John
I gaped, open-mouthed at the mirror that had been placed in front of me a few seconds before. The person staring back was not me, not in any way, shape, or form. Only several hours ago, I was myself, but now, I don't even know. I had been taken to a cold metal room and given what the stylists called a 'make-over'. A 'make-over' was apparently when someone thought that you were inadequate as yourself, so you have to change everything to become better. Well, that was what I had gathered from that horrific experience. My stylist, Skye, was in fact a psychopath. The hungry eyes and eery smile kind of gave it away. I was becoming more and more concerned for my own safety each minute. Skye had ordered his underlings to completely erase my features with white powder, only for him to go in a draw them himself. Jenny was standing beside me, equally shocked and nervous. We were both dressed, head to toe, in black. I was wearing a charcoal dress shirt, bow-tie, slacks, and loafers. Jenny was wearing a knee length black dress, fishnets, and six inch stilettos. One might think that the Gothic attire wouldn't leave much of an impression, and unnerve people. That would be true, were it not for our faces. Our entire eye sockets were covered in coal dust, so it looked like we had black eyes, our lips had been slathered in midnight 'lip-stick'. The only color present were the crimson flames drawn across our jawline.
"You know, it's kind of sad really. How everyone gave up on fire after the Everdeen Era. They're so pretty." Skye commented to Molly's stylist, Ruby.
"Quite so, absolutely exquisite." she replied. Jenny rolled her eyes, obviously disappointed by the lack of pink. I grinned, and then Sally strode in.
"Ready? It's almost time to start!" she flashed a blinding smile, grabbing Jenny's and my arms, dragging us out to where the other Tributes were being kept. I swallowed nervously. This was the first time we were going to see them in person.
The room was gigantic. The large rounded ceiling was covered with intricate paintings of the Districts. Twelve carriages were lined up single-file, waiting for their passengers to board. Tributes milled around, occasionally commenting to anyone near. The District One carriage caught my eye, or rather, it's rider. The Holmes boy (what his name again?) stood, straight backed, by the horses. His long, spidery, fingers were petting the majestic white steed's noble snout. Whenever he blinked, I could catch a glimpse of his sparkling gold eye shadow. Holmes was wearing a form-fitting sherbert tank top, exposing his arms, which were covered in a dazzling variety of plastic gemstones. Lavender skinny jeans clung to his legs, ending at his ankles, so we could see a pair of bejeweled trainers. The most interesting thing that Holmes was wearing by far was the hat. It was very feminine in style, but still managed to go with everything else. The hat was peach fedora with a deep purple band. At least twenty different, all light-colored, feathers extended from the band, ranging in length from six inches to two feet. Three were so long, that they had bent over, and were now nestled among his charcoal curls.
"Hullo, Earth to John?" Jenny waved her hand in front of my face, breaking me out of that reverie.
"Oh, yes, um, where is our carriage?" I asked, standing on my toes to try and get a good look around.
"You were looking at Sherlock!" Jenny gasped, before covering her mouth with a manicured hand, obviously trying to stifle an onslaught of giggling.
"Who is Sherlock? Oh, the Holmes kid, I was most certainly not staring at him!" I fired back, definitely not thinking about Sherlock's full lips, and captivating eyes.
"Whatever you say Johnny-boy. I think I found our carriage." Jenny pulled me off to go stand next to the large black draft horses, which were snorting and stamping their hooves with impatience. Before long, an announcement instructed for us to take our places in the carriage, Jenny had a little difficulty, but we both managed to get up without embarrassing ourselves. A nervous breath hitched in my throat, and the doors opened, exposing us to the crowd.
