I almost jumped out of my chair in fear, but John ran to out the door like a good little tribute. When I got out there, Mrs. Hudson looked like she was going to breathe fire and Molly looked mad. If Molly looks mad, you know you’ve got a problem. The entire trip back Mrs. Hudson was dragging me painfully by the ear, yelling at me about all sorts of things I didn’t care about. It made quite a scene, but I didn’t dare fight her since I was scared she’d rip the entire half of my face off. Apparently it was extremely immature to take the tribute away from the stylists, and there were very important decisions to be made, and John’s makeup was all messed up, and it was entirely my fault. I tried to defend that I couldn’t stand it in the room any more, but apparently the lobby was suitable to escape to. When I was dragged back in, the entire room of mentors went silent, except for uncontrolled laughter by someone I knew was Greg.
“Now you sit and stay here, and if you wander off I’ll throw you into a bus!” Mrs. Hudson screamed, shoving me to the floor in a heap. John looked terrified but all the same trying to control his laughter. I got to my feet, brushing off my jacket and ruffling my hair back to its original state.
“Give me that.” Mrs. Hudson hissed, taking my coffee and dumped it into the nearest trash can.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Hudson, for sneaking off I mean.” John said nervously, as if she would go after him next.
“That’s quite alright dear, I know it’s not your fault.” She assured.
“Well I don’t think Sherlock should be getting…” John started.
“He’s the mentor; he’s completely responsible for everything you do.” Mrs. Hudson pointed out. John muttered something I didn’t understand.
“Now come on, we’ll have to redo your makeup.” She said with a hiss to me.
“Did they choose an outfit?” I asked as they were going to walk away.
“Yes, the light ones, although Irene’s on a little bit of a laughing gas.” Molly said. With that, they walked away, John giving me one last fateful look before allowing himself to be led away. Once again I sat in the lone chair, and as if on cue, Greg bounced right over, as if happy his ‘friend’ had returned.
“Okay, you totally just got beat up by an old lady.”
“Don’t call her an old lady or I’ll have her beat you up next.” I pointed out.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We were in the conference room and the other tribute was going mad, so I sneaked John out and we got coffee, nothing too severe.” I resisted the urge to message my ear, which was throbbing painfully, but decided against it.
“That’s not very smart.” Greg pointed out.
“It’s better than being attacked. They put her on laughing gas apparently.” I defended.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Irene Adler, psychopath if you ask me.” I sighed, old news, obviously.
“Then you two will get along great then.” He laughed.
“I’m a high functioning sociopath, do your research.” I snapped. That had become one of my commonly used lines now. No one seemed to know the difference, or that sociopaths even existed.
“I guess you’re getting along just fine with John then? You do know no matter how much you two hit it off he’s still getting thrown in that arena.” Greg pointed out. I took a sharp breath, not looking at him but knowing what he said was true. There was nothing I could do to stop that now.
“I know.” I muttered.
“I’m saying don’t get attached.” He added.
“I’m not attached.” I hissed, trying to make that point very clear.
“Hey, I only want to help.” Greg defended.
“Well you’re doing a very poor job at the moment.” I snapped. He was saying what I had been thinking for a while now, don’t get attached to John, but I couldn’t help it, he was so likable, and he seemed to like me back, that’s something you don’t ignore. Greg stayed silent for a little bit, as if by some miracle, but went right back to talking.
“My first tribute I had to mentor was a friend, I guess. But then he went in the arena and got ripped apart by some alligator thing. That broke my heart, but I knew then that I couldn’t really make friends with the people doomed to die.” Greg shrugged.
“Please don’t say he’s going to die! I think he has a chance of making it out alive, and even if you’re not confidence in your tribute that’s not my problem!” I yelled, bringing a lot of attention to the scene. The room was quiet once again, but this time it was Greg who was being judged. You’re not supposed to doubt your own tribute, that brings down their confidence and sends them spiraling even closer to the pit. Greg smiled guiltily at the room, but eventually they lost interest in the drama over here and turned back to their conversation.
“I think I’m needed, elsewhere.” He decided, jumping up from the chair and walking away without a goodbye. I was very thankful about this rare occasion of silence, so I sank back into my thoughts. I wasn’t attached, I was simply being a good mentor, you’re supposed to act as their friend and give them tips to help them stay alive. I decided to leave that topic, I couldn’t think about that now, so the rest of the day I was thinking about how it must be at home. Mycroft was probably eating cake at the moment in front of the TV. He might even see our group coming off the train; I think I saw a news camera on the platform. Mom was probably starting on lunch; Dad was probably reading a book or something. At this time of the day, I would still be in my room, whether or not I had nightmares would depend on if there was light or not.
“Sherlock, we’re stopping for some lunch in the dining hall.” Molly’s voice shook me from my thoughts, and I just groaned.
“Do I have to?” I asked.
