I sighed, happy the two had left, and stared at the TV screen. The Careers had found the snake guy somehow, and now he was trying to defend himself with a small sword against at least six tributes. Eventually he saw he was hopeless, and took off running down the rocky slopes. The Careers were on full pursuit, chasing after him and whooping with delight. The man Molly was trying to talk to stood up dramatically, slammed a dollar bill on the table and walked out of the bar as if it were some sort of show. Molly picked up the dollar with a frown and unwrinkled it.

"Well, one dollar down, a couple thousand to go." She shrugged.

"Can a dollar buy us anything?" I asked hopefully.

"Not even a drop." She sighed, but never the less stuffed it into her purse. "Any luck with your guy?"

"No, they ended up being victors, creepy ones too." I shrugged.

"Then what are we still doing here?" she grumbled, sliding off the stool and leading us both out into the nearly binding sunlight.

"What now?" I asked.

"We wait I guess, until night time when more people will be around. I don't think the daytime crowd wants to invest in anything but drinking." She shrugged. I sighed, John was out there dying and I had to stay here and try to persuade people to help him. It sounded so easy, but in real life people were nasty little brats, never thinking of anyone else but themselves. We walked back to the Tribute Center, I was in a bad mood, sulking my way to the elevator and ignoring everything Molly tried to say to cheer me up. It wasn't a good day, it was terrible, John was dying and I sit here, useless. The elevator dinged, telling us that it was time to get off, and the doors opened peacefully.

"Is there anything you want to do?" Molly asked.

"I want John back."

"There's an ice skating rink down the street, that might take your mind off everything." Molly suggested.

"I'm not going to go ice skating." I snapped.

"Well how about a movie?"

"No movies are playing; everyone's watching the love of my life get murdered." I pointed out. Molly's encouraging smile faded, and I immediately realized I should've picked better words.  Thinking that in my head was a lot different than having Molly judging me.

"No, I didn't mean it like..." I stared.

"No Sherlock, it's okay, if that's..." she assured.

"I didn't mean he was the love of my life, I just meant..." I just walked away to my room, knowing that she'll want me to talk to her about my feelings. 

"I know what you meant; you can talk about it if you want." She decided. And there it is.

"No Molly I'm fine!" I yelled back, shutting the door and locking it. I heard her voice muffled from behind the door, but I couldn't make out the words. I set my forehead on the wood, banging it slightly as if that would knock out all of the memories and thoughts about John. Why would I ever sat that, why, why, why? My forehead started to hurt, but it's what I get for being such a failure. I deserved pain; I should stop drinking just so I get the same pain as John has. If he died, I'd go with him, even though I had promised him that I wouldn't follow him, he even told me not to, but I would. I don't want this life, I never had, he seemed like the only good thing to ever happen to me and if he died I'd have to keep going like this, sending tributes in, watching them die, saying words at the funerals... Not worth it. I felt a tear run down my face but I ignored it, it meant I was still alive, that he was still alive, that there was still the smallest fraction of hope. I walked over to my bed and collapsed on it, laying there, looking at the ceiling and almost feeling like I could reach out my hand and he'll be there.

"Sherlock are you okay?" it was Mrs. Hudson this time, obviously Molly had told her what I had said.

"Go away!" I yelled back.

"Come on dear, there's no shame in it!" she insisted.

"We're worried about you!" Molly called this time. Oh great, now both of the moms were out to get me.

"I said go away!" This time it was an angry scream, I wanted nothing to do with them, unless they could get into those games and fish him out. I heard them muttering, but they must've walked away because they didn't say anything. I swung over the edge of my bed, I was spiraling back into this desperate state, I needed them, I couldn't do this without it. I grabbed a syringe and stuck the needle in my forearm, almost debating on a second one. But slowly the drug entered my blood stream, calming me down and relaxing my brain. It was okay now; it would all be okay now. I slumped back into the pillows, pulling my covers overtop of myself and sighing with relief. It was okay.

                I must have fallen asleep because I was woken up with loud banging on the door. I groaned, I felt perfectly fine now, it must've worn off. Ugh.

"What!" I called.

"Dinner's ready!" it was Mrs. Hudson.

"I'm not hungry!" I pointed out.