Sherlock
It had taken every ounce of my willpower not to turn and meet John Watson's gaze when I first sensed him watching me. Most people stared at me a bit, I am a little odd looking, but it's usually a stare of hatred or dislike. That was twice in the past two days where someone has looked at me without loathing. Molly did it all the time, but only for a few seconds at a time, before her cheeks grew crimson and looked away. John though, this sandy haired doctor wannabe didn't look away for fear of shame or being caught. He was clearly shocked by my appearance. I was too, when I first saw myself. It really was ghastly attire; Mycroft would be at home watching and laughing at my ridiculous predicament. I too, had been somewhat, taken aback by the other Tributes clothing. It was an interesting costume, but didn't fit him, just as mine didn't fit me.
"Are you ready?" Molly squeaked, seeming intensely uncomfortable in the skimpy salmon dress that had been chosen for her.
"As ready as anyone can be who is about to face a crowd of people who could potentially save your life whenever you get stuck in a giant arena to battle twenty-three other children who want you dead." I deadpanned, shooting her my most intimidating glare. She blushed and looked down at her feet. When the announcement came on telling us to board the carriages, I scrambled up, offering my hand to Molly, who was struggling to get up, and remain decent in that dress of hers. I sucked in a deep breath as the doors opened, and the horses began trotting down the path. For several painful moments, the crowd was completely silent, glaring down at Molly and me. Then they burst into earsplitting cheers and clapping. What could possibly warrant such an explosive response was unknown to me. I was about to turn on my impassive 'higher than thou' face when I realized something. By acting likeable, people would sponsor me. Even if that were the entire point of the parade, that revelation switched something inside me. Just play the game, I thought. Deciding that it was all or nothing, I fell into full charm mode. With a huge, cheeky grin on my face, I tipped my hat to the screaming crowd, whose response was even more enthusiastic than it had been before. I snatched a rose that had been thrown out of the air and slipped it between my teeth, pleased by the approving screeching from my new, primarily female, friends. Molly gaped at me, open-mouthed.
"Pick your jaw up off the floor," I whispered, waving, "You won't get sponsors by looking like a fish." She nodded, but still had an expression of concern and confusion on her face. No one had advised against it, I tossed my wretched hat into the stands. A young woman in the third row caught it, provoking wails of jealousy from her friends. I gave the young woman a wink, and she promptly fainted. I noticed, with a morbid delight, the chunky diamond ring occupying the ring finger on her left hand. Based on the rowdiness of the crowd behind me, James Moriarty and/or Clara Watson from district two were nearly as popular as I was. Not that I was intimidated by them, I just knew that Moriarty, at least, was going to give me trouble. When the horses had finally reached their destination, I was already tired of acting like I was a nice guy. Despite my exhaustion, I held the grin on my face, occasionally turning around making eye contact with members of the crowd. When President Snow had finally mounted the podium, the cheering people had fallen silent. Snow seemed way too old to me. I had heard he was old even during the Everdeen Era. When he had 'died' just to Katniss would feel in control. Then, years later, once she had had children and everything, he killed everyone as a 'precaution'. Still, the guy commanded my respect. The only other person I've met that was that good at faking their own death was me. I had done it several times back at home to escape my family. Eventually they found me, thanks to good ol' Mycroft.
"Welcome to the two hundred and twenty-first annual Hunger Games!" Snow boomed through his microphone, "And may the odds, be ever in your favor." Cue raucous cheering from the crowd.
"It's not that actually are, are they?" I yelled up at Snow. He had obviously heard me, because the look he shot me would probably disconcerting if he could actually do something to me, "Because, we are going to be pitted against each other in an epic battle of dignity depravation and erosion of honor. Whenever you get home everyone says, 'yay for you, you killed a bunch of innocent children, you must be so happy'." My voice raised in volume as I spoke, until I was screaming at the president. Snow scowled back at me, anger rolling of him in sheets.
"You do not know what is-" he started.
"Best for Panem? Perhaps not, but I sure as heck know that the culling of innocent people is not what 'the best' is. Why do you even call yourself a president? This society is in no way anything that could even be compared to a democracy." I was angry too now, and it showed. The audience was gaping at me, but their eyes were not the blank, stupid, orbs they have always been. Understanding sparked just behind a rainbow of irises. The people were really, listening.
