Thankfully neither of those tributes claimed the room as their own also, so there were no complications there. I shut the door, knowing that no one would come in, but for good measures I pressed the circular lock on the handle. It was not as good as the dead bolt on my bedroom door, but I supposed it stopped tributes from entering. I unladed my things, stuffing my unfolded clothes into the drawers and hiding the drug shoe in the darkest corner underneath the bed, stuffing the knife under the pillow. It had become a terrible habit to sleep with the knife, I knew it hurt more than it helped, but I felt safer with it, as if someone was going to storm the train. The games messes with your head, in there every human you see wanted your head separated from your neck, in the real world it mostly didn’t work like that. I knew on this train there was security and no one was out to get me, but there was always that annoying part in my mind, the one I’d love to shove a sock into and just tell it to shut up, saying that there’s always a chance. The capital didn’t have anything against me, I had won the games fair and square, but there were always those psychotic family members hunting down the train at gunpoint. I sat on the side of the bed, ruffling my hair like I did when I was nervous. I don’t know why I did it, but for some reason it was therapeutic to know that I was, in some ways, still who I was. And unless I was possessed by some alien or something, I’d never change my hair. It was, what I considered, my best feature, even though the only person I had to impress is myself. I looked around the room, it wasn’t the same one I was in when I was a tribute, but it looked the same. The technology so advanced District Twelve probably couldn’t even dream of having, showers that had so many buttons they looked like elevators, TV screens that acted as walls, it was all so futuristic, but in reality there were probably a lot more things happening. That’s the downside of living in the higher districts, the higher you got the poorer you got, and we were the highest there was, so most of the residents ate garbage. Before my reaping we were okay, we had food most of the time, we had clothes and enough water to bathe regularly. My father was a coal miner, as they all were, but my mother was a seamstress, she made and sold clothes for the rest of the district. Unlike a lot, if she had too many clothes or simply ones that people weren’t buying, she’d give them to the poor. She had always been, in my opinion, too nice. It was a shame that niceness hadn’t been passed onto me or Mycroft. I was always different from all the kids at school, I didn’t have any friends, I aced all my tests, and everyone thought I was the freak of the school. I liked it that way though, no one bothered me, no girls flirted with me, and I got to get my work done quickly so I had extra time to read the textbooks I had stolen from the upperclassman. That way I was extra smart, my hope was to graduate early, and my dream was to graduate before Mycroft. Unfortunately though, after the reaping I wasn’t allowed to go back to school. Apparently they thought I would be tormented by the kids, or go all murderous or something. In the end I did graduate before Mycroft, but not for the right reasons. Any kid in their right mind would rejoice at the freedom, they had enough money to swim in, they were set for the rest of their life, but there were the after effects of this stupid game. If I could turn back time, back to living in a shack and eating only rations, I would gladly do it.

                I don’t know how long I stayed in that room, not doing anything in particular but just thinking to myself, my favorite pastime to be honest, there was a knock on the door.
“Go away!” I yelled, which was my default response.
“Sherlock honey, we’re about to eat dinner!” it was Mrs. Hudson, the escort. She was the only person I actually felt bad about saying shut up to. Over my time she became like an adopted grandmother, and even though she was from the capital she was the only person that seemed to actually care about the tributes, instead of just wanting them to die to get them off of their hands.
“Coming.” I muttered in a bored tone. I never ate much, but after the game I seemed to get used to barely eating anything, so now I just resorted to, if any, very small amounts. I got to my feet, checking my reflection quickly in the mirror before trudging out to the dining car once again. Everyone was already seated, Irene was already helping herself to the mashed potatoes, and John was sitting up as straight as possible, still looking as terrified as he had when he got on the train. I sat down in the only available seat, next to Molly and across from John.
