Open

[alldeduction]

WHO| Sherlock Holmes and OPEN
WHAT| Sherlock isn't really himself and is kind of taking it out on his friends.
WHEN| From the end of the mini-arena up until now, as well as a couple earlier catch-up CR threads. If you need something more specific, let me know!
WHERE| All over the Capitol
WARNINGS| Sherlock is a dickhead to everyone, mentions of suicide


He woke with a start. His sixth death, as far as they went, was one of the worst ones. Susannah had seen fit to that, and done her job well. Even far removed from the situation, he awoke in a sweat. It had been a long time since he'd felt such fear physically. He was accustomed, on some level, to torture, but that... that was something else.

So he spent a long while staring at his ceiling, slowly piecing back together his carefully constructed self of self until he sat up.

He fell back into his capitol routine with relative ease - mostly because his routine was horribly antisocial. He was spending more and more time in his room, wandering the streets, memorizing them over and over again.

He'd murdered Julian. Unsuccessfully attempted to murder Hawkeye. He'd crossed every line he'd given himself and he couldn't parse how he felt about it, and part of him decided that it didn't matter. He had no work, here, beyond what meager scrapings of rebellion he could form for himself, or the case or two that were thrown his way like dog treats to pacify him.

He was a shadow of himself, and he knew it.

The appearance of Mycroft and Lestrade didn't exactly  help, though it did offer some meager distraction - even if most of that was in attempting to escape his brother...

Comments

[alldeduction]

"I'll have you know I look stunning in a dress," Sherlock said primly, though there was a slight twinkle in his eye. It was a relief just to see John laughing.

"To be honest I almost miss your horrific christmas jumpers, that's how much I yearn for our clothes from home."

[drpsychosomatic]

"I'll get you one," he promised with a grin. "Giant reindeer on the front, something like that. Unless you'd rather a dress? Slinky satin number, slit right up the side?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock chuckled lowly. "I would happily accept absolutely anything that wasn't covered in either sequins or glitter," He admitted, his face falling a little bit.

"John, I... It has been a very long time since we have seen home. You know I would do anything in my power to ensure our return there, but if that is impossible--"

[drpsychosomatic]

He nodded. "I'm not even sure it is home," he said quietly. "Our home, anyway. Honestly, Sherlock- and you can swallow the lecture on sentiment, so don't even think about it, but- I'm sure we could start again. If we put our heads together, we could do it."

[alldeduction]

"Here?" He asked, looking up at John with an honestly confused expression. "If I win, you mean. You think we'll be left alone, be able to scrounge some sort of life from the ashes?"

[drpsychosomatic]

John smiled wryly and gave a shrug. "I think anything's possible, and I don't think this system can last. If we're both out of the Games, I think we have a chance. It's that or suicide, really, isn't it?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock smiled, but it was pained and did not reach his eyes.

After all, the thought had occurred.

"Well, best to work with what we have," He said a little tightly, not quite believing it.

[drpsychosomatic]

"Yeah. Together," he said, his expression unusually unguarded. It was more than slightly obvious that they'd both considered the one way out they seemed to have left. He tilted his head slightly, considering.

"I wonder if they'll let me move out of the Tower, if I'm out of the Games," he mused. "Would be nice to have somewhere a bit more like home."

[alldeduction]

He wasn't going to let John die. Not even out of some strange platonic ideal. If he went down, he'd do so with full knowledge that John would survive.

That, or nothing.

"It would be a relief, to have somewhere to visit," Sherlock admitted. "Though I doubt they would allow me to stay there while still a Tribute."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Maybe not," he admitted with a sigh, though the smile didn't quite disappear from his face entirely.

"God, I could have my own fridge and not have to worry about finding a hand in it..."

[alldeduction]

"Getting access to a hand seems more doubtful than getting access to a house," Sherlock said, forlornly. "Unless I was more willing to experiment on myself, at least..."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Rather you didn't, really, if it's all the same," John said primly. "You probably need both of those, and you're definitely not having either of mine."

[alldeduction]

It was ridiculous, how much he felt better simply talking to John. It hollowed him, and pained him, that soon he wouldn't even have that small amount of comfort.

"No, I was cut off body parts cold turkey," He jokes weakly. "Speaking of. Hungry?"

[drpsychosomatic]

"Famished," he laughed. "Somewhere in mind, or were you thinking of heading out and stopping at the first place that wasn't actively painful to look at?"

wrapping this up!

[alldeduction]

"Oh I don't know, I find a good blinding good for the soul, don't you?" Sherlock asked sarcastically, smirking.

He was sure they'd find somewhere suitable - he tended not to mind the restaurant so much as long as he had the correct company.