John
Sherlock's display of an opinion had started out as a cheeky remark. Now it had turned into a full scale attack on the president himself. You could almost feel the hatred radiating from Snow. I think I even saw the rose pinned to his lapel wilt, a little. I cringed at the fate that was almost certainly going to befall him. That was the fourth time this individual had shocked me. First was when I saw him on the Reaping film. He was so detached and impassive. Then he was covered in glitter and sparkles, which was just weird. Then he was something of a ladies man, even though it was only for a minute, I knew had already had an amazing support base. Now, he is arguing with the freaking president over politics. And the audience was actually nodding along to what he was saying! I always thought that the Capital freaks just followed Snow around blindly like sheep, but now, I don't even know. Snow waved his hand and several buff guards dragged him from the area. Snow straightened his tie, and continued on with his speech. All I could look at was the half empty carriage, it's one remaining occupant shifting nervously and pulling her dress down her thighs.
Skye came rushing over and encompassed me in a bear hug. Ruby did the same for Molly.
"You all did a wonderful job out there!" the latter of which cooed soothingly, patting us both on the head. Sally arrived, strangely out of breath and holding a letter, which she shoved into her pocket.
"Snow was very displeased with Holmes's behavior, he banned mentors this year precisely because that boy was going to be trouble!" She exclaimed, panting.
"I didn't hear what he was saying, but the audience seemed to like it." Skye commented, stroking his nonexistent goatee.
"I didn't hear him either, but Snow didn't." Ruby shuddered, as if repulsed by something unbeknownst to us. Jenny frowned, and gave me a look that said, I agreed with him. I nodded, indicating that I had as well. We both slowly snuck away while the adults were talking.
"That was awfully brave and amazingly stupid, what Sherlock did." Jenny observed once we had arrived at District Twelve's rooms.
"I know, luckily though, Snow can't do anything until he is in the games. I'm not even sure he will do anything though. That would just show how opposed his is to anyone who contradicts him." I reasoned, hoping beyond irrational hope that the young man I've never even spoke to would win the games. Just so everyone could see the look on Snow's face when he has to bow to him. Jenny nodded, seeming to be comforted by this.
"You know, even though Sherlock got in huge trouble over that, I am kinda glad someone finally had the courage to do it." She whispered, leaning her head against my shoulder. I rubbed her arm, and she soon fell asleep. Placing a pillow in my lap, I eased Jenny's head down so that she rest upon that and not my bony shoulder.
"Goodnight Jenny," I pressed a kiss to her forehead and leaned back on the couch. I felt oddly protective of the little twelve year old now. It was if she was my little sister. Not that I needed anyone else to take care of, but I silently swore to protect her to the best of my abilities. Which wasn't going to do much against a machete wielding maniac. Still, I was going to try, for Harry. Even if I knew I wasn't going to win the games, I was going to die protecting those who are important to me. Futile, in a game of death and betrayal, but no one had hope for such things, no one would win.
Sherlock
I was already tired from my argument with the president, but then, I had to endure a two hour lecture from Hope before I was permitted to sleep. 'HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!?' was still ringing in my ears when I pulled the comforter over my head in a comforting cocoon of warmth. Snow had expressed in every nonverbal way possible that he wanted me dead. That only spurred my almost non-existent urge to stay alive. Sure, the only thing for me back at home was my family. If you could even call them that, and more training. I could be one of the mentors, implying that Snow would lift the ban on them after this year's games. I was angry at him too. He Snow was so incompetent that he didn't even consider that someone would openly question his society since the Everdeen Era. Only an idiot would be so over-confident to believe that their plan was flawless. There are always cracks, no matter how small or insignificant, they can be exploited. I will exploit the cracks and holes in Snow's little world. It will be easy, there are so many. I will bring this nation to its knees, and then, I will rebuild it as something new. Something where meaningless slaughter is not average, something where starvation and cruelty is not the norm. Something better that it is now. Something good.