"There's refreshments upstairs John, why don't we go up?" Mrs. Hudson suggested. I knew he only wanted to get out of there, but he nodded, the group of us following Mrs. Hudson up a fancy set of stairs to what looked like a big party of the V.I.P. station. There were bubbling drinks and fancy cheese samples on platters, waiters with champagne walking around and serving the rich clientele. John looked quite overwhelmed, but Mrs. Hudson headed straight to the snacks, obviously searching for her favorite selection. For some reason Molly seemed to find some people she knew, I had no idea how she knew anyone in the Capital but apparently she did, they welcomed her with open arms. All these people flocked to John, trying to get pictures and autographs but he just stood close to me, not wanting anyone to touch him or take any of the pens that were being thrust at him.

"Why'd we come up here?" he muttered.

"Mrs. Hudson likes the snacks." I said with a laugh.

"Where is there air?" he asked. I looked around, my height acting as a bit of an advantage. I saw a balcony a little while away, it seemed to be deserted and looked pretty secluded from the rest of the party.

"There, come on." I decided, pushing through the crowd who all tried to get pictures. I hoped they'd leave him alone; obviously he wasn't accustomed to the popularity.

"Move you people, god give him space!" I hissed, about to kick some guy who kept jumping in front of us. Eventually we were able to push through, the crowd behind us, disappointed that he didn't sign their stuff. Stupid Capital people, so fame crazed. I opened the door for him with a smile, thinking it funny to treat him like royalty. He walked out into the open space, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. The sound of life echoed up from below us, some ten feet below us. I closed the glass door, but thankfully no one was stalking us from inside.

"God those people are annoying." John decided.

"This is what it's like to be a celebrity." I pointed out.

"They won't care about me in a week." He objected.

"So treasure it while you still can." I laughed. He was leaning over the stone railing, which almost made me worry that the crown would fall off.

"I don't know why they think it's so amazing, it's murder!" he sighed.

"Yes but it's our tradition, murderous and ugly yes, but it's what we do in the Capital." I shrugged.

"Well I don't like it." he grumbled.

"Sorry, but you'll have to face it a lot more now that you're a victor. You'll be a mentor if you want to, the position isn't exactly open, but you can always tag along." I added.

"Of course I'll come; I won't leave you here to suffer on your own." He assured with a smile.

"You better not." I laughed. He smiled up at me, the crown gleaming on his hair.

"It looks good on you, fits you I guess." I pointed out.

"Just a crown." He shrugged.

"It's probably worth half of District Twelve." I defended.

"Just a crown." John decided. I rolled my eyes but smiled, he was being way too negative about all of this. "Do you still have yours?" he asked.

"Somewhere in my closet, I don't like to think about it much." I admitted.

"I'm sure it'll look just as good on you."  He assured.

"I can promise that I look like a complete idiot." I laughed, feeling this conversation turn a little bit awkward.

"You never look like an idiot Sherlock." He assured. "A complete moron yes, but not an idiot." I felt myself smile at his pathetic excuse for a joke.

"Well sorry, you're stuck with me." I pointed out. He smiled at me, as if that was a joke too.

"It's my pleasure." He assured. I smiled at him, but looking down at him made my heart flip in my chest. What do I do? Should I kiss him, should I not, would he run away or stay here and go with it? Questions banged around in my skull, it felt like an eternity that I sat here, waiting to decide what my answer was. But I guess I didn't fully think it out because I felt myself leaning down and wrapping my arms around his waist. But for some reason I didn't bother with the what-ifs and the negative side of things because our lips locked together in a kiss that I prayed I would never forget. It was perfect, his hands held the back of my head; I could feel the crown against my forehead and both of our hearts beating with such force that I was afraid it would break my rib cage. It was perfect, he was perfect, this kiss was going to be... a blinding flash ended it, making us tear away long enough to see a lady with a camera run away.

"Oh god..." I muttered, but I knew it was a done deal. John looked more flustered than nervous, but I knew as soon as she posted that or sent it to a magazine or anything it would go completely viral.

"No, no!" I cursed, now I had officially just ruined his life and his entire fame. Now he'd be that gay victor kissing his mentor on the balcony, not the victor that managed to trick the Careers into killing each other.

"Sherlock it's fine, really, it's okay." John assured.

"They got a bloody picture!" I pointed out, as if he had somehow missed that. 

"A whole bunch of lunatics had gotten pictures of us Sherlock, it's fine." He insisted. I groaned, stomping my foot on the cement with anger. That thing will be everywhere; everyone would see that, oh god Mycroft would see that.

"This doesn't bother you?" I demanded.

"We've been through hell and back, both of us, why is it a crime to enjoy yourself once in a while?" he shrugged. I felt myself blush and tried to stop it, hoping that he wouldn't see. How was he taking this so lightly, the entire world would see us kissing. It certainly bothered me.

