thecapitol | Thicker Than Blood Start

Thicker Than Blood Start

For Tributes with keen eyes, they'll notice that Peacekeeper presence seems increased and yet infinitely more ineffective in the last few weeks. Peacekeepers seem harried, as do the Stylists, and most of the Escorts titter and plot without alerting the Tributes as to what, exactly, is so exciting. They simply say that this weekend they'll know.

And so it happens that on the weekend in question, the Tributes are woken by their Escorts early and brought to a restaurant for a hearty breakfast. The restaurant is nothing spectacular, although they seem to be trying to make an impression on the television cameras that float around. The sleepy, cranky meal goes by and then the Tributes are led back to their Suites for a mandatory meeting.

Sitting on couches and the floor, in chairs and on windowsills, standing off to the side - people from the Tributes' homes are waiting to greet them in each District Suite. Some are confused, some accepting, some frightened and some elated to see their beloved. Either way, it should be an eventful reunion.

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The breakfast was ridiculous, and the drama surrounding the return to the suites even more so. He had absolutely no doubt that this was being broadcast live to the entire Capitol, and he was determined to not give them what they wanted - but his face betrayed him, registering very obvious surprise as he walked in and saw his brother, of all people across the room.

"Mycroft," He said, completely incredulous. Visitors. They were toying with their lives, toying with their worlds, by sending them visitors.

From the looks of things this was not going to turn out to be one of those emotional familial reunions, so Greg felt no qualms stepping up to Sherlock to make his presence known with a-

"If this is all a dream I might actually swear off drinking for good this time."

He looked less worried than he felt, out of sheer force of habit.

"Brother." Mycroft kept his eyes trained on Sherlock until the DI stepped up. "It's good to see you." Alive, unhurt, and decidedly not chasing down a certain criminal mastermind's empire. Clearly this 'government' had no idea what it was toying with; the implications were staggering and more than a little worrisome.

Turning towards the DI, he smiled and nodded his head in greeting. "Ah, yes, Detective Inspector. This really is a pleasant reunion all around." His focus quickly turned back to Sherlock. "The Capitol has saved me the trouble of coming to see you myself." Just what did his brother remember?

Sherlock turned to the second voice, surprised that he'd missed Lestrade there, and even more angry than he was a second ago.

"It's not a dream," He snapped more harshly than he meant, looking between the both of them. "I've been here for a little over a year. What did they tell you?"

Mycroft could answer that second question, Lestrade had questions of his own. "Hang on- a year?!" Last Greg had seen, Sherlock and John Watson had run off into the night in handcuffs. That had been last night.

This situation was getting more ridiculous by the second.

Mycroft's false smile faded slightly as he nodded his head. He was very certain that his brother had been in Eastern Europe these past few months, so certain that he was headed to retrieve the stubborn fool himself. "Come now, no need for dramatics Detective Inspector; my brother is obviously having a difficult enough time. Now," he sniffed towards the tea set-up, resisting the urge to pour himself a nice cup while his mind sorted through this mess. "How has you're year gone? I feel I should congratulate you on your fame. Doctor Watson as well."

"Yes. A year," Sherlock snapped. "The fame comes with simply being here. From playing their games--" He cut himself off, grinding his teeth. He glanced back towards his rooms, and then without even telling them turned and immediately stalked that way.

Like hell he was going to talk to them in front of the press hullabaloo.

Greg looked from Sherlock's retreating back to Mycroft, to the television cameras floating around the room, and then back to Mycroft. He shrugged.

"Nice to see he's still himself. I take it that's our cue to follow him." He set off after Sherlock.

Umbrella in hand, Mycroft followed behind the two men while keeping an observant eye on those mingling in the room. No, this was something far more than what their hosts assured them. Something devious and very dangerous. The presence of some form of law enforcement and media pointed to publicity stunt and secrecy. Mycroft hated secrets that were not his own.

He flung the door to his room open with something very close to rage, waited until they were both through, and then slammed it closed before one of the floating cameras could follow. They'd just have to use the security feeds from his room for whatever ridiculous expose they were planning.

"This is a different universe from ours," Sherlock said firmly, finally. "Or at the very least several centuries later. This is the Capitol, the heart of Panem, which covers most of what used to be North America. They have the ability to bring people here from across multiple universes and times, and they use them to fight in arenas - battles to the death - for entertainment."

Greg opened his mouth. Greg closed his mouth.

Protesting the ridiculousness of it all didn't change the fact that they were all here, and that there had been a great number of video cameras following them all back out in the lobby. Sherlock often sounded like he was spouting rubbish, but that anger slamming the door was real.

"Are we-" he nodded to Mycroft, "the carrot or the stick?"

"Both." Mycroft moved through the messy room with a frown. Clearly Sherlock was suffering more than they knew. His umbrella moved a hopefully clean pair of pants from the floor, only for him to flick them into a different corner. This room was chaos caused by frustration. No, he didn't like what this world was doing to his brother.

Spinning around he took a seat in one of the empty chairs. "A warning and a gift. We will favor you should you perform and if you do not we can bring others from your world to make you perform." He glanced up at Sherlock. "Tell me, how is John fairing?"

"He was the first warning they gave me," Sherlock said bitterly, not at all surprised that his brother deduced that so quickly.

They were related, after all.

"About as well as you would expect," He said, his voice laced with acid. Not well at all, was the answer. Neither of them were. "He's been here nearly as long as I have. And Molly--"

At first, Molly had not been escorted to the waiting area. Nobody had been "brought" for her, and so she had been exempt. But when she hadn't been able to locate Sherlock, dread had started to bubble up in her chest. She bites her lip as she enters the sitting room on the second level, scanning the faces for the one she really hopes isn't here.

But there he is, and he looks angry. Molly doesn't see Mycroft or Lestrade yet, instead making a beeline for the younger Holmes brother.

"Sherlock--?"

It was bad enough that a place like this existed in the first place. But to bring in others to encourage people to obey was, frankly, sickening.

"How on ea-" Greg's surprised outburst is cut off as the door slams open and in walks "Molly?!"

Mycroft stands as Molly enters, always one to remember his manners unlike some. "Ah, Miss. Hooper, it is good to see you well."

It was more than a bit concerning that this world would bring in someone like Molly Hooper, a girl who would, for most purposes, do anything for his brother. A girl who Sherlock feigned disinterest, but whom he trusted more than most. The things he would do to protect not only John, but Molly as well could very well compromise his own safety and stability.

"Ah, Molly." Sherlock turned to her, waving vaguely at Lestrade and Mycroft.

"Seems we have guests. I should call John, and we can have a party," he added sarcastically.

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Thicker Than Blood Start

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