girls, so it had to be John. I knew exactly what it felt like to be having nightmares, and when I was a tribute all I had wanted was someone to be there for me. I nervously cracked the door open, peeking in to make sure I wasn't wrong. Indeed, in the dim light, I saw that John was tossing and turning, asleep, obviously, his eyes were closed, and he was making sounds that sounded like he must be scared in the dream. I sighed, not knowing what to do. I knew some of these dreams could be dangerous from personal experience, but I was willing to take the risk. I doubted John had a knife under his pillow like I did anyway. I crept in, closing the door behind me and standing next to the bed. I didn't know what to do exactly, he was twitching a lot, so obviously that meant he had to be running.
"John!" I whispered. "John, wake up." I added, deciding the best thing to do was just wake him up. I tapped his shoulder lightly and repeated his name. After a while he started to stir, and when his eyes opened he almost jumped out of the bed. When he realized I wasn't a tribute trying to kill him, he seemed to relax, closing his eyes again. His face was white and sweaty, like all nightmare symptoms I suppose.
"Sherlock they're going to kill me!" he exclaimed in a whisper, still with his eyes shut.
"It was nightmare, it's okay now." I assured.
"No, they're going to kill me!" he said, louder this time. Maybe he wasn't fully awake yet, still thinking he was in the dream.
"They won't kill you, I won't let them." I assured, taking the only logical route I knew, playing along.
"Don't let them kill me Sherlock." John muttered.
"I won't, I'm here." I assured. "It's okay John."
"Don't leave me." he muttered.
"I won't leave you, I'm here." I said again, not knowing what to do in this sort of protector situation.
"Please⦠please don't let them kill me." John muttered, his head rolling over onto the pillow to face me. I pulled a chair over to the other side of the bed, knowing I couldn't leave him at a time like this. That was the thing with nightmares; you're always on your own. I suppose that's because it's everyone's logical fear to be alone, to have everyone against you.
"It's okay, you'll be okay." now I sounded like Molly, she always talked like she was calming down a baby.
"They're coming!" John exclaimed, curling his legs into his chest and reaching his arm out, as if grabbing a weapon. "Please protect me!" he begged, sounding close to tears. This was funny in a completely heartbreaking way, knowing that this dream probably won't be just a dream in a couple of days; the only difference is I won't be there to protect him.
"It's okay, they won't hurt you." I assured. I looked at his hand, extended for something but I wasn't sure what. He wanted to know I was here, and that I'd protect him, he didn't want a weapon, he wanted me. I looked around; making sure no one else was hiding in the room, because the awkwardness level was rising in here. But, with a nervous breath, I took his hand and wrapped my fingers around his. His hand was extremely warm, the heat from terror I guess, but when I took his hand it seemed like he calmed down, he stopped moving and talking. After a little while of silence I think I heard a snore. Whatever I did, it had somehow helped him slept better, to escape the nightmare. I had wanted to escape my nightmares for years, and all it took for him was someone holding his hand. I didn't know what I should do now, I could sleep in the chair if I wanted to, but wonder if I attacked him in my sleep, or if he woke up and found me here, would he get freaked out? But then again, I didn't want him to go back to whatever night mare he was having, so I decided to just take my chances, reclining the chair as much as I could and finding it very easy to fall asleep. Maybe holding his hand was good for me too, because that was the first night, the first drugless night, that I got a good sleep in what felt like ages.
