Guess who's back? (back, back..) Back again! (again, again..) Yes, I'm back! (back, back..) Yay! I tried to make this long, cause I felt back... I was gonna post multiple chapters, but I just finished this one, and I have to get ready for work, so hopefully this holds a while. :) I'm sorry if you cry. I almost did. XD I hope this answers a couple of questions from last time. Thank you for the reviews! I love reading them all time, even if I've already read them 200 times! 3 love you! :)
"You made it."
Molly quickly turned, her hand slipping out of Sherlock's as she faced James, Irene and Sebastian.
"Yeah," she said. "I suppose I did."
"That was really brave of you two, Greg and Sherlock," he eyed them both, finally stopping on Sherlock. "Brilliant, really."
"How could you have known?" Sebastian asked, stepping towards Sherlock.
"Known what?" Molly inquired when Sherlock did not answer.
"About the water."
"Simple," Sherlock answered. "How do you douse a fire?"
Sebastian shrugged in thought. "Dirt?"
Irene kicked his ankle, and Sebastian immediately kicked his foot up, grabbed it, and did a little pain-dance.
"Idiot." She muttered.
"Well, the dirt she was rolling in didn't seem to help, did it?" Sherlock spoke over her, his face staying composed.
Sebastian grunted as he stood upright and glared at Irene.
"Poor John," James tsked, shaking his head and curling his lips inward. "He certainly does not look happy. Oh well! One less person to worry about."
"That's an awful thing to say!" Molly stepped forward, a sudden ounce of courage pouring into her veins.
"Honey," James said sweetly, stepping towards her, getting in real close. "Only one of us goes home. Is it not better for her to die by the hands of the game makers, and not by us? It's just the truth and, well, if the truth is awful, then I don't want to know what a lie is."
Molly's mouth gaped open a bit, realizing that he was right.
Only one of us goes home.
She sure didn't want to be the one to take someones life, but if she wanted to live... then she had to face the awful truth.
If the truth is awful, then I don't want to know what a lie is either, she thought.
"I-I, uhm... I think I'll go see how John is doing." Molly said shyly, looking at the ground as she spoke. She quickly turned and trudged into the water.
"Let's play a game!" James said excitedly after Molly was far enough away. He clapped his hands and then clasped them behind his back and started walking in circles around the people he called friends. "Let's play... hmm... how about a game of riddles?"
"I never liked riddles," said Sherlock.
"Who wants to start?" James said, ignoring him. "Nobody? Okay, I'll start! There is a clerk at the butcher shop, he is five feet ten inches tall, and he wears size 13 sneakers. What does he weigh?"
"Two-hundred and twenty pounds!" Sebastian shouted, only to earn an elbow in the stomach by Irene.
Sherlock kicked a rock, already completely bored. "Meat, obviously." It was a mere fifteen minutes since he was feeling excitement and adrenaline pumping through his veins, and now, here he was, participating in childish riddles.
"And you said you didn't like riddles-"
"It's not about liking them. It's about how tedious they are."
"Either way," James laughed. "It's your turn now. You got it right."
Sherlock sighed. Just give them an easy one, so that they may have a chance to get it right.
"What's bigger than you, but doesn't weigh anything?"
"Bigger than me?" Sebastian mused. "That tree?"
Irene was beginning to get a headache. "Just shut up!"
"It's not my fault they keep using weight questions!"
"Your shadow?" Greg said, unsure. Sherlock smiled up at him, glad to have someone ordinary be smarter than he seems.
"Very good, Greg. Your turn."
"Uh," Greg let out a puff of air. "When one does not know what it is, then it is something; but when one knows what it is, then it is nothing."
There was a brief moment of silence, but the silence was broken by Sherlock's annoyed sigh and James' loud laugh, both of them realizing what the answer was at the same time.
"Sebastian's brain!" Irene let out, earning a, "hey!" from the boy on her left.
"Yes, exactly! No." Greg laughed.
"Brilliant, Greg! It's a riddle." James answered.
"But of course it's a riddle." Sebastian said, like it was the most obvious thing. "That's what this game is. Riddles."
"No, he means the answer," Greg said.
"Would everybody, please, just move on," said Sherlock, wanting nothing more than for this to end.
"My turn! Let's see..." James tapped his chin, acting like he didn't already know what riddle he would use next. "If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you haven't got me. What am I?"
The moment Sebastian opened his mouth, Irene clamped her hand over the gaping hole and pushed him towards the cave.
Sherlock turned to Greg and dramatically put his finger to his mouth. "Shh, it's a secret."