“Shall we all say a prayer?” Mrs. Hudson asked. I remember this from last time; she always made us pray for good fortune. We all held hands, I did rather reluctantly, and Mrs. Hudson just asked that we make it through safely. Unfortunately though, only one of these tributes, if any, would actually make it through. Irene didn’t even bother to stop chewing as she prayed, and at that moment I added a little prayer that if one of them could survive please make it be John. We were then allowed to start eating, and everyone except me and John attacked their favorite foods. He seemed to be waiting for everyone to stop, or he was just remembering that the more he ate the more he might throw up with nerves. I simply buttered a piece of bread, but both the bread and the butter were fancier than I’d ever be able to find at home. I barely ate it either, I sipped my water and watched everyone else eat, toning out their conversations. I noticed John not eating much either, he had a couple of green beans on his plate, but that was it.
“You might want to eat.” I said in a monotone voice, but it still made everyone (except Irene of course) stop what they were talking about and look at me. I groaned, if this was the reaction I would get every time I talked I might as well be a bloody avox. John looked up at me with mild surprise, as if he had been told I didn’t say a word either.
“I’m not very hungry.” He muttered. The rest of the people got over their shock and went back to their conversations. I noticed Irene seemed to be doing all the talking at that end of the table, and when Molly tried to say something she just interrupted.
“But you’ll need all the nutrition you can get.” I pointed out. That was what Molly had said to me when I was a tribute, and I took her word for it. I don’t know if it really paid off, but it made sense when you thought about it John nodded, scooping out corn from a fancy china bowl. I knew I couldn’t get too attached to him, talking to him was probably as much as I would be able to do, but it was slightly easy for me to ignore people when I wanted to. But being as it was my responsibility to give him tips on how to stay alive; I might have to talk more than I wanted. As if to encourage him I finished my bread and scooped whatever was left of the mashed potatoes. Irene had taken almost all of them by some miracle; I guess they were her favorite since at least half of her plate was filled with them. God, I really didn’t like her.
“So, you were last year’s tribute right?” John asked. I nodded, not wanting to have a conversation. “I remember you; it was a big deal when you came out alive. We all thought you were going to be the first down.” He said. I smiled very sarcastically at him, and he seemed to realize what he had just said.
“Sorry sir, that sounded really mean I wasn’t trying to offend you or anything. You did brilliant though.” He said in a mess of words. I realized he called me sir, which was a very odd thing considering I could only be a year or two older than him.
“Thank you.” I said quietly, as if trying to get him to shut up. He took the message, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. I didn’t want to offend him in anyway, but it would be better if he felt like he wanted to talk to Irene, because then he would be waiting the entire train ride to get a word in. The servants rushed into the room, switching out the food with desert. John thanked them, the only one who actually did. Irene just took a spoon right out of the avox’s hand, scooping pudding out of a tall glass container. I merely plucked a raspberry off the top of a tall cake with my fork, not very hungry for any sweets. John took the liberty of having a small scoop of ice cream, but he ate it so slowly I was afraid it was going to melt before he was actually able to eat it. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, dinner was over and we were allowed to be excused. Before I could escape though, Molly stopped me in the hall on the way out.
“You should talk to him more, make him feel welcome. How we all sit in the living room?” she recommended.
“Why would he want to feel welcome here?” I asked. I know it’s always great to have great hospitality on the ride to your death.
“Please.” She said, trying and failing to do puppy eyes. I stepped back a little bit with a defeated sigh, hating the close quarters I was stuck in.
“Fine! But I won’t like it, and there’s no guarantee I will actually talk.” I decided with a pout. Molly’s face lit up, which was so common that I barely meant anything anymore. I forced a weak smile just to make her feel good, which was still pretty pathetic, and walked back into through the dining car to what we called the living room. It was just a compartment with couches, a TV, and even a fireplace, but it was the homiest of them all. The light outside was fading, the big picture windows reflecting our images back through the darkness. John and Irene sat on one couch; for once Irene was being quiet, sipping on the straw of a fancy bubbly soda. Mrs. Hudson sat in an armchair, looking at the two as if wanting to start a conversation but not knowing what to say. John looked a bit uncomfortable, sitting the farthest away he could from Irene and sitting up straight once more, as if this was the army. I sat on the couch opposite, Molly joining me even though there was another available armchair. I should’ve realized that faster so I could’ve taken that instead.