“It would be the right thing to do.” Molly pointed out.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I think John might want you to come.” She said after a bit of thinking. I groaned, but I couldn’t leave John with these idiots, all alone.
“Is Irene still tame?” I asked.
“For now. I think in a half hour she might start throwing things again, so cherish the peace.” Molly decided with a laugh. I nodded, not returning the smile but getting to my feet.
“What happened to your friend?” she asked.
“Not my friend.” I defended.
“But where’d he go?”
“I may have yelled at him and he left.” I said, as if it was just another day.
“Not your friend anymore then.” She agreed.
“Never was my friend, shut up.” I snapped. She rolled her eyes, but unlike Greg, was able to keep her mouth shut. We were silent all the way to the dining hall, where the small group was sitting at the end of one of the long tables. Irene was smiling, and I knew that never happened, so she must still be on whatever drug they gave her. I had an urge to go find where they kept this drug, if I could be all smiley like her it would be worth getting my hands on. John looked bitter though, slouching at the end of the table and eating fries slowly. I sat across from him while Molly went to sit next to Irene, a bold choice if you ask me.
“They won’t let me eat anything that I can’t eat in one bite, because of the lip gloss.” John grumbled as a greeting.
“I remember that rule. All I ate was blueberries the entire day.” I laughed.
“It’s not funny.” He hissed, folding up a particularly large fry to make it eatable.
“Molly and I had a bet on what flavor the lip gloss is…” I said with a laugh. John just threw a fry at me and scowled, I bet he never expecting to be on the other end of that stupid pick up line.
“Sara’s mad at you by the way, for taking me out for coffee.” John pointed out.
“I think the only two people not mad at me are you and Irene, but once she gets off those drugs she’ll be furious that she wasn’t invited.” I laughed.
“Then I’m sorry, because you’ll have a rough day if she’s after you.” John decided.
“I felt like it was a good way to bond, so you trust me better to give you tips. And remember that when you’re in the games I’ll be out here convincing the sponsors to send you parachutes.” I remembered.
“I’m not complaining, it’s much better than being choked alive with hairspray.” John assured. I nodded in agreement.
“Are you going to eat anything?” he asked after a little while.
“Not hungry.” I shrugged, which was true. I had breakfast today, and dinner last night, sort of speaking, so I was good for a little while.
“What time is the parade?” he asked.
“Six o’clock tonight.” I said, checking the clock above the door, which read one twelve thirty four.
“Plenty of time then.” John said with relief, grabbing another French fry.
“You’ve got a manicure.” I observed, which made him throw another fry at me in disgust. I simply caught it and ate it with a sarcastic smile, which made John just roll his eyes.
“Your nails are almost as clean as mine, and you haven’t gotten a manicure.” He pointed out.
“Is it a crime to be presentable?” I defended, looking at my own nails. Yes, they had no dirt on them and were well rounded, but I did care about my appearance, cameras were everywhere and my mom always frowns when I look bad. Apparently we have an image to keep up.  The lunch ended when Irene’s smile faded, and then we were politely escorted from the cafeteria as she started using choice words to express her feelings about being drugged.
“She curses more than you do.” I muttered.
“I don’t curse all the time! Just that one!” he defended.
“Sure you don’t.” I sighed with a smile.
“In one hour we’re supposed to be back here, but for now we can go to the center and relax for a bit.” Mrs. Hudson decided, as if that were great news.
“Why just an hour, I thought you said six?” John asked.
“They’ve got to get you ready.” I pointed out.
“Don’t I just have to wear the outfit?” he asked, sounding nervous.
“No of course not, if you think this is a lot of makeup just wait until the parade.” I said with a laugh. We all loaded back into the train through the underground station, arriving at the tribute center in as little as three minutes. Molly and Mrs. Hudson stayed in the lobby to talk to people they knew, and right after we got up the elevator Irene disappeared into her room for who knows what. Instead of talking to John, like I probably should’ve done, I disappeared to the safety of my own room, locking the door and sitting on the bed. I wasn’t really shaken up, but I debated getting the drug shoe out anyway. In the end I decided against it, because if John or someone else picked up on the fact that I was high there would be a lot more problems than a small trip to the coffee shop. I just sat there, hidden in my thoughts, and taking advantage of the peace. The lights were on, and I debated turning them off when I heard a knock at the door.
“What!” I snapped, not wanting to be bothered at the moment.
“It’s John!” he announced.
“What do you want?” I muttered, less aggressive this time.
“I know what we can do to keep track of the tributes skills and stuff!” he said. The door handle wiggled impatiently, so I got up and unlocked it, thankful I didn’t inject myself before.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked curiously.
“Well, you know what you said about the scrapbook, well maybe we can make a map thing with pictures we cut out.” he suggested. I gave him a blank look, but went over to sit on the bed again. He closed the door and sat next to me, which made me scoot over a bit for personal space.