"Very good!" James said, just as dramatic. The moment his tone reached Sherlock's ears, he slowly put his finger down and carefully looked towards James, whose face was fading from playful to sinister. "While we're on the subject of secrets, tell me, Sherlock, what secrets have you been keeping from me?"
The moment came sooner than Sherlock expected. He wasn't ready yet. John sure wasn't ready, and he and Molly were across the river of one of the waterfalls.
"I haven't-"
James chuckled, interrupting Sherlock's attempt at lying. Sherlock swallowed, not so much in nervousness as in he knew James already knew some of his well kept secrets, if not all of them.
"If you are so sure that I have some secrets to tell, why don't you bring them out into the open, hm?" Sherlock said, sitting down on a nearby boulder, crossing his legs.
"It would be too easy for you to deny them, Sherlock," James said, sticking his hands into the makeshift pockets of his pants. His voice then became a bit more sing-songy as he continued. "No, I want to hear them come from you, out of your own mouth, like a good little boy. Come on, tell daddy what is the matter."
A silent showdown between Sherlock and James began, neither of them willing to let the other win.
"We all have secrets," said Sherlock.
"While that may be true, your secrets are different."
"How so?"
"You've been lying to me, Sherlock," James stepped closer, his dark eyes never straying from the boy in front of him. "Every time I turn, you stab me in the back. I have been ignoring the pain for far too long."
"Sherlock!"
Molly sat cross-legged next to a shocked, shaken John Watson. Her hand ran up and down his back, hoping to bring him back from his frozen state. She stared at her knees, not daring to look at Sarah's lifeless eyes.
She caught a glimpse of Sarah when she climbed up to John. Sarah's eyes were as red as the fire that had consumed her. Molly knew she would have nightmares for as long as she lived, which, at this point, she had a feeling it wouldn't last very long.
Looking over at Sherlock and the others, she wondered what could be happening. A staring contest seemed to have ensued.
"John," Molly tried, focusing on the boy next to her. "We should go so they can..." Not being able to finish her sentence, she hoped John heard and understood. They couldn't stay here. "John?"
The wheels started turning in John's mind at that moment. Yes, Sarah was dead, but this was not over. Not even close.
"Sherlock," John whispered. It was still quite dark, but the moon seemed to become brighter the moment he looked in Sherlock's direction. James stepped closer to the curly haired boy, and John immediately switched into attack mode. "Sherlock!"
John rushed to his feet, startling the poor girl next to him. He dived into the water and swam as fast as he could to help his friend. Molly watched, and then saw what had got John all worked up, so naturally, she followed him.
James, who was not so easily startled, felt quite defenseless at that moment. The blade that stood stiff at his neck only seemed to grow closer and more dangerous. James glanced at Sherlock who stared back at him in interest, before glancing at the one holding the weapon to his throat.
"Well, this just got better," James laughed, the striking eyes of Irene meeting his. "What brought this on, pet?"
"You were right," Irene said smoothly, holding the knife tightly in her hand. Sebastian stood behind her, watching with uncertainty. "We can't be trusted."
"Choose your friends wisely, Moriarty."
James slightly turned his head towards the new voice. The moon reflected off the boys' glasses, and the smirk on his face needed no explanation. Sherlock stood up the moment the boy spoke, but before he could approach him, a knife went to his throat as well.
"Charles..." Sherlock said in a low voice, glancing at Tom who held the knife to his neck.
"Charlie, what is this about?" James asked, trying to seem casual. The contentedness he once felt around Charles vanished in a second.
"Its about winning," Charles explained, pacing around the boys. "For all of us, not just you. You two seem to have this feud that just excites me. I am inclined to let it continue."
"Then why don't you?" Sherlock asked.
John and Molly climbed out of the water and ran towards the group. Charles approached them, the sudden movement stopping them where they stood.
"Ah, here are more of your friends. How wonderful!"
Everyone could tell that all Charles wanted to do was laugh out loud, but if he wanted to get stuff done, he had to hold it back and keep control.
"Sebastian," Charles snapped his fingers. Sebastian walked over cautiously. "Make sure our little friends don't go anywhere."
Greg stood next to Sherlock, watching every move Tom made, in case he had to take action. His own blade sat in his boot, and he would be ready to use it if it came to that.
"Now," Charles stood aside, looking at the whole group under his control. "What to do, what to do?"
"Where's Sally?" Molly asked after a few moments of silence.
"Dead," Charles answered immediately, his hands clasped behind his back as he faced Molly. "Fireflies sure get the job done."
That's when it dawned on Molly. The scream she heard just before John had found her. The first canon of the night.