"Let's just get on the train." I decided, walking out the door and looking around to see the woman who had got the picture. She's probably uploading it already, then other people would get a hold of it, Caesar, Snow even. I shiver to think what those consequences would be. The room was still packed; if she was anywhere here I couldn't see her. I saw Molly though, sipping a tall glass of champagne and talking with a whole bunch of other women I didn't recognize. Mrs. Hudson was in the corner with a lot of other older people, laughing at a joke someone had said. John followed me out the door, I didn't know why I was mad, if he didn't care I shouldn't it's not like I have some miracle reputation to uphold. But for some reason I was angry, and I was angry at him, as if this was his fault when it was actually mine.

"Molly, we're leaving." I snapped, pulling her arm and making her spill her champagne onto the floor.

"Sherlock gosh! What's the rush?" she asked, pulling her arm out of my grasp, but I didn't answer, I walked over to where Mrs. Hudson was standing and pulled her along also.

"Oh dear, what's wrong Sherlock, are you hurt?" she squeaked with surprise, waving goodbye to her friends as she struggled to keep up with me. I didn't answer yet again, but led her over to where John and Molly were looking nervous.

"We are leaving." I announced, and with that I led the way down the staircase. Mrs. Hudson asked John in a hushed voice about what happened, but he said he'd tell her once we got on the train home. We all loaded onto the passenger train to take us back to the Tribute Center, what had been for so long, but I really wasn't very emotional about saying goodbye. This place held memories, bad memories, of sadness, terror, grief, and a whole lot more negative emotions that I wanted to forget.

There was silence on the train, I just gripped the handrail with anger and stared the tunnel lights going by. I felt like my happiness was collapsing in on itself, one moment I thought I'd never be sad again, but now it felt like the fires of rage were extending over me, burning through my body and making me want to punch someone. I knew this wasn't John's fault, but for some reason when I looked at him I was angry. More angry than ever. I should've been rejoicing, he's alive, he's okay, and we just kissed. But now someone had ruined it, some mysterious woman had ruined everything.

"Oh...wow, now I see." Molly muttered. I looked over at her and saw that she had been on her phone; I guess news travels just as fast as I thought it would. Mrs. Hudson walked over to where she was and looked over, gasping but trying to pass it off as a sneeze or something. I groaned, hoping this train would just stop already. It seems like the one time I want it to stop is the one time it kept going.

"Is it bad?" John asked.

"No, it's, wow, I've never seen so many reposts." Molly muttered.

"Bloody paparazzi." I hissed, but I didn't join the pack over Molly's shoulder. I knew I'd see it eventually, but for now I didn't want to torture myself more.

"What happened out there?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I think you can figure it out yourself." I snapped. She held her hands up defensively, but I wasn't paying attention.

"Come on Sherlock don't get all grumpy now." Molly sighed.

"Too late." I pointed out.

"What happened to that smile, it was there for a while." Molly insisted.

"Molly shut up!" I hissed, making the train go silent. Why was I so angry, this was totally normal but now it was totally unnecessary. This should not be taken out on any of them, they did nothing wrong. I know what I need. It's sitting on my dresser. This is what's going on, I needed the drugs, I couldn't stay sober during all of this emotion. Now the train seemed to slow even more, the lights barely passing as fast as they used to. I tapped my foot anxiously, what do I do, what do I do to keep my mind off of it? Come on train, come on MOVE! I knew screaming in my head would do absolutely nothing to make this train go any faster, but at the moment it felt like an old snail with an amputated limb would beat us there.

"Sherlock are you okay?" Molly asked nervously.

"I need it, I need it." I mumbled. Then my brain sparked up an idea. "What did you do with the drugs you took from me, where are they do you have them?" I asked quickly. Molly looked terrified, but shook her head.

"Nope, we had a deal, no drugs Sherlock, he's back safely, you need to stay clean." She insisted.

"But do you have them!" I demanded, eyeing her purse. She glared at me, but my heart was racing. It was too much emotion at a time, nerves, fear, then overwhelming happiness, then love and anger and that was the one emotion that would tip me over the edge. Anger.

"I need some!" I insisted, trying to demonstrate my best puppy dog eyes. The train slowed to a stop and the doors slid open peacefully. I looked at the three of them, all glaring at me to see what I'd do. Some hesitation, no, I ran for it, bolting out that door faster than I would expect and running into the lobby.

"Sherlock stop where you are!" Molly yelled, but John was closest on pursuit. I flew into the elevator, jamming the Twelve button as hard as I could. John was in range, the doors dinged, he was closer, closer, the doors were just about to shut, and he jumped in, squeezing though the gap and into the car as the doors dinged behind him. I didn't quite know what to do now, and obviously he didn't either. I trusted him more than the two of them, who were now banging on the glass doors and screaming things I couldn't understand.