"Sherlock you haven't eaten anything in almost two days, come out here or I swear I will break this door down and drag you out!" she threatened. The sad thing is, I believed her. I dragged myself to my feet, stumbling to the door and blinking away the sleep I had. The light stung my eyes, but thankfully the sun was going down, so there wasn't any real sunlight.

"Is he okay?" I asked hopefully.

"For now, but he really needs water." Molly sighed.

"Then we have to get him some!" I insisted.

"You need to sit and eat, we already made a plate for you." Molly insisted, pushing me towards a chair. The plate in front of me had steak, broccoli, and potatoes, the classic meal. I didn't want to eat, I felt like I'd throw up, but nevertheless I picked up my fork and started to pick at the food.

"Were you sleeping?" Molly asked as she twirled some spaghetti onto her fork.

"I was yes." I snapped.

"Nightmares?" Mrs. Hudson asked. No, for once, I was high, but I just nodded, that would be what they were expecting. I picked at the potatoes on my plate with the fork, trying think of a good way to distract them long enough for me to throw this slop out the window. The TV showed another girl, the one who had climbed up the volcano; she had reached the top apparently. She was standing on top, looking inside at the bubbling lava. It was a too close to the top to make me feel comfortable. If he was going to go out, I didn't want him to burn to death in this lava. The girl looked nervous, but dropped a couple of stones in the lava. They sunk, but left a cloud of dark smoke rising. I didn't know what she was expecting to happen, them to burn or to bounce back, it was obviously lava idiot.

"Eat Sherlock." Molly insisted. I stuffed a mouthful of broccoli into my mouth, but I immediately thought I was going to throw up. It took a lot just to swallow the vegetables.

"Are we going out again?" I asked hopefully.

"As long as you're up for it I suppose." Molly agreed.

"I'm fine." I lied. I wasn't fine, and part of me wished that she could see that. The TV switched perspectives and it was John this time, the first time I've seen him since this morning. He looked awful; he was coughing and looking around desperately. The smile that was once on his face was long gone, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't be making any jokes for a while. His clothes were dusty and dirty, there were small cuts on his face from God knows what and it broke my heart into so many little pieces that I doubt even duct tape could fix it.

"No, go now." I decided.

"We're not going anywhere until you finish your meal." Molly decided, but I could tell she didn't want it to come to that. She wanted John also, just not as much as I did. She wouldn't be left to death like grief if he died. I stuffed as much food into my mouth as possible once John's image left the screen. I ate that plate of food faster than any of us thought imaginable, draining a glass of water and making my hair look presentable as I walked to the elevator.

                That night was wasted apparently; no one gave us any money even though my throat was starting to hurt from talking so much. We tried everything we could possible try, the sappy love story, the guilt trip, I even flirted with one of the girls and if that's not determination I don't know what is. The only thing that we got out of that night was a phone number scribbled on a napkin, and I dumped it in the nearest trash can I could find on the way back home. The streets were close to deserted; everyone was either at home or at a restaurant, enjoying their evening. I was getting less and less patient; I couldn't stand this anymore, I had a job to do and I wasn't doing it. I was angry, storming down the street at a pace that Molly had to jog to keep up with.

"Sherlock wait!" she called, but I had no reason to wait for her. "Sherlock it's not your fault!" she insisted, catching up to me finally.

"YES IT IS MY FAULT!" I screamed, stopping where I was to let my anger out. I knew she didn't deserve it, but she was about to snap my last nerve. "JOHN IS IN THERE AND I CAN'T HELP HIM, I CAN'T DO MY BLOODY JOB!" my voice echoed off the dark street, and Molly just stood there in shock, not knowing what to do.

"Sherlock you're doing all you can!" she assured.

"THERE HAS TO BE MORE!" I kicked a metal trash can, the closest thing I could find. Unfortunately it was nailed to the ground, so all I got was an extreme amount of pain, not as much as I deserve though. My hands were clenched into fists; I was physically shaking with rage. "THERE HAS TO BE MORE I CAN DO!" I repeated. Molly was out of words, she looked terrified and I didn't blame her. If anyone else was in her situation they'd be running for their lives. I didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she stayed.

"You have broken almost every rule you have for yourself to try, you went out in public, talked to people you've never seen before, you even flirted with a girl! If someone told me that would happen a week ago I would've laughed in their faces! You have gone to the ends of the earth to do whatever you can and you still think you haven't done enough!" Molly debated, looking like she was on the verge of tears. I didn't know what she would cry, this was my battle not hers.

"HE'S STILL IN THERE, HE'S SUFFERING AND DYING! I'M LEFT HERE TO TRY TO COPE WITHOUT HIM BUT MOLLY I CAN NOT!" I started, breathing heavily and hoping no one was on this street. "I have tried everything to get a good night's sleep, to live my life without the fear of that arena, everything under this bloody sun, and the only thing that worked was when he was with me, when his hand was in mine, I slept like a baby." Molly looked torn between beating me up and hugging me, part of me thought she was able to do both if she really wanted to. "He was the single best thing that happened to me, and I've lost him in less than a week. Maybe this is why I haven't trusted myself to feel like normal people do, why I locked up all my emotions because this is what happens when I try to think that I can love someone. I'm left alone, and scared, and angry, worse than I was before but this time I know there is something that I can do, and I'm not doing it correctly." I felt like a weight had been removed from my shoulders, talking about it even though it was angry, it helped more than I thought it would've. Admitting that this was new, that I felt hopeless, someone to sit and listen was more than I could've asked for. Molly just walked up to me and gave me a hug. Even though it was not returned, just the fact that I let her be within two feet of me was probably saying something. I heard her sniffle; she was fighting back tears almost as much as I was.

"If any sponsor had heard that, you'd have all the money in the world." she muttered. She led me back to the apartment, and now the toll of what I had said was taking place. I was too embarrassed to walk beside her, I walked far behind, I didn't want her to look at me. She had thought I was an emotionless freak before, and now all the sudden here I was losing my mind over a boy, I felt like a whiny teenager who was being judged by his mother. But she didn't bring it up the whole walk back, or the elevator ride, and when I locked myself in my room neither one of them came knocking. I flipped on the TV and went into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. My reflection in the mirror looked so normal; if I didn't know myself I might have thought I was normal. But if I stared into my eyes I could see the hurt that was buried deep, all of this mental and physical pain that was eating me alive. That night I went to bed early, sticking two syringes in my arm this time and trying to have a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Somehow my eyes did shut, and I actually fell asleep, a task, in this manner, that I thought impossible.

                "Sherlock wake up." someone was at my bedside, which was odd, since I thought I locked my door. I opened my eyes and saw the outline of a short, muscular man. He smiled down at me with hazel eyes and I thought my heart must've stopped.

"John?" I muttered.

"Don't look so surprised Sherlock, I'd never leave you." He assured.

"You're, you're in the arena, you're dying." I pointed out, trying to shake myself out of this miserable dream. It was haunting me, John was haunting me, but when he placed his hand on top of mine it was solid.

"You don't think much of me do you?" he asked with a laugh. He was wearing his pajamas, and not the tribute outfit they had given him, he was clean, fresh, and innocent.

"How'd you get out?" I asked with amazement.

"To see you of course." He said, as if I was supposed to take that as an answer. He sank onto the bed with me, holding my hand close to his face and smiling. "I couldn't leave my best man here to suffer."

"Too late." I muttered.

"There's no need to be worried for me Sherlock, I'll be fine." He assured.

"I could've helped you though; I failed..." he shushed me quietly, and I closed my mouth immediately, worrying that if I upset him he would leave again.

"You did all you can, and that was all that I could ever ask for." John assured. I smiled at his reassurance; maybe I was doing something right after all. "I understand you got my message, from the arena?" he asked.

"It was so nice to hear you again." I said.

"I wasn't lying Sherlock, I may have been a little bit psycho in there, but I meant it. And I loved that kiss as much as you had." He said, stroking my cheek with his freehand. I shivered at the touch, he was here, solid, somehow someway and this was the best thing that I could've ever wished for.

"I meant it to. I love you John." I repeated. He nodded as if that was old news, which I guess in some way it was. And then he kissed me, this time with a lot more passion than in the tube. That had been a desperate kiss; this was one that was telling me to stay with him forever. And of course I would never leave him, never let him slip from me again.