"It seems she was not the only one to suffer the wrath of the insects. You're looking a bit red yourself, Miss Hooper."
"I hate to interrupt Charles," Irene spoke. "But I would really like to move along."
"I haven't forgotten, Miss Adler. In fact, I know exactly who I would like to get rid of first." He paused, keeping everyone's attention. "There is another member of our party who is out of reach. I have already spoken to them prior to this meeting. They have their arrow at the ready, trained towards the tribute of my choosing. When I give the sign, you will die."
Sherlock watched Charles' every move, waiting for some sort of signal that could potentially call said archer to attack. He didn't bother to look around for the archer, knowing it was too dark to see in the shadows. Even with the sun slowly rising, the sky becoming more blue than black, the archer still had all the control in this situation. Even if he could see who it was, he could do nothing to prevent the fate of their target.
"It's simple really," Charles continued. "Shall I tell you what to look for? Well, you can rule out snapping, smiling and glancing. I've done all that, and you are all still alive. However, if I do this-" Charles kicked the closest rock. There was a whistle through the wind, a gasp, a flop, and then a canon.
The knife at Sherlock's neck fell to his feet, as did Tom, who had an arrow stuck in his own neck.
They all stared at Tom's body. None of them knew him very well, so no strong emotions hung on their minds, except one: confusion.
"Why would you do that?" John spoke for all of them. "Kill your ally?"
"I have no allies," Charles said, glancing at a frightened Irene. "We are all for ourselves."
James saw Irene's doubt as a weak moment, and forced her knife from her hand, and held it to her throat. He watched for any leg movement of Charles, ready to take action if he was next in line.
"Go ahead, kick another rock." James threatened.
Charles did as he was told, and kicked the ground. Everyone, besides Sherlock,ducked, but there was no whistle, no flopping of a dead body, no canon.
"We all have different signals," Greg realized, feeling a bit sheepish as he straightened from his fetal position.
"Obviously," Sherlock spoke, his eyes not straying from Charles.
"Who wants to be next?" Charles lifted his arms out, and looked around at the helpless, defenseless tributes. "Nobody? Well, I suppose I will just have to choose..."
He tapped his chin and shuffled his feet, acting like he was making to most difficult decision he would ever have to make. Stepping in front of James, who still had the blade to Irene's neck, he raised his left hand and placed his index finger on the edge of the blade. Irene tried to pull herself from James grasp, feeling her last moments were upon her, but James just held on tight, a small smirk on his face.
Charles paused, watching Irene's reaction, then he ran his finger quickly across the blade without a flinch. Blood ran slowly down his finger as he lifted it away from the two and faced the five behind him.
"Decisions, decisions..." He stepped towards each of them, going left to right, his finger close to each of their faces. Sebastian, John, Molly, Sherlock, Greg, back to Sherlock... Stopping at Sherlock, his finger hovered over his cheek. Charles inhaled, getting ready to speak, but it became a sniff as well. "Oh, you and blood would smell divine when mixed, Sherlock."
Sherlock's brow furrowed. A sudden want to punch this boy in the face rose to the surface, but he held his clenched fist back. "Then go ahead." he whispered.
"Sherlock..." Molly finally spoke, trying to tell him in one word that, sometimes, he was too reckless.
The corners of Charles mouth lifted in a victorious smile. He lifted his left hand, his blood having run down enough to almost touch his wrist. Instead of running his hand across Sherlock's face, he stepped to his left, in front of Molly, and stopped. Sherlock's jaw clenched as tight as his fist, but he didn't dare move yet.
"Miss Hooper," Charles started. "What a lovely young thing you are... having no enemies, only allies, yet being all alone." Molly's eyes grew wider as she swallowed. She looked between his eyes and his raised, bloodied hand, not sure which to focus on. "Your sister was a strong one, but not strong enough. You allowed her weakness to be yours, and that will be your downfall."
"What are you talking about?" Molly asked in a whisper, not being able to speak any louder as mention of her sister brought tears to her eyes.
"Allowing him to be who he is," Charles continued, coming in closer. "Will allow you the death you deserve... just like Susie."
Just as Charles finished, he lifted his left hand and, never looking away from Molly, wiped it across John's right cheek. Sherlock and Greg immediately took action. Greg had his knife in his hand, having took it out of his boot after ducking earlier.
Sherlock dived after John. They landed hard on the ground the moment the arrow flew above their heads, only taking a small chunk of Sherlock's curls with it. Greg grabbed Charles around the shoulder, his blade coming to his jugular. Greg twisted Charles towards the general direction of the archer, but was too slow.