"Sherlock you can't do it, come on." John insisted, grabbing my hand but I shook him off.

"You don't understand John, I need them, they're part of me and if not I'm going to get really angry." I assured, leaning on the handrail to keep balance. We were going pleasantly up, the elevator taking it's dear old time. Mrs. Hudson and Molly got smaller and smaller until I couldn't see them anymore, and I must say it wasn't a loss at all.

"Sherlock you're scaring me." John said in a small voice. I looked at him once and saw actual fear in his eyes. He had come back for me, I was his motivation to win those games and now I'm pushing him away. The first flash of doubt ran in my mind, the first doubt I've ever had about these drugs since I've started them. I didn't want to disappoint him, he didn't deserve that, but then the red hot rage flew over me and my mind simply broke once again. The hinges had fallen off the door and I remembered everything, the light leaving his eyes, the blood pouring from his skull and onto my hands, his limbs falling heavily to the floor. The door to the elevator dinged open and I ran for my room, but John was right there. For some reason he was faster, he didn't tackle me or anything but he flung himself in front of the doors to my room, blocking my way.

"Sherlock, no." he repeated, firmer this time.

"John get out of the way!" I hissed.

"I said no." he insisted. I screamed, the explosion was back, the boom, the sound of bodies hitting the trees. I screamed out loud, I couldn't remember this; I needed to dull my brain. I suddenly had an idea, instead of fighting him. I ran to the kitchen and before he could react grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the bottom shelf, throwing the cap off and gulping down as much as I could before John ran at me, knocking the bottle out of my hand and pinning me to the ground. The alcohol burned my throat but it didn't do anything to my mind, I needed the morphine, it was so far now. I flailed, I needed to get him off me, I screamed, but he just pinned me to the ground and wouldn't look into my eyes. I didn't want to remind him of pinning down the boy from One and I desperately hoped that he wouldn't smash my head in, but that might stop my thoughts.

"John please!" I begged.

"No Sherlock, you need to fight it." John insisted.

"How can I fight it when I'm too busy fighting you?!" I pointed out. I heard the elevator ding and Molly and Mrs. Hudson ran to his side. Molly was helping pin me down while Mrs. Hudson picked up the broken glass shards on the floor from the now broken bottle. The Avoxes would kill me, but what did I care? I was already dead, that's what they were all forgetting.

"Come on Sherlock, stop fighting us." John begged, looking into my eyes with his big brown baby eyes. I didn't know what I wanted to do, fight him, kiss him, he was beautiful but in my way and the tributes were back.

My foot was trapped once again, the vine entangling it like a snake and sending me flying to the ground, my chin knocking hard into the mud. I let loose a scream as the memories came back, capturing my mind again. John was doing his best but I could tell his strength was failing him, I was too persistent. He didn't understand, he would never understand the need for that syringe, sitting so innocently on my dresser if I could only just get to it.

The boy came jumping at me once again, I rolled to the side, but I knew it would all be too slow. My foot caught his stomach again and he toppled out of sight. I hacked at the vine and got to my feet once again, the small knife clutched in my hand for dear life. "Fight it Sherlock!" Molly screamed. I thrashed out again; my whole body feeling like it was on fire, this wasn't good, I wasn't supposed to feel like this. My brain was melting into goo; my body was filled with acid not blood.

"Help me!" I screamed desperately.

He pulled out the large knife again, laughing that maniacal laugh that forever haunted my dreams. "John please!" I screamed, my voice so loud it hurt my throat.

"Come on Sherlock, please, for me?" John begged, not letting me go.  "I'm losing, he's coming, he's coming back for me, John please you've got to help me!" I insisted. I closed my eyes shut tight, but I didn't see the darkness, I saw the jungle, I heard the laugh. I opened them again and instead of John looking down on me it was him, the boy, the tribute, and there was a knife sticking out of his head, blood pouring down onto me like a waterfall.

"See what you did you did to me, this is on you Sherlock Holmes! You killed me!" The boy screamed, and I screamed back, I didn't want to see him, he shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be here. I kicked with all my might and managed to release one of my feet somehow, looping it around and kicking the boy hard in the chest, sending him hard onto the floor. I shook free from the hands holding me down and I ran to my room, he was chasing me; he knew I was going, he knew what I was doing.

I sidestepped the blade that went flying at my head, shouldering him into the tree again.

I kicked the doors open, he was on my tail, he was coming but he was limping a little bit, coughing as he came. The blood poured onto the floor, soaking into the floor coming at me like a wave. It was there, on the dresser. I threw myself at it, knocking into the dresser and cracking the mirror with my shoulder.

I stuck the knife into the boy's head once again.

I stuck the needle in my arm once again, and everything evaporated into a peaceful blackness.