“So, do you two have any plans for the games?” she asked.
“I thought…” John started.
“Of course I do. During all the press I’ll seduce the audience until they almost have to sponsor me.” Irene said with a smile. I haven’t heard of that strategy before, but even though it was absolutely pathetic it might work. I know that Snow takes advantage of the more attractive victors, selling them for money. Irene might end up down that path, but I doubt she’d care. I think any man in their right mind should run as far away from her to be honest.
“And you John?” I asked, not commenting on Irene’s grand plan. John twisted his hands uncomfortably.
“Well, I was thinking that maybe, if I could find a place, that I could just hide somewhere, sort of like you did.” He said.
“That would take a lot more brains than you probably have.” I said simply. The room was silent, even Irene stopped drinking to look at me. John sighed, as if expecting that to be the answer and going back to being the quiet onlooker.
“What Sherlock meant to say is that it all depends on climate and conditions. If you’re in the snow that might not be a good idea, and in the forest it might be difficult to not look to out of place.” Molly said. John nodded, but obviously my answer had taken a toll on his overall confidence. It was too late to clear it up, so I just nodded at Molly’s kinder version. Mrs. Hudson remained quiet, simply observing.
“Tomorrow we will arrive at the capital, we will meet your stylists and get all cleaned up there, and then we will discuss the parade outfits. Do you have any ideas?” Molly asked.
“As little as possible.” Irene said with a smile.
“No, please.” John said sheepishly. I smiled at him; he was like a nervous little kid trying to be an adult.
“We thought, since it’s coal, that maybe you can do a fire thing? I know that they did that before, but we could maybe do something different?” Molly guessed.
“That sounds okay.” John agreed.
“We need to attract as much attention as we can.” Mrs. Hudson pointed out.
“Obviously.” Irene laughed.
“Sponsors are always watching, so make sure to smile and be pleasant.” Molly added.
“That was you’re down fall Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson pointed out.
“Smiling is too much work.” I pointed out with a frown. John laughed, but he was the only one that did, because everyone knew that in my opinion that was true. He quickly realized his mistake and was silent.
“So, John, where are you from?” Mrs. Hudson asked, taking the subject off of the games for a while.
“The back of district twelve, not the wealthiest of families.” He muttered, blushing a little bit with embarrassment.
“That’s fine sweetie.” Mrs. Hudson assured. “And how about you?” she asked Irene.
“I come from the richer side of things, I’ve got three siblings and my family is the head of the market.” She said proudly. John looked around nervously; I could tell that he disliked her as much as we did.
“And how about you John? Family?” Molly asked after some silence.
“I have a sister, Harriet.” He said.
“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself Sherlock, you haven’t said a word.” Mrs. Hudson decided.
“I said some words.” I pointed out with a groan, hating conversation and everything that had to do with it.
“They weren’t positive.” She added.
“Well, I have a fat annoying brother named Mycroft.” I sighed. Mrs. Hudson looked very annoyed with me at that moment, glaring at me. “Was that the wrong answer?” I defended. Irene cracked a smile, but everyone else looked fairly annoyed.
“You could’ve put it nicer dear.” Mrs. Hudson decided.
“Well I’ll be Irene’s mentor, and Sherlock will be with John, anything you need from us we would be happy to provide, information, tips, whatever. We’ve been through this and made it out, so we’re here for you.” Molly said. John looked up at me as if I was going to say something similar, but I just smiled weakly at him and went back to not talking or showing emotion of any kind. In a particularly cruel way of getting to know our tributes better, Mrs. Hudson suggested we have one on one time, where Irene and Molly sit in the dining hall and John and I stay here. I knew this thing was all a quite pathetic attempt just for me to talk, but before I could protest Molly agreed that it would be a great idea.