"Greg!" Molly yelled from behind him. Charles ran into the darkness as fast as he could before Sherlock and John could get up and chase him.
Molly knelt beside a lifeless Greg, the arrow having hit his right eye directly. The tears that had stung her eyes when Charles had mentioned her sister became tears of despair at seeing Greg Lestrade. Why she was overcome with such grief, she wasn't sure. She didn't know much about him, except that Sherlock trusted him, and that he really enjoyed eating donuts.
Sherlock and John soon joined Molly, but instead of sitting around to mourn, they picked up Greg's body, and hid behind the rock Sherlock had been sitting on during their riddles game. No whistle of an arrow came flying past them while they tried to hide from the invisible archer, but Sherlock didn't want to take any chances.
"What happened to James and Irene?" Molly asked after they all got settled. None of them could tear their eyes away from Greg, no matter how much they wanted to, and knew they had to so the Capital could take him away.
"James started backing away with Irene as soon as Charles focused on you," Sherlock told her. "He knew once Charles was done with them, the archer would be too, and he could get away before things got out of hand."
"Why would they do that?" John asked. "The archer, I mean. Why would the archer shoot so close to Charles, and then not shoot us all after he got away?
"Lots of reasons, John. For one thing, it is safe to assume Charles has a very skilled archer on his side, but it is also safe to assume that whoever it was that was helping him is also helping us."
"I doubt that," John said bitterly. Losing two close friends had taken it's toll on him.
"Don't," Sherlock and John tore their eyes away from Greg to look at each other. "It is true that they may be very skilled in archery, but it is also possible that they had bad timing. Did you notice the height difference between Greg and Charles?"
John sighed, too tired to think, but he answered anyway. "Uh, Charles was taller."
"Yes, and do you remember how the archer killed Tom?"
The mention of Tom brought the tiniest pang of guilt to Molly's stomach. She didn't know him well at all, but she never forgot his smile when she first saw him in the cave. Perhaps her guilt came from the fact that no one knew him well enough to mourn him.
"He shot him through the neck." Molly answered.
"Yes, exactly, he-He shot him?" Sherlock paused, looking at Molly. "Yes, I suppose the archer being a he is more likely, considering the fact that Anderson spent most of his time in the archery station during training..." Sherlock seemed to consider this a moment before moving on. "As Molly said, the archer shot Tom through the throat. There was no reason for the archer to shoot that particular part of Tom's body, but he did. Now, that seems like something insignificant, but its not.
"John, when Charles put the blood on your cheek, it made you the target. The arrow that passed over us flew in the general direction your throat would have been had we not been on the ground. Now, it could just be another coincidence, but that is why I bring up the height difference between Greg and Charles. Where was Greg shot? In the eye. Why not the neck? If he is as skilled of an archer as I said he is, he would have hit Greg in the same place as all his other targets. He had plenty of time and space to hit Greg's neck, so why didn't he?"
Sherlock knew the answer of course, but he had hoped that John and Molly had caught up. They hadn't. Sherlock sighed and ran in his hands through his hair. "Greg's eyes were at the level of Charles throat. The archer could very well have seen a chance to get rid of Charles, knowing he was being used, but had bad timing, and shot Greg instead. It would explain why he didn't shoot at us while we moved Gregs body, and why he hesitated in shooting you, John."
"I thought you hated Anderson?" John asked, changing the subject somewhat.
"I do. He's an idiot. But he was not a bad archer."
"Did he hit all his targets in the neck during training?"
"Of course not, John. The bulls eye on the dummies were always on the chest. A skilled archer wouldn't show how they actually shoot targets, especially when other Tributes are watching."
"Anderson fancied you less than he did anyone else. Why would he help us?" Molly asked, having taken her eyes away from Greg long enough to focus on Sherlock's deductions.
Sherlock looked at Molly. "Because I would like to believe that Anderson is less of an idiot than I give him credit for. Now, we better get out of here. The water continues to rise with every second that passes. I assume you would both like a dry place to sleep."
So yeah... I killed Lestrade... Believe me, I'm not happy about it either, but then it kinda just wrote itself. I hope you can forgive me for taking so long! Work has been a pain in the butt and the writers block was strong with this one. XD How was everyones holiday? My Christmas was awesome, in case you wanted to know haha
Can you believe Benedict is engaged? AAAAHHHH SO CUTE! ^_^ Anyways, I cant make any promises, cause I'd probably break it, but I will actually ACTUALLY try to get this story done soon. I feel like the end is coming...
Also, have you seen the new Hobbit? HOLY CRAP! Reading the books didn't prepare me at all...
I LOVE YOU! 3 :D