“Explain.” I decided. He looked up at the wall, obviously thinking. Then he bolted to his feet, removing a picture of some bird thing, leaving a large, empty wall.
“Okay, say we somehow manage to get the head shots of all the tributes, we tape them here in a big circle and have sticky notes with their names and skills and stuff, so I could match a name with a face. Then we could use string or something to connect the headshots through the middle to represent allies, so say the Two girl was an ally with the Six girl, we’d tape a string between them so I know that neither would be traveling alone.” John planned, demonstrating with his hands and walking along the wall.
“That’s genius!” I exclaimed with a proud smile.
“I just thought of it, so there could be flaws, but I thought maybe it would be okay.” he muttered, getting shy at being called a genius. Once again my brain betrayed me by labeling him as adorable.
“It must be the makeup.” I guessed with a smile.
“Where could we get pictures though?” he asked, ignoring that comment.
“Well, I was thinking people would be uploading videos from the parade, if there are any good ones we can find a printer or something.” he planned. I smiled, excited about this abstract idea.
“John, you are seriously amazing.” I decided, getting to my feet also and mapping out the wall in my head.
“Thank you.” He said with a proud smile.
“There might already be pictures from the paparazzi, have you seen a computer anywhere?” I asked.
“There was a laptop on the coffee table, but that must belong to someone.” He pointed out. I didn’t wait to hear the last part of the sentence, ownership wasn’t a problem now, unless we break it in some way, but we could always afford to buy a new one. I ran to the living room, grabbing the shiny gray laptop and running back to the room, where John was waiting nervously.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked.
“Nope.” I shrugged, kicking the door shut behind me and sitting back on the bed.
“Any printers around here?” I asked again.
“Um, probably in that little office thing on the ground floor.” He guessed.
“How’d you know there an office?”
“Because I read the map!” he defended, as if that had been an insult.
“You’re a nerd.” I laughed.
“I’m observant! Shut up!” he defended, blushing faintly. I just laughed as the computer booted up. Thankfully there wasn’t a password, but we found out if was Molly’s computer when the home screen was a picture of me getting a victor’s crown. John thought that was quite hilarious, but I just scowled at him. I looked very good in the picture, if I do say so myself, but this only proves that she does fancy me.
“Do you still have the crown?” John asked as I clicked on the internet and started to google tributes from this year.
“Oh course.”
“Do you have it with you?” he asked again, looking rather excited.
“No, it’s somewhere in my closet.” I shrugged, as if it were just another outfit I never wore.
“I remember that ceremony, we were all so excited to have another victor.” John sighed.
“Well, we can only hope we have another one this year.” I said encouragingly.
“I’m not sure you’ll want Irene as a mentor.” He decided, but I knew he was joking around.
“I meant you, idiot.” I laughed. I scrolled through the pictures, there weren’t many, but some of them were good quality.
“Here we go, district one guy, taken five hours ago. This must be one of them.” I decided. I saved the picture to a folder I quickly made. I was going to label it tributes, but saw that there already was a folder called that. I just named it map project and continued the search, finding the seven girl and, when John wasn’t looking, quickly found a picture of a cartoon troll for what would be his picture on the wall.
“Okay, we only found two.” I decided, about to close the laptop when I remembered the other tribute folder. Had she saved pictures from every tribute she’s mentored? I opened the folder, scrolling through the pictures ending with me and that girl I had been with. It was simply the headshot they took of us for evaluations, but it was still a little bit touching to know that she remembered everyone.
“Run this back, quickly.” I decided, shutting the computer down and thrusting it into John’s hands. He ran off like a scared rabbit, returning quickly.
“When should we print them?” he asked.
“When we’ve got time, but if I’m correct we should get going soon.” I guessed, checking the time on the digital clock.
“So does Molly fancy you?” John asked with a small laugh. I just groaned.
“Before you make fun of me, it’s not really my fault and I don’t fancy her back. I don’t date.” I said simply.
“I was able to guess that much.” He pointed out.
“Was that an insult?” I snapped.
“No, but you told me on the train you hate people, it wasn’t a difficult guess.” He shrugged.
“You’re smarter than I give you credit for.” I decided.
“And you use very out of date pickup lines.” He added.
“What?” I asked with shock. I hadn’t been interested in one girl this entire trip.
“The whole lip gloss thing.” John pointed out.
“That was what you call a joke, meaning that it was supposed to be funny, and I have no intentions of going out with you.” I said simply.
“That was a tad bit insulting.” He decided.
“Wait, you want to go out?” I asked with even more shock. This was turning in a direction I didn’t know or like.
“No! No, jeez Sherlock don’t make this awkward.” John muttered.
“You were the one that made it awkward!” I defended.
“Come on everyone, we’ll be late!” Mrs. Hudson yelled through the flat, which was quite relieving to be honest. John groaned, obviously he was done being their Barbie doll already, but I just laughed, following him to